[Training/Self-Mod] Hunting At Dawn (Kamalia Please)

[Gromhir]

24th Day of Fall, 509 AV

Mura was a place of disturbing and eerie beauty compared to the rest of the world. Leth’s pale moonlight illuminated the ornate buildings and white trees that lined the streets. The night painted a ghostly picture of the city that not even it’s own greatest artists could ever truly capture. Every now and again, one would catch a lone, ethereal figure move from street to street. A light hanging from their hands, guiding their path through shelter they haunted. A low fog rolled over the city from the sea, framing the picture completely.
Yet, this place was home to those who would offer help to those who sought it. The Opal Temple stood as testament to this. It was home to the greatest healers and seers that Mizahar had ever known. There was serenity to Mura that infected all those who stayed there. Fear, anger, hate was all forgotten on this island, there was no place for those emotions here. Calmness fell over your soul, washing away anything you felt before.
Even the ghostly denizens of Mura were embodiments of this. They solved problems together forming a close-knit community of healers, seers and mages that welcomed anyway who sought their serene company. The beauty of the Konti and their Isle needed no explanation, only through experience could you understand this. The stories did not do them enough justice.
Only one blemish stood against this picture of pale luminescence. A figure wrapped in a cloak of forest green, leant against the white stone edge of the balcony. Stood vigil over the place that felt like home, he watched one particular white woman wander the streets aimlessly searching for something. It was hard for him to tell the women apart most of the time, they all looked so alike. There were only two of the women that stood out to him. The Kennelmaster, Skyla, who had taught him what he really was. The other was asleep just a few metres away.
Kamalia Timandre, the one who had brought him home. Gromhir’s ice blue eyes, turned to look at the sleeping Konti as she lay in bed. She looked so peaceful wrapped warm and safe. Gromhir had fallen asleep at the foot of her bed, like he had done the first night. But he was restless and hungry. He needed to hunt in the forests of the White Isle. They would surely have some prey there. He refused to leave Kamalia, however. He had to make sure she was safe. These women might have been able to see future events or what they perceived as future events but he knew nature was too powerful to be predicted. He refused to place his trust in what these women saw it felt unnatural. That was another reason he was restless, their ‘abilities’ left too many questions for him to quite comprehend.
None of that truly mattered though. He could feel her at peace right now. Light would break the black canvas of night soon. Then she would rise, he saw no need to wake her now because he was hungry. A light breeze flicked up around him and he turned back to the horizon, pulling his cloak round his naked torso. He wore pants but was barefoot. Wearing clothes was another concept he hadn’t quite grasped. He didn’t understand why these creatures had to cover themselves. He pushed these thoughts aside, as his eyes rested on the horizon out to sea.
The first lights of dawn shattered the dark sky with streaks of orange and purple. For Gromhir, it was a sight that never seemed to diminish in its beauty. It signalled a new day and new chances.

[Kamalia Timandre]

Grandmother Shahal Timandre gave birth to several daughters, who gave birth to several daughters in turn, making her lineage one of the major motherhouses in the city of seers. Among the inner circle families in Mura, Timandre boasted a big number of healers, lyricists, artisans and powerful seer-priestesses, who, now and then, felt the need to expand their residence to accommodate their clan’s ever-growing size. Not that they truly needed a big compound; many of Grandmother Shahal’s daughters—and their daughters in turn—ventured out their small city to answer the Call, to seek adventure or perhaps, indulge in wanderlust, pursuing greater passions far from the lands of their birth.

But with the piles of wealth lavished on their homes and their lot, the result were sprawling, architectural wonders that would make people from the foreign realms content to gawk for bells, and even chimes: high-ceilinged mansions with elaborate carvings, onion-shaped domes, intricately carved columns and walls painted with scenes honoring Laviku and Avalis.

In one of these manses, Shahal’s precious granddaughter slept soundly on a large bed heaped with white silken cushions. Her hand lay rested upon a book on Mizahar’s history, and on the bedside table, large tallow candles stood alighted still. A long, frenzied lecture took place and wore the young mage out. Kamalia Timandre eagerly took the role of a teacher for her new friend, the kelvic Gromhir. She taught him many things in one night, lessons tackling the history of the world at large, the Mizaharian pantheon, and the customs and beliefs of the konti. She instructed him on the fundamentals of how the world worked and the intricacies of human interaction, all essential to his survival.

