The Extermination Pt. 2A: The Hunt

by **Voodoo** on July 23rd, 2014, 4:29 am

She waited patiently, having been given direction to break off as soon as they were out of sight of their champions. Naekasi had left the description, maps, and orders with her to bestow upon their three warriors. She had been there when the came forward, cloaked in all black with the Eye of Myri the only mark to her position. Everything else had been covered, and even now, she stole through the city to her position to await the warriors at the city gates. Two of her Fang-mates were to meet here there, and they were to accompany the warriors into the jungle to get the job done.

----

25th of Summer, 514 – 2 Bells Past High Sun

When they were all present, the Mengintai warriors swiftly stepped forward to meet them. The leader, one of the ones that had been flanking Naekasi from earlier, began to set something down before their feet, drawing the group in closer. It was a map, with several red spots circling an empty clearing. It was several bells outside of Taloba and would require some time to get there. The leader pointed to the center, looking at each one of the champions in the eye. ”We don’t know what is there, we just know that whatever it is, it operates out of this area. We will encounter our enemy in the area,” She stated, sweeping her arm in a general circle around the clearing, ensuring that she had caught all of the red dots in her sweep. That area was at least three bells outside of Taloba, east into the heart of the jungle. ”If we leave now, we will hit the edge of the area in question just before dark. Then we can use the cover of night to our advantage.”

She stood up slowly, rolling the map and sticking it into one of the many hidden pockets inside her clothing. The other two women had remained silent, fingering their bows. Even though they were hardened warriors, even they seemed tense to be heading out into the jungle after some unknown prey. Yet, they had their duties and they were ready.

”Keep your eyes and ears open for anything. Whatever we are hunting is not the only thing to be aware of in the jungle. Let’s go.” With that she spun on her heel and set off at a slow trot. It was about keeping a decent pace without letting all the energy go in the first few chimes. This was a marathon, not a sprint. They were going to need all their energy to get this job done. Both of her archer Fang-mates fell into step shortly, and it was expected that the other warriors would follow suit.

OOC Rules :

by **Kwantu** on July 23rd, 2014, 3:51 pm

One thing that kept nagging the Myrian as he waited patiently, spear in hand, was what they were planning for all of the champions. Did they even know what they would all be facing.. were they being sent out against an unknown terror, or something they could plan for?

His answer came eventually, in the form of a map; he immediately crouched down to get a better view, with the butt of his spear digging into the soft earth to keep his balance on the tips of his toes. Immediately, he didn't like what he saw. An open clearing, surrounded by several dots. Dots which, he could only assume, were enemies. If they went straight into the middle, they'd be surrounded on all sides and immediately wiped out. He could even feel small prickles running up the length of his naked spine, the more he looked and the more he listened to what she had to say. He wanted to object, but the cold stare straight into his eyes made it suddenly seem like a bad idea. She must have known more about what they were going up against than he did.. so he supposed he'd have to defer to her better judgement and do the best he could in the situations she provided. At least, he hoped that she knew more than he did.. because he knew absolutely nothing and judging by her words, she knew just about the same. That was never a good sign.

Even worse.. using the cover of night. Heck, they didn't know what they were going up against.. he wasn't a master tactician by any stretch of the imagination but alarm bells were beginning to ring in his head, the more he stared at his woman that had gathered them all up and sent them off on this challenge. He shouldn't have questioned her.. she was obviously more experienced and by goodness, did she scare him with the way that she looked and the ease that she commanded those around her. But he still did.. he wanted to know what it was. Why they were going out with such a tiny amount of people.. when the threat.. they didn't even know what this threat was. Not that he was entirely against fighting such a thing.. but they could be a little more prepared for it. Rather than running straight into its head, possibly straight into a trap..

"Whatever we are hunting.. and whatever is hunting us." He muttered the words under his breath and a grunt, as he rose and quickly took his spear between both hands. His bag was slung over one shoulder on the swift jog after both their commander, and the archers that followed her silently. There was only one thing to do in situations like these.. mounted up against odds that even he could not be sure of. Myri, guide my spear to its target true. Guide my sight to my enemies, and my arrows to their hearts. Give me the strength to face your enemies, so that I may bring them down in your name. With his prayers left hanging in the aether, he tightened his grip on the wooden weapon until he was sure his knuckles would be left white long afterwards, ad marched on.

