Meat Is Meat

[Siiri]

60th of Winter, 509 AV

They left in the dead of night, at the time when Leth reached the apex of his journey in the dark sky. None barred their passing from the gates; a few swift words were exchanged with the guards and then they were off into the deep jungle. No beast crossed their path, no foe hindered their advance.

None would dare.

Two score they were, hunters and warriors all, fully armed and prepared for danger. A few rode the massive feline beasts - Caiyha's Tigers formerly, now Myri's – fierce and ferocious, fearsome. Others rode the spotted equines, the leopardbred horses, swift and sure as they led as vanguards of the party through the thick vegetation. Most ran on foot, or leaped from branch to branch of the densely packed trees, eager to put many miles behind them to reach their destination. In pairs, those on the ground carried poles of bamboo between them, empty barrels tied in the middle. The load did not slow their speed nor impede their progress as they navigated through the jungle.

Nor were they alone.

Many scouts had left earlier that same evening, to reconnoiter the path they would take. Shrill animal cries – in truth, signals from the scouts - guided them to the correct route such that they traveled with minimal need of light, and such that the ground they traversed was not too overgrown with vegetation, giving them a faster pace.

Many parties such as theirs left the city of Taloba, all at the same time as they, each with a specific destination and objective in mind. It was a massively coordinated effort to gather different ingredients for the upcoming feast, for the Day of the Dead festival. This particular group traveled due south, heading for the coast and intending to catch saltwater fish and other aquatic creatures. There is hope among the members of the group that they might net a Charoda or two, the fleshy sea people that's a delicacy among the hunters.

The hunt has begun, and as far as the Myrians were concerned, no beast - whether predator or no – was too big or too dangerous not to be considered as prey.

[Siiri]

61st of Winter, 509 AV

Siiri's Fang, along with the three other Fangs that formed their hunting party, arrived at the coast at the break of midnight two days later. They had traveled with minimal rest, rushing to reach their destination. Led by Kreesha, a large and decorated warrior of the Blackened Claws clan, they settled under the canopy of trees just before the boundary where the soft ground underfoot changed to the sands of the beach. She split the hunters into groups: one would gather herbs, vegetables and fruits from the nearby swamp, others would hunt for game that are only found along the coastland, another group would gather materials and fashion additional containers for whatever they've gathered and hunted, while a small detail will guard the camp. Siiri was tasked to take some of the neophyte warriors and pull up the fishing net.

Leaving the cover of the trees, Siiri led her charges to the part of the shore devoid of rocks looking for a specific land mark; the ends of the net would have been tied to two thick poles about fifty meters apart, buried deep in the sand, right at the point where the water would have reached the beach had it been high tide. Meager though it was, with Leth's guiding light, they found the poles. Thick dark ropes were tied securely at their base.

“You and you, hold this end,” Siiri ordered, indicating the rope coiled around the wooden pole. Not familiar with the names of her companions except for the two from her own fang, she had to resort to finger-pointing. “You and you, go to the other end. Start pulling when I give the signal. Shimi, Kai, to me.”

The four Myrians from the other fangs took up their positions as Siiri and her companions, weapons bared in case they snagged a hostile creature, waded into the water until they were about ankle deep in it. With an upraised arm she signaled the others to begin pulling the net back to land.

Created by Myrian craftsmen by weaving hemp and strong pliant vines together and treated with a special chemical to make it waterproof and even tougher, the fibers turn a dark shade of blue once dried, rendering the net practically invisible underwater. It trapped many unsuspecting aquatic creatures, whether brought in by the tides or willingly approached its reach. The submerged part of it was barbed, with jagged hooks attached at intervals along the length of it. Ensnared victims often got tangled more and more as they struggled in their attempts to escape.

Siiri could hear the grunts of the neophytes as they heaved but kept her attention on the once-still waters, now churning as whatever creatures they have ensnared tried in vain to escape. The top part of the net cleared the surface, dragging many fish and crustaceans along with it, and even a few jellyfish. Siiri's expression remained neutral despite the sight of the plentiful bounty until she saw that they had caught a giant sea turtle as well. A sea turtle, truly a rare catch! Her people will have quite a treat come festival day of the Day of the Dead.

But that was not all. Covering behind the enormous shell of the sea turtle were two of the fish people, the Charodae. Two! Shimi noticed them first and gave a cry of triumph, drawing the attention of others on her find. Lest their prey escape, Siiri motioned for the others to pull up the rest of the net to the beach before gathering them to join Shimi and Kai in securing their catch.