These lessons must have taxed the mind of the young kelvic greatly— he who chose isolation over human contact, but Kamalia staunchly believed that Gromhir took these all in, having known that ivaski were highly intelligent canines.

Dawn touched the silver-white locks of the slumbering seer. She opened her eyes gently, nestled into her silken pillows for a little more and listened to the sounds of early risers drifting to her room. Recalling yesterday’s events, Kamalia’s violet eyes shifted about, until she caught sight of a tall, green-cloaked figure leaning against the ornate balustrades of the balcony.

The konti maiden rose from her bed, clad only in her sleeping garments and morning sunshine. The iridescent scales on her arms and thighs shimmered surrealistically at Syna’s golden smile. Barefooted, she walked out the open portal and into the small but luxurious marble patio, encircled by white lilies, orchids and white stone balusters.

“You arise early,” Kamalia said smilingly beside Gromhir, resting her elbows on the railing, and taking in the scenery below—of streets and vast courtyards that began to stir awake.

[Gromhir]

It had been a long night. One Gromhir had been unable to prepare himself for but the promise the new day brought had been one that had woken him from his slumber earlier than even he had been expecting. He had learnt so much over the past few days that he just wished to leave the city for a while, fall back into the feral creature that he felt more in tune with. His head was spinning with the information he had been gifted with. He had pressed on because he knew that was what Kamalia had expected of him.
Mizahar was a complicated world outside of the wild. He could safely say that right now, he still preferred the wilds to being cooped up in this house. The world was fledgling. It was still new and people were still trying to find their place amongst the ruins of old civilizations. It seemed that unlike many races, the Kelvic were not a result of this catastrophe that occurred. They were born of one man’s whim, created for a purpose that no longer existed. Now they had to find their place in something that did not understand why they even existed.
This was a world born out of love, love that became hatred, love that torn apart the heavens and rent the earth open. The very essence of creation lashed out to strike at all those who did not flee to safety. Now the world hung in the balance as it tried to breathe life back into itself. But there were those who sought to sow chaos into the world. The mere thought of this made Gromhir’s mind hurt. Why these creatures had strayed from nature’s path was beyond him.
This good and evil concept was beyond him as well. The greed of those who had power and the desperation of those trying to get by. Their goal was the same; earn more of this thing called Miza. But the way they did it could be evil or it could be good. They could work for it, that was ‘good’ or they could steal it, which was ‘bad’. Currency, good and evil, it had got complicated for the Ivaski. He took what he needed and that was it. Never anymore, what was the point?
But that was hardly the most complicated thing. These things called Gods. They gifted people with power and had their own. It was a God that caused the Valterrian and his love for a human. People asked for their help, but Gromhir could not understand how the helped, if they helped or even what they were. There were far too many questions.
“Good… morning?” Gromhir looked to slender, pale figure that had joined him on the balcony. Human interaction was a strange concept. But it was the most important. It would help him learn to blend in. He could speak the language, not as fluently as some but he could speak it. But manners and politeness were things he was never taught. Even a simple greeting was an odd construction to him. “My head is full of the things you told me. I need to hunt.”

[Kamalia Timandre]

The young seer smiled faintly at Gromhir’s greeting, silently applauding him for his effort at sounding more sociable. She felt that customs and traditions greatly puzzled the kelvic lad, but he still had much to learn—very much to learn! The world of Mizahar was more dangerous than Gromhir had imagined it to be. If he didn’t relish the idea of being prey to so many other hostile races thriving in Mizahar, he would need this knowledge to survive.

By the looks of it, many would crave to cage an ivaski-kelvic for a slave. The tales of ivaski being highly intelligent creatures only did them disservice. Gromhir’s kind would surely fetch a preposterously high price at the slave markets and auctions in dark cities such as Ravok and Sunberth.

