There’s a Cat In That Tree (Solo)

by **Tiki** on June 4th, 2012, 4:11 am

There’s a Cat In That Tree (Solo)
42nd Summer 512 A.V.

The morning mist lingered over the Talderan wilderness. It wasn’t the same mist, however, that had plagued Spires in the season past. Rather than boiling the blood of those who entered it, the mist was cool and soothing. It adhered to the kelvic’s feline fur lie dew on the waxy leaves. Tiki was fitting back into an old routine; only the scene changed. There was still him, the prey, and the hunt. It had always been so. He was stopped in the brush licking away the water on his fur. Even in its thin concentration, it clung to the worst of places creating a most peculiar feeling. His whiskers, worst of all, sagged down or scratched with the gentle variation the dew brought. It blinded him, in some respect. Would he have left it alone and gotten used to it, he’d have been fine till the summer sun burned it all away.

Snorting along the way, Tiki continued further away from Spires in search of a catch for the Spirians. Nothing went to waste. The hunting was good for his health and body; yes, scars are healthy in some respects. Nothing got Tiki’s heart pumping like the hunt. And when his energies were spent, he was well rewarded, in coin, acknowledgement, and sometimes a treat. Meat, bone, and fur were all put to use in Spires. Nothing, absolutely nothing went to waste.

Tiki caught air of something. It was strong and fresh. He started his prowl after it: one step in front of the last, back crouched low, and each step a gentle imprint in the dirt. The smell was incredibly strong, overwhelming really. Tiki peeked through the brush and came to the source.

A discarded carcass, a fresh kill, of a deer lay in the clearing before him. The running creek next to it - a pathetically low thing too small for minnows – ran red down the slope. Tiki saw no one else around. He heard and smelled nothing of threat. The mark of man was nowhere to be found either. There was just this random body in the middle of the forest, fresh as any he had taken down himself. Tiki went out to investigate further up.

There was nothing peculiar about it. The gut had been ripped over, bite marks scattered around the body, and it was a typical kill, something he could do quite easily. The shredded fur was too messy for any human tools. An animal had certainly taken the deer down, a buck to be accurate. He was large, the kind of prey that typically eluded Tiki’s grasp. It was an opportunity he sought to take advantage of. He ventured closer yet.

Sniffing around, looking in, and pulling at the corpse with paw and tooth, TIki checked it out. Nothing was wrong with it. It couldn’t have been there for more than a few minutes. There was no sign of decay or illness either. It was beautiful. Tiki reached in and took a bite or two for himself. By explaining how he found it he hoped the Spirians wouldn’t question him about it. Hopefully he wouldn’t be blamed either. He was usually good for his kills. Tiki looked around once more. Nothing, there was nothing! Ill placed pride took hold of Tiki, and he latched his maw over the buck’s neck. For as large as it was, Tiki’s mouth and legs were strong. Carrying the prey back was the hard part of hunting like this. He was better off alone though. He looked it as so: there were already a few pounds missing, and the blood loss would make it lighter, given time. Tiki was in a race against time before the flesh would start to rot beyond the curing abilities of salt, if not something else…

by **Tiki** on July 23rd, 2012, 2:08 am

The howls and barks from the not so distant clearing echoed forth. Tiki knew those calls and began rushing in the direction of the city. This was not what was supposed to happen, not what was expected. The wolves were upon Tiki, their shadowed forms darting through the blur of forest themed hues. Tiki’s eyes flashed back and forth with his catch locked in his mouth while trying to skedaddle. It was clear he wasn’t going to make it at this pace. He was running, but frequently found himself, or his catch, caught, being dragged, or some other inconvenience to slow his pace. The wolves were in range now; Tiki had to make a move.

A wolf tore into his catch, grabbing the leg and fighting to keep it from escaping the pack any more. The strong legs and thick, dark fur were telling of the Talderan breed. These wolves, although greater in dimension, were also much more ferocious. A second was coming for the company, only not at the carcass, but Tiki. He let go and prepared himself to brawl. He could handle two, though not much more – or so he figured.

