What I Was Made For (Solo)

[Tiki]

What I Was Made For 38th Summer 512 A.V. The Spires were healing. Jamoura and their guests were all hard at working reconstructing the city. Gone, everything was gone. The storm had taken away everything save for the base of the city itself. At the center of it all, Caiyha’s Temple shined on radiant as even in contrast to the ruined city, a glimmer of hope that Spires would live on, its people would live on. Be it the hand of a human answering the calls for aid, a paw of a kelvic, or the dark coated palm of the jamoura, all were at hand helping in the reconstruction, or well on their way back home, if not off on another adventure. There were those who were building, restoring Spires to its glory. There were healers as well who tended still to the sick and injured since the storm had struck. Feeding them all were the hunters. Although time had seemed to freeze in the instant of the storm, the unimagined fear striking into the hearts of all Mizahar’s denizens, that time had passed as Tanroa commanded it. Time kept moving forward, and as their bodies aged and grew, so did their hunger. Time had not stopped for but that instant. Life went on, as did a body’s wanting of all living things. Like rain drops from the sky, the hunters fell through the Hahk’Maghtar over vines, nets, and stairs back to the Taldera wilds. The northern reaches were vast and plentiful when it came to the food the stomach of a child called out for. If only it were so simple as to pluck it from the trees that used to be so ripe with fruit this time of the year. There had been sacrifice in calling out for the aid of others, the jamouras’ hospitality knew no bounds in their reclamation of the city, and now all was bare. Trickling through the reaches, flowing through the foliage where the wildlife permitted they go, the hunters fanned in all directions far and wide. Spires was starving. The camp needed to sustain itself as much as the feral residents of Spires needed. The average hunter might hike for miles in search of something his eyes failed to notice. The Spirian hunters, and their kelvic friends, knew much better though. Wide eyed, and still as stone, Tiki stalked from the shadows what he could. The stillness was set on by a change, some notable threshold of detection that gave him reason to pause and wait for the prey to come a little closer. It was a false alarm. He was already an hour out from the Spires at a rather agreeable pace for his seasoned paws. He was pushing out further west than he had ever gone before. It was silly in some respects, for he’d never hunted here before. There was still a sense of fantastic adventure that took him further out though, the majesty of Taldera reached out to him. Climbing over another hill, another ridge, Tiki stood a moment to take it in. The sounds, the smells, the sights… all were tell-tale of the prey that lay in waiting for the predator to come for them. The towering trees of the Talderan forests hid much from his sight save for the cutting steams through the wilderness. The wind blew over the land in neutral favor, unless something should approach or flee from the north or south. He stood there entranced by the songs of birds in the summer air, the sweet melody of nature. He had longed for this. Tiki descended the slope and resumed his hunt with only his claws and teeth about him.

[Tiki]

It was, as always, a slow walk through the wilds. Tiki was attentive to all around him making the effort to be thorough when observing all around him. It was easy here, at nature. There were no wild noises, screaming children, or other distractions of clanging metal. There was the running water, the breezes trough the trees, and the songs of birds. Other than that, Tiki found stillness. The occasional howl of wolves had Tiki peering further on into the wilds in search of the source, although a fruitless effort. Walking through the wilds was an observation of its own. The hunter needed to be careful as to not spook his prey. The flora of the northern reaches shed their limbs over the years, wood falling in decay, drying and breaking. A fine layer littered the Talderan floor now though, as spring’s blooming – though weak - ushered in a green summer. Sunlight streaks flowed through and on the canopy, casting shades for Tiki to blend in. Between that and the low shrubbery, Tiki was ready to find his prey such that his prey would not find him. Tiki stopped walking, his head sniffing around gently. Something had tipped him off. Moving forward slowly, he noticed the growing scent of something near. It was familiar to him. After a walk in the same direction, his pace unchanged, Tiki came to the droppings of an animal. The scent was strong and fresh, the heat reaching for his nostrils. Tiki puffed the odor from his nose and turned about. In the thick brush, the fauna were well hidden, much like the jamoura. Tiki looked back to the dung, examined the area for something in particular. He found it, the prey’s track. He examined the mark left by a thin hoof. After some walking around, it seemed to go off in the north west direction. Tiki brought himself close and took a sniff of the track. It was relatively fresh, some few minutes away. Tiki started after the prey, his snout confirming what his eyes doubted, keeping all senses on the trail. It seemed routine, Tiki thought, but something seemed different in comparison to the ways he used to hunt. He thought little more of it, and resumed stalking.

