Unfurling Greenery (Nate)

by **Tinnok** on June 29th, 2014, 9:10 pm

Unfurling Greenery
65th of Summer, 514 A.V.

A tumultuous scene appeared before a twice marked Witch’s gaze upon the forest floor. A myriad of army ants, stretched for half a mile over the forest floor where making their way just as the name suggested. The half breed Witch was always impressed by their valor and power, for such a little creature was the bane of all in the jungle wilds, large or small. To get in their way was at the very least to suffer countless bites that stung, itched, and swelled with promise of speedy infection. To get caught by the majority of them meant worse, and perhaps even death. Currently she was peering at a hissing cockroach which appeared as if it had been set aflame, and was wriggling and scampering as fast as its colored body could manage, but had numerous army ants on its tail, clinging to its body, and surrounding it.

A few hundred or more crawled unconcerned over Tinnok, knowing she was part of their ilk, despite her drastically different anatomy. There was something far more whole about feeling the unity and stark nature of the thoughts of many army ants, compared to a singular one. They operated more concisely than any Myrian army ever could, despite attempts, and she felt drawn to march on with them to see where they might find their next meal, a nomadic lot they were, and constantly searching for more nourishment, alive or dead.

Something, a sense, the vaguest feeling, however, pulled her away from her little army. The easiest way to communicate with insects was to be very distinct in thought. Ants were not abstract thinkers. To make sure all of the soldiers returned to their ranks, the Witch repeated a pheromone she had learned from communicating with them, that kind that signaled an enemy and prey to be destroyed and devoured, giving the vaguest of directions, namely, away and off of her body. As one the ants streamed down her arms and legs, crawling off of her toes and ankles to r-assemble.

There they would be re-instructed to whatever message the main body of the horde was sending, and all would be well again. The Witch gave a half bow to the ants, then turned and began jogging through the jungle, wondering what precisely was calling to her in this direction, but not too concerned with the lack of knowledge. The Witch had never had a problem taking things on Blind Faith.

For Nate…this jungle was entirely another story. It was hot, and not simply a day where you could see the waves rising off cobblestones and shyke on the road, it was a wet heat that clung to your skin and made the air feel heavy, as if it was working to press you down on the ground and strangle you.

There were no paths, no trails, not a single marker to identify where he was. Each step taken would reveal jungle, identical, yet somehow different from the last patch he was in. The trees towered high above him, the lowest branches sometimes 50 or more feet off of the ground, and though there were the vaguest similarities in plant life he had seen, it was as if they were all massive versions of what he may have known, most of them not at all identifiable.

The noise…that was something else as well. Sunberth always had a clatter, yelling, screaming, hawking, breaking of things, emptying of piss pots, braying of animals, the occasional squawking of some sick bird. The sounds here was rather akin to the beating of a strange and alien heart. There were bird calls coming from every direction, not a single avian creature actually visible, the croaks of frogs, and the chirps, thrums, and calls of hundreds or thousands of insects. Somewhere in the distance some strange howl echoed through the forest as Nate’s booted feet sunk into soft and loamy soil.

It was all different, all so far away from the place he knew, and from the looks of it, there was little to no hope of returning there anytime soon.
Regardless of his decision, staying transfixed, or moving in the hopes that somewhere, someday, the landscape might change to something identifiable, after a few chimes, another noise joined the cacophony. At first it appeared as just another insect, perhaps a bit louder, a strange chirping sound. It was clear soon, however, that it was drawing closer, and suddenly a strange inhuman screech reached Nate’s ears.

The foliage to his left shifted, and whirling a strange form emerged, giant pulsating red retina staring down its potential prey. The Ya’Tago was hungry, and this strange being looked like the perfect midday snack to sate one’s hunger upon. It was tall, making Nate look more like a child then the giant of a man he was. Pinceres clacked curiously, lime green body shifting forward to revealing a dark green thorax, and legs that looked almost too thin to support its weight. Canting its head to the side the creature chattered, clacking its mandibles together as if in thought about how best to slice up its prey.