The wolf dove at Tiki, the latter falling on his side for a better vantage point. With all four limbs up between the canine and his own face, Tiki was boxing to keep the wolf off. It nipped at his paws and tried to get towards his throat, but the cat’s own weapons were swift to dig into the wolf’s face, and leave a nasty cut on the nose. The scent of blood was starting to spread. On Tiki’s face, his claws, the wolves and their own bodies, the dead weight deer, it was all over. And with that scent lingering in the forest, more were sure to come, more predators. The rest of the pack was calling, whining sounds of retreat as the brawl was broken off. The wolf left Tiki for the buck’s body, and helped drag it off at an incredible speed alongside its pack-mate. They broke off, back towards the south. One, two, three, no, five; five others leapt through the woods, passing Tiki in their wake away from something. What could possibly have a pack of ravenous wolves on the run?

by **Tiki** on September 24th, 2012, 6:42 pm

A colossal clad in black fur and thick scars wandered over the hill. It was a bear, but unlike others it hailed from Taldera, and thus shared the traits of the wolves. With canines like daggers, this ferocious and voracious beast could kill with a single bite. A swipe from those claws, those fans of knives, would easy maim the kelvic. Fresh wounds ran down the bear’s side. The wolves seemed to have started something with the bear they couldn’t finish. The golden feline eyes flared at the sight of this monster. Tiki scrambled to his feet and chased after the wolves. A thunderous roar echoed from the behemoth, and the chase resumed.

For the first moments the bear was on Tiki’s heels. For its size and bulk it was incredibly fast. All the more muscle to propel it, no? The summer time meant it was time to feast, grow, and prepare for the coming cold seasons again. Rushing over the hills and roots, Tiki felt as if nature were working against him. Had he broken some divine law of nature that decided he must suffer? The bear was falling behind, but certainly wouldn’t lose the trail Tiki left. The scent of blood was all over him now after the scuffle with the wolf. The sun was breaking through further ahead. Tiki rushed ahead to break out of this maze like forest and run clear for the Spires.

Had he paid more attention, he’d have noticed the thinning trees, their small statures. He caught glimpse of the drop off in the last moment and leapt for the branch of a tree that overlooked the little divide. There was no telling what had brought this break in the forest to reality, but it would have certainly been the death of him if not for this tree. The drop might have been some twenty feet, plenty of space to fall and break something. The cat’s claws wrapped over the branch, his ears pitched back, eyes full of excitement. The sound of nails tearing into the bark crackled. Tiki’s claws caught hold of the depressions in the bark for a grip, his hind legs reaching up as if to scratch his head. He pulled himself up, his chest pounding as the adrenaline pumped.

The tree was situated somewhere on the overhang, its roots half exposed and dug into the mountain side. It was young judging its size, a sapling that was only able to spring up here where the sun was not always shaded by its giant relatives overhead. Tiki crouched low to keep from falling. The branch was large enough to keeps all paws in balance, but no more. This tight rope act definitely was not part of his usual routine. For as much as his kin roam the trees, they didn’t typically have death below them. Tiki looked for a way to get off the tree at the first moment of sensible thought. He had been overtaken by the shock of the moment.

He was caught on some outward branch. There were several other, longer branches that extended out too. The trees did grow where the sun did sweep. He figured he could go around that way if he wanted. The branches that went up were out of reach, and he was on the lowest of them all. The jump from the branch back to the solid earth might be too far without the same momentum that got him here in the first place. A running start was out of the question.

Tiki had only managed to turn around and start clawing out at the further branches. So long as he kept close to the trunk he should be able to get back to the mainland. Before he moved to leap to the next branch his pursuer reemerged from the forest. Tiki could see the bear for what it was now in the clear sun. He was an old bear, large and seasoned with scars that marked him like tattoos. Marks from his kin and other unthinkable creatures ripped his body and denied him his natural appearance. Still, he remained here, and not them. His eyes looked ill and his mouth did foam. This bear was ravenous, cursed. Tiki thought it might have been some side effects of the feral magic. There was no way to tell. Alas, this bear now stood between him and safety, if one could even remotely call Taldera safe.

