Flashback Lumbering for Supplies (Zantair)

[Rengar]

Timestamp: Fall 43, 511 AV Rengar looked around his campsite, happy that he finally managed to settle on one after seasons of moving around. His tent was setup in the massive void beneath a Bloodwood's roots. He kept his pack hanging from the roof of his makeshift cave, out of reach of all but the tallest men and beast. It was early in the day, Syna just just beginning to poke her head out. Rengar readied his gear, for today he was going to go out and gather fallen wood. He wasn't allowed to chop trees down near the city, part of their rules. He had no problem with this, though, because many of the branches that fell in this forest, were the size of trees in a typical forest. He never lacked in supplies, or variety here. He loved it here. I hate it here brother. Too many grumpy fur balls, not enough parties, and the fact that most of the women are nude has really lost it's charm after a few seasons. Can we go back to Sunberth? The women there are feisty, and more than a little willing to do anything for a few coins. "Stop grumbling brother, we agreed on how long we would stay here. Besides we're going to Lhavit next right? That was your choice. Let's go and get to work." Can we at least go and try and find a woman soon? You may not have the need, but I do. You know I start complaining if it's been awhile... "Sure." He hung his hatchet, its handle worn after decades of use, in it's loop on the left hip, his throwing axe and battle axe on the right. He coiled his rope around his shoulder, and looked out his hidden cove. Finally, he grabbed the small pouch that contained his flint, steel, tinder, and a cooking knife. The entrance was guarded by some thick, thorny bushes, that deterred all but the smallest animals. Rengar looked up, found the strong root up above, and leapt up and grabbed it. This was how he exited his home every day. He pumped his arms, raising and lowering his body, his shoulders and back loving the release from the night's slumber. He then slowly pulled himself up, and over a lip formed by the raised dirt. He stood up tall, his eyes scanning the fog, looking for any dangers, his gaze penetrating the cool blues of the swirling fog. He knew the fog would be gone soon, and his regular vision would suffice. "Okay brother, pick a direction, it's your turn today." East, toward Syna's shining bosom. Rengar couldn't help but chuckle at his brother's choice of words. He stretched a bit, getting his muscles ready for whatever the day might hold. His stomach grumbled a bit, so he figured he'd try and find some breakfast before he worked. Something light, perhaps a hare or something. He drew his throwing axe, as he began the light steps of a predator seeking prey. His vision picked up the small, bright reds of song birds, and the subdued pinks of a few snakes. Step after silent step he crept, moving around the side of one of the massive trees, when he found several squirrels running about the forest floor. It was fall, perhaps they were beginning to collect nuts to store, for winter is coming. He crept closer, out of sight of the critters, slowing his breathing, so as to not alert them. His throwing axe rose up to behind his ear, then in a flicker of movement, it was flung toward the rodents. His aim wasn't good enough to pinpoint it's landing, so he'd chucked it in their general direction. And Ovek had smiled upon him, for his axe had decapitated one of the poor critters, its body just now ceasing to twitch. The others, it seemed had run off, as Rengar moved forward to collect his breakfast, and his trusty axe.

[Zantair]

A piece of wood chipped and slid off the branch Zantair was now scuttling off of, only the best eyes would have seen how the leaves seemed to jump as the little feet of the squirrel pattered against the wood, he was in search of food, not as much as he normally does, he was merely looking for a snack. He twisted around a knot in the branch, circling it as he passed before running to the edge of the tree and twisting his body, head first and parted with the branch he had just surveyed for delicacies, Pitter Patting down the humongous trunk, spinning around it until he made it to the floor below. The forest floor, large to his small form, expansive even to a human, had a small trail, and beside this trail was an encampment. The makeshift shelter was definetly noticeable to his slightly more observant eyes, and so he made his way hoping to win himself a small prize. He was aiming for the pack that seemed to be hanging, Zantair already planning on grasping the contents within, hoping to gain a ration of some sort, or perhaps something else. He joined a larger group of squirrels, all passing from tree to tree, oblivious to the golden trophy that might be within that shelter. Thunk! Zantair Jumped disappearing into a small outcove by the shelter watching the purple Akalak with grim dismay, for the now decapitated squirrel could have been him. Zantair winced as the thought of being a purple brute's breakfast briefly passed his mind. He waited for the Akalak to pass him, to pick up his meal and weapon before he shot for the shelter, bounding off of the grass and climbing towards the pack, fighting his fear as he slid into it, his tail still outside of it, as he searched, He couldn't find anything and so he turned to escape. Lhex would not give him any favors though, for the squirrel was easily in visible sight, and the Akalak had turned to return. In a desperate act to at least gather something for his adventure, he entered the bag quickly, pulling out a small Carving of some kind, not heavy enough to hinder his movement to much, but big enough to be interesting. He darted off, trying to make an escape. Zantair could only hope the akalak wouldn't have noticed a furry attachment to his pack.