Myrian Tongue | Common Tongue | Tukant Tongue

by **Kol** on July 23rd, 2014, 5:39 pm

Kol met the cool gaze of the leader, eyes dropping when the map was swept across the ground. Red dots littered the surface and he crouched to get a better look, eyebrows furrowing at the news that they didn't know what they were going up against. That was to be expected. The whispers around Taloba were unsure. Myrians did not fear much, but enemies they couldn't prepare for and conquer? Such an occurrence was so rare, it shook the city.

We will destroy the threat, Kol assured himself, glancing over at the other male who was pouring himself over the map as well. He looked concerned, as he should be, and was undoubtedly trying to figure out what the red dots indicated as well. Kol returned his attention to the piece of paper, rubbing his jaw in contemplation. They didn't know what they were facing, so they wouldn't know where the threat was... So why the red markings?

Kol continued to stare at the piece of paper, even when the others were readying themselves to continue on. Each dot was a like an imprinting memory, a reminder of what was out there. But what did they mean?

Bodies.

It was a grim assumption, one that Kol almost wished he had never guessed. He looked to the leader, noting the lack of explanation. It was one thing to know where your enemy was, another to not know and only find the remains of victims. A feeling of deep dread began to seep into his bones.

Pushing himself off the ground, Kol waited for the others to finish with the map and gather it back up, flanking the group. He removed his dagger from his belt, pushing past thick leaves as he entered the jungle. He kept his footsteps light, keeping close to the others.

I'm coming, Dahlia.
---
Myrian
Common

by **Zemeia** on July 24th, 2014, 8:52 am

Zemeia had fallen in line quickly behind the others. She hoped that the writhing dread twisting and knotting around her bowels might somehow abate if she allowed herself little time to fixate on the strange map with its mysterious red dots or their commanding guide with her disconcerting vagueries. However, the longer they ran the more her mind wandered. As the jungle slowly grew up around them and the trees swallowed all sight of Taloba's looming gates, she could not help contemplating the subtleties of the information they'd been given; wringing from it every hint of inference as if her life depended on it. And, indeed, it might.

Already they had been trekking for almost a bell, but Zemeia's thoughts still ingered at the gates of the city. The Mengintai were not known for letting tongues slip. Words were chosen carfeully. And their guide said operates. Not hunts, or nests, or lives, or even simply is, but operates. Likewise she called it an enemy. Not prey, not beast, not target, but enemy. This hinted at a sentience that was almost too chilling to consider. Then there were the dots. The woman guiding them made it seem that no one, even the Mengintai, had the slightest evidence of what this 'enemy' might be. So the dots could not be sightings. Nor for that matter, and for the same reasons were they likely to be tracks. What then?

Zemeia shivered in the sweltering heat of the jungle as her mind lighted on a thought that she refused to entertain. Unsheathing her tamo daggers which, up to this point, had remained locked together, she gripped them - white knuckled - with the blades flat against her forearms. Ready to block, if need be, or use her weight to supplement a blow, she picked up her pace ever so slightly. For they were deep with in the jungle now, night would soon be falling, and despite her best intentions she was lagging ever so slightly behind.

by **Kwantu** on July 24th, 2014, 6:29 pm

The longer they ran, the further into the forest they travelled, the deeper his mind tried to crawl into the mystery. Nearly to the point that he lost his footing and had to begin using his spear for support - tapping the ground with the butt every now and then, like some crude excuse for a walking stick. He wanted to get to the bottom of the issue, though. The more he wondered about the dots on the map, the area they were being sent into, and the dead child.. the deeper his worry spiralled. The wilderness that had once been so comforting.. a giver of life, a sanctuary.. was no longer that. Now his enemy wandered inside it, preying on his fellow Myrian. His enemies, even.