Word Count856 (not counting timestamp or title)

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by **Nathaniel Ankah** on June 29th, 2014, 11:12 pm

"Alright! This is no longer fucking fu-"

Bzzzzz-TTT!

"Ow!"

SLAP!

"Fuck me, what in the shit-stained hells is this place?!"

Yet another tiny denizen of the jungle was crushed beneath his hand, but there were legions of reinforcements for every one Nate smote. It seemed like every leaf and twig held a store of buzzing, flickering dots... and some much larger than dots, all eager to sup and savor his tender flesh.

I'm tender?! Gods, what the fuck have they been eating on?!

The Sunberth street daemon (formerly) didn't waste too much time on that. He plunged onward through the foliage, mud sucking at his feet, stinging monstrosities buzzing at him the whole time. Swooping, jumping things of fur and scale seemed to be everywhere over his head, but there was little light to make out anything distinct.

The canopy was far too thick for that. He craned his neck up almost vertical and hard as he squinted, all he could see was yet more green, turned to shadow and black the higher it went. Syna was just a glow beyond Caiyha's ceiling, with occasional shafts of light piercing it like spears. Years on the Docks had given Nate some knowledge of Fratava, and the blue-eyed Suvan sailors had taught him to read Syna, too. Knowing what time of day it was, roughly...

And he couldn't even do that. All he could do was... plough ahead, he supposed.

"Good thing I'm... dreaming, I suppose..."

He didn't want to hesitate before that middle word, but he wasn't delusional enough not to. He'd went to bed in Sunberth, surrounded by the familiar festering squalor of that city... and when his eyes opened, he was surrounded by endless, choking green and something that looking like a tiny, wizened old man with fur all over it was trying to eat his shoes.

They'd screeched at each other and the old man had skittered up a vertical tree trunk like it was running across the floor. Nate's day had gotten steadily worse from there.

"Gotta be someone living here, gotta be someone somewhere..." he muttered to himself like a mantra, patting the hilts of the weapons at his hips, even checking the punching dagger in his boot, "And you've got these, lad. Certainly help even the score-"

Then the reality of Falyndar appeared from the foliage, slipping between the leaves with a healthy rustle and rearing over him like he was the bug, instead. That was what Nate assumed it was, after he managed to gather his wits beyond something more than-

It'safuckingbugnoit'stoofuckingbignowaynowayohfuckit'sgonnaeatme

Though he didn't know it, it was his very shocked stillness that saved him. The Ya'Tago blinked sideways and... grumbled, though one should imagine the sound being made by wet bones rattling together, rather than mammalian vocal chords. The prey was there, flitting and stomping like a massive, movable snack and then... gone.

The young predator waited. Like the army ants, it was not what a human would call abstract in its thinking... but it did have cunning, bred into it since before it had gnawed out of its pupae. It calcked its claws and waited. The fuzzy outline of the world moved a tad-

Nate stepped back, unsure and in awe, pulling his weapons as a matter of instinct.

-and the vast creature hissed. Ah. There it was.

The Ya'Tago lunged with more speed than those spindly legs should have given it, abdomen flying open and great wings ten feet across exploded briefly into furious motion-

-and Nate hurled himself to the side, ducking under the slashing claws the size of his head and mandibles that could have crunched it like a walnut. He rolled across foliage and dirt and something that squealed and scurried into a hole. But the Ya'Tago was not yet so easily distracted, landing adroitly with half it's legs on a tree trunk, the others on the ground-

-twisting it's thin, delicate head almost the whole way around to draw a fresh bead... ah... but it was faint. Just the steady and frantic movements of the prey's breathing. But enough for it to close in and end this.

Not abstract, but you'd be amazed how much endless hunger can motivate a beast.

