[Throughout the Base Camp] Not The Spires I Remember (Open)

[Tiki]

Outside and into the Base Camp outside The Spires 32 Summer 512 A.V. – early morning There was a shifting in the shadows, some movement. Eyes were frozen still as if to look forward, only to take it all in, to take in all around them. What was that? The shadows are moving; stay still my child, stay very still… The shadow cat rushed by in an instant, closing a distance of some feet in the blink of an eye, and snatched the hare up. That’s all it took, a blink. Tiki was looking back behind him, even still, for something that might be following him. There was something about the mist that put him on edge, something unnatural. He had been moving out since last night, wanting to get away from it, far away. The Spires and the mist did not go well together in any instance he had seen, especially when it lingered. The squealing of the hare was cut short instantly as Tiki’s fangs severed the cord. A morsel in comparison, but it was something to eat. He had planned to stop in Grath’s Rest when he arrived, needlessly to say his hopes of such were nearly crushed. It was a climb to get out of the mist, but it was well worth it. Tiki kept going until he saw the space clear between him and the foggy edge. He had slipped on rocks on the way up, but he took his time and made it safely. A tree was welcoming of itself to others, and Tiki hopped onto it. He could see what he thought was Spires, and moreover the mist that surrounded it and the lands round. There was something strange, and he knew it must have been related to the strange behavior he’d seen earlier, but he couldn’t put the pieces together. The storm didn’t strike Tiki at all, the mist being something native to the Spires, although not of this nature. Tiki pinned the hare down and began to tear into it. Anything tasted good right about now. Living in the wilds does that to a…well to him. Your own catch tastes better than it normally does, and, even then, any amount of food satisfies the gut. It was difficult to be picky in the Northern Reaches. Once finished, Tiki was lapping his lips and nose with his long tongue, studying the mist from far off. He didn’t smell or hear anything particularly unusual. Obviously, there wasn’t much to see. The hare tasted as normal as a hare would. The only thing that set him off was his own feeling. Staying as he was felt like the right idea though. He wasn’t sure what else might pounce at him, and wasn’t ready to chance it. Tiki looked around and tried to get a better idea of where the hell he was, but nothing worked, not here. He needed to go further up, maybe find a high point on the mountain and survey the land for…well for something, aright. What he had seen in Spires was beyond strange, and he was still learning how he should react. The climb was long, and trying on his body. He had the stamina though, and strong legs to propel him forward. He had surely stopped half a dozen times to drink, and to check his back. Why did it feel like he was still being watch? Tiki was going up another slope again, an area too steep to hike, and no gentle incline for as far as his eyes could see. He’d need to climb with thumbs for this one. Shifted, and done, there was the easy part. He still had a solid ten feet between him and this next slope though. The pebbled earth and low shrubbery wouldn’t offer much of a safety net, but it was better than dropping down the sheer face of a cliff. He grabbed hold of the first rocks then started up with his bare feet. Hand, hand, foot, foot; it was a pattern that took him a few grasps and false steps to learn. He reached out with a hand, and felt his foot slip, rushing back to a grasp he felt safe on to regain his control and balance. He was almost at the top, and it would be very painful to fall now. He took the last few steps and felt the foliage at the top. He grabbed for it, and the soft earth below, driving his digits deep into the soil for a grip. Hand…now the other hand, Tiki grabbed hold of something sturdy and pushed off with his foot. His big toe hit a rock, but he needed to keep going and quickly kicked around for a stepping stone. Another few pressed and pulls to drag him up were all it took. Tiki made it to the top of this slope. There was no telling how many more there were to go… …until he looked to his right and saw a valley below him. It was a strange beauty to see. Far off, Tiki saw the mountain peaks that framed the area. There was a clearing, and maybe some water to refill his bags if he had the chance. And then there was…what was that? Tiki pushed off the ground and looked off into the distance with loose lips, his focus on the pain in his arms and the oddity far off. Still regaining his breath, Tiki squinted and shaded his eyes to get a better glimpse of what it was. The Base Camp had more than a few trails of fire smoke coming up, although Tiki knew they weren’t wild. Gazing back at the city, he couldn’t help but wonder who was so close. Intuition told him the jamoura must have been solely to blame for this encampment. The mist was already proving dangerous to Tiki, and the jamoura knew better. The Spires were not something to be remade overnight, thus the camp must have been last minute. Tiki didn’t see the season’s ware on the camp, and all its foreign inhabitants from so far away. He still had a hike before he’d reach the perimeter. Tiki watched his steps going down, sure not to slip. Branches and low weeds saved him a few times with a quick grab at. Walking around on two legs was a fine price to pay if it meant not taking a tumble down the mountain. Tiki’s callused feet could take the hike. It was too hot for boots anyway. It was really hot actually, and Tiki started wishing he had refilled his water before. It must have been summer. Tiki had not seen a Watchtower flare since he left Nyka. Time was flying by, and he was at the base camp before he realized it. The straight path brought