As Siiri drew closer she realized that what they initially thought as only two of the Charodae were actually three. The larger ones, one male and the other clearly female as evidenced by its plump bosom, had tried to hide the smaller one between them in the hopes that it could escape. Snagged themselves, the two adults had obviously tried to free the young one, as evidenced by the latter’s shredded arms. The wounds were fresh, indicating that they hadn’t been trapped in the net for too long. But the adult Charodae must have given up when they realized that freeing the child might also kill it. The tortured look on the child’s face spoke volumes.

As the Myrians encircled them, the male blubbered to its fellow captives, sputtering in its strange language with a series of shrieks and clicks that were quite painful to the ear. When Siiri stopped in front of it, the Charoda covered the other two with its arms – almost as if to ward off any coming blows - and switched to a more tolerable tone. It was hardly understandable, but the warrior thought the creature was trying to communicate in Common.

“What’s it saying?” Kai asked in annoyance, irked by the noise the Charoda was making.

Siiri shrugged. She guessed it was pleading for its life as well as for the lives of its mate and child. Or maybe it was just cursing her and her fellow Myrians. It didn’t matter. They will still be served for the festival of the dead.

“Should we kill them?” one of the neophytes, a male not even in his twenties, asked. He pulled a wicked-looking knife from his belt as he did, which elicited more blubbering from the Charoda. Its mate and child whimpered in fear beneath it.

Siiri shook her head. “Cook said to bring everything back fresh. We’ll prep them for transport.

“You,” Siiri barked at the Charoda in Common, nudging it with her boot. “Shut up.”

It must have realized the fate that awaited it, for the creature threw itself at the warrior’s feet, grabbing her by the knee and making pitiful sounds. The sudden move had everyone immediately reaching for their weapons but Siiri was faster still. Fingers curled, stretching taut the mark of Myri on the back of her hand, and, in one explosive movement, cracked her fist on the Charoda’s face. She felt flesh and cartilage give, the creature sprawling senseless on the sand as the waves lapped over him. The violent reaction quieted the other two and rendered them quaking masses of terror. Frowning mightily now, more angry at herself for losing control than anything else, Siiri kicked the unconscious Charoda towards them before addressing her charges.

“You three, watch over the fishmen while we get the barrels ready. You, see if you can flip that turtle on its shell, I don’t want it swimming back to sea. Then search the beach for its nest. Those things only come to shore to lay eggs. Then report back to me. Shimi, Kai, with me.”

[Shari]

Shari was excited and enthusiastic about going on the hunting and gathering trip in preparation for the Day of the Dead. Every opportunity the Myrian got to travel through their jungle surrounding Taloba was well worth taking, and being immersed in such a wonderfully Myrian hunting party let her native blood flow rapidly. It was her ultimate goal in life to promote the Myrian's strength and project their power throughout as much of the surrounding lands as possible. But Shari also understood that in order to conquer and overcome external obstacles and environments, the Myrians needed to constantly spend their efforts toward honoring their culture and internal beliefs.

The numbers making up the party were just one of such groups making similar excursions around this time. The entire community was devoted to making their appreciation and honor of Dira the concentration of their efforts leading up to the festival ensuing celebration. To this effect, Shari was not exactly outwardly showing that she was enjoying the trip to the coast, but to say she was not would be a fabrication of her true thoughts. How could she not enjoy taking part in such an important tradition to her people? Regardless, this was her duty and she remained focused and gathered her concentration to ensure the success of their mission.

Upon reaching their destination in the smallest hour of the night, Shari deeply inhaled the salty air and savored its warm feeling that overcame her entire body. The air served to relax her while also invigorating the Myrian to be prepared for whatever assignment Kreesha was to send down to her. The warrior leading the party had gained such a large amount of respect in the community that Shari admired and felt she could eventually follow with her own significance within Taloba. It was warriors such as Kreesha who would form and create the the way forward for the other Myrians around her. After settling under the canopy of trees, Shari was assigned to go with the group collecting fruits and vegetables.

Being assigned to the group going to gather the less resistive life forms that would be used in the name of Dira did not bother Shari. Her role was not hers to decide and regardless of her duty, she would put forth her best effort. The festival was too important to quibble about assigned roles and aside from that, she did not mind her task. She belonged to the family of the Poisoned Arrow and Shari had recently quietly decided that she wanted to learn more about the science and craft of using poisons. The more exposure she got with various fruits and herbs, especially in her own native jungle, the quicker her foundation in the subject would grow and the quicker she could become a more natural student of the art.