The creature lunged again and Nate backpedaled, feet and hands a blur across the ground as claw and mandible smashed down over and over, giant insect giving a bellow of frustration that the prey just refused to die. But he kept going-

-until the land ended under him-

-and with a curse that trailed on and on like a roll of string thrown off a cliff, Nate rolled down the hill... with his would-be-consumer following.

by **Tinnok** on June 29th, 2014, 11:54 pm

She jogged casually across the landscape, a stark contrast to the tumbling, prickling, and heavy fall that would great Nate when he finally landed, cut and bruised at the bottom of a small ravine. No insects bit her, though many landed and let her carry them through the forest, resting their wings and cleaning them with mandibles, or probisci, or what have you. Eventually they would depart, leaving their compatriot of a Witch to her own foolish devices, going off in search of nectar, beasts to suck blood from, or other insects smaller than they to consume.

So when Tinnok heard a clacking screech, the noise sliding through the dense foliage like a machete through dead leaves, she paused for a moment in her motions. She knew the call of a hunting Ya’Tago, had known to dread such a sound from an early age. Now the sound did not bother her, yet something niggled at the back of her brain, the guiding force that was bringing her through the forest seemed to be guiding her right into the arms, or limbs, of the giant insect.

From a stop, she began to sprint through the foliage, tugged along as if by someone else’s accord. Only the balls of her bare and calloused feet touched upon the earth, her legs springing up and over roots, bounding off of partially exposed rocks, bounding from side to side as she sped through the jungle.

I’ll keep an eye out for you, male.

Those words stuck fast in her brain, stayed there a moment as she contemplated just what it meant, and then it disappeared, and that was when she saw the form tumbling down the hill, the young Ya’Tago gliding gracefully with buzzing wings down after the man, for few females would fall so gracelessly, of that the half Myrian was certain. Her pace was kept, and even as Nate was recovering, a hand swept up into the air. There a small rather plain looking brown bird flew, alighting down in her curled fingertips, the Witch transitioning the bird to her shoulder. She did not recognize the male, and he certainly wasn’t Myrian, not with all of those clothes, not the way he clearly didn’t know how to deal with a Ya’Tago. At first Tinnok’s mouth turned downward with barely concealed disgust, but that feeling came again, pushing at her. She was here for a reason, this male was here for a reason, and it probably wasn’t to simply watch the Ya’Tago eat him. So Tinnok closed the gap between her and the Ya’Tago, planting herself firmly between the insect and its intended prey.

Here the Witch wore no pants, no shirt one would see in the city. Loose cloth was hung around her hips, slightly intersecting her legs so nothing could simply go up in between them. Her waist and back were bare except for more of this dyed cloth wound around her chest and held up by circling around her neck where a few necklaces hung, two juts of bone sticking out either ear. With this little clothing her Gnosis mark could be seen fully, a grand tattoo that reached from her neck all the way down to her wrist on her right arm, obscured only by a quiver and bow, belts looped around her hips holding a singular scimitar and several daggers placed sporadically along the leather.

The insect stopped suddenly, and she could detect the furiousness in her gaze.

“Do not move another muscle.” Tinnok said firmly, keeping an aggressive stance as she stared down the Ya’Tago, that certainly did not want to harm the Witch, but most certainly wanted to dig its pincers, mandibles, and whole maw into the fleshy human behind her. Realizing her comment could have been misinterpreted to be commanding the Ya’Tago, she rotated her head to look sternly down at the barbarian male. “I mean it.”

She turned back to the ‘he’ in question, whose rage had dissipated to confusion. Surely the human was behind the female, for that is where he had seen it before she had so rudely stepped in the way, but as he sidled around her, scanning the ground, he did not sense its presence as he once had.

Tinnok met the Ya’Tago’s gaze with a steady unblinking one, pushing thoughts of the man behind her away, despite the fact that they kept bubbling quite rapidly up to the surface. She kept her mind clean. And the little bird on her shoulder had spied a pack of resting Akila Hounds in a cavern not far from here. Tinnok relayed this information to the Ya’Tago, who she did feel bad about stealing a meal from. The insect shook its head, translating her vision into its own senses, apparently it caught the canine scent, however, and after one last look at Tinnok, began to scamper back into the foliage, its green body disappearing almost instantly into the like colored foliage.

Slowly, very slowly, and only once the noise had dampened did Tinnok turn around to face the unknown intruder. Her hands had been empty this whole time, for never would she think of drawing a blade on a creature of the jungle unless she was hunting, but now there was a Scimitar in it, pointed at Nate’s throat.