him to Spires swiftly, and quicker now to a camp, some ounce of civilization. He could use a quick meal right now, and not the running type of quick! Tiki entered the camp unannounced and unquestioned. There seemed to be a natural flow to this city as any other. The Hahk’Shatar were here on guard, confirming his doubts of Spires. Something was very wrong, and he wanted answers. He wanted to know where Kashal and Grath were, or Marn even. Marn must have known something. The utterance of the Deacon Supreme’s name was something of a whisper from his last visit, but Tiki knew such a jamoura existed. He hoped so much that Grath and Kashal were alright. He desperately wanted to find them, and soon. There were so many new and strange faces, and stranger yet, so many missing. Had Shurk made it out of the Spires, even? Tiki could see that one defending his precious project to the end. The stunning moment moved over Tiki, and he pressed for questions. He pulled over to the Hahk’Shatar nearest him and inquired further about what was going on. “Hahk’Shatar,” Tiki bowed his head, grateful that the guardians of the hidden city were still hard at work defending it, wherever it might be – with its people – and then continued, “what is happening here?” His words were plain and his syntax delicate. His command of Jamourian was fairly poor, and not the best for conversation. The Hahk’Shatar picked up on that at once. In a common tongue, although to Tiki’s disapproval – he had meant to keep panic to a minimum, thinking the camp was unaware of the ferocity Tiki had witnessed along the winding way – the Hahk’Shatar answered him, “Welcome back, kelvic. I remember your face, as if from a dream in its detail. The Spires have suffered since the storm swept over out city. Shortly after a mist settled over us, and soon we saw as our brothers and sisters were transformed, regressed back into the animals we once were. Look around you, we have gathered those we could and eluded the mist, but we are not whole. Others still walk the petals, their rightful homes, and feud viciously like animals. The mist makes a beast of you, kelvic. Be warned. Emissaries have seen sent round Mizahar to answer Marn’s call to aid. You will see peoples of every city and race here, now, working in harmony to reclaim the jewel that is Spires, and great Caiyha’s temple within. We, the Hahk’Shatar, long for such. We keep the peace that we can here in this base camp. Not all characters that dwell here would be so welcomed in the Spires if not for their aid. Let that remain between us. I see exhaustion in your eyes, kelvic. There is an infirmary that way, or a mess hall o’er yonder for a good meal. These foreign people have brought many other things with them too, but nothing I am entirely sure of. This reclamation has not gone as smoothly as I would have hoped. My people are being dragged from the city in the slugsuckle vines that used to take them cross their homes, now made into iron-strength nets. Even I, Hahk’Shatar, find difficulty in snapping the pieces. I have told you all I know and care to share, kelvic.” Tiki’s face was full of worry, although actively taking notes of what the camp had to offer. He’d need to ask around more, but perhaps the Hahk’Shatar could help him just a bit more before he took his leave. “Have you seen Grath? He owns Grath’s Rest…his rest.” Even in common, Tiki’s word play was less than smooth. “I’m looking for him, or Kashal. Where’s Marn too? I need to tell him about the jamoura I saw in the winding way. She attacked me. I think something is really wrong with the mist.” The Hahk’Shatar squinted at Tiki. First, in wonder of his friends and fellow jamoura, but secondly at the following questions. “I know not of your friends, kelvic, save for Grath’s specialties… I miss them. Listen carefully when I tell you this, the mist changes people, kelvic. We, jamoura, especially are changed. You lose your common sense, and your sentience loosens. You retreat back to the instincts you know. That is what I mean when I call my kin animals, again. They are feral, kelvic, and you might be made so too if you tread the mist too long. Marn is aware of this…was aware of this.” The Hahk’Shatar looked around, a bit disturbed to be even saying that aloud. “Marn is missing. We are doing what we can to keep things in order and at peace, kelvic. We have half as many deacons with us, but not the deacon supreme. His disappearance and location are a mystery to us, although I fear the worst,” said the Hahk’Shatar, turning back toward the Spires, and the mist. “We are rewarding those who can help us help others, by saving them from this foul mist. The Eypharian Centroc has packages ready for new aid. Should you dare the mist once more, kelvic, I warn you: take caution and take friends. Good luck to you, young kelvic, and I welcome you back to the Spires. Pray this fog clears and leaves us with good memories.” The Hahk’Shatar and Tiki exchanged head bows and parted their ways. Tiki was actively seeking answers, for Kashal, Grath, Marn, or even Shurk. Anything, any familiar or friendly face could set him back on the right direction. These was not the Spires he remembered, and never wished to remember them as such again. The kelvic wandered the camp, shamelessly approaching anyone and everyone who would look at him. He asked for answers, some more information about the situation about any of the individuals he knew, or what was going on. Someone, of all these people, had to know something else about what was going on. Tiki was sure to let others know what he knew, in brief, that is what the Hahk’Shatar had just told him. He did not wish to waste any more breath with the precious time and energy he could be using to save those he cared for within the mist covered city. He’s make it a few more hours before hunger would return to him, and he’d need to rest. If he hoped to make a difference, he would best spend his energies accordingly.

