Solo Is it Bigger than a Breadbox?

[Tinnok]

Is it Bigger Than a Breadbox?
40th of Winter, 512 A.V.

Tinnok rolled the single bikka in her possession between her fingers. She had never truly known what it was like to have no money. One earned their keep in the Tempered Steel, but if you did your needs were taken care of. Plus, who needed money when the forest provided everything you needed? Food, shelter, water, one hadn't a need for anything else, right?

But that had all changed when she had returned home that fateful day, when her mother had grabbed her shoulder and nearly wrenched it from its socket looking at the Gnosis mark that grew there. Any other parent would glow with pride that their child was blessed by the Goddess of nature, that their own progeny had offered themselves up to nature, to be its herald and protector. Her mother only saw failure. That the ink of the Gods marked her from Caiyha and not from Myri, and Tinnok could see the bitterness wrench at her mother's soul to see she had well and truly failed in turning her abomination of a daughter into one of Myri's own.

The joy that had radiated from her being had turned sour in her mouth, and when she had said she was going into the forest to serve Caiyha after her term in the military was served, her mother said naught a word, merely turned and left, cold and indifferent.

Nearly three years later, here the half-breed stood in the at the edge of the jungle, bow slung upon her back, dagger placed on either hip with her quiver at an odd angle. Her home in the woods had leaks and holes. She knew nothing of lumbering, and needed to buy wood from the market, but the single piece of bone would get her nowhere. She wished to start her own little garden, but required the seeds and richer soils of the barbarian lands, but again needed the money. She would hunt then, bring back the pelts of her kills and sell them. She was sure to get lousy prices because of her blood, but perhaps her Gnosis could be used to her advantage then, used as a point of leverage and fear of the unknown. Myrians liked what they knew after all, and there weren't so many blessed by Caiyha among them for it to be a common occurrence.

So she sent off at a slow jog through the wilderness, hands brushing against the trees as she went. Eventually her communication with the flora became too much of a distraction and she ceased, focusing on keeping even breaths as she ran and the rhythm of her legs upon the ground, thumping in time to an increased heart rate.

When she was far enough from Taloba she slowed her pace and began to search for signs. She knew little to nothing about hunting, but every Myrian knew something about tracking, and perhaps if she was able to track down her prey, her skill with a bow would allow her to take it down.

The ground of the forest was soft, and prints were easily made. It didn't take her long to find some small angular prints of birds, ground bound ones most likely, for birds of the canopy didn't often come to ground. These one's were dried up, however, too old to be of much use to the potential hunter, so she moved on through the wilderness, eyes trained upon the ground, searching soil, roots, and leaves for signs of disturbance or trespassing.

It was not the prints of a creature she found, but fellow Myrians. These tracks were fresh by the look of them, for the soil in which they had been made was still soft to the touch. They were light too, as if the weight barely touched the ground before it distributed to the other foot. She looked at her own significantly deeper tracks and clucked her tongue. Whoever she was following was certainly better at this than she was.

She attempted to copy the print, placing the sole of her foot gingerly upon the ground parallel to the track and nearly as soon as she stepped upon it she transferred her weight to the opposite leg. Freezing in place she took a step back and to the side and frowned in dismay, seeing that her track was still more like a trough compared to the other person. This meant: A. She was an idiot, or B. The person was lighter than she. Technically, she reasoned with herself, the most likely option was really a combination of both, but whoever this was seemed to be able to take long strides and not compromise sound either. Unfortunately Tinnok's curiosity was piqued, and in order to follow them with any hopes of catching up she would need to move fast, which didn't also mean quietly. She skipped forward and leapt upon a large root, giving one last survey of this patch of woods, making sure the tracks were leading in the same direction before lunging off with both feet and landing a good six feet away from the trunk, landing upon one foot and setting into a light sprint. She was no hunter, but it was a good bet that who ever she was following was. Whether this was a good idea or a very bad one, Tin couldn't be sure, but at the moment it just seemed like the best option.

[Tinnok]

She made sure not to let herself off easy. When she stopped running it was slow process, making sure she felt the burn as her legs slowly lessened their feverish motion. The tracks had been easy to follow, but she had still had to pause, to double check herself and double back if she moved too fast in the wrong direction. For an emissary of Caiyha she sure needed to figure out her way around tracking and this jungle a bit more.