“I should have let you die, barbarian. Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t call the Ya’Tago back and let it feast on your dead corpse.”

The little brown bird on her shoulder hopped nimbly to the opposite one, peering down curiously at Nate.

Word Count930

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by **Nathaniel Ankah** on June 30th, 2014, 2:05 am

Nate's world became a riot of whirling green and slashing vines and endless concussions that battered him like a pea inside a drum. He would have reached out for something but both his hands were to his weapons and he needed them to... to...

Do what, exactly? Give it something to play with after it eats you?!

Finally the world became still... and thus quite blurry, when Nate smashed into the wide root of some ancient tree, looking down at him with blank bark as the Ya'Toga landed with the grace of a bird. Nate's eyes welled with terror as he scrambled up to his knees. Something so fast, so agile... it shouldn't be that big. Mandibles like twin carving knives snapped together and legs like branches bent, ready to spring... and Nate drew back his weapons, teeth gritted, trying his best to bite down the childish terror strangling his throat from the inside.

Go out swinging. Make the cunt know you were there-

But Nate never got the chance to go out "like a man", or whatever fatalistic imperative he was about to die with. Instead some... thing, leaped out between them, seemingly from nowhere. With a bird on its shoulder.

"What in the f-"

“Do not move another muscle.”

For a beat, Nate thought those words were directed at the mantis... or whatever the ugly roach really was. But then the woman (and it was a woman, underneath all the savagery and wilderness caked on her) turned to him and Nate stared into some of the fiercest and most bewitching eyes he'd ever seen.

“I mean it.”

"N-Not a problem..."

The exchanged that followed was not for Nate's uninitiated ears, but he was content to just stare at this... creature. He would have barely believed she was capable of speech, just looking at her. Cloth and leather was strategically bound around her, but more flesh was revealed than covered... not to mention weapons. Bow, sword, daggers enough for the worst Sunberth blade-matcher... and a body tight and taut and hardened enough to wield them as well as any Dragoon.

A cloak of raven hair cascaded over tanned shoulders and Nate followed it down... down... and gulped.

She... certainly stays in shape-

Stay alive, Tiger.

The thought was there for a moment, then vanished like a candle blown out. Those were his words but... was it a memory? He squinted, the gargantuan Ya'Toga and the wild jungle woman impossibly forgotten as his gaze turned inward. Those eyes... you couldn't forget them, but... well, since when had he been to the jungle?

With a flit and a flutter (well, proportionate to its size, anyway), the Ya'Toga made its exit, apparently sufficiently intimidated or satisfied that it would be shitting out Nate the next morning. The Sunberth human panted some air back into his lungs and pushed himself up the tree, somewhat upright, mouth opening to ask, to inquire, to thank-

-and stopped when three feet of curved, sharpened steel stopped a few inches from his throat.

The woman delivered her ultimatum. It was... reasonable, in it's way, but Nate never responded well to threats and conversation-by-swordpoint. Some mad swell of machismo urged him to slap away the sword and brain her with his mace, but then fresh memory presented Exhibit A:

She scared off a monster that could have stomped an acre of Akalaks, and you want to fight her? Be serious, boy... and think hard before you speak.

Nate did, and in the doing he took roads dark and perhaps irrelevant. But still he walked them. Flashes, just... threads of thought and ghosts of memory, but those eyes, he couldn't forget them. Not totally. Not that attitude that held the world by the throat or dared it to try and do the same to her. Not that hard, tall frame that he'd seen decimate a-

"Because we've... ah..."

Petched.

Had sex.

Engaged in coitus.

Made love.

Judging by the flashes, they'd done all of the above... and in comparatively short time, too. But while Nate was far from a gambler, he knew the odds of him escaping with all his limbs if he voiced such a statement were unlikely. So he swallowed hard and licked his lips, staring down those eerily familiar slit-eyes.

"... ah... been thrown together for... a higher purpose."

Oh, fuck. Make this good.

Nate talked with the manic energy of a man facing the sword (and the mandibles, most likely). Even the bird seemed caught between being impressed and despairing of him.