His thinking slowed him down as time continued. He could see that he wasn't the only one becoming more wary, though. As the milky-eyed one's fang-mates pressed farther ahead, he found himself drawing closer to the other male, and the female who would be his fang-mates for the day. They both looked dependable.. one with weapons already drawn, and the other muscled and worn. He glanced quickly ahead, before back again. "I don't like this." His tone was wary, but he kept it down to a low whisper. Truthfully, he was having second doubts - not because he was a coward, but because he wasn't a fool. And nothing about this adventure seemed planned; prepared to deal with whatever it would be they were to face. Something that they didn't even know. "There are barely six of us here.. and.. we don't even know how many of them there are." Or where they were, exactly.

His gaze found itself drawn to the tamo daggers pressed against the females forearms, as if for comfort. Something small and fast, against.. something. Goodness, he couldn't even take comfort in their weapons, if he didn't know how effective - if at all - they would be against an unknown enemy. For all they knew, it could be a monster with armoured plated skin resistant to their blows. "Don't you think it's strange that we don't even know where they truly are.. or what they truly are. Yet we're being thrown against them." His eyes darted wildly between the two of them, seeking something.. anything! Just to confirm the sickness in his gut that settled like a boulder. "And.. why is that girl set within the city.. while we're out here?" The girl, from the gathering. He'd almost forgotten about her. An outsider, but someone he'd seen before anyway. She didn't know much Myrian but she knew some of it.

She was still inside the city, being set a task.. or probably performing the task, by now. Whatever they were hunting out here.. were there more of them already inside the city? Why, then, would the entire population of Myrians stationed within their home city be put under the protection and the trust of someone that wasn't even of the same race as them? His blood boiled with the thought.. but again, he kept his mouth pierced shut as best as he could. It would do no good to alert the Mengintai of his lack of faith - especially when the night was drawing in, and the time was drawing close that they would descend upon their enemies.. hopefully.

Myrian Tongue | Common Tongue | Tukant Tongue

by **Kol** on July 24th, 2014, 10:48 pm

His comrade was anxious.

Kol kept his eyes straight ahead, watching the movements of their leader and copying them. He looked upwards to the canopy, a cautionary measure, before glancing out of the corner of his eye to watch the other volunteers. The man, whose name Kol couldn't remember, was speaking in hushed whispers, his nerves showing.

When he brought up the outsider, the Chaktawe, Kol spoke up, keeping his voice a stern whisper, "The apprehension you feel, the fear... Good. It'll keep you alive." Kol wasn't much of a pep talker, or even a talker at all. His words came out sharp, agitated, but the more he heard Kwantu voice his concerns, the more he worried about his sister. He could only imagine what she would be feeling, especially if she had encountered these monsters. Kol's mouth was pressed into a thin line and he paused, sparing a moment to look the two in the eye, his question softening only slightly, imagining that he was inspiring his family and not complete strangers, "Did Myri not lead her troops to victory?"

His message was as clear as Kol could make it. It was something along the lines of, Stay calm. Stay alert. Now, that wasn't to say Kol wasn't feeling the uneasiness himself. He was, but he didn't have the need to voice his apprehensions. He trusted that they were chosen to go into the jungle and not into the city. For whatever reason, there must have been a plan. Even in desperate times, Myrians weren't just sent on a fool's mission to be disposed of, not on purpose. They were what was available, and would be used in the best way they could be. Kol had faith in that.

He spoke up, for what he anticipated to be the last time, addressing Kwantu's last concern, "Oryani," he paused, to make sure they heard the girl's name -- the outsider, a girl he had spent time with interacting with, "Will do better in the city."

She doesn't know the jungle like we do. Sending her out in unfamiliar territory would be more unfair than sending them. They grew up in this land. They had an inkling of what awaited for them, even if it wasn't the enemy they were after. Kol sheathed the dagger he had been carrying, swapping it for the handle of his whip. Three different weapons added versatility in battle, and that could mean the difference when facing dangers you were unaware of.
---
Myrian
Common

by **Zemeia** on July 25th, 2014, 4:34 am

As Zemeia pressed forward to catch up with the group ahead, she noticed the spear-wielding male – the one with the cunning eyes – slacking up to hang back with their temporary fang. Spurring herself ahead she only barely caught up with the men before he began to speak. And when he did, she nearly tripped over herself. Though whether in jelly – legged relief or jarring apprehension she wasn't quite sure.
As the men talked quietly – one voicing the concern that she was sure they all felt, and the other who espoused the faithful, tight lipped conviction of a soldier – Zemeia followed quietly, looking between the black clad scouts ahead of them, the jungle around them, and the men she was expected to trust.

