Inner Power (Solo)

[Tiki]

35 Winter 511 A.V. – Northern Wastes; late morning The coming days had been a challenge on Tiki. So many things were just whirling past him, and he struggled to keep up. The work, the people - those people - it was becoming overwhelming. Sensations danced across the land, fey and sprites of the mist and sound leaping the horizon in mystifying displays that made his head spin. The fog, the winter air, and the wind all played tricks on his mind. Yet, it was not enough to detour him or the others within the Frostfawn Hold. The hunt never stopped, especially when it was done in the name of those whom you loved, who you sought to protect. Tiki had done something equally foolish and brave by daring into the wastes as cat with his furs alone. Pray he did for his paws to keep dry and warm under the fur, and the pad still fatty else it would shatter as ice. It was still less than pleasant, but bearable in comparison to those Vantha who had no fur of their own skin to cover them. He felt natural and ready; there was no bag to slow him, nor possessions to keep his mind on. It was safe at the Warrens, and he knew that for fact. He had gone deeper into the wood searching rapidly for something, the rush perhaps. He was seeking that moment, that call in life, that sign of inspiration that would send him off with good wishes and high regard for the rest of his life. He had been searching for that for the longest time, and sought specifically the highest mount in the world to oversee itself and judge from there, naively. Skynarta was a continental distance from him at this very moment, and the Wind Eagles flew with no care of him. He was searching for himself, vigorously, but was it enough? The search for his inner…feline, you might say, started off the same every day he was able. He had been so used to this routine by now he was a blind master; a master in his art of the kill, for small prey of course, but blind to what he was telling himself, how his body felt and maneuvered across the land. He was a predator, a killer, a patriarch of the wild, and he needed to assert himself appropriately. Each time he turned back his withdrawal set in, and the next morning he’d start again. It was a tiring process, especially as the days grew longer, the morning shorter, and his time more limited. He wanted escape. From what? No one knew. Morwen would have answers if he could track her down in time. If she’d see him even… What room did she have in her busy schedule to hear the pleadings of a simple kelvic like him. Kelvic, that’s what he reflected on most of all. It was hardly a compliment from beast or animal. He saw how some were treated. Faint glimpses, perhaps, but he knew he didn’t belong to their world, and the more he thought of it the more he reveled in the thought of leaving and finding his own realm. It was hardly worth his effort anymore, which was sad, that he could bring himself upon the tiny ones and make prey of their morsel hides. They sustained him. The hare he overtook squealed and died as he bit into the back. He had cornered it – the scent was overwhelming when they burrowed into their winter holes packed in with their grasses dried for these cold times – and sprung. Something in the distance. His maw rose from the corpse dripping red. His vague sense of paranoia grew on him as of late. He was unblinking. He took his meal and began east up the hill.

[Tiki]

He saw it again in his pursuit. Though a mere trot through the frozen wastes, he was making a greater stride each time, and the distance accumulated. He was coming upon the tracks now that he neared the top. There were smaller prints, feline as well, and from the looks of them they were hastily made. He might have been on the border of something territory. In either case, he was looking to expand his own…and he had a job to do. His own blood-stained trail disappeared in the white as the blood of the dead morsel was nearly frozen at this time, if it not clotted. He tore away the last of the tissue he found worth his while and dropped the remnants. Caiyha would have her way with it. Tiki, in the interim, would have his own way with his new prey. He began to take greater notice to the trail. That was, the scent was growing lesser and he saw the alterations in the prey’s pace reflected in the paw prints. The snow was being caught on the hind legs as they were brought forward in the creature’s prance through the winter. What was normally a precise step, as noted before, was becoming a sloppy step with the snow being kicked forward. It must have been in a light sprint. Perhaps it too was a predator in the midst of the hunt, or fleeing from Tiki. His fellow Frostfaun were also about and he didn’t know where they all hunted. For all he knew he had other competition in this matter. Kayin was usually on top of those kinds of things though; it is best to keep the food local and in great numbers. At this pace he’d be on the trail for an hour, although nothing else came across his auditory or olfactory radars. His senses were failing him as that smell became the only thing in his mind. There was no mistake; he was not being made a fool of. Nothing moved in his path, friend or foe. He was thankful for it all. This was sure to be a worthy and rewarding hunt. The hunt is no game, but an art, and much like a great painting it requires attention, precision, and patience. His paws made broad strokes of black against the white canvas that streaked across the icy roof of the world. In due time, he would behold his final product, the fruits of his efforts.