Her group was composed of women of various ages- none were faces she was familiar with, but each one felt like family. They each collected a basket or sack they would use for collection and they headed along the tree line and worked their way inland tracing back and forth to cover the most area without wasting time or effort. Each woman knew the sorts of fruits and herbs to look out for- and each checked the ripeness before plucking their picks and taking them with them. They knew that the journey back would be another couple days and then they would still have some time before the festivities began. Their goal was to make this the best day they could, of course, in honor of the Goddess of Death.

The group had worked their way inward without many words spoken. Their coordination was natural and subconscious. Each knew their role and what they were looking for and the efficiency with which they carried out their business was interesting to watch. Shari came upon a small group of wildflowers as she grazed for herbs and they caught her eye. Though the flower was not on the list of what she was looking for, she plucked them anyway to give to Dira later. She delicately placed them under the belt she wore save for a single flower she slid securely into the braids of her hair. All this only took a moment, but the time she took to do this put her slightly behind the others in her group. Speeding up to regain ground, the now decorated Myrian picked fruits and herbs quickly and put them away in the sack she carried. Her spirit was soaring as she carried out her most important task.

[Siiri]

Siiri and her companions returned minutes later. The ends of long bamboo poles held in each hand, they dragged them across the sandy beach, leaving long furrows in their wake. Wooden barrels were tied in the middle of each pole, sturdy containers specifically crafted to store the bounty of the sea. Made of stout and sturdy materials, the barrels were treated with a special waterproofing oil to be able to hold seawater. This allowed the Myrians to catch fish from the sea and keep them fresh until they return to the city with their catch. Each barrel was large enough to hold two human-sized adults, though anyone forced inside would certainly not be comfortable in the cramped space. Siiri intended for the captured Charodae to occupy one each. Not that she worried that they might conspire a way to escape - if the creatures were capable of such a thing, they would have done so before the net was pulled from the waters. She was merely being practical. The extra space in the barrels meant that she wouldn’t have to worry about the fish people begging for food in the middle of the journey back to Taloba. They would have their own food and water in the barrels with them.

Her subordinates had apparently decided to move their captives away from the sea lest they risk the Charodae escaping. The male seemed to have regained consciousness from her blow and appeared to be consoling the female and their child, who were huddled very near him. Hands bound behind their backs, they knelt in the drier part of the beach now, the sea turtle lying on its shell near them, its flippers gesticulating helplessly in the air. Two Myrians stood watch over them, each with bow in hand, arrows nocked, while another was bracing the turtle’s shell with tree branches so it would not be able to right itself on the ground. The last was pulling the fish net farther inland.

Siiri gestured to her companions to bring three of the barrels to the one dragging the net and help him with the task. “Put the catch in the barrels and fill it with water, but separate the fish from the crustaceans. You can toss any jellies with the fishes though. No, wait,” she reconsidered, grabbing Kai by the arm before the girl could leave. “Distribute the fish into two of the barrels. Not sure if they can catch enough for the Tigers around these parts, so if not, give the handlers one of the barrels. Anything left over we can have for dinner later. Go.”

As the girl ran off to do her task, Siiri glanced at the three Charodae to make sure that they would cause no trouble before turned to the one ministering to the turtle. “Found the nest yet?”

The younger Myrian, a girl from the Patient Shadows clan by the look of her tattoos, nodded, an excited smile on her lips. She pointed to a small mound just past a rocky patch of the beach, marked by her own spear. “Over there. I counted about two hundred eggs or so. What a trove! Surely everyone will have a taste of turtle egg omelet along with turtle soup come the festival! My sisters have been pining to try them ever since I told them about the last fishing expedition.”

Siiri had to smile at the girl’s excitement, realizing that there were indeed some among her kinsmen that have yet to experience the taste of so exotic a meat as the turtle. Still, she decided to curb the her enthusiasm lest the girl made a mistake of taking too much from the gifts of Caiyha. Nature's balance must be maintained after all.

“Here,” Siiri said, handing the girl one of the bamboo poles for her to put the turtle eggs in. “Line the bottom with a thin layer of sand and dried leaves to pad the eggs then another layer of dried leaves on top them. Brace the eggs with twigs so they don't get jarred on the walk back home. Take only half the eggs and cover up the rest again.”