Then she heard it, the faint crack of foliage beneath feet, sensed the presence of something drawing near, behind her. She had thought the running to be necessary, but had forgotten about the extreme downfall of speed, which was namely, a lack of silence.

As she whirled around, dagger in hand a vicious punch to her face sent her sprawling upon the ground, skidding across earth. A bare foot on her chest, caked in dirt and debris, pressed upon her so hard that she could barely draw breath from her lungs.

The woman that stood over her was small for a Myrian female, clearly the creator of the tracks she had been following. Her skin was almost ebony, her eyes a vibrant brown with flecks of hazel, and in her hand was a long slender blade Tinnok couldn’t identify, hovering mere inches from her throat.

From the sides three other individuals emerged from the jungle, three males of varying build and brawn, steely eyes holding the same lack of emotion as the woman. The pressure of her foot released just enough for Tinnok to get a modicum more of air as she spoke. “Give me one reason I shouldn’t gut you right here, right now, snake spawn.”

Tinnok sighed, and the woman looked fairly surprised. Moving her shoulders slightly in a shrug the half breed closed her eyes and smiled. “Just do it. I know about the entire population of Taloba would be happy you did, my mother would probably thank you personally, send you a nice bouquet of orchids to boot.”

Her eyes flashed open to see the array of emotions from hatred, to curiosity, to amusement within their eyes. Good, as long as she kept them interested she could work her way out of this. The foot moved to her throat and Tinnok choked in pain. “You’re being a little too coy for my liking, snake. If you really wanted death, you have found it.”

Tinnok tried to muster up the most apathetic expression she could manage, heart betraying her beneath her ribs. The dark skinned female licked her lips, and raised her blade. Tinnok bent her leg and struck out fast and hard at the woman’s ankle. She gasped out as the foot was removed from her throat, and rolled over just in time as the strange blade crashed into the earth right where she had been. Leaping up from the ground she backpedalled, but found the three males making a circle around her and the other female, swords and axes brandished. There was no real escape. The woman gave a nod and one of the men grabbed both of Tinnok’s arms, roughly sliding them behind her back. The half-breed struggled and kicked, but his grip only tightened to the point where her shoulders could be dislocated with too much torque.

With breath gasping and eyes wide Tinnok stopped moving. The woman smiled. “That is more like it, abomination. I do not find it very likely that you truly have a death wish. Now tell me why you are here. To spy for your brethren? I have to say you do a piss poor job sneaking.”

Tinnok tried to manage an offended look, but her face was too creased with pain for it to come off as very convincing. Instead she relaxed her muscles as much as possible and decided to take the honest approach. “I am no friend of Dhani, just because a male’s seed infected my mother doesn’t mean I hold anything but hate for what it made me into. The only reason I followed was to hunt. To see a skilled person in the jungles of Falyndar, farther out than most would travel made me think I could learn something. The lack of stealth…well my impatience outran my thinking. I become used to the jungle in many ways and forget that I still have need to be cautious.”

The man holding her grunted. “Yimay, look at her arm.”

Her shoved Tinnok roughly to the side, exposing her Gnosis mark, and the woman stepped forward, her fingers running over the skin. It tickled, but Tinnok was prudent enough to keep her taciturn expression. Yimay stepped back. “You are marked by Caiyha, and not by the pathetic snake mother, you have the ancient enemy in your veins, yet you have not died yet. You served in the military?”

Tinnok nodded. Yimay considered. Another male spoke. “Hunt mistress you can’t be-"

“Shut up Greit.” She twitched her fingers and Tinnok gasped in relief as her aching arms were released from the large man’s hold. Yimay circled the half breed, lithe legs like a tiger stalking its prey, eyes as clever as a hawks. Tinnok felt the weight of a predator’s gaze upon her, but finally the woman stopped. “Boys? I see this as a sign from the Goddesses of our jungle. One blessed by Caiyha, tainted blood or no is a gift, and not a curse. What do you know of hunting wench?”

Tinnok gaped at the expression. Wench was a term used by barbarians that degraded women, any male caught using that term could lose precious parts of anatomy using it, and even a woman insulting a fellow female considered it a substantial insult. Then she smiled…in a way it was better than snake. She made sure to temper her face of humor. “I know how to track, to watch my prey, to shoot them with bow or slice them with knife, but the art of hunting is one I never had the privilege to learn.”