"Well, this is a... big jungle, isn't it? Could walk for... leagues and leagues, not see anyone. I bet you don't... ah, do you?" The blade didn't waver. Neither did the sword. Right, then. "Ah, what I mean is... you just happen upon me, a total stranger, and then save my life... and ah, thanks for that, by the way. The odds, well... I wouldn't bet on them. Even with that... well, whatever you have, whatever power you use, that's long odds."

Nathaniel figured he was dead. There would be no bards nor skalds to tell tales of him, but petch it, he'd make an impression on her even if it was just before he died. He crossed his brawny arms, still loaded with his weapons, and tilted his chin up like it wasn't scant inches from a honed blade.

One eye quirked up, daring her with a cool, even amused gaze.

"Clearly, I'm a gift from the gods. Or you are. I can't imagine they'd be happy if you fed me to that thing rather than... oh, I dunno... help a weary and lost traveler to some shelter?"

OK. That might do it, for amusement's sake at lease. But don't go-

"And a brew would be welcome, too."

... nevermind.

by **Tinnok** on June 30th, 2014, 3:27 am

She studied him, carefully. Eyes roved his form, realizing he was tall, taller than most any Myrian, and perhaps even her if she allowed him to stand. She noticed his weathered features, and watched his green eyes.

She remembered those eyes.

But she did not know this man. She did like him stammering, however. Tinnok did not get to lord her position over males as often as a female of Myrian descent rightly should, and for a moment she basked in the glory of this man, who looked well muscled and able to defend himself, bumbling. His accent was strange, but she rather liked the sound his voice made, especially the starts and stops, and the wavering over his gaze. She kept her sword arm even, lips quirking up at the corners though she tried her best to keep them down.

It was a pathetic farce he attempted, for one whose very life was on the line, he seemed to just be…

He petching knows you aren’t going to kill him, idjit.

She sheathed her sword, ignoring the snide comments and cracking her knuckles, wishing she had it in her to leave him here to suffer and die at the claws of that Ya’Tago.

“Up.” She commanded. She ignored any looks she was given. “Up or I’ll leave you here.”

That worked a bit better. Once up Tinnok took a step back, Nate’s head coming above her own, yellow eyes blinking once, trying to figure out why this was all happening, why to her, and why now?

“There’s no city for weeks of travel maybe more, barbarian, so no drinks or lodging for you, and if you want to survive one night in the wilds, you best keep your eyes to yourself as we travel.”

Frankly the way his eyes roved her was completely disarming to the half breed, who had only the foggiest recollection of someone doing this before, perhaps with those same deep green eyes. She, however, had been down the fawning road before with another in these wilds, and she didn’t want to give into it now, so no meeting that gaze, and no acknowledging what it meant.

Instead her eyes roved his cuts. “Come on, there’s a river not far from here, you can wash yourself up.”

Then, not meeting his gaze again she turned around and stalked off through the jungle, feet light upon the soft ground and surrounding roots, almost as if she knew where every piece of foliage was going to be before she arrived there.

It only took a few times of travel, in which Nate was not pestered by barely any insects, and he realized Tinnok had suddenly stopped at the edge of a river, and was splashing her face in the relatively cool water. Despite herself she snuck a glance at the man as he washed up, remaining silent, no more offers of aid. She watched a vein on his arm with great interest, finding a few scars exposed from the loose shirt and trousers he wore.
She bound her own hair up tightly against her head in a bun, wondering vaguely why she had left it down in the first place, it was so much more of a hassle wandering the jungle with it loose. When a sufficient amount of time for the half breed had taken place, she stood, and began to walk along the river, glancing back, but not all the way to check and see if he followed.

“What do I call you barbarian?”

Word Count588

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by **Nathaniel Ankah** on July 1st, 2014, 2:39 am

Cheva's Blessed teats, I'm still alive.

Nate wondered if it was his silver tongue that caused the witch to lower her weapon, or if he really was just that lucky... or blessed. He was willing to bet it was one of the latter, but either way, he wasn't going to ask questions. By her tone and 'tude, he seemed to have gained a very tenuous ally in this green shithole.