[Tiki]

It had been a bit longer than he expected. The sun was now rising high overhead and the tracks became clearer. The prints were feline, and now the scent was of greater familiarity. Lynx or bobcat, most likely. He had heard of these northern cats and their tenacity for the cold. Their own fur paws were thicker than his to protect their paws all the more from the biting cold. Tiki envied this. His own fur was cool, but he was fortunate. He had not been wet, and the wind was nonexistent, even his high up. He was still in a sort of valley yet. The mountains that ranged further east and north served as the greatest barrier to the vicious winds that cut like knives down from the northern sea. Still he remained consistent in his methods and pressed on. He didn’t want to let this one get away, he was too sure of himself. The shift in the wind, though ever so slight, began now to blow toward the south, and he knew his scent would carry away. He was nearing the top of this hill, and only hoped to not see another slope after it. The tracks left by the cat he was following were beginning to show signs well. Not of fatigue perhaps, but of calm. They were more defined in the snow, and came closer together. He would catch up if he kept this pace as he intended. Within the passing moments his mind did wonder, helplessly really. He thought of how he’d be rewarded by the hunters for this kill, or his next. Rewards were always handsome. He thought more though of why he worked for rewards. He reasoned that the gifts of a civilized world hold greater value than those of the wild. Tenderly cooked meat versus raw, cold flesh…there was no question to compare their tastes. He was always kept warm, there was always something to comfort his needs, and, best of it all, he did not need to half-sleep to watch after himself. He had others to do that for him, if the walls and roof were not enough. That part of the civilized world was nice; it missed having someone there to watch over him. That was the bargain he made though, nearly a year ago looking back now. In exchange for the securities of Stormhold he could have the world. There was the adventure of it all, the sights, the challenges, the rewards, friend, enemies, and simple wonders that can be found in the broad expanses of the skyline or the underside of a rock. Some of the critters under the rocks looked pretty interesting. That didn’t’ change his feelings though, the fact that he was used to having the warmth of a mother to cuddle up against. He missed that companionship, but knew he could never go back. He wasn’t ready to return just yet. The tracks made their way up to a tree and stopped. He saw the white bobcat nesting on a branch. It had something small in its paws and was chewing at it. They were both blood frenzied by this point, the cat and Tiki. Tiki wondered if the cat realized why he had come, why he crept like the end of life across the white closer. Above all that he hoped he wouldn’t have to run and chase this one. He had been running enough. The full intake of the scent confirmed the cat to be a male though, so confrontation was more than likely. It was just a matter of time before the quarrel began, then Tiki would test the strength of the northern cat.

[Tiki]