Just last night, Kamalia had patiently explained to him that the way humans greeted each other were like the canine’s greeting ritual, only a tad more complicated, as it involved facial expressions, manners and oral language. The konti wizard was determined to teach him more about human interactions, that he might eventually put together a human-like façade for himself. It would be safer he didn’t present himself as a kelvic should he felt the desire to mingle with other people

Kamalia herself felt surprised. She had never truly expected herself to be a credible teacher. In one night—just in one night!—she had taught Gromhir basic history, gods and goddesses, the concept of good and evil and the idea of civilization. Kamalia smiled to herself proudly. That was quite a feat, even for the sonorous tavern taletellers and the pompous instructors of Zeltiva University!

When Gromhir expressed his desire to hunt, Kamalia’s jaw dropped for a moment before she erupted in melodious laughter. “There is no need,” she seated herself on an ornate iron chair. “My sisters make certain I have food to sup on at first light. Be seated, and have feast from the table with me.”

Kamaia broke her fast with tea, fruit and spiced mussels on the balcony patio. An elaborate ivory trellis curved over the breakfast table, providing shade and lending support for the profusion of bell-shaped lilies and grapevines that entwined it. Bunches of grapes, some yellow and some a soft, sunrise pink, hung in fragrant clusters overhead.

Of course, this was how the konti ate. Kamalia didn’t take into consideration that the kelvic had other needs to satisfy—the instincts of a hunter.

[Gromhir]

Gromhir knew she thought it was for sustenance, in truth, it partly was. While he could eat the meticulously preferred food of Konti like any other sentient race, it was not the food he was used to eating. Gromhir was a creature of habit and he was still very feral, used to catching his food and running free through the untamed lands. Kamalia could not understand how different this was for him. For him, living in a city, even as calm and serene as Mura was, set him on edge. It was like someone who had never left Syliras going out into the wilderness for the first time. Gromhir was simply not used to living in a city.

Gromhir found himself angry at the fact that she could not understand him. It was a problem he always had. It had nothing to do with Kamalia or, in fact, anyone else. Gromhir just could not understand why people looked deeper into what he said. He put things plainly and simply. He only ever told the truth because he knew nothing else. He released a low growl but sat down with her at the table.

He cast his gaze over the food picking at the fruit but not eating anything substantial. “No, I need to hunt. If I wanted food, I would go to Skyla for meat. Plants are not good food.” Gromhir lacked anyway of really portraying his feelings. He generally didn’t speak much of the common tongue and while he had an innate knowledge of knowing others feelings, he had no real way of portraying his own when in human form.

Gromhir ached to feel the soft grass beneath his paws and the wind in his fur once more. He craved the thrill of the hunt and the freedom that the wilds brought. Here, he felt almost caged in his human form even though he could wander in his Kelvic form. It was simply not the same.

[Kamalia Timandre]

The konti seer was busy scoring an avocado’s core with her eating knife, tossing light green cubes into a bowl then pouring sweet milk and sugar over the diced-up fruit meat. She briefly stopped and blinked when Gromhir said that plants were “not good food”. Ivaski were highly carnivorous creatures; animal meat was primarily their source of nourishment. According to a book she had perused yesterday, a feral ivaski’s diet ranged from big game, such as white deer, elk or moose to pheasant and grasshopper. Rarely did they eat fruit and edible plants. Her eyes trailed the movement of the kelvic’s hand as he touched and held plum and pear, though never consuming any of them. Kamalia felt that hunger was not the main reason of his frustration.

Yes, she felt it. Her divination powers did not include animal empathy, but she instinctively knew he longed for something familiar to him—the freedom provided by untamed and lawless lands, the capricious winds while running through the wilderness, the exhilaration brought upon by hunting. The kelvic had spent only two days with the konti and within their city, but Kamalia understood that Gromhir wanted to do something he was used to doing, something within the territory of his knowledge and experience. He needed a time off the wondrous but somber realm of Mura, or more precisely, a time off civilization.

Kamalia realized how badly she had overstepped. For the short time she and Gromhir spent together, she had taught him too many things, concepts so strange, so alien to the young kelvic—he, who was used to living outside civilization. That was done with his safety and survival on mind, of course, but surely anyone would want a break from such intense lessons. Kamalia could only give Gromhir an apologetic smile for a response.