And if you're going to have one, have one that can talk to giant, man-eating roaches. So when she told him to get moving, he got to the moving, and sharpish.

After a few chimes, Nate was aware of two things. Firstly, the legions of ravenous insects that had treated him like a moving buffet were avoiding him. Completely. Not just a little bit, but entirely. Not one scuttling set of legs nor probing proboscis did he feel, and he had to conclude it was the woman doing it.

The woman. That seemed... unsuitable. Especially since he knew-

No. He didn't know. Couldn't know. When had he been to the jungle? When would have she been to Sunberth, for that matter? To look at her one would think she'd been spawned by the jungle herself, snatching handfuls of civilizations bounty as she went - weapons, clothes, whatever - just for the look of the thing, without actually needing them.

Water murmured and gurgled beyond the trees and Nate put his thoughts on hold. A dozen cuts and bruises needed tending to, and he did so as the witch did the same. He tore the sleeves from his shirt and used them as sponges, even ripping one into strips so a few of the larger, persistent cuts could be bound.

The water was tepid, but he drank and slurped like a man run mad and for his finale-

-stuck his head right into it and laughed-

"FUCK!"

-right before something bit him and he flung out his head and the motion sent the lurking, aquatic assassin flying up... then splashing back into the water a few yards away. Nate patted his face to make sure everything was attached, finding the witch's curious gaze on him.

"Is there anything out here not trying to kill me...?!"

“What do I call you barbarian?”

You know what to call me.

Once again, Nate was of two minds. His mouth worked for a moment as if to speak but he bit back the words, shaking his head abruptly. No, she didn't... obviously. He soaked his last, separate sleeve and bound it around his head like a band, cooling his sweating scalp against the humid air that pressed down and around and up into him.

"I'm Nate... short for Nathaniel..."

He watched her closely. Hopefully. Any sign, any hint that she recognized the name... that was all the big brawler from the bad end of Sunberth would need. Then he wouldn't be the only crazy one in this jungle. But ticks dragged on and finally he licked his lips and looked around in fearful awe.

"So... is it all like this? All the... green, I mean. Not like home, this is. And, ah... what can I call-"

He looked over and the black waterfall had been damned up, replaced by a severe, sensible bun and now there was no hind brain to stop him before-

"Don't do that." Yellow eyes flashed to him in surprise. Nate swallowed a sudden flush of unease. Well, in for a penny... "You should... leave it open. Y'know... long. It looks better. But I, ah... I can see how it's not... pragmical. Practical, I mean... ahem..."

Gods, my left nut for a tankard of Middle-Aged Unusual.

by **Tinnok** on July 3rd, 2014, 1:29 am

She watched him curiously, as she would a new creature that she did not understand. His footfalls were so heavy through the greenery, his every step seemed to defile Caiyha's realm, it was as if he cared not for all the greenery he squashed and stamped with heavy boots.

Give him a break, will you? You'd do no better in his city.

She grumbled, cupping a handful of water much more artfully to drink it down, then filling her water skin, watching with some sense of satisfaction when he recoiled at the snipping bite from an errant pihrana, or perhaps a turtle.

Nate

For a moment she remembered a dusty, filthy city, a strong arm wrapping around her, and green eyes, much more confident drinking her in as this man did now with gulps of water. Her eyes narrowed, but she was able to push the fog away, the strange memories that were not her own.

She was about to answer his absurd question as her fingers wound knots and braids to keep all of her wavy locks together when they coiled down at the base of her neck, but that was about when he told her to stop fixing her hair. Some part of her mind recalled that in reality her hair was no longer this long. That was a sign of an identity long since passed, and really, shorter was better. As it was, two golden eyes simply bored into his as if they were burying themselves behind his sockets, traveling down his esophagus and swirling past his lungs beneath his ribs to crush his heart.

"Come on, Nate. There are many more green things to see before this day is through."

