Solo Conflagration: Fire Rides the Rain

Part 1 of Zukwa's Wildfire Threads.

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This is Falyndar at its finest. Danger lurks everywhere - in the ground, in the trees, in the bush. Only the strongest survive...

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Conflagration: Fire Rides the Rain

Postby Zukwa on November 13th, 2014, 5:55 am

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1st Day of Fall, 514 A.V.



They walked unheard through the jungle. Their stealth was not due to any real skill in the field, but the all encompassing rain that fell mercilessly from the sky. Long since had Zukwa grown used to the sopping wet chafe of his armor on skin. The loincloth about his waist clung to his skin uncomfortably, but he paid it no mind. Tokoh Seku, in her infinite wisdom, had sent her Fang out to the jungle to ‘patrol’ for the past week. She had given her reason, though she needed none, that the monsoon was a good way to build toughness and train in harsh conditions.

You must should be thanking me for taking your training so seriously! She had said.

Now Kish and Zukwa were following what had once been a shallow creek and was now an overflowing elongated puddle of chaotically dancing water. The rain did not let up. If tapped all over his body without pause, almost maddeningly. Zukwa could barely see through the haze of water. This was a time when he envied the beasts of the jungle their keener senses. Seku and Inka were probably holed up in a cave somewhere laughing at the image of the Fang blundering through the woods. Zukwa had been in the Fang for a few seasons now, but was still raw compared to the tried and tested mettle of Inka and certainly the honed skill and experience of one such as Tokoh Seku.

Kish stumbled in front of him. He fell into the stream feet first and almost lost his grip on the spear he always carried. Zukwa hurried to grip his arm and help him out.

“The Goddess Queen tests our resolve.” Kish sputtered as he violently rid his mouth of water. Black hair clung to his face and the young warrior used a tattooed forearm to rub it out of his eyes. He grinned at Zukwa through the rain.

“Yes.” Was all he could manage. He could not deal with Kish’s onslaught of dogmatic rhetoric. Zukwa was a devout, a fiercely devout, Myrian. Kish was more-so. Kish of the Scattered Bones was also his closest friend, closest living friend.

They had been walking along the tiny stream for the better part of the morning. Seku would most certainly know if they went back to Taloba sooner than she instructed, and punishment would be swift. Their strategy was to stay close to the city, but still in the jungle. They had been trying to keep within a few miles of the cities walls while searching for shelter. Shelter evaded the pair. Earlier in the week Seku and Inka had taken Muluc and Pap and separated from the rest of the Fang, saying they needed to fend for themselves for the week. Nimla and Chuc had butted heads for a few hours after that. Finally Nimla stormed off into the rain, her young minion Izta coming with her.

Zukwa and Kish, the more junior males of the Fang, were left to shadow Chuc and Kisin, the two most senior males. Both were huge, wide men. Chuc was as talkative as Kisin was silent. They were good company, as always, but soon banished Zukwa and Kish from their presence with rueful smiles.

“Go, Seku will be more impressed if you do not follow, but forge your own way.” Chuc had said as Kisin waved them away. He laughed then, a loud, carrying sound even in this rain. “And try to stay dry!” Myrian humor.

“Will this rain never end?” Zukwa shouted into the silence. Kish glanced back at him. Zukwa could see the white of the Rekrut’s smile.

“Perhaps we will grow gills and join the Charoda under the sea.”

“I’d rather drown in this mud.” They both grunted in amusement.

Zukwa was just about to say more when the sky lit up in a flash of white light. Barely an instant later there was a resounding crack. Then more flashes of light and more thunderclaps. It looked like it had struck near the direction of Taloba, but there was no way of knowing in this dense rain. They kept walking…

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Conflagration: Fire Rides the Rain

Postby Zukwa on November 13th, 2014, 7:46 pm

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He smelled it first, though Kish was closer. It was undeniable and made his heart jump. Smoke. A heavy smothering of the natural, cool smells of the monsoon weather. Zukwa inhaled deeply, his eyes closed. Definitely smoke.
“Kish, I smell smoke.” The words were few, and simple. Their meaning was more ominous.

“A cooking fire?” Kish said hopefully after coming to a halt and sniffing the air himself. He glanced back at Zukwa, their eyes met and both showed worry. Kish frowned and sniffed again. “Lightning.” The word was so quiet it was almost lost to the gentle patter of the rain.

“We should go to the smell.” Zukwa said, the decision becoming stronger as his voice projected it. There could be danger, but duty superseded caution. There could be a copse of trees set ablaze by the lightning. They would have to try to contain or put out any fire before it spread to the greater jungle or even Taloba.

The lightning had been close to Taloba.

They broke into a steady, ground eating jog towards the city. Zukwa would be fine with taking a beating from Seku if he was in the wrong. As the pair of Myrian Rekruts ran through the dense foliage of Falyndar the smoke became heavier in the air. Zukwa tracked the conflagration through his sense of smell for the most part, while also moving in the general direction of the city. If there was a fire, securing the city was the first priority, then the jungle beyond.