Yimay nodded, hand upon her chin. She then turned and waved her hand, the men all falling in step behind her, with a few dirty looks Tinnok’s way. “Well, wench, then me and my boys will simply have to teach you. Come on then, we’ve wasted enough time doubling back to ambush you."

Tinnok started, surprised by this strange turn of events. Strange for the woman to so easily trust her…but then again…to kill someone blessed by Caiyha required a greater reason than simply slitted eyes, she supposed. She was going to be used as a tool, but it was better than to be found useless and discarded in the jungle by carrion feeders. Sheathing her dagger and picking up the pace, Tinnok fell to the back of the hunting procession, a strange mixture of emotions cycling through her being.

[Tinnok]

“Wench, come to front of the line!”

They had been walking for a couple bells, stopping every now and then to watch Yimay or one of the other brutes comment on a trail or the sounds they heard within the forest. Tinnok kept her own ears open of course, but that was a different sort of hearing, and it had little to with the hunt. No, she was checking to make sure the land held its balance, that a steady thrum of life communicated to her from all the life she touched, and in fact it probably distracted her from the hunt they were on more than helped.

So she jolted with the words and jogged up past the glares of the men folk next to Yimay, who was walking at a brisk, but manageable pace. “So wench, tell me what you see, what you hear. What does that mark give you that elevates a part Dhani abomination above the senses of her true blooded kin?”

The way she spoke sounded more curious than resentful, a surprise to the half-breed who was so used to the latter as opposed to the former. “Plants are slow to speak and don’t give much information, insects are sporadic and hard to translate. I just see a different side of it, Hunt Mistress, someone as skilled as you can read the forest just as well as I, merely see a different page than I do.”

“Hunt Mistress?” The faint trace of a smile hung on dark lips. “I like being addresses so formally by another female.”

Tinnok shrugged. “I figured it would be pruden-“

“You were right, now shut up and listen.”

Tinnok’s mouth closed.

“What most barbarians fail to realize is the whole jungle is a giant living being. You know it better than most, I suspect. Hunting is not the same as tracking. You can track paw prints, claw marks, dung droppings all you like and it doesn’t mean you’ll get your prey. You have to understand how they think, where they go to ground, the whole picture. You have to be fast, but quiet, strong, but agile, and most of all clever. It’s why those ballsacks behind me wouldn’t get anywhere in this forest without me, you see. I know exactly how its heart beats and to what rhythm. So, I teach you, and you teach me some of its inner workings, deal, wench?”

Tinnok nodded.

“Good.” And so they went. Tinnok walked beside Yimay, and from there on in, things got quieter, quicker, and more intense.

Tinnok knew a thing or two about stealth, but nothing compared to the huntress that walked beside her. They way her body moved implied it was made out of liquid and no human muscle or bones of any sort. She adapted to each new surface and plane she came across and made naught a sound while doing so. Tinnok had always been able to out-stealth her brethren of the Tempered Steel, but beside Yimay she felt like a giant traipsing across eggshells. So she attempted to mimic her movements. It was clear that the woman traveled as light as possible to further enhance the effect of her stealth. She carried a composite short bow that looked to be made from a foreign wood not in the jungles, and the quiver was trussed up so the arrows didn’t shift in movement. The hilt that carried her long foreign sword was perpendicular to her quiver, and two massively long daggers that probably should have been short swords hung strapped upon each hip. Those details were small and easily doable and Tinnok took note of them in order to use upon her next hunt.

The next step was to try to see how she moved. The half-breed was familiar with how she walked to eliminate sound, transferring weight evenly as one moved, but the concept of this was entirely different from the practice of it. Just because she could do it didn’t also mean she did it well. So she bent her legs slightly as Yimay did, bending her body a bit over her legs, as YImay did. Even in this position the huntress moved through the woods at a voracious pace, one which Tinnok could not match, and maintain her quiet. Regardless of her success, however, she forced herself to mimic the behavior, practice was one of the key elements in order to make herself better at the task…one silent step at a time.