She reached for her bow, a good spot of hunting would do her good, and help feed the both of them for the night. One memory of the male clomping through the foliage, however, squashed that idea. In it's wake another one, slightly more enticing arrived in its place. Her lips quirked upwards at the corners and she began leading the way against, following the river. For the most part she guided well, allowing Nate to proceed mostly unmolested through hte jungle by plant and animal, but more than once he could have sworn she let a thorned branch or spiny plant hit him on purpose...

She would continue in silence unless Nathaniel broke it, of course, leading a swift trek through the foliage and letting chimes tick by, following the river along its rapid course until several bells later the two arrived at a translucent aquamarine swimming hole, fed by a few small waterfalls cascading into one another, birds scattering with shrieks and chitters as they pulled apart the foliage to emerge into the scene.

Here Tinnok lay down most of her weapons, keeping only her daggers and long spear which she began swiveling slowly in both hands as she waded out into the shallows, watching the silver streaks of fish darting back and forth under rippling water.

Time to test out her fishing skill a bit more.
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by **Nathaniel Ankah** on July 4th, 2014, 1:33 am

He didn't get any recognition, and thus no hope. All he got was a tone that could have stripped paint from the walls and more blunt orders. Under the circumstances, though? Nate wasn't in a position to argue.

And, as his grumbling guts were telling him, she was his best chance for getting a feed, too. He dared not try anything green here without her say so for fear it tried to choke his guts from the inside out...

"Oh, let me contain my joy..."

They trekked and tramped and... well, no, he did the last one. He couldn't help but marvel at how the female never seemed to leave even a footprint behind her, nor disturb a twig or sprout or sapling. By comparison, a blind child could have followed his Size 14s through the mud and dirt, not to mention the broken twigs and branches he lefts behind-

"Ow!"

Apart from those that swung into him and nipped at his (relatively) tender skin, that is. A few times he was sure there was some deliberation behind it. How could so confident and superlative a woods maiden let him be so blithely struck? And then there were the times he glowered and she looked away a fraction too fast, as if to hide a smile...

Stow it. You need feeding, and unless you're going to eat her-

The phrase warped and shifted in his mind when she unburdened herself and eased slowly into the pool she had brought them to. The air was stifling as a blanket made of steam wrapped tight around him, but now Nate felt his mouth tighten and dry. She swished her spear around with mindless ease. Her movements slowed, her gaze unblinking and focused as an osprey's...

Nate sat on the nearest rock and watched. Her grip. Her stance. The way she balanced herself so she could remain motionless but still poised. The way she didn't need to have one hand guide her spear point: it was as sure and steady as the gaze that directed it. Nate had seen countless beggars and tourists and locals casts lines or nets into the sea for fish, but this was... far more primal.

Personal. It was a true contest, solved with patience and speed and agility. She got closer to that point, he could see, and then-

"So! What do I call-"

The silvery morsel before her flicked it's fin frantically and in a flash of frantic scales... gone. If she turned to vent her ire she would find Nate's hopeful expression soften and melt into embarrassed realization. Oh. Yeah. Right.

They have ears, remember?

"... you...? Sorry."

by **Tinnok** on July 8th, 2014, 3:55 am

She had never been very good at this. Hunting with a bow, finishing off prey with a dagger, those two things she comprehended better than most, but a spear was a whole different matter in the cool clear water. She waited, sometimes with her eyes closed, feeling the occasional brush of smaller fish nibbling curiously on her flesh and acknowledging the Witch, the larger one's not so convinced, she waited patiently, enjoyed the silence that meant the large man was no longer trampling the wildlife, and when her eyes finally opened and she spied a large silver beauty hovering between her legs both hands fastened tightly around the hilt of the spear, raising it up slightly and then-

Going completely askew, the fish darting away, and her yellow eyes back on the male known as Nate, who clearly realized his mistake, his face crumpling almost instantly when he saw her sharp features boring into him once more.

Stop being such a petching bitch. The thought rang sharply from the back of her mind and suddenly the spear was up, chucked carelessly onto the shore and she was striding back onto it, water cascading over her scaled flesh. She sat down with her legs folded beneath her in one fluid motion in front of him, dragging over her pack and pulling out two satchels, one filled with strips of dried mango, the other with dried meat. She proferred a few pieces of each to the male, explaining each succinctly before ripping into a strip of meat herself, leaning slightly back and examining Nathaniel, so out of place in all the greenery.