[Rengar]

Garren took over a bit, to study the kill, as he bent down, picking up his throwing axe, then the squirrel corpse by the tail. Garren loved the animals here, for they were much larger and meatier than anywhere else they'd visited. He couldn't wait to get this thing roasting over a fire. "We didn't bring anything to skin or cook with." Petch! Fine we'll go back and get them... I'm starved, and this one is nice and fat. Garren turned to head back to their camp, when his infravision picked up a small creature within there, up near the ceiling. His brow furrowed, suspecting something was messing with his pack. It was confirmed when a spot showed up darker than the masses heat signature, indicating it was being blocked. And the darker spot was shaped like a crude dog. Infuriated that something was stealing his first carving that he made so many decades ago, Garren ran toward the bushes that covered the entrance. He leapt over them in a single bound, the branches scratching up his thighs. He landed hard, and a little unbalanced, but steadied himself quickly. He growled loudly, his eyes locked on the heat source, which appeared to be another squirrel. For fear of damaging his pack and the wooden dog, instead of swinging his axe at the squirrel, he swung the decapitated corpse instead. Blood spurted out as the dead squirrel was swung in a wide arc, aiming to hit the thief with its fallen comrade.

[Zantair]

Zantair pulled out the little carving that he deemed his prize, only to catch sight of the blood spurting makeshift weapon of his companion barreling it's way towards a now fearful Zantair. He let go of the carving letting it drop to the ground before jumping hoping to escape at least being hit by the creature. He leaped, passing the body, but not before being sprayed by blood and guts as the squirrel smacked against the purple colored man's pack and stained it with red. Once landing on semi-soft ground Zantair shifted, drawing out the human that hid inside himself, and immediately speaking, a voice of panic playing in his words. "Hey, hey, look I'm sorry, don't hurt me okay? I dropped the carving, I was just looking for food, no harm done right? I'm zantair..." Zantair cut off, hoping that at least giving his name, albeit being naked, might calm the large person's temper. Zantair felt for sure that the man must be irritated, and so Zantair slowly stood and distanced himself just a little bit as if trying to make sure it seemed that he meant no harm, "I've got some food, I'll grab it if you like, nuts and the like, it's good food, I promise..." Zantair said, hoping that the beast of a man had some sort of semblance to humanity, or the jamoura, more the jamoura, for they were pretty hard to make them want to kill you.

[Rengar]

As the squirrel leapt over him, Garren dropped the carcass, turned glimpsing just a momentary flash of light. His axe swung downward, when Rengar ripped his brother from control. Rengar hated doing that to his brother, who would be fuming about it for days after. But by doing so, the axe stopped just above the Kelvic's head. A moment later and his head would've split like a summer melon. Rengar belted his axe, ignoring his brother's curses, "You are very lucky Kelvic. But now thanks to you, I have a dilemma on my hands. A dilemma you cannot fix. However, we shall share a meal. Although it might be best if you go bring your food, for I doubt you will want to eat food that is so similar to yourself. You're no Myrian after all. So go, I will begin preparations on your brethren. Then, we eat." Rengar bent down to pick up the carcass, then made his way to his pack, sighing at the now congealing blood. He dug inside grabbing his game knife and his cooking pan. Once more, he climbed out of his little cove, and found the nearby stump, from a tree long since felled, not by him. For if he'd cut it down, the cuts would be much cleaner. But at least this one was flattened out and would make a great surface to prepare this squirrel. He laid the squirrel on it's back, sprawled out. He held his game knife steady, and made a cut between it's rectum and the base of its tail. He cut it diagonally up on both sides, like a spear tip. He then picked it up by its hind legs, and placed his boot at the base of its tail. Then as his father had taught him, he removed the 'shirt' of the squirrel, pulling it up and out of its skin, leaving just the head and forelegs within. He then turned the squirrel around, then stepped into the skin just above the head. He grasped the spearhead shaped portion of skin from earlier, and pulled it down to the last joints on the feet. He then cut the skin and feet free, and set the skinless carcass down on the stump. He then cut it down the middle, making care not to pierce any organs. He removed the organs, tossing them to the forest floor, perhaps a meal for some lucky scavenger. He then proceeded to try and remove as much meat from the bones as possible. He hated squirrel bones, and had nearly choked on a few. Once the meat was removed, he chopped it up into small, bite size chunks, thankful the animals in Taldera were so much larger. He didn't need any seasoning, breading, or the like, he preferred it all natural. He tossed the bits into his pan, and began the next stage. He already had an area cleared out and encircled by stones that served as his fire pit. He grabbed a bunch of twigs and small sticks, and piled them into a tepee in the center of the pit. He then stuffed his tinder and some nearby dried leaves and needles in the center of it. He then pulled out his flint and iron, and began striking them together, just over the tinder, striking at an angle. Hit, spark, nothing. Hit, spark, nothing. Hit, spark, smoke. Wait, smoke? Quickly he got down next to the tinder and blew on it, and the spark caught. And the fire began. After a little while, when the twigs were beginning to fall and the fire flattened out, he piled small, thin logs in a tepee fashion, just as he'd done with the twigs. Then he grabbed two long green logs, and placed them on either side of the fire. He put them closer together at one and, and further at the other. And the waiting game began. Once the small logs had burned down a bit, and the stack had laid down, he placed the pan above it, a smidge to the side, so as to not burn his pan, or food. And soon, the squirrel was beginning to sizzle. Rengar sat back, wondering when his companion would return.