Her shame was complete realizing the only footsteps she could hear as they trekked through the forest were her own. Competition was a powerful motivator, however, and a determination set in her gut to hone her skills of silence and speed.

Syna rose up over them in the sky and Yimay halted. Her eyes were constantly flickering from the ground back in front of them in a constant dance of motion. Tinnok was able to see the trail they followed, a set of prints from birds, the medium large terrestrial Curassow. Them moved in harems, females following the one jet black smaller male, and capturing one was profitable in meat and for their sleek and shining feathers.

“They know we are following them.” Yimay said quietly, almost to herself. One of the men grunted in agreement and a singular eyebrow raised upon Tinnok’s features. Yimay caught the expression and gestured to the tracks. “They have moved at nearly twice the pace from when we last saw the collection of the tracks. We have been keeping the same pace,but they are moving faster.”

Tinnok bent upon a knee and ran her fingers through the dirt. She was of course, correct. These tracks that had been left in the mud were more cracked around the edges, showing that the bird’s distance had increased. Tinnok looked up at Yimay and the huntress could sense words behind those eerie golden eyes. “What, wench, spit it out.”

“Or, they haven’t sensed us…but something else.”

A small smile spread across the huntresses face. “Perhaps you will be a hunter indeed, snake.” She smirked. “Either way we have to get moving.”

Even Yimay sacrificed the absolute silence of her walking in order for them to increase the pace. Feet flew over branches and roots in the closest thing they could get to a run without sacrificing their stealth entirely. Tinnok used vines and branches to aid her, propelling herself over leafy patches of ground in order to land on damp soil or even in mud to avoid patches of noise producing materials. Yimay stayed ahead, checking the trail every now and then before dashing off at the forefront of their party.

Tinnok nearly ran into her when she stopped, body partially hidden behind a great tree, her arm lashing out to catch the half breed and stow her away in the hiding spot as well. No words were needed to see what her urgency was about, for as Tinnok peeked out behind the tree she caught flashed of the prey they sought: The Curassow. They foraged, but were clearly nervous, heads darting up and down feverishly with every wisp of wind and stray birdcall that fell upon their ears. Tinnok began to nock her bow, but Yimay stayed her hand, whispering quietly. “You were right, now wait.”

Tinnok wasn’t entirely sure what she meant, but she watched the clearing with interest. It was about 4 females with one male, probably a young grouping, for none of the females looked old, nor were there any chicks or adolescents to be seen. The men took their stations each at different trees, and they watched. It was long and tiring waiting. The heat bore down upon the hunters, and Tinnok could not hear any foreign sounds that betrayed another wild animal partaking in their hunt. Yimay’s skills had already been displayed, however, and she wasn’t about to question them. Then she heard it, and so too did the Curassow. It was a crack of a large animal. One of the bird’s screeched and they all moved in unison, wings flapping, legs pumping. It was already too late, however. The spotted predator lunged from the foliage, taking down two of the birds in one leap, paws crushing spines and snapping necks. Yimay smiled with something akin to glee and whistled one long note of a king vulture circling its deceased prey.

Four bows were drawn and nocked simultaneously. Tinnok was not so expert with her bow to be quite in time with them, but her arrow slid from its quiver with speed, the string of her long bow pulled taut against her face. The leopard had slashed at the male, throwing him into the trunk of a great tree with a pathetic lamentation, and it was then that five arrows loosed from their holds and flew across the clearing. Two into the haunches, one sliding past the cats rear, barely clipping the tail, one sinking into its neck and the fifth, the last one shot by the five, lagging behind the syncopated rhythm of the four hunters nearly missed the beast, yet sank into the sinew of its front forepaw.

The cat yowled and righted itself to the real issue at hand, but Yimay already had another arrow drawn in her short bow, and had leapt from their cover, charging the beast. The leopard surged forward, and leapt through the air, the huntress rewarding it by shooting in the eye. Its dying breath was choked and gargled as the massive body flew by Yimay, who ducked neatly and rolled beneath it, standing up and looking into the woods. It all happened so fast Tinnok didn’t even realize that the two Curassow that would have escaped from the leopard had been taken down by two of the men in the hunting party while Yimay had dueled her jungle cat.