Finally she spoke up, keeping her voice a low hiss. “The girl, Oryani...” her voice piqued a bit as the foreign name stumbled off her tongue with a questioning lilt, “is the only other person to stand up for our people – out of all the Myrians present. You heard the call as well as any of us. 'Something grips the jungle and our city.' The girl is there because some one needed to be there, and she took it upon herself. We are here because we can survive here.” Locking eyes with each of them for a brief moment, she cast a glance at the surrounding jungle and canopy, and then at the three black clad figures leading them. “As for the others, they have given us all the information they have. The ghost – eyed one, she was nervous. Far more nervous than is befitting. These people know as little as we do. And they suspect the same, no doubt.” There. She said it... more or less. With a pull-it-together kind of glare she met Kwantu's eyes. “We are not being thrown. We volunteered. If you can not handle it, man – child, then return to the city. There will be no shame in it.” Laying a hand on each of their shoulders, she gave a curt nod that she hoped was reassuring. With out another word, she pressed past them with a challenging smirk, to catch up with the scouts who were now pulling well ahead of their little pow – wow. Night was falling quickly, and they would need to stick together if there was any hope of survival.

by **Kwantu** on July 25th, 2014, 11:46 am

His mouth pinched into a tight, thin line as he listened to both of them. They thought him childish for being afraid.. but damn it, they couldn't pretend they weren't either. Being thrown against some unknown enemy with no knowledge on it. "If being afraid would keep me alive, you would be as frightened as me." He struggled to hold himself from the muscled man, but his burning eyes soon turned elsewhere. He would not return to the city until he knew what it was that had caused all of this trouble.. but he wouldn't remain quiet, either. His hushed tones were becoming more angry. With both of them so stoic, though.. so confident.. it was impossible to put a confident argument. "We volunteered.. but don't you think it's strange that we're heading to the clearing in the middle of those dots? Where we can be surrounded, from all angles.." He left that thought lingering on his lips, before he turned away, more infuriated than before.. enough that it clouded most of his fear. Most, but not all.

For the moment, he returned to his silence and picked up the pace, with the butt of his spear pushing him ahead a few more paces ahead of the other two.

...

By his calculations, it was four bells past high noon. They'd been pressing ever-deeper into the forest.. and although he had little technique when it came to orienting his positions to maps, he thought it was safe to say that they'd pushed pretty far into the forest. Deep enough to be near one or two of those red dots. His breath was heavy in his throat but he kept pushing - withdrawn to his silence, no matter what the other two said. His focus was only for the path ahead made by the white-eyed one's fang mates. He'd had time to conserve himself, to take a bit more control over his emotions.. and think rationally. It would be best if he did, after all. Cowardice, anger.. these were the things that made men make stupid mistakes, running head-long into battle or fleeing from the enemy. These were the things he would not do. He would think before he acted.. and he would show that he was not a man-child, or a scared coward.

His eyes kept getting drawn down to the ground for a reason that he couldn't quite fathom. Perhaps it was the darkness that meant he constantly had to watch where he was stepping, in case his foot snagged on one of the roots. He knew it would be better to keep ones eyes on the paths ahead and around for signs of enemies, that they would surely encounter shortly.. but instead, he looked down at the floor. There could be no harm in going with ones gut feelings.. and he had a pretty strong one. "Damn it.." Suddenly, he tripped as he tried to look up to the canopy shrouded in shadows, and a root snagged his toe. He didn't fall, but he stumbled in place and grit his teeth. If anyone laughed...