After munching on the last morsel of spiced mussel, Kamalia rose from her seating and quietly walked back into her vast bedchamber, only to return three chimes later in champagne leather jerkin, white breeches and high boots. Around her waist she wrapped a gossamer sash that held the small ornate scabbard of her suvai— a three-pronged dagger made of white whale horn and the weapon favored by the konti. Gromhir would detect that Kamalia had other small weapons concealed about her person as well. This was gear more suited to a wilderness hunt than an autumn morning promenade.

“I have not done this for some time now. Let us hope my skills will not fail me,” the young konti mage said grinningly. She reached into the coils of her hair and took from it a tiny isurian steel blade shaped like a six-pointed star. Kamalia held the weapon by one leg and hurled it at the ivory trellis. The legs bit deep into the wood.

“Perfect,” she breathed. With a lethal aim, a shooting star could handle most creatures of flesh and bone. The konti pried the steel star out of the wood with her suvai, not wanting to lose a single one of her favorite toys.

[Gromhir]

Gromhir scolded himself as Kamalia gave him an apologetic smile. He had never meant to make her feel bad. His inability to express himself frustrated him more than anything yet he had no idea how to get around it. He could not communicate anything like Kamalia could. It had never really been instilled with him. He barely made contact with people but had learnt some of the language. It wasn’t that hard to pick up the language but the rituals humanoids went through were very confusing.

Unable to look at Kamalia, he never noticed her leave the table until she spoke again from behind him. His gaze turned to her, taking in her appearance. Gromhir was highly sceptical of weaponry as well but understood it to be necessary for those that did not have fang-lined maws to rend flesh from bone. It was not something he prided himself on but they were necessary for defence and survival. If he did not know his Kelvic form he guessed he would be dead in the wilderness already. Still, Kamalia’s aim was accurate which would be useful. Gromhir had never hunted as part of a pack but it was something that Ivaski’s knew instinctively.

He smiled back at her, a feral look crossing his eyes at the thought of hunting once more. It was one of the many things Kelvic did before shifting, their mindset changing to be more animalistic. “Have you been on a hunt before?” Gromhir asked moving over to her. He cautiously pulled her Suvai from its scabbard, curious about what it actually was. “Would you be confident hunting deer?” although he was utterly blunt, he did not want to get Kamalia injured hunting something she would not be able to take down.

Hunting was dangerous. Animals fought for their lives and so fought all the harder. Even docile deer could prove deadly adversaries, especially if there was a stag near the herd. A swift blow from the antlers could and had injured Gromhir before now, he dreaded to think what would happen if they attacked Kamalia. It was his job to not let that happen but he could not be at her side if he was waiting in ambush. Kamalia had shown him much kindness already, more than most ever have. He did not know how to repay her but hoped that one day he would be able to.

[Kamalia Timandre]

She saw it, the feral glint that crossed the kelvic’s piercingly blue eyes. Kamalia watched him move over to her; twilit violet irises followed his hand as it pulled her suvai from its ornate ivory scabbard. Gromhir was unbearably close, and in his human form, the konti maiden felt the slight tinge of discomfort. It had been long since she was this close to a male—years!

Averting her eyes elsewhere and pushing aside the thoughts of a lover long gone, Kamalia breathed and curved her lips into a faint smile, “Yes, I have hunted with ivaski in the past, along with my sisters.” The konti turned away and leaned against a column of the delicately wrought whitewood trellis to lay some distance between them. She rather hoped Gromhir didn’t sense this! For a while, Kamalia was content to watch as the kelvic curiously examined her weapon, just like a toddler would with a peculiar toy. She found him adorable and a little endearing whenever he inquisitively observed objects commonly employed by humanfolk.

“That is a suvai,” Kamalia began in a cool measured tone, “weapon solely wielded by konti. That one is of simple make, crafted from the bone of a white ocean whale. Careful not to touch the prongs—they are said to venom those who are not of konti blood.” She said, before she gently pried it off his hand and sheathed it rightly into its scabbard.

“Mayhap you think that konti are flimsy little damselflies, but you are wrong to think so. We need not rely on males and we are gifted huntresses,” declared the konti wizard proudly.

[Gromhir]

He remained silent as he examined the weapon of whalebone. He would not deceive her if Kamalia asked if he had felt what she had. Ivaski were intelligent creatures. Their empathic abilities were spoken in rumours but the truth was that they were so. Gromhir could not help but be feel her discomfort and their forming bond only meant that he knew enough about her feelings to know it was directed at him. As she moved away, Gromhir looked up, the feral glint replaced by something more human but he looked down again at the suvai as she turned back towards him.