Tinnok stepped out slowly, glancing with ill-disguised awe at the well-oiled team the four of them made. Yimay pulled her arrow out of the jaguar’s head, eye attached and popped the ball of jelly into her mouth, Tinnok unable to ignore the squirt and squish of an eye being chewed by sharp Myrian teeth, then gave a pleased grin at Tinnok with bits of eye still in her teeth.

“A thing of beauty, isn’t it?”

The half breed could only nod dumbly in reply.

[Tinnok]

The four of them moved in unison, as if they had done precisely this a hundred times over. Yimay seemed only slightly pleased with the catch, while Tinnok thought about her own clan, how it was a success to bring half of this game back to the longhouses. Of course, it was a bit different when you were making a living off the sale of your catches…

She was delayed, but went to the leopard to remove her arrows from its leg as the others had done. One of the men was discussing something with Yimay, and then grudgingly came over and handed Tinnok the smaller male Curassow. Her eyes widened. She had not expected a take from this first hunt.

“Consider it reimbursement. We may have just charged in and killed the Curassow without even realizing the real prize behind them. His comb will fetch a nice price in the markets.”

Now Yimay stepped forward towards Tinnok, and the strange friendliness that had lain in her stance and manners disappeared. Her voice grew quiet, so only the half-breed could hear her, and everything in her stance spoke of a threat. “Do not think this means we are even allies, half breed. This bird is merely to ensure you will hunt with us again. In any dark alley I would cut you down the same as any true blooded Myrian would, and our deal is over the tick I hear that people know I am working with a tainted blood. You understand, wench?”

Tinnok didn’t approve of the situation, but she had to appreciate Yimay’s candor if nothing else. She gave only a nod. She did not like this, not one bit. Being thrown out of the military with nary a thanks, only to be forced to work with others that saw her as merely a tool…but she had no other choice, at least not until her skills grew as a hunter that she could branch off from this fine-tuned pack that Yimay had assembled. The four of them did not so much as glance her way as two of the males took the leopard between them and the others carried two Curassow apiece into the woods, disappearing just as quickly as they had come.

Tinnok bent low in the middle of the clearing, opening her mind to the forest and letting the events of the day, which had happened in such rapid succession, sink in fully. She laid the sleek black male upon the ground, stroking a white and black comb, and spoke to Caiyha. “Thank you mother of all, for granting me the sight to help catch the leopard this day, and for providing such bountiful plenty to your children. I will make sure these hunters do not waste your gifts to them as I serve the jungle.”

She rose, attached a bit of twin to the Curassow’s feet and slinging it over her shoulder, satisfied with the thump it made along her back. Turning from the clearing she began to walk back to Taloba, taking her sweet time. It would do no good to arrive with the other party, and she didn’t want to ruin…this strange trading of knowledge before it had even began. When she walked she tried her best to picture what Yimay had done before. Her legs bent, and she attempted to make her body flow naturally over the ground, making as little noise as possible, and creating the least amount of disturbance. About a half bell and her nose curled in frustration, knowing it was still too loud and much too slow, but she took a deep breath and continued. As Syna dipped in the sky a shadowed silhouette of one lone half-breed, bird strung over her back could be seen plodding slowly through the undergrowth, making her stealthy way back home.

[Limey]

Skill and Lore Rewards Skills Lore Tracking 1 The Reality Of Poverty Observation 4 You Are Not My Daughter Shortbow 1 Peace In The Jungle Persuasion 1 Searching For Signs Of Prey Hunting 2 The Downfall Of Speed Is Silence Stealth 1 Yimay: Small, Cold And Merciless The Snake Is A Sign Marked By Caiyha: A Useful Asset The Different Voices Of The Jungle Hunting Is Not Tracking Know How Your Prey Thinks We Have A Deal, Wench? Who Is Hunter, And Who The Hunted? Employers, Not Allies Additional Notes : Very nice work... but what IS IT with you and using memes as titles? Either way, you know you're a talented writer, so I won't waste time on that. A few spelling mistakes, but other than that your characterisation and the details of the hunt were spot on. Congratulations for playing WITHIN your skill set, too. Always nice to see some humility. Now, as to why you haven't received any money for the bird, you'll be getting a PM as to the details later, but also you didn't actually roleplay SELLING IT, just GETTING IT. Any questions or queries, please PM me.