But then, as his eyes adjusted carefully to the darker shadows of the undergrowth, they widened in surprise and the butt of his spear slammed into the soil, as a sign to stop the others. He'd found something. It wasn't much, but.. the trampled grasses were old and worn. A few patches of mud aroud them had dried, leaving crusted remains laden with broken branches. They weren't scattered about randomly, either.. they seemed to form a steady trail, pointing somewhere towards the north-east. "Stop... stop." They were pushing deeper into the jungle. Perhaps it would be safer to follow the tracks. "I don't think we should go that way any more." As he spoke, he gestured off in a general wave of his hand to the way that they'd been sent. "These tracks might be.. whatever it is. We could get an advantage. We could sneak up on them, from behind. Surprise them." His brightened eyes glanced from the man, to the woman, and back again. He wasn't going to go there alone, after all. They'd need to make a decision as a group, whether to follow them or not.

Myrian Tongue | Common Tongue | Tukant Tongue

by **Kol** on July 26th, 2014, 7:43 pm

Kol only faintly paid attention to Zemeia scolding Kwantu, regarding to him as a child. It was a harsh statement, but there would need to be order if they were to establish a working order. As a female, it seemed like an appropriate response, and Kol said nothing. He did, however, snap his head in surprise to look at the dark skinned woman when hand rested on his shoulder. Instantly, he shrugged her off, pulling away and speeding up. Why was she touching him? Zemeia moved past them, but Kol looked away.

They were here to ensure the safety of Taloba, not have some challenge of the sexes. Walking closer to one of the black clad leaders, on the right, Kol strayed only slightly. The jungle trilled with life, some of it, very dangerous.
---

Four hours past high noon, and Kol's boots were beginning to pinch and hurt his feet. He did not complain, keeping as professional as he could, but a sheen of sweat covered his torso, his hair sticking to his forehead loyally. The jungle was humid as always, causing him to switch hands more than once so he could wipe his palms on the leg of his pants for a better grip. His companions seemed to feel some of it too, or that's what it appeared.

A rush of rustling as Kwantu stumbled over a raised root, catching Kol's attention only briefly until he returned his eyes to their surroundings. Something was different. The details had changed. Kol's eyebrows furrowed, ever silent, he watched. Slowly, he lifted his head to scan the canopy above before lowering to the ground. He took a step away from the group. And another.

Kwantu's voice pulled him back, and he glanced over. Tracks? Kol nodded at the group, acknowledging having heard the discovery. But his attention wandered southeast. Almost unnoticeable, broken branches littered the ground, flattened grass left a strange pathway. Kol pushed back the faint idea that it could lead him to Dahlia. These seem to led in a different direction than the ones found by the other Myrian.

Kol closed his eyes, conjuring the memory of the map in his head. He made a rushed calculation of what direction they had headed and where these were wandering to. Calling to the others, Kol had no preference on which direction the group decided to go. After all, these tracks were not fresh and could be just about anything, "I found some as well. They are old. Southeast.

He strolled back to the others, approaching where Kwantu stood to get a good look at what his discovery looked like. If the tracks were similar, perhaps it was the same creature. Finally, Kol crossed his arms and nodded in both directions, "We need to make a decision. Who's do we follow?" His eyes shot to the females in the group. Someone needed to make a choice, and if they didn't, he would.
---
Myrian
Common

by **Zemeia** on July 27th, 2014, 10:44 pm

Zemeia stuck close to their black clad clan mates, stealing what resolve she could from their stoic and determined silence. Kwantu's apprehension was quickly pressing in on her. It was difficult enough to keep her own worries at bay. Must she entertain his as well? In pensive silence she followed the others, trying her best to ignore the growing blisters on her heels, ankles, and lower calves. By her best calculations it was well past noon, and the jungle was taking a steady toll on her stamina. Sweat streamed down her face and neck, trickling in heavy rivulets as it cascaded down her bare arms and abdomen; her ebony skin agleam with the heat of the jungle. She sheathed her daggers, so that the resulting club could be switched between dry hands, and pushed through the pain. Shutting everything else out, she focused, she fed, on the slow burn growing ever stronger in her muscles, letting the ache spur her forward. Father, father, and father. For Myri. For Dira. Kihala. Taloba. Her steps became a silent chant as she regained a rhythm that hadn't been used in years.

