Jungle Boogie [Open]

[Slime]

32nd Fall, 511AV South Suvan : Falyndar Coastline Two days. Two wonderful, free days. Two days without cleaning, two days without a beating. Slime's stomach rumbled and he frowned. Two days without food. It would've been two days without water if Slime hadn't found the freshwater stream nearby that cut through the small, white-sand beach and emptied into the sea. The water tasted gritty but it was clear. If he continued to follow it inland, it would probably lead to a bigger river or a lake but every time Slime looked into the jungle behind him, he felt as though something was looking back. So he stayed near the coast, where he could see the sea through the trees and watched over his shoulder whenever he had to enter the jungle. Which might be sooner than he'd like. He was feeling weak and distant without food and there had to be rats out there but to catch a rat, he'd need a trap. To make a trap, he need materials. To collect materials, he'd need a knife. Slime had no knife but he knew an old trick that could serve almost as well. It took about an hour to find the perfect seashell; speckled brown and white, broad as his palm and nearly flat. The outer lip was thin but it took an hour longer to sharpen it properly on a course beachstone. Back and forth, back and forth. He used to do the same thing back on the ship and a shell was always good enough to cut his hair so maybe it would work for this purpose. He tested it by dragging the lip of the shell across his thumb knuckle. It sliced easily. He looked back at the line of jungle and could feel those eyes. Eyes that studied him, eyes that pierced him, eyes that followed him. He would be moving after he ate, moving away from those haunting, unseen eyes but first he had to cut some vines and collect some wood to trap some food. He moved warily into the jungle, holding the shell between his thumb and forefinger like a knife at the ready.

[Slime]

The steaming jungle was awful in it's humidity, merciful in it's shade. Far above Slime's head green treetops merged together, forming a tall roof and casting an emerald glow to what few beams of sunlight pierced the canopy. Just a few feet off of the each you could no longer hear the roar of the ocean over the shriek and calls of the jungle animals. Thick underbrush came up to Slime's waist and he pushed it aside, wondering what kind of horrid beasts would be hiding there and how they would kill him. He guessed slowly. Cheer up. He told himself. Smile. You're free and alive. In the distance, an animal howled. Alive for now, at least Slime kept his movements small, his noise low. He didn't want any anything that he was stalking to hear him, or anything stalking him for that matter. He searched the jungle floor and the trunks of trees for two types of vines. He found them without much trouble; a thick one that was more rope than vine and a thinner one that snapped easily. He tested them for strength and then cut them to the best estimated length with the seashell. Collecting the final two pieces was easy, just a large log and a proper tree. The proper tree in this case is one with strong branches that are low to the ground. Slime found it near the stream which was excellent because he didn't have any bait so his only option was to lay the traps along game trails. It was the same idea on the ship, you just put the trap wherever the rats traveled most often. So that's what he did. He set up three simple deadfall traps, it was all he had the material for. First he started by wrapping the log with the rope-like vine, made sure it had a solid knot and heaved the loose end of the rope-vine over a low hanging branch in the tree above. He hoisted one end of the log off the ground and attached the thinner vine to the loose end of the thicker one. He stretched the thicker vine down, wrapped it just once around a sapling and stretched the thinner vine across the path. When the thin vine snapped, the log fell and crushed anything beneath it. All in all it it probably more complicated and much less reliable than he needed and the logs were probably too much weight for just a small rat but it was the best he could manage with a seashell and his current know-how. No matter how much he sharpened the shell it wouldn’t cut hardwood and wasn't deep enough to dig a proper pit trap. It would serve though and he made sure to cover the traps in mud from the streambed to rid the wood and vines of his human stench. And he waited. He waited on the beach, specifically because the idea of staying in that jungle any longer than he had to sent chills to every muscle. He watched the ocean for ships and meditated to the sound of the waves. He focused his breathing, in and out. He concentrated hard on clearing his mind of crates, murder, escape, retribution, wild animals, mauling, starvation, drowning. THUNK It was soft but hard to miss in the quiet of his mind. One of the traps had gone down. He leapt up, too quick, now dizzy from the sudden sensory input of snap-breaking meditation. His stomach grumbling hard, he took the shell from his vest pocket and stalked back into the jungle.