As she explained to him what it was, Gromhir moved his hand to touch the prongs, pulling away as she spoke. Once Kamalia had taken the weapon back in her hands, Gromhir took a step back maintaining a small but noticeable distance from her, not wishing to cause her any more discomfort with his presence. “I did not wish to hunt something that had a great chance of causing you harm if you were inexperienced,” Gromhir replied. “I do not wish to see you in pain.”

While here in the house of her Grandmother, Gromhir was the inexperienced one. Here it was Kamalia’s realm of experience that Gromhir knew very little of and understood even less. But in the wilds, hunting and tracking beasts, that was Gromhir’s realm. That was what he knew. In that realm responsibility switched. In the seasons to come, this would change, but the present was all Gromhir worried about.

“Some prey are capable of defending themselves. If you were too close and got caught, you would be harmed. If we were to hunt the deer then I would not need sustenance for a several of Nature’s cycles,” Gromhir moved back into Kamalia’s room, eager to get out of the city. “Deer are easy to track as they move in herds but if a stag is nearby, then we have to be careful.”

[Kamalia Timandre]

Anything that fought for its life was dangerous, there was no denying there. Kamalia had known greater dangers first-hand. Young though she was, Kamalia had fought dire wolves, yukmen and even human slavers from Sunberth. With cunning, magic and her goddess-given Sight, the mage-girl had survived these encounters almost unscathed. There had always been a misconception that konti were defenseless women who will never put up a fight—oh, so untrue!

For all her fey and fragile beauty, Kamalia was a competent reimancer, the greatest indication of the steel that lay behind her delicate exterior. The art and science of magic required bravery, an iron will and a steel resolve—traits Kamalia herself possessed. She was eager and determined to show Gromhir the stuff she was made of.

The konti maiden followed the kelvic back into her bedchambers. She asked him to stay and wait, and then seated herself next to a low study table equipped with silver candlesticks and a supply of high tallow candles. She lighted one candle, breathed, and pulled out a piece of calfskin parchment. For a bell, Kamalia placed a slender finger below her chin as she considered a design of a sigil, looking absently at the fresh parchment. Dipping the silver tip of a swan-feathered quill pen into a glass inkwell, Kamalia began to draw complex arcane runes and symbols onto the parchment.

These runes were glyphs and this practice was called Glyphing, she itched to explain to Gromhir, a discipline of magic that employed sigils and mystic symbols to manipulate or affect other magicks, and with more complex runes, even store spells. Kamalia thought it was wise to spare him this complex lesson and save it for another time as she knew his cranium would soon fracture with more information. Did he even know what Reimancy was? Or magic, for that matter?

The practice held the full attention and complete concentration of the young konti wizard, meticulously inscribing basic runes and symbols. She had done this aplenty before, but glyphs of arcane must be penned with exactness, precision and neatness, else they will not work. When she was done, a smile and a glint of satisfaction gleamed on her eyes.

She placed the elegant quill pen down and reached for a paintbrush, bristled smoothly with the hairs of a marten’s pelt. She dipped the bristles into another bottle that contained inscribing paint, normally used by wizards for Glyphing. With a calligrapher's precision, Kamalia copied out the sigil from the parchment and on the palm of her hand, pronouncing each rune in Nader-Canoch, the Ancient Tongue, as it was written. She held her breath as she nearly reached the end, painting the last cursive symbol and sighed in relief.

She looked on her work. It was perfect. Well, almost. The black paint shimmered elegantly on her palms. This was glyph designed to help the wizard channel djed through her hands.

The konti maiden bowed her head and whispered a heart-felt thanks to the gods for not failing her. She rose and turned to Gromhir, a crooked smile crossed her beautiful face. “Well, I’ve some clever tricks up my sleeve should a lackwit stag spring forth and come to the rescue," intoned Kamalia slyly before walking past the kelvic and towards ornate door way. She looked at him over her shoulder. "Shall we?”

OOC!You can jump to the next scene and describe the forest if you want! I think the trees are mostly white. There are also coniferous forests in the Konti Isle. XD