They came upon a clearing and slowed. The trees grew high and close together in this part of the jungle and the pair could not see very far. Zukwa closed his eyes and breathed deeply again. The smell was so much stronger here than it had been before. They were moving in the right direction, though the pair were not skilled enough to know if they would be able to find the fire off of smell alone.

They set out again, this time at an easy run.

Suddenly a brightness shone fleetingly through the dense pattern of mossy green tree trunks. Zukwa halted his gait and backtracked. There it was again. Fire.

He immediately began weaving through the trees toward the blaze. He could hear Kish sliding smoothly through the jungle behind him. The fire ahead was encompassing more than they had thought. It ate away at dozens of trees and was spreading through the thick green foliage above into even more. Ash fell from the treetops and still burning branches toppled to the ground. Zukwa watched one such branch fall and with a loud fizzing and copious smoking, catch part of the underbrush ablaze as well.

He bent and grabbed handfuls of mud and began to throw it desperately at the newest flame. The heat was becoming uncomfortable. When he turned to look at Kish, the man was peppered in black soot. His eyes and teeth shone brightly in contrast to the dark spotted body. Orange and yellow light flickered in sad eyes.

Zukwa yelled at him to help and returned to his task. It was futile, even if he dampened this flame, whole trees were ablaze and spreading their fiery fingers to others. Zukwa felt a hand on his shoulder. He ignored it. He continued to smother the nearest flame with mud.

The hard again, more violently. He spun around and hissed at Kish. “What?!”
The other Myrian pointed his spear in the direction of Taloba. The city’s edge could be seen from here through a break in the trees. It glowed with a blaze of it’s own.

Taloba burned.

Zukwa had forgotten his mud and his brush fire. The Myrians exchanged a fearful glance. They both broke into a dead sprint at the same time. Taloba burned! Myri help them.

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Conflagration: Fire Rides the Rain

Postby Zukwa on November 14th, 2014, 4:52 am

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The guards at the gate had been sparse, leaving only a few Rekruts to man the entrance to the beloved city. They had let Kish and Zukwa run past them without much of a challenge, knowing the city could use every able body.

The blaze was high reaching and seemed to hug the city wall. Zukwa’s heart had fallen when he saw it, and knew it to be on the inside of the wall. Both Rekruts were out of breath and their chests rose and fell wildly as they pressed their legs for more distance, racing through the streets of their home city towards the flames. Others were running as well. Zukwa observed a density of foot traffic on the street that would not normally be seen on another day. Most, like them, were running towards the fires to help. A few raced the other way pushing or pulled carts of empty barrels, presumably towards wells. Some carried victims of the fires, people too burned to walk yet still alive.

A tall, lean looking warrior loosely carrying a bola in hand reached out and plucked Kish from the crowd as he passed. She shook his shoulder violently when the Rekrut protested. “You are in the Army? Shut up and listen to me.”

Zukwa stopped next to them. The warrior, greying at the temples and scarred from many years of combat, was obviously some sort of veteran militant. She glanced at Zukwa before pointing down a side street. “Go to the southern wall, help put out the fires there! A Tokoh commands it.” She waved them off and stepped past to stop some more Myrians.

When they reached the Wall Zukwa was stunned to see the chaos. Tigers and other livestock rampaged across anything in their path. Myrians screamed and fled, some being trampled by their peers. A man almost ran into Zukwa in his haste to flee but the Rekrut dropped a heavy shoulder in his chest and sent him sprawling.

“Stay and help fight the flames!” He shouted down at the man. He did not even look at Zukwa as he scrambled to stand and run. Zukwa saw a woman covered in black soot shouting and pointing, directing a few soldiers. He hit Kish to get his attention and then approached her.

“Warrior Mistress, how can we help?”

She glanced appraisingly at them both, scrutiny in an instant. “Grab a shovel and throw mud on the fires, if you can’t find a shovel use anything you can. When a cart of water comes, help with that.” She was moving fast while shouting, and the words were not only meant for Zukwa and Kish, but for everyone around. Leadership and direction were paramount in crises like this. People felt stronger when given direction in the face of chaos.

Kish hefted a shovel from a nearby hut and set his spear against it. He leapt to work and left Zukwa where he stood. The archer glanced around to find another shovel, anything. He did not find one, but he did spot a wooden pail that had apparently fallen from a water cart.

Zukwa snatched it up and began scooping mud from the pathway that ran along the wall into it. It was easy since the rain water turned it softer. He ignored all else besides the mud and the bucket. Mud and bits of stone got stuck under his nails as he raked at the path. It was a momentary distraction, the pail was not so large as to take much time to fill. Now Zukwa was faced with the flames. The female was still moving along the now larger crowd, directing people where to concentrate their efforts. She seemed unperturbed by the flames. It was her job to seem unperturbed.

Zukwa jogged up to a tree that was closely leaning on the wall of the city, it’s base covered in flames. He threw the contents of his pail into the flames. There was no visual effect of the mud, but after a few more people added their dirt and grime to his own the flame dwindled in that small part of the trunk. He bent and scooped mud into the pail again, simply dragging it across the ground in front of him. He jerked the pail violently towards the tree, as if his energy, his vigor, would alone put out the flames and save Taloba.