The focus this generated was fragile, but effective. And though she sporadically found herself stumbling over branch or vine or root, she was able to press through the growing tension in both her body and mind with relative ease. After a while her breathing, like her footfalls grew steady and controlled. Just as that old familiar push was returning to second nature, something shattered her attention. From just a ways behind her came a short abrupt break in the rhythm of things, followed by the fumbling rustling of one trying to regain their balance.... and then nothing for a short while. A sharp dread spiked from her stomach up into her throat before she heard what sounded like wood hitting the ground – short, sharp, steady, not as though it had been dropped, but purposefully slammed into the ground. Shakily she exhaled, sending a silent prayer of thanks to the Goddesses that they needn't lose a comrade yet.

Zemeia paused with the others as the men each squinted at the ground, focused in separate directions. In the stillness the foreboding which she had been fighting since they left the city slowly slithered it's way back into the pit of her stomach. What were they doing? Why were they pausing, waiting, like sitting ducks? She listened as the men spoke, each having found tracks. Kwantu seemed nearly to beg to follow the tracks he had found. Part of her wanted to agree with him. Maybe they could sneak around and ambush whatever had left the tracks. But more than that she thought he simply did not want to run headlong into the fray of a foe they could not even identify. Truthfully she could not blame him. She too found a sparkle of (probably misplaced) hope in the tracks. Bending down she inspected the trampled grass and broken branches. She was no tracker, and could glean not even a hint of what might have left the tracks, but she could tell they looked old. Raising herself from the underbrush, she moved to look at those Kol had found as well. But nothing more could be deduced from those either. “Whose do we follow?” she heard Kol ask as she stood, stretching her tired legs. He looked to the her, and then to the scouts, and inwardly Zemeia made note of the wording. Not which, but whose. The last thing they needed was a struggle for dominance.

Quietly she weighed the options. If she had her bearings straight, and after this long in the jungle there was no guarantee that she did, they should be able to circle back from either direction and still meet with the clearing to which they were headed. But there was no telling what creatures had left these or even if they were what may be causing the stir in the city. Slowly the tiny sparkle of relief she had felt sputtered and died. They could spend a week tracking akila hounds only to find that the real culprit was a monkey, or a sick tiger, or for that matter, even a demented Myrian. They had no idea where those tracks led, what was at the other end of them, or even what they were actually hunting. All they knew for sure was that whatever it was lay directly ahead of them. And as uncomfortable as the thought made her, that clearing might be their best bet.

With a sigh she looked at the men, and their black clad fang mates, “Why should we follow either? Does either of you have enough experience tracking beasts to tell us what made these tracks? Can you match them to our enemy - an enemy that we can't even identify? Please, if you can, enlighten me, and I will be with you. But all I know right now, for sure, is that whatever we are after can definitely be found there.” With the pommel of her sheathed daggers she gestured in the direction that they had been running. “If we follow these tracks and it turns out to be anything other than what we are hunting, then the blood that is spilled while we chase wild Tskanas is on our hands, when we could just as easily meet this thing head on.” She was not harsh. There was no scalding or severity in her tone, simply logic, evident uncertainty, and a tender, almost childlike sense of duty and responsibility. Looking rather uneasy she shook her head, and turned to the scout who had shown them the map and then back to the men. She did not want to seem unprofessional or weak. She did not want to forfeit the expectations of her sex to these males, but it was clear that she did not want to make this decision when either way there would likely be Myrian blood on her hands.

Kol seemed not to care either way, and she did not want the final decision to rest on her shoulders. Perhaps she could draw some answer out of them, or out of the others, force them to a consensus. At least that way if the worst were to pass, the weight of it would not rest on her alone. Zemeia half snickered, a derisive and sarcastic sound. She really was a pitiful excuse for a Myrian. Lowering her head her voice came out flat and emotionless, “Well, what do you think?” She addressed no one in particular, but the group as a whole, looking for someone, anyone to offer up an opinion. “I haven't the knowledge to make a confident, informed decision. I will follow the group. Either way, I think we can circle back, if this distraction," for to her that is what this was, a distraction, "seems promising....” She raised her eyes and scanned the group, hoping that someone else would offer a solution. Preferably one of the females leading them.

Quest The Extermination Pt. 2A: The Hunt