The white cat stared back at Tiki and began growling. Tiki was amused and just circled the clearing below the branch. It must have stuck out twenty feet from the tree and the cat only perched half way across. Tiki observed its height; his hilltop was ancient. Even if the Valterrian had struck five centuries ago, he wouldn’t have known from the sheer look of things. Thinking back, he noted the wind eroded rocks and tree giants like this one. It gave him a sort of hope. Right now the only hope he needed was his confidence in victory. He growled back a challenge to the white cat. At a closer distance he saw the mix of black spots on the tips and spots across the back of the coat. Not all of Taldera turns white in the winter. The paws were indeed thick with fur. Still, fearsome claws were sheathed inside; it wasn’t all fur. The cat returned the offer by turning around and scaling back down the tree. They came face to face and the verbal debate started. They both pleaded their cases that the land was his own, food was scarce, the other was an intruder, and that this would need to be settled in an honest manner. A fight to the death would suffice. They were both young as well and only separated by a few months. Tiki’s breed was still a bit larger, and there was that displaced knowledge from the civilized world that nestled in Tiki’s mind. They had their low growls and bellowing roars, but neither budged in his ways. Tiki was not yet a fully realized “king” of these parts, but he acted as one. He claimed the earth he walked and the plentiful food it nurtured. Tiki was intent on making this quick. This one, of course, was not a rabbit that’s defense was staying still or running away in long strides. This stout feline was a fighter, and would fight with the same intent. The gentlemen took their bows and with their heads bent low, rose slightly in their readied stances. Lightning stuck. The snow kicked back in either direction, too soon to tell who had started his charge first. Tiki lowered himself, and his strong legs got under the cat and pressed up. The bobcat’s claws were fastened into his shoulders and he was biting down on the left shoulder, just below his neck. Tiki hissed and growled and he pushed up more. They were on their hind legs leaning into one another as Tiki had no choice but to bite in too. His longer neck, or perhaps the shortness of the bobcat’s, allowed him a full grasp on the neck of his opponent. He felt his lips fit into that neat crevasse and applied the bone breaking pressure. The bobcat bit back and tried to break him faster. They fell to the ground. The blood ran red from the bobcat’s arteries like the still flowing creeks of the north, if any such stream did exist this close to the northern pole. He died growling and clinging. Tiki was restless and pained a great deal. He could still walk, be hoped for the moment at least. He kept biting down into the cat’s neck until all the life had flowed from him back into the world. His heart was still beating in rapid pulses, and because of this his own wounds bled. They were clotting soon, and he lay alongside his kill to clean himself. He didn’t want to get up just yet, he was more than sore. Now he had the trek back to Avanthal to handle and with added weight. He looked back from the towering hill and took a good look at the city under the high sun. Avanthal was a gleaming jewel in this light, from that angle, that perfect vision. It was clear what Morwen had intended for the city when it was being built, and clearer yet why she held it and all its inhabitants in such value. From the Ukalas, to look down upon Avanthal might have produced an inverse effect. The reflection of Syna’s light alone was dazzling. Inside that gem yet there was even greater untold value in a thriving culture of a warm sort of people. It was a culture Tiki could even consider himself a part of. His own inner power and that of each Vantha and other citizens of the city were what fed Morwen’s pride above all the grand design of the city. There was an energy that this lifestyle demanded of those who walked its path. That energy is what carries Tiki out into the wilderness each day to prove himself to the hold, to the civilized world that perhaps he was something more than a mangy animal. He felt the call of the wild each day, and that too was a pain in its own right. Truth be told he was a kelvic, and though he didn’t even fully realize the reputation of such, he knew he had the cutting edge to rise above the wilderness should he choose. For the time being, however, he seemed content with the satisfaction of the civilized world. A daily trip into the wild, violent encounters like this, it was plenty for him to experience. He stood on all fours and felt the need to limp from his front left limb. He’d take a greater time than expected in returning to the city, but he knew he was going home to something worth his while. He took the kill by the scruff of its next, careful to keep that fine pelt in its present condition, and started back down the hill to Avanthal. He considered this day, like each other, a victory of his own.

[Liar]

EXPERIENCE AWARD I'm helping out Cheshire while she's away. If you have any questions or concerns, feel free to PM me. :) Tiki Skill Points Hunting 4 Tracking 2 Running 1 Unarmed Combat 1 Lore The Search for Inspiration The Scent of a Northern Bobcat Masking Scent with Winds Gratitude in Civilization Injuries Tiki’s wounds are relatively superficial and should heal in 3-5 days. Notes There were enough run-ons to be a little distracting, but your stream of consciousness writing felt very loyal to the Kelvic mentality, and that pretty much makes up for it. :) Good work. You mentioned bringing food back to the city; were you hoping to get wages as a hunter? If so, it’s not too late to collect them.