The deranged bear had Tiki in his nose and couldn’t get rid of the scent or idea behind it: fresh meat. On second thought, Tiki found a perch on his own little branch and looked back at the bear, hissing. This wasn’t some walk in the park hissing fight. Tiki’s fur puffed at every end, his tail becoming something comparative to a squirrel’s. Eyes narrowed, ears back, fangs bared, he did all he could to look intimidating. Hissing turned to growls and snarls in the feline sense. There would be no peace of mind for the cat with this bear on him.

When the bear did nothing more, Tiki did eventually calm down. He knew he was being stalked though and found himself trapped in this tree. For the most part, his fur never rested back on his hide, but he did calm himself. The cat lay down on the branch looking outward; the bear couldn’t really sneak up on him. He spent the time cleaning himself, cleaning the blood from his paws and muzzle. Lick and rub over and over. The dried bits and dirt clung to his rough tongue and came clean off. The bear hung around for maybe half an hour to which Tiki took advantage of this time in the sun. He was getting thirsty though.

Time passed and the bear seemed to be getting bored. The white froth on his snout clung to his loose, cut lip and oozed out into a small puddle on the earth. His broad paws left deep imprints in the earth, the claws tearing up the earth where he walked, tearing the low grasses that struggled to grow here. Tiki was getting bored, and frankly there was little to observe, and even less information to collect. The bear was obvious sick, but it didn’t seem to reduce its effectiveness as a killer. All that stood between that bear and him was a tree, and the bear seemed to have realized this simultaneously with Tiki. The beast started toward the tree, and the haired on Tiki’s back began to rise followed by the drone of growling.

The bear reached up on its hind legs for the tree and pressed forward. Tiki felt the world begin to tilt. The bear was pushing the tree right out of its roots. The loose grow it had on the side might not hold if the bear began to climb out. The tree could tilt if not fall off entirely, and Tiki was trapped there. The cat attempted to ward off the bear, to be bigger, scarier. He started roaring, swiping the air between them. The bear did not stir, but continued to reach up for the bark. The cracked claws shredded the bark until it cut into the wood, and then began to pull itself up. Tiki’s heart resumed to beating at high tempo.

Some meters away in the higher trees two figured sat in the foliage, hidden observers. They had stumbled across the trail some hour ago and followed it from their stealthy cover. Not too long ago they had spotted the bear here, their prey, and sat to observe him. A conversation had developed the longer they observed the bear.

“He is certainly a large one, most impressive,” said the droning voice of a Jamoura.

“Indeed he is. Many years he has fought, and won. Mark his battle wounds. How shall we proceed?” The Jamoura traded off their words over many minutes, the language being a slow one, deep toned, and thoughtful.

“See there, he does foam from the mouth. He is sick, and might pass this sickness onto others.”

“Yes, but for how much longer before the madness takes him? Caiyha will run her course with him, and he will serve as a testament to the weak or strong. Recall the body of the wolf.”

“Very well. His tainted meat would serve us little, although I envy such a pelt. The things I could make with such a hide!”

“You speak of your trade like a dream. I truly wonder if you find pride in your work, or if you just fantasize the whole while.”

“A life time spent tanning leather and sowing skins moves only as fast as the imports come. The dyes take too long to take, and leather too long to cure!”

“Start a fire…”

“Funny talk!”

“Yes.”

“Quite.”

“Hmm, quite…”

“Like a blubbering child! Oo, oo.”

“Quiet, the bear moves.”

“Why what a strange one he is. The sickness takes him to his death then? Shall we send him off with a prayer?”

“Caiyha take him…”

“No, Dira.”

“Dira you say? It is Caiyha who brings this cycle to a close.”

“Aye, but she does not take him; Dira does.”

“Speak to me not of gods, for you are a tanner and I a scholar.”

“We are all scholars!”

“Yes, but I more than you.”

Tiki’s roar echoed out from the trees revealing the cat that was hidden in the shade. The natural camouflage of the kelvic seemed to work against him in this dire time.

“Why, is there a cat in that tree?”

“Indeed there is! There is a cat in that tree!”

“There’s a cat in that tree? Why would a cat be in a tree?”

“I do think the bear had chased him here. The second trail, why of course…”

“Second trail? And you didn’t tell me this why?”

“I thought you knew.”

“I am a skinner, not a hunter!”

“Are we not all hunters, brother?”