[Zantair]

Zantair hummed as the axe hovered just above his head, breathing out a sigh of panicked relief as the blade slowly left it's position and was placed into a belt harness. Once he felt it was safe, he stood, listening to the overgrown purple squirrel murderer gripe about whatever plagued him. Not that Zantair really knew anything about an Akalak. He just assumed they were Humans who eat too many bugs used for dyes. He couldn't resist speaking out though.

"Lucky? I could have ran in the opposite direction..." He retorted, fading off slightly before continuing, Give me a few moments I'll be back in a... Jiffy."

Zantair slowly made his way past, dissappearing into the woods, he passed a few trees before climbing over a dead log. It was something he could never get used to; the change in how you saw things when you were taller versus when you were the size of a squirrel. What sort of dilemma could he possibly be in? He wondered to himself, now stuffing his human hand into a small alcove, dragging out various nuts and berries that he had spent the past few bells collecting. He yanked hard before scooping up what he could before turning and heading back, almost tripping over on a root on the way back.

Zantair returned and almost heaved as he quietly watched both a friend and rival be torn to pieces, He did his best to not exude bile from his mouth as the skin was pulled, leaving the head still in what was left of the squirrel. He turned away and plced his nuts on to the ground keeping a fair distance away from the Akalaks preperation stump and searched for a decent rock to crack open the nuts, he scoured the ground for a few seconds before removing a decent sized flat rock, turned to his nuts only to find the unwanted organs chucked near him. He flinched, screwing up his face making a sort of squeel before slamming the rock onto the nuts a few time cracking them to release the inner delicousness that was hidden inside.

Zantair gathered the nuts once again and sat near the Akalak's makeshift firepit, Cringing every once in a while when the sizzling distracted him from removing the inner nuts from their shells and by reaction, caused him to look at the chunks. He had a momentary thought that it could have been him who would have been cooked, but quickly brushed it aside, not wanting to dwell on it for too long.

The warmth of the fire kept Zantair happy as he ate, and gave him a moment of calm serenity, letting him calculate what to say. He pondered his choice of words carefully, he didn't want to cause any arguments or lack thereof, but he also wanted to know more about this Akalak, and possibly more about Akalak's in general.

"Like I said, I'm Zantair. Sorry about taking the thing, whatever it is. I meant no harm." He spoke calmly, making sure he wasn't going to offend the Akalak.

He waited for a few moments to let him respond, hoping to get a name, before starting his assualt of questions, He chose an easy one first and quickly followed by others, hoping to get more of a chance to at least have a few of the questions answered if not all.

"What makes an Akalak so different from a human? Or are you guys just humans who drank some sort of coloring?" He asked, before beginning the assualt, "What did you mean by dilemma? What dilemma? And what do you do? Where do you come from? ... How old are you? What's a Myrian? I guess a Myrian eats itself?" Zantair's questions were honest, he often questioned what he didn't know, he found he learned better when people told him things; He didn't know how to understand that scribbling on paper anyway.