[Asha]

Asha strode slowly through the Base Camp towards the Mess Hall. Her tummy rumbled gently as she walked, chastising her for ignoring it. She patted her wide, black belly absently to bid it quiet itself. A tranquil smile spread across the Jamoura woman’s face, her mind filled with the banal thoughts of the day. What would she eat, where would she start her duties, perhaps the sky would be bright and clear all day. She meandered on through camp slowly. She felt contented that day and saw no need to rush.

Her broad body swayed with each foot step as she rounded the corner of a tall, rough storage structure and noticed a dark-haired human boy speaking to one of the Hakh’Shatara. The boy finished his conversation and approached the next person he came across. The human seemed intent in his purpose; he wasn’t just randomly accosting people. Asha knit her eyebrows in curiosity as she contemplated the scene before her. Perhaps something was wrong or the hairless creature was in need? The Camp was small and Asha had come to know those who resided there by face at least and she could not recall ever seeing this creature here before. Though the longer she looked at him the more she felt she might have seen him before in passing. Though not recently certainly. Perhaps he had been a guest or resident of the Spires at another time. Most Jamoura had excellent memories of those who had come through their forests and Asha was no exception though she could not say that she was any more familiar with the man then the slight memory of a similar face. Her curiosity thoroughly piqued, Asha approached the man.

“Are you in need stranger? You seem new to the Camp.” Asha nodded gently in greeting the man when she had neared him. Her intentions in aiding the man were honest; Asha’s parents had ensured that their daughter knew to be appropriately hospitable to all visitors. Most Jamoura were proud of the hospitality and peace they offered towards others and living in the Base Camp did not change that. The massive creatures may have had rigid rules that they enforced but as long as others lived within them they offered only gentle greetings to guests.

[Tiki]

The whole time, Tiki had been running up to others. Having someone run up and offer her knowledge caught him off guard. No surprise crossed his face after he saw a jamoura, an awfully petit jamoura at that, addressing him. Sadly, no smile returned to his face as it normally would, only sternness. Tiki spoke quickly, not wanting to waste too much time with one person. He felt pressured to find something out at once, where anyone he knew from Spires was or… there was no or. He wanted to know there was still someone here looking to see him, someone who could help. Plenty of people needed help, but it wasn’t the same. Naively, the kelvic inquired more expecting as much as he saw of Asha. He might be surprised by the many things that come in such small packages. “I’m Tiki. I’m looking for Kashal, Grath, Shurk, or Marn. Have you seen any of them? I need to know what’s going on; I need to see them,” the kelvic said in a panic. “I mean, I know what happened, I – I’m sorry I… Do you know anything about them? About any of them? Kashal? Grath? He owns Grath’s Rest. Or Shurk, the Sihk’Laya inventor. Or Marn, the…” Tiki’s train of thought came to a halt. It had been so long that he’d forgotten about the head honcho of all jamoura. He might have met him once, might have… The title of the jamoura surfaced. If he didn’t know Marn, he knew of him. “The Deacon Supreme,” Tiki said completing his thought, although with less detail than he’d prefer. Tiki’s eyes were wide, and his mouth twitching with excitement, preparing itself for the next face to tell him “Sorry, haven’t a clue” and pass him along to the next. This jamoura though, why she needed to know something, right? She’s only lived here since…ever! Still, Tiki was lacking in his usual manners, only now picking up on the initial state of panic that might have set over all Spirians when the storm hit. Tiki was running late.