“Some more than others! Say, have you heard that tone in the Spires before?”

“I do think so, though on more cheerful circumstances. I see the markings of a great cat native to these parts, yet not native.”

“I have seen such markings before as well, was it a year ago. It was a kelvic if my memory serves me well.”

“I don’t see why it would not.”

“And what do you remember of a cat of this kind, good brother?”

“Indeed, I too recall a kelvic, one that hung around Grath’s Rest when he was away.”

“In the kitchen.”

“Aye, in the kitchen too.”

“We must tell Grath at once! He would be overjoyed.”

“No, no! That funny kelvic from a year ago, the black one. He fended off the miststalkers like Hahk’Shatara.”

“Caiyha be kind. What is he doing in that tree though?”

“Perhaps we should ask him?”

“Let’s.”

Silence lingered between the two Jamoura as Tiki hissed at the bear who had begun his ascention. Tiki was certainly out of his rightful place, and the Jamoura were failing to act on it.

The more scholarly of the two turned to the other and asked, “Well?”

“Well what?”

“Are you going to ask him?”

“Ney I had already suggested the idea.”

“Indeed, I approve.”

“Then ask.”

And eye roll later, Tiki heard the howling of a Jamoura from the trees over yonder. “Aye, why are you in a tree, cat?” Of course it sounded more like an “Oo-!” but meant just as well the same thing. Tiki’s eyes wondered before he zeroed in on the Jamoura, their camouflage being broken when they shifted around to call to him. He couldn’t do much of anything from this form and was stuck with a decision. Well, it wasn’t like his growling was having much an effect anyway.

Tiki squatted and shifted to a human form and called back to the Jamoura in their native tongue, “Help!”

“Goodness it is a kelvic!”

“Why is there a kelvic in a tree?”

“The same reason there is a cat in a tree.”

“I see not cat.”

“The kelvic cat.”

“Ah, yes…”

“Should we help him?”

“It is by Caiyha’s order that we leave her realm to itself.”

“Has he not proven himself one of us?”

“Ney, he is a cat!”

“Has he not saved your life?”

“He has.”

“Has he not proven himself then?”

“Why many times over, naturally. We should destroy this tainted life and save the cat.”

The scholarly one began to descend from the tree while his brother in arms sat atop the tree.

“Coming?”

“Likewise, lead!” he said, and followed.

The bear had only managed to pull itself several feet up. Rather than taking the long way around it was able to dig into the tree and swivel right around to Tiki’s perch. Tiki was forced to retreat to those outer branches, and the Jamoura were on their way, surely. A false step and Tiki would fall to what might be his death. The bear was almost upon him, the massive monster.

“Where have you gone cat?”

“What cat? I’m Tiki,” he shouted from the other end. Tiki clearly had some identity issues, but the point was made as it was.

“Yes! That was his name! Tiki!”

“Yes, and now we must save him.”

“No, he saved me.”

“Yes, but now we must save him!”

“Aye! Yes!”

Tiki managed his way around to the closest branch before he slipped and caught himself. Like the nets that hung from the sides of the Spires, he found himself holding on for dear life with nothing below to catch him. He was but a few feet from the edge. As the bear made its way around, Tiki began to swing. The tree was coming loose and it leaned further over the ledge. He tried to pull himself up with little success.

In his swing, Tiki’s feet came closer to the edge, but not enough to touch. He kept trying to pull himself, which brought him further from the edge. He tried to pull himself up before the bear took a swipe at his head. He fell, and began to swing again with his arms hanging wide. This would be the end of poor Tiki if not for the Jamoura. In the end of his arc, Tiki’s foot was snagged by the scholar. The Jamoura plucked him from the tree like ripened fruit and bore him close to his bosom. The other of the two began to push on the tree rather than poking the bear directly. The shaft on his back would certainly do the trick, but he didn’t wish to directly harm a living being.

“What are you doing?”

“I will not kill this bear. We had agree it was to be left to Her duty.”

“And the tree?”

“What of it?”

“Is it not alive?”

Tiki hung upside down pressed to the Jamoura’s chest as the two casually conversed about the topic. From what he gathered, they were both very thoughtful beings, very conscious of their practice, perhaps too much, and more one than another.