“Why only half? We could feed so many more with the whole batch!” The sudden look of disappointment on the girl's face almost made Siiri laugh, but she checked herself, settling for a slight smile and a sisterly hand on the girl's shoulder instead. She herself had asked a similar question in one of her hunts years before.

“That's true, but that would mean not leaving any to hatch and to grow in more sea turtles. These things only come to shore to lay eggs, and they always return to the beach where they were hatched themselves. No eggs, no turtles in the future,” Siiri explained. “We have respect Caiyha's gifts to us and only take enough, else there won't be any left for our people in the future. You understand?”

The girl nodded, solemn now at older warrior's words. The Myrians have a close relationship with Caihya; one simply did not take for granted what she provided. Siiri knew her subordinate understood this. She tilted her head towards the direction of the turtle nest. “That's good. Now get going. You can get a couple of the eggs just for you and your sisters, then thank the goddess for her blessings. Once you're done, cover up the rest of the eggs and corral the nest with branches. Do what you can to hide it from scavengers.”

Siiri made the girl repeat her instructions, to make sure she got it completely, before finally focusing her whole attention on the three Charodae. The male, it appeared, had been staring at her the whole time she was talking to the girl who just left. As she turned towards them, the Charoda averted his eyes, softly communicating with his companions in their strange language, all screeches and clicks. Siiri scowled, the angry red scar that ran down the left side of her face made her demeanor quite menacing. She thought it insulting that the creature would meet her eyes then suddenly lower his gaze. From someone who was not Myrian, it was like an open challenge suddenly withdrawn, an equivalent to a slap in the face to any warrior of Myri. The Charoda knew nothing of their ways, true, and it would not matter to the creature come the Day of the Dead festival anyway, but it still irritated her.

“Get them into the containers,” Siiri snapped to the two remaining warriors, her annoyance bleeding into her tone. The younger Myrians, one a young woman from the poisoned Arrow clan and the other a boy who appeared to be barely into manhood bearing the markings of the Blooded Fangs clan, scrambled to comply. Siiri's volatile temperament was well-known among the new recruits, especially to those who have watched her in unarmed combat practice, and it was never a good thing to tempt fate when she was in one of her more explosive moods.

[Siiri]

The boy from the Blood Fangs – Siiri thought his name was Ajai or Akai or something similar sounding – forcefully tugged the child Charoda upright as his partner prodded the elder fishmen forward with the butt end of her spear. The female Charoda must have noticed the maltreatment of her young for she turned and reached out, as if to gather the child in her arms, but the Myrian woman slapped her hands away and threatened her with the business end of the spear. The creature was forced to comply.

The Myrian boy shoved the little Charoda towards its sires but it was still clumsy, perhaps not yet used to movement on land. Appearing not much bigger than a four year old Myrian toddler, the child fell on its skinny knees, though it whimpered not a sound, too terrified was it of its captors. The Myrian boy dragged it upright once more, only to shove it forward again.

The scene unfolding before her caused Siiri’s brows to further knot together. There was something that disturbed her about it but she couldn’t exactly say what. The image of Tala being picked on, and oftentimes tripped up, by other children while they were much younger flashed suddenly in her mind. She remembered getting into scraps with these antagonists, kids four years older than her or more. Despite being younger, she could beat up some of them, but the others would always, always gang up on her and she would go home with much more damage that she dished out. As she watched the Charoda child fall on its knees for the second time, Siiri felt a tug at her heart, a strange sensation she could not name at the time.

It was pity. Pity for the little Charoda child – a weak and helpless creature whose sires she could feel nothing for but, for some unspeakable reason, she could identify with as her Myrian compatriot pushed and shoved it around. As Ajai was about to reach down and force the Charoda child up again, Siiri stepped forward and caught him by the wrist. The younger Myrian stared up at her, surprised that she was preventing him from doing what she ordered seconds ago.

“Forget that one,” Siiri said curtly. “It’s too small for the slaughter anyway. It wouldn’t satisfy anyone.”

“Sure it can, what are you talking about? Meat is meat!” Ajai laughed, thinking the woman must be joking with him. “At the very least, we can throw it to one of the tigers. Kreesha's is looking mighty hungry!” The boy reached down again, or tried to, but found that he was still held by the wrist.

“It wasn't a suggestion,” Siiri growled, tightening her grip.