[Slime]

It wasn't what Slime wanted to see but wasn't what he was suspecting either. He stayed back and watched. The child was only nine or ten, dark skinned, covered in tattoos and trying hard to roll the fallen log of the largest deadfall trap. She seemed frantic, speaking in a language that Slime had never heard. She wore a small dagger from a shoulder sheath and carried a strange pack around her waist. Her hair was braided and elaborate. Slime mistakenly snapped a branch beneath his foot and found out that she also had good hearing. The girl turned and stared for a minute. She looked at the log and then at Slime again. When she spoke the voice was childish and breaking. “Help me, please.” Slime nodded quickly and stumbled out of the brush. The girl turned and pushed the log again and Slime lent his shoulder. The log rolled easily this time, revealing a large, flat mound of blue hair, matted thick and clumpy with mud. The girl looked and nearly sobbed. The blue hair was stained purple with the red of blood and what should've been on the inside was now on the outside. “He didn't see the trap.” She whispered, near tears. “Why was there a trap?” What is that thing? Slime wondered He ventured a guess. “Was it your pet?” The girl nodded slightly, spoke with her hands over her mouth. “My Riamm. Pip.” “I'm sorry.” “Why was there trap? There's never been a trap.” She mumbled. “I didn't know. I didn't mean to.” The girl stopped crying and stared at Slime over her tear-stained cheeks. Her voice took on a chilling maturity. “This is your trap?” Slime stuttered. “Y-yes. I'm sorry. So sorry. I didn't mean to catch your pet.” “You killed Pip.” The girl's eyes turned suddenly vile and she began to approach Slime. She drew the dagger. “Blood for blood.” Slime's stomach tumbled as the girl approached. Death by nine-year old. He didn't see that one coming. She wielded the dagger with surprising skill and swung it hard at Slime. He clumsily backstepped just out of range but she was already attacking again. “I will eat you, Shurak!” She stabbed downward, aiming at Slime's chest. Slime pushed forward hard, both hands contacting the girl's shoulders. It was clumsy but it pushed the girl back. She stumbled and tripped over the log she had been trying to roll earlier. She gasped sharply and disappeared in the underbrush. And didn't get back up. Not again, not again, not again. Slime stopped and listened for any sounds of movement, please, please, please any sound. None came and even the jungle was holding a moment of silence. Slime wondered if this was happening, he wondered if he was back at the beach, meditating under a golden sun. He hoped so. You're real good at accidentally killing folks. His mind mocked. He peered over the log. She was lying there, head busted and bleeding over a few sharp stones near the edge of the stream. But she was breathing. Barely. “I killed a little girl.” He bit his fingernails. “I killed her.” Calm down. She's not dead. Yet. Should he kill her? She might wake up and tell someone, bring down a hunting party and murder him. Torture him slow and sweet. She might be suffering right now, maybe death would be a mercy. It was the right thing to do if she was suffering. And she had to be suffering, look at her. The seashell would cut her throat easily enough. He fiddled it between his fingers. No no no no! What kind of monster was he to even think such a thing? She was just a little girl, even if she tried to kill him. She couldn't hurt him now, she was harmless and it was an accident. That made it okay, didn't it? Slime hoped so. He knew he should get help but what kind was there? He wasn't skilled enough to fix her injury or even stop her bleeding. “Oria!” A voice rose up in the deeper jungle. “Oria! Come back here!” Slime froze. “Oh no.”

[Slime]