“Why yes it is! I will not bring harm to this tree then.”

“And what of the bear?”

“What bear,” the Jamoura asked with wide eyes, his jerking giving the tree a good push. The crackling wood began to tug and twist, the earth below it giving way. The Jamoura retreated back some meters as the bear roared to its fall. The scholar covered his eyes with his hands, thusly dropping Tiki to his back. The cat managed to twist in the air some, his back arched, spiraling, before he landed on all fours. His reflexes did not fail him in this form. Still, a Symenestra was certain to be more of an acrobat.

The unexpected occurred. The bear began to pull itself from up over the ledge.

“Go knock that bear down.”

“I will do no such thing!”

Tiki struggled to keep up with the conversation. His Jamouran was quite basic, but he held onto the most of the conversation. Why they didn’t want to kill this bear was beyond him. It was some cursed thing, if not evil then ill. He held little pity for the thing that had tried to kill him.

“Help him down?”

“Very well…” But it was too late, and now the bear was after the Jamoura who would not knock the bear down. The giants clashed, the bear charging with his rabid jaws hung wide open. The sickly maw was blocked by the Jamoura’s staff. Like a dog on a stick that would not let go, it was easy to pull and tug the bear back and overturn him. The bear rested between them all, but caught sight of Tiki. It was climbing to its feet, and Tiki was running behind the scholar.

“Well now look what you’ve started. Finish it.”

“I will not harm this bear.”

“But you’ve already knocked it down.”

“This goes against everything I stand for.”

“Caiyha will forgive you.”

“Your Elegance?”

“No! Just kill the ill beast!”

With a grunt the other of the Jamoura walked over and aimed a sure shot from his staff on the bear’s neck. The first crack echoed out and the bear dropped down, but still fought for Tiki’s body. Another well aimed blow to the head seemed to do the trick. Blood trickled from the ears and nose as the bear went limb.

“Well done. What a shame.”

“Indeed it is. Caiyha forgive me…”

“Collect its pelt?”

“Hmm?”

“If the meat is no good we might as well take his pelt.”

“What do I look like to you, a skinner?”

“Do you know nothing of the trade of those who work before you?”

“Huh?”

“Do you not work leather?”

“I do, but I am a tanner.”

“And you know nothing of skinning?”

“Do I look like a scholar?”

“Well said. Shall we be off then?”

“Thank you,” Tiki timidly interjected.

“Ah yes, the boy.”

“Cat.”

“Kelvic.”

“I’m Tiki.”

“Quite.”

“Hmm, quite…”

The Jamoura locked stares with each other. Tiki felt quite out of place, even among Jamoura. After that chase, he had figured he had done all he could for the day. Maybe he could try something other at the Spires, gather, but that had been enough hunting for the day. “Are you returning to the Spires,” he asked.

“We’re hunting.”

“I feel we’ve done enough. We were hunting, but now we’re heading back. Collect the pelt.”

“Collect the pelt,” he mocked as he went over to the bear and began to rip the skin from the bear.

“You are Tiki then, hmm. What were you doing in that tree over there?”

“Oo, there is no tree!”

“Skin your pelt!”

“I was chased into the tree by the bear. Something had cursed it.”

“Fear not, it was just ill. The foam from its…Oh!” The Jamoura corrected himself and changed to a common tongue. “It was sick, young one.” Tiki’s ears perked up as he could now understand the Jamoura in full.

“You sound like a human.”

“He is human,” he continued in common, “Mind your manners.”

“I despise this quick human talk. Greetings, Tiki,” he said with the pelt slung over his back. The kelvic lightened up in good company. Introductions were made, and the group began their trek back to the Spires. Conversations would be…interminable. Tiki listened to the back and forth of the Jamoura, a scholarly elder and this younger one, a tanner. Both Jamoura were hunting, and hinted of other responsibilities when they returned.

As the troop approached nearer the Spires, a cry broke through the serenity of the forest. The howling of a wolf echoed through the hard bark forest to Tiki’s ears. He immediately dropped to all fours and snarled behind him. The Jamoura kept walking. Tiki wasn’t sure what to make of the Jamoura. Were they stupid for their kind, or just so wise and beyond him that he could not understand? Both? They paid no attention to the wolves. Tiki hissed and turned back to keep up with his company.