[Asha]

Asha nodded sympathetically as the man before her spoke. The poor creature, he had no clue what was going on. She remembered the panic she felt as the effects of the djed mounted. Escaping the Spires had been no easy matter and living with the constant doubt of whether her home would ever be her home again was dreadful. Asha imagined that it would be just as jarringly dreadful to happen upon the situation as it was with no prior build up to prepare the psyche. As Tiki reeled off a list of names Asha tilted her head to the side and scratched her cheek absently as she thought. If the man was familiar with the names of many of the Spires most beloved residents then surely he must be from the area or have some sort of emotional investment. She felt a nudge of pity for him. Clearly this was a lot for the man to take in all at once, the rush and tumble of his words indicated the panic he felt. She resolved to attempt to comfort the man and give him what information she deemed appropriate. As panicked as he seemed she worried that the wrong word or phrase might set him off for a mad dash through the fog. No one would thank her for adding to the list of those who still needed to be rescued from the fogs grip. “I’m Asha, and I wish I had better tidings for you, Tiki. The good news is that Kashal is alive and well. She is running the Mess Hall here in camp, you can’t get that one away from a cooking pot. Unfortunately, the others that you seek I do not have such good news about. Grath has yet to be rescued from the fog, and Marn has been missing since last season. No one seems to have any information about where he might have gone. As far as Shurk is concerned, I’m afraid I don’t know. I haven’t heard any information about him so I’m afraid I cannot help you in that respect.” Asha said and as she spoke her smile slowly shifted into a grim set line. It was difficult to discuss those that were missing. Even if none of those Jamoura were a part of her nuclear family they were still a part of her community and their losses hurt. “You might be able to get some information about Grath from Kashal, but as far as the others are concerned that’s anyone’s guess. I would caution you to think before you act however, Tiki. I’ve been in the fog before, it’s a dangerous place. There are no longer welcoming faces in the Spires to greet you. I would advise against charging off without forethought. There is a concentrated effort at rescue going on and it would be unfortunate if you were added to the list of those that needed extraction.” Asha said gently. She hoped her words would get through to the man, but it was difficult to determine how well these hairless creatures reasoned. She was a peaceful, rational creature and she tried to advise others to follow similar paths.

[Tiki]

The thought of Kashal being safe was welcomed. Asha’s lacking of knowledge for the others didn’t help much though. It was absent minded, but Tiki said, “Thank you,” and ran off toward the Mess Hall to find Kashal. It took some off maneuvering around the camp, a question for direction now and again, but he found it inevitably. He needed to get to Kashal at once and get the final say from someone he knew and trusted with his life. Inside the Mess Hall, Tiki was hit with more confusion. The mass of people, jamoura and many others, who didn’t fit the description exactly - although some were awfully hairy too - were seated round the Hall. A massive jamoura of darkened fur and a rather roughed up look sat near one of the hall, very close to Tiki. He felt most comfortable with the jamoura above all others, and thought them easier to approach. Tiki asserted himself upon the jamoura. “Where can I find Kashal?” He was direct with a lack of formalities. It earned him a rather gnarly look, along with a snarl from the jamoura. This one, in his scarred appearance, seemed to have been changed by the fog for the worse, if not a being of darker intent. The jamoura leaned forward to Tiki, his towering form forming a shadow over Tiki, and spoke with the tone of an impatient old man, deeply resonating, slow, and angered, “I don’t know. Try the kitchen. Try not to leap on my back next time either, hairless-one.” With a gruff he finished with Tiki and turned back to his food, peering up when someone new walked in, keeping his good eye on the crowd. Tiki thought little of it, save for the misplaced anger of a jamoura. Tiki shared the jamoura’s anger in a sense though. To lose one’s home was unthinkable to begin with, let alone to live with. Tiki continued his parade through the Mess Hall approaching others to just get a hint of where Kashal was. Being told “here” or “in the kitchen” was less than the detail he needed. Any attempts to get into the kitchen were thwarted as well. She was busy, naturally, and word would reach her that a familiar face was looking for her in time. For now, Tiki spent his time inquiring more about the situation, or any of the Jamoura he knew. Grath, Shurk, and Marn were still unaccounted for. Kashal could hopefully shed some light where others could not when the time came.