[Tiki]

It was a difficulty. Tiki tried to hurry himself closer to the animal awaiting its demise, but he didn’t want to send off any signals to alert the prey either. Chain reactions applied. A twig naps, the birds go silent, if not fly away, and in the mass flight the deer looks back and senses doom coming, then it’s gone. Still, Tiki was able to walk briskly while watching his steps. Alas, his eyes were glued to nature’s floor in the process. A change in the wind, Tiki noticed it growing strong. The scent was no longer a lingering smell in the wind being blown back, but something right off the animal’s hide trailing ahead, only in a few moments’ time. Tiki had trouble pacing himself to maintain what vague sense of stealth he moved with. He wanted to run after the prey and snatch it away to Spires, but he knew better now. Such kind of hunting was exhausting on the hunter. He was better off taking his time. Hunting was becoming an art to Tiki, demanding attention to patience and detail in his every move. Where he quicker, or quieter, that’d be a different story now, wouldn’t it? Tiki’s nostrils were overwhelmed with the scent. He fought every urge to pounce now, right that instant, and slowed himself down, crouching below the lowest brushes. Not only did he smell it, he heard it. It was a light sound, and then another! Tiki crept closer, one paw at a time, gently sliding against his chest to move forward maybe an inch at a time. He was watching the best he could, moving only when he sensed it was “safe” to move. He came into view of the prey. There were fuzzy browed deer with fangs in front of him. He saw one, and a smaller one, mother and child presumably. The buck was much further off. As much as Tiki wanted him, he knew it would take a heightened effort. He’d have to draw back and go around, but he wasn’t ready to leave the little herd go when he had a clear shot at a kill. He’d have to get closer though, if that were to be made fact. Tiki looked at the ground between him and the mother. She was closest. She was angled away from him, grazing now. Tiki saw the weird brows twitch with each sound the birds made, and how the deer dug into the ground with their fangs. Roots were being dug up from the ground; these deer didn’t bite, or did they? Tiki didn’t intend on finding out. He took another step closer, very conscious of how he went down on the ground. He wouldn’t drag his feet through the earth, or step on a twig. Tiki was too seasoned for those mistakes. The secondary notice to those details is what would do him over. An avid and skilled hunter when it came to the typical prey, those first level consumers who had the option to run or die, Tiki was fighting against himself to not jump at the deer and lose and easy kill. His eyes were full and still, locked on the deer’s back. The moment presented would be the best he’d get. As much as he’d like for the deer to come over and jump into his mouth, that wouldn’t happen. The odds of it coming closer at all was not only an impossibility, but a risk to his cover. The breeze that blew toward him was a grace. He needed to act before that changed as well. Tiki tried to figure how the scene would play out briefly. It was a faint thought he looked over as his instincts kicked in. The kill was already coming as the vague thought came over him, as if he saw it coming. Tiki was up on all fours preparing himself as if starting a race – it was a race of course – with his lead leg ready and the rest pumped for the first spring forward into the brief sprint to the kill. He’d jump up onto the back and hind hide of the deer, doing all he could to make contact and drop the prey, if not maim it. Successful, he’d keep himself on the prey while scaling up to its head and biting. He’d take a bite into the deer’s head until the soft spot cracked and the squealing struggle ended. Tiki reveled in the thought of how he’d feel if all were successful, well after his literal success had become reality. Tiki shook the deer’s head from his teeth and lapped his lips. The other deer had run from him the instant he moved, as this mother had tried, but Tiki was ready for it long before. Tiki thought of which way he’d come from, and eventually decided the direction that was eastward back to the Spires. He had the long haul ahead of him. The added weight might have been a hassle had he brought anything with him. The advantage to southern Taldera and hunting was the climate. The temperate conditions left him free to hunt in his own fur for an extended time. Of course, that meant the same for other predators out in the wilds. The fresh scent of blood crossing Taldera’s realm and the hopes of delivering the kill to Spires unquestioned was but a romantic dream. Large and in charge, Taldera’s predators were just as hungry as Tiki and the Spirians, if not more.

[Tiki]

It’d be a lie to say the journey back to Spires was easy. Taldera’s terrain was something to get lost in. he did manage to find his way back to the familiar groves though. Spires was around him, and he knew it. It hadn’t been without much haste though. The changes in the wind had been telling of the things that surrounded him. Time and space, that was all that had parted Tiki from whatever had followed him. After so far, he knew it broke off and away. The howling of wolves in the hills and forests filled Tiki with dread as if it rang through his ears closer yet. It was a sound of death. It was uncaring, and sometimes violent, but worst of all, entirely necessary. Tiki made his way for the stair without hesitation. Now closer to his goal yet, he took hold of the catch again, and started off a trot. The thought of wolves on his heels had that effect. Alas, here he was in the Spires, safe at last, home at last.

[Cinna]

And the forest reveals..... Great thread Tiki, I really enjoy your writing style. You seem to have a very good grasp of your cat and it was an overall polished hunting thread. Also your cat is so pretty Tiki : Skills Awarded: Steath +1 Hunting +2 Tracking +1 Observation +1 Camouflage +1 Lores: Oh, it's somewhere new! The Art of Patience The Tufted Deer If you have any questions or concerns about my grading or if you just want to chat then don't hesitate to PM me well done!