The boy looked like a teenager, lanky and awkward, as he meandered through the jungle. He was much like the girl herself, bronze-skinned and tattooed all over with a large golden nose ring extending from the bridge of his nose down to his chin. He carried a string of dead rabbits over his shoulder and a light travel pack around his waist. He used a ten foot spear with a barbed head as a walking stick. Slime ducks quickly behind a tree trunk and only allows himself the smallest peek around it. “Oria.” The boy says, standing close to the stream. “I caught enough, we can go back.” The boy stops and listens to the perfect, crystalline silence. “If this is a game, I don't want to play.” But Slime knows the boy can sense it, the feeling permeating everything in the vicinity, the very wrongness of it. The boy set the string of rabbits down and gripped the spear a bit tighter. “Oria. Get out here now. It's time to go home.” The boy said before turning his back to Slime's hidden spot and peering over the log. He stopped, stared but said nothing. Slime could watch it though, the slithering realization growing in the boy that this thing, this horrible pile lying on the rocks, was his sister. The hatred, the fear, the sorrow mixing into a wild cocktail that you could feel and taste even from Slime's position behind the tree. The boy's shoulders went rigid, his grip on the brightly-coloured spear tightened. “I can smell you.” He said in a voice that was more a hiss. Slime gripped the tree tighter and held his breath. No movement. He pressed his head to the trunk and could no longer see the boy from his position. “You will pay for this.” Slime heard the boy say. “You will pay slowly and with interest.” Footsteps in the jungle. Slime allowed himself to peek around the tree again. The boy was no longer standing near the log, no longer visible anywhere. But Slime could hear him. “I can see you.” The voice seemed to come from everywhere at once. “I'm coming for you.” Slime bolted. Forget the tree, forget the girl. Run! That was a mistake. “There you are!” The boy's voice said. Slime ran quicker, stumbling over the roots and grass and rocks. The spear bulleted past him and the barbs tore a gash across his forehead. He blinked away blood and saw just the blur of the attack. Lights blew up behind his eyelids as the boy's punch connected. Slime's balance went off-center, his hands groping wildly for anything to keep him from falling. What he found was the boy's nose ring. The sick rip of metal slicing cartilage could be heard even in Slime's chiming ears. The boy grabbed his nose and screamed into his hands. Slime wiped his eyes and threw the nose ring into the jungle. The boy has recovered and was rushing Slime. He slammed into him and Slime went careening into the mud, landing face first in the running stream. That's were the boy tried to make him stay. Slime felt the pressure of the boy climbing onto his back, felt fingernails digging deep into the back of his head, keeping him down in the water. Cold rushed all around him, his lungs strained and buckled, his eyes saw the encroaching darkness, sneaking into the corners of his vision like a bad dream. His free hands pushed against the stream's bottom but sank deep in the silt without purchase. His fingers gripped for something, anything. Yes! He brought the rock up in his hand, a blind strike over and above his head. The pressure fell off and suddenly he was free again, the water around him stained a deep red. He gasped and surfaced. The boy's head laid next to him in the river, hair streaming with the current. I guess you're not so bad at killing people on purpose either. His mind said. The noise had returned to the jungle and everything stank of death and rot. Over the pounding animal noises he heard it softly. “They will know.” He turned. It was the girl, standing just beyond the log, holding the back of her blood-stained head. She spoke slowly but with a furious honesty. “Myri, Navre, Dira. Any God or Goddess who will listen and every Myrian in Taloba. They will all know what you have done and they will seek retribution. If none will help, I will seek it myself. You will pay for this. We will hunt you, stalk you, gouge you, pierce you, slash you, stab you, bruise you, burn you, shock you, drown you, break you, eat you. We will be your waking nightmares. We will be your shadow. I swear my life to this purpose. Blood for blood.” The girl turned and it seemed the her brain was leaking from the wound. She wandered into the jungle without a tear, back turned to Slime. Kill her now. Now. The spear the boy had been using has right there. It would be easy. It could save Slime's life. All he needed to do was kill the girl. Kill her. Do it. No one would know and it would be simple. So easy. He couldn't do it. Even with the spear there and the opportunity, he just watched the girl disappear into the jungle, limping and holding her head. It was time to move though. He couldn't stay anywhere close to where he was. He would follow the beach up the coast, try to locate a town or a ship. And most importantly, he would not panic. ...he was starting to panic. He grabbed the spear, the string of rabbits and took the strange kit from the boys waist. The longer he stayed here, the shorter his life. Slime knew that. So he took off down the coast, in any direction that was away from here.

[Trident]

Slime Skills: Trapping +2 Brawling +2 Stealth +1 Lores: Setting Deadfall Traps [Very Basic] Near-Drowning Killing a Myrian Teenager Letting a Wounded Girl Go Comments: Good thread! I gave you a point in Stealth for Slime's attempt to hide himself from the teenager. Now, due to the spear piercing his face, Slime will suffer from a face laceration on the cheek. The damage is mostly superficial but also tender and mildly painful to the touch. If left untreated, it will last for 9 days before closing itself. If treated properly (only a small amount of skill in Medicine skill will be needed to treat it) it will close within 36 hours. For the few couple of days Slime will also suffer from a hacking cough due to his near-drowning. It will be nothing more than annoying and disappear after a week or so. Slime will acquire a string of raw fish that should last him a week or so. He also keeps the teenager's spear (worth 5 gm). The rucksack is also his for the taking, and is empty except for a bottle of water additive (10 drops). If you have any questions about my ruling, feel free to PM me!