Shadow hides rushed past the group, but the Jamoura kept their pace as normal. Tiki counted them, one, two, three – four, wait, how many did he see? There were at least four ahead of him. And how many before? Seven he thought? He managed the basic subtraction well enough without a formal education. If you have seven and take away four, you have three. Tiki peered over his shoulder to find the other three, suspecting an ambush.

The wolves dared toward the group simultaneously. Tiki roared and growled in preparation, but nothing stopped the wolves or diverted them. The Jamoura kept their conversation to the last.

“Harn would most certainly not-“

“He would, and has!”

“I always thought him to be a more serene fellow.”

“All work and no play, huh.”

“Likewise.”

“Pardon?”

They had fell back into the habit of their native language earlier in the conversation. Tiki darted between the two and gave them a nudge to no avail. The Jamoura were either so oblivious or…well he wasn’t sure what. The first wolf darted right back the other Jamoura and went for Tiki. He was the obvious target, small and feeble in comparison to the giant apes.

“On your right, cat.”

“He’s Tiki.”

“And on your right.” The wolves leapt up and attacked, three coming from the back as predicted, the four at the front and sides. It was an ambush, though the Jamoura acted without surprise. Rather elegant motions of spinning bodies and staves deflected most of the animals without outright killing them. They were propelled to other sides of the forest, some into rocks and trees. All but two were caught, the first one that slipped through and a second one that followed the center path for Tiki from the rear. The kelvic found his own quarrel.

It seemed two was more than Tiki could handle. As soon as he took the top side of another he had another wolf biting at his limbs or backside. He’d tear away from one to the other only to have his back taken again. They were all over him, and he seemed unable to make an offensive. Backed into a tree he could box with them a bit, but soon the wolves grew restless and attacked. His maw dug into the shoulder of one as his limbs become locked in their jaws. They bit into him and shook their heads violently to rip his flesh away. Tiki retracted and gave them a wipe on the nose. One now had two marks from Tiki, then and now. The wolves broke it off, but Tiki wouldn’t let them go. Why were they retreating? The Jamoura seemed to fend off the brute of the pack, and they wolves had the impression they would be followed.

Tiki’s rival canine turned around and charged after Tiki, altruism at its finest. Tiki kept low in his own lunge. Their chests smashed together, Tiki on the under end. The wolf’s long jaw tried to trap Tiki’s shoulder while the cat bit into the wolf’s neck with his shorter snout. Their claws reached up, although the cat had a better chance to cling into the wolf’s flesh. Tiki had forced their collision; otherwise the wolf would have had his bite. The fight would be quite different then. With the aid of the Jamoura, all that was heard further was the growling wolf, whining, and then silence. Tiki had his hunt after all. It could have readily been his last though.

While the Jamoura continued their chit chat on the way to the Spires, that final sprint, Tiki found himself in meditation. He reconsidered if this was really the life he wanted, this pain and terror? No, no one wants that. He understood he had lived with it, but there was something better. He had felt it once before, only once. In the face of certain doom only one had put others before himself, put Tiki before himself. This whole time he had been searching for that moment again, trying to identify it, and finally he got it. He had chased danger expecting to find security again, but it was that security that had kept the danger away. It was Hadrian.

The delivery was something of a surprise. The Jamoura told a funny story of cats being chased up trees. Though Tiki enjoyed the humor, suspecting it was about him despite it seeming to be more of a tall tale, his mind wondered. He didn’t want to leave the Spires just yet. He’d stay the summer, he figured. He wanted to spend some more time with those he cared for here; to help rebuild what was once his home. Home had wondered away though. Now it was somewhere near the ocean where the water rises and falls in waves, where fish were big and filling. He’d go find home in Zeltiva. He’d find home where Hadrian went.

by **Cinna** on October 23rd, 2012, 12:56 am

And the forest reveals....

I really adore Tiki, he always manages to get himself into some kind of trouble but come out just fine. I also enjoyed the two Jamoura NPCs, frustrating and slow, but lovable all the same. Great thread!

Tiki :

If you have any questions about my grading then don't hesitate to PM me!