"I go by Tinnok. Formerly of the Tempered Steel, and Witch of the Wilds." She liked saying her full title, even acknowledging her own disgrace. "I believe you are right in saying the Gods led us together, I feel as if I know you from somewhere." She said this last sentence somewhat reluctantly, as if not caring to admit the pervasive thoughts invading her mind. She gave him the smallest of smiles, slightly self deprecating, asking forgiveness that she refused to voice out loud, at least not yet.

---------

Out of the depths of Tinnok's nightmares rose visages not so far from the small secluded glade they had found. They took the warped shape of the Chained one's she had fought not too long ago. Shrunken skin, abnormal hunches and long spinfly arms and legs marked the mutated monsters of Uldr's imagination, but more accurately, Tinnok's own. Where they stepped the ground withered and died, and they found the most perverse pleasure in this action.

There were 5 of them, one that directed them from the shadows, only a gleaming ivory smiling identifying the power and malice behind their leader, who seemed quite aware of Tinnok's presence, and perhaps was the shade of the once Myrian she had defeated in single combat, come now in her dreams for revenge.
c

by **Nathaniel Ankah** on July 9th, 2014, 1:43 am

"I go by Tinnok. Formerly of the Tempered Steel, and Witch of the Wilds."

She might as well have screamed her name, for all it echoed in his mind. He was sure the rest of it was fine - something about a temper and witches - but he barely heard it. Tinnok. Two syllables together that rattled around through his memory and were like a light shining on-

An aurora borealis of memories, thoughts, feelings, sensations, fears, hopes, joys, peace and actual, real happiness. Phantom. Illusory. No more real than anything that the sleeping mind can concoct and be co-opted by another such wandering soul, but... he was there. His will, his being, and now his memory...

"I believe you are right in saying the Gods led us together, I feel as if I know you from somewhere."

Damn. Well. That settled it. Whatever querulous doubting voice remained in Nate was drowned out by his thundering heart when she said that. He could tell she felt some... was it reluctance? Gods, don't let it be shame. Confusion? Well, join the club: he went to sleep in a city and woke up under a tree bigger than his house.

Nate chewed thoughtfully and waited until his mouth was empty, swallowing heavily and setting the food to one side. It was good: salty and thick but the kind of nourishment that soaked through your mouth and into your bones. Long-distance food, Kay would say.

Say it. See how she responds. C'mon, you know this is too much of a coincidence.

"Stay alive, Tiger." He spoke the words carefully, loud enough for her to make out each one, repeating those he'd used mere ticks before they'd been robbed from each other, "We're far from-"

As for one dream, another. Interruption, that is.

Rank outsider as he was, even Nate felt the jungle both hush and burst about them with sudden, shocked activity. Insects that were chirping and screeching ticks before were suddenly... quiet. Fled. Animals and birds were flapping away, fleeing over trees and vines, and something... it made his nostrils turn up. He looked around, concerned, confused. Gods, he hadn't farted, had-

Whatever he felt, it was only a partial, intuitive, gut instinct kind of sensation. The way a brawler knows when a punch is coming from behind a smile. He wasn't plugged into the environment, from leaves to Howler monkeys.

Tinnok was. And she felt everything.

"Tinnok?!"

Seeing her reaction bought Nate rocketing to his feet in a blink, weapons filling his hands again out of instinct. As soon as he did he saw... gods, he didn't even have the words. A handful of hideous, lurching beings like walking cancers made of rot and putrescence were on the other side of the glade. Like starved apes, their arms were swishing the water, claws like daggers at the ends of them. As they stepped into it... Nate's eyes widened.

Fish bobbed to the surface. Frogs. Newts. Countless bugs. A gasping otter. All dead.

"Girl," he snarled, biting down his fear as hard as he could, bending down to help her out if she needed it, "I dunno if this is your... thing, but you need to get up. Now."