If she hoped to intimidate him, Siiri was sorely disappointed. Ajai held his ground. “Meat is meat!” he insisted, his voice rising, attracting the attention of the other Myrian herding the adult Charodae. The boy had guts, Siiri had to give him that.

“What, you feeling sorry for them now?” Ajai dared ask. “They are meat!”

“Don’t be foolish, they are nothing but cattle!” Siiri was tempted to punch his face in to end the discussion rather than explain, but she felt the need to justify her stand. The neophytes won’t learn anything if all they got was a beating every time they questioned their superiors. Taking a deep breath, she let it out slowly. “Use your head, boy. If we ate everything now, we won’t have anything left for tomorrow. I say let this go now and catch it another day when it’s bigger. More meat then!”

Siiri could sense that Ajai was closed to being convinced of her argument but wasn’t quite there yet. Her hands settled on the twin daggers belted on her hips. On of her eyebrows arched up in challenge. “Do you really want to make an issue of this?” she asked, her voice steely once more.

Ajai balked, his eyes widening. He held up his hands to pacify the larger warrior. “Fine,” he conceded. He stepped back and nudged the Charoda child towards Siiri with his boot. “But you toss it back in. Damn thing’s too much aggravation for me.”

“Fine,” Siiri growled back. “Now get those two in those barrels!”

The boy left as his was bade, muttering under his breath as her rejoined his partner. Before Siiri turned to pick up the little Charoda, she saw the other Myrian smack Ajai on the back of the head in chastisement. “Stupid,” she saw the girl mouth at him. Shaking her head, Siiri hauled the Charoda fishlet back to the shore near the rocky part.

The little creature was light; Siiri carried it by the waist in one arm. It was so quiet that the Myrian thought it must have been mute since birth. It never occurred to her that the Charoda’s silence was born out of terror of her. Climbing over a large rock where she assumed the other side was water at least waist deep, she turned the creature to face her. It shrank back in fear but Siiri held it firmly by the jaw, one handed, making sure not to choke it inadvertently with her grip. She lifted it up and drew it level with her eyes.

“Do you speak Common, fish?” she asked in the trade tongue.

The Charoda nodded, a slight motion. Its glass-like eyes gave away nothing but the expression of dread on its face spoke volumes. Siiri ignored it.

“Good.” The Myrian pulled out a dagger, a nasty weapon with a serrated blade as long as her forearm. The creature began to struggle feebly against her hold at the sight of it. “Quit it.” She shook it once, hard, and its thrashings ceased. She held the dagger up between them and displayed its wicked edge.

“Know that I did not spare you out of any feelings of compassions or benevolence,” Siiri began, but hesitated halfway as if unsure of what she truly felt. Some internal battle seemed to rage in her psyche as she regarded the creature before her. Something must have won out eventually, for her expression suddenly hardened. She slashed at the left side of the Charoda’s face viciously, carving her weapon deeply to make sure the wound did not heal properly but making sure to keep the eye undamaged.

“I have thus marked you, fish,” Siiri declared, tapping her own scar with the bloodied dagger to emphasize the significance of the wound she had just inflicted. Despite the haze of pain it must be in, the woman was mildly surprise to find the Charoda child was actually listening to her. Its attention was focused solely on her. She continued: “Know that it was I, Siiri of the Snapping Jaws, who sealed the fate of your sires. Remember that. When you are old enough to hold a blade of your own and wish for vengeance, seek me out. I will welcome it.”

Her short speech ended, Siiri flung the Charoda bodily into the sea. The creature vanished under the surface, only to reappear several yards away. The salt water must have caused it excruciating pain for it clutched its wounded face in its small webbed hands as its blood mingled with the brine.

“Now get lost. If I see you again, I will catch you and break your limbs and let you watch as I eat your intestines.” Siiri picked up a good-sized rock and hurled it at the Charoda. It would have hit the creature squarely had it not ducked under the water and swam farther away. Its head broke the surface once more but by then Siiri was already walking back towards her troupe. She turned once last time to catch a glimpse of the child, adrift alone in the sea, one hand covering its wound in an attempt to stem the bleeding, the other reaching out for its lost parents.

[Cayenne]

A day in the life, indeed. A good example of day-to-day living for Myrians, and some interesting character developments for Siiri. Well-written, both of you! I hereby award the following: Siiri: Leadership: 3 Trapping: 1 Stealth: 1 Dagger: 1 Wilderness Survival: 1 Shari: Plant Identification: 2 Wilderness Survival: 1