The mud splattered against the tree with little effect. He worked on.

His eyes burned and the people around him grew darker and darker as the ash rained down on them. He was prone to coughing fits now, as he breathed in the smoldering air. They worked for hours, throwing mud or else water on the fires when the water carts made their way there. The fires had spread to other parts of Taloba though, the water was needed at many places. He worked on.

At one point the female came around, half her face was blackened from soot. She was handing around large skins of clean water. One was shoved into Zukwa’s blackened, grimy hands. He took a hasty pull, moved it about his mouth, and spat it at the flames. Blackness came out with the water. Zukwa took another swig and savored the freshness of it. He caught the female next to him eye the skin momentarily before continuing to shovel out a flame. She had a permanent grimace on her face now, from breathing in the ashy air.

Zukwa whistled to her and held out the skin. “Drink, sister.” He did not know her name, nor would he even be able to recognize her if she was clean, but they had been working together for two hours now. They had put out the tree and moved on to another section of the wall now. She grinned, a moment of ivory, and took the skin gratefully.

The female in charge of them walked past. “Drink up people, it’s going to be a long night.”
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Conflagration: Fire Rides the Rain

Postby Zukwa on November 14th, 2014, 9:27 pm

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As night fell they, Zukwa’s energy was on the ebb. He had drank a few times from the water-skins being passed around but had yet to eat anything all day. The sun was rolling down in the sky, the grey haze above them was growing darker and the rain had stopped. He found himself wishing he was back in the jungle with only the ceaseless rainfall to trouble him.

The flames burned on. He worked on.

The fires were the main source of light, like great bonfires in the growing night. Their light splayed across the city, throwing much into the oblivion of shadows. People were silhouetted against the flames, working through their own exhaustion to save the city. Zukwa had been moved down the wall by the female in charge a few times, but the work was slow, and he heard hushed whispers of areas of the city that were blazing far stronger than here. Would they be able to stop such a hungry adversary? He didn’t want to think about what Taloba would look like in the morning.

Shoulder muscles protested in a dull agony as he hefted more water into a flame. The archer was in a sort of trance. He noticed little else outside of his pail and his flames. He maintained a vague awareness of where the others were and if any needed help, but other than that he was left to his thoughts. Until he heard his name.

“Zukwa!” A feminine voice was yelling.

The Rekrut turned to see a small group of individuals was walking towards him from within the city. He could barely recognize features under the grime and soot. The lead female was holding a bow loosely in one hand. Seku.

Zukwa waved a hand and walked over to her. Behind her he could see a few of the other members of the Fang. “Where’s Kish?” She asked after he saluted her.

Zukwa glanced down the line of Myrians fighting the fires. “He’s somewhere down that way, Tokoh. I haven’t seen him since we got here.” Seku looked just as tired and worn as anyone, though her eyes were sharp. Seku of the White Water was the type of warrior Zukwa tried to emulate in every way. Her dedication to Myri and Taloba did not end with her own glory, or exhaustion. His own clan had forsaken him, and now the Army was his path to honor. Seku was the first leg of that journey and Zukwa strove to learn as much from her as possible.

The young archer straightened a bit more and attempted to wear his pain and tiredness with little regard, as his Tokoh did. “Tokoh Seku, I will go find him.” He said, dropping the pail and setting off at a jog down the wall. Kish was shoveling dirt onto a hut whose north wall had been claimed by the fires. Zukwa hailed him and it took a moment for the other to recognize him. Zukwa saw his eyes searching through the grime and the mud, Zukwa had slipped into the dirt once and it covered half his body now.

“Tokoh Seku is here.” Zukwa said, jerking his head back towards the Fang.

Most of the Fang was circled around their Tokoh now. Zukwa and Kish join their companions and wait for instruction. Seku takes a moment to rub her face free of sweat while she waits. “Okay, so here it is. We’re going to do a canvas of the whole region of the city. The Panglima wants to know exactly where the fires are and which ones we think will be easiest to put out. Priorities must be introduced here. Homes and such will have to wait to be put out until after all the military and government structures are saved. Questions?” Seku stared around at her warriors, maintaining eye contact for a moment with each.

“Kisin, Izta, Zukwa, Pap. You go that way and start going street by street out from the wall.” Seku pointed over Zukwa’s shoulder, down the long line of Myrians still throwing water on the fires. “Muluc, Nimla, and Inka go the other way. Chuc and Kish will come with me.”

Kisin nodded once and said nothing before breaking from the huddle and jogging down the street Seku had indicated. He was not one to say much, especially when there was work to be done. Zukwa fell in behind him.

“Meet here at daylight!” Seku’s voice carried over the sounds of the fires.

Zukwa followed his companions into the night. Hopefully the city could save itself from destruction.
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Conflagration: Fire Rides the Rain

Postby Traverse on January 18th, 2015, 10:00 pm

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