While The Water Flows (Laenariel)

by **Konrad Venger** on February 5th, 2017, 7:18 pm

14th Bell - 42nd Day of Winter, 516AV - Lake Lari, Southern Sea of Grass

The alien became familiar, with time and repetition. This applied to all things, the hunter knew from experience. No matter how mundane or monstrous, the more time you invested in and around some place or endeavor, the more the mystery was stripped away. He'd stared out at the Sea of Grass before, and his mind had created a thousand horrors lurking in there. More than a year in Cyphrus had shown him that not all of them were just figments, but... it was just grass.

Grass and steppe and prairie, rivers and lakes and copses, vast expanses of land that even gods could get lost in. But still just a place. Brimming with life.

His feet followed the imprints he'd found at the edge of the lake. Something large, by the depth of them. Broad feet with claws that gouged into the mud. Sometimes he lost the tracks, but it was hard to miss where the tall stalks had been pushed aside, tunnel of bent grass as obvious as a blood trail.

Endrykas frolicked and gorged and strove in equal measure behind him. The whole city was taking advantage of Lari Lake and the abundance of game, fish, herbs, crops and, most of all, water. Herds had been driven into the lake and the whole expanse of water echoed with braying animals. Hunters came back everyday with their traps and spears laden with swinging carcasses. For Lake Lari was salvation and survival for all, not just the Drykas. Everything for a hundred miles gravitated towards it, all aspects of life shrinking to it like a crowd taking shelter from a great storm.

Including this big sod, Konrad thought, kneeling down to brush his fingers over the tracks.

He was dressed in naught but his breeches, unless one counted the worn leather harness his kopis and kukri hung from. A quiver was over his shoulder and a bow in his hands. The broad-brimmed hat he wore everywhere was clearly not so; his head was bare, dirty blond hair hanging past his shoulder blades in a rough ponytail. He didn't need anything getting in his eyes, not on a hunt.

But judging by the size of the thing he was following, eyesight wasn't his main problem.

He placed a hand on top f=of nearest pawprint, and his eyes widened. It wasn't on top; it was inside the damn thing. Whatever it was, it was huge, to have such massive paws. A bear, if he'd have to guess, for what else could be so huge? He had his kopis and his kukri, his dagger and his throwing knife, he even had his djed and his res and, of course, his bow, but-

An arrow would only piss off something that big, unless you got him with the very first. Which you won't. Steel would be better, wyrd if you could manage it, but still...

"Bastard."

The Sunberth man who spoke Common had found some Pavi words rolled right off the tongue; fittingly, most of them were curses. He spat one out for himself, for the tracks, for the bear, the whole damn situation. Why couldn't it be a deer, or a boar, or some of those odd owl-faced cat things? Why a bloody bear?

But still, he stood. He squinted and followed the trail. Started walking again, arrow already notched in the bow, held in place by the same hand that clutched it. He needed food. He needed to provide for his pavilion, or he'd be cast out. Stay useful, stay obedient, that had been his mantra. Until the time came for him to strike off on his own again.

Even if that means going after a-

He cocked his head and his thoughts derailed with the gesture. Something caught his eye. Not some tracker's skill, of which he had little, but a simple, glaring strangeness. He took a few more steps and found... another trail. And not of a bear.

Footprints. Human, obviously. But also deep. A big man, with bigger feet than him, and there weren't many of those in Drykas that he'd met. Konrad frowned a touch sharper, concerns and fears replaced by something sharper.

Bastard's following my bloody prey.

The fact that he could be following the other hunter's prey didn't occur to him, such as he was. Instead he spat another curse, in a different tongue, and once the flare of indignation faded, a new possibility sprang up. Two heads were better than one, after all. And if it was a bear, well, there'd be plenty of meat for them both.

And fur, he reminded himself, drawing a smirk across the unmarred half of his face, the side not one ruined mass of scar tissue. Plenty of coin in that, too...

A new plan in mind, Konrad set off again, tread light and sticking to the soft mud to muffle his noise. Man and beast, he followed both, stalking deeper into the tall grass, further away from the lounging city.

OOCHope that's a good enough start for ya, mate.

by **Laenariel** on February 6th, 2017, 9:30 pm

Bumbling 'bout in a bestial bearing was a behemoth of a bear, though such a description could have been be a bit bias based on the blatant and blunt fact that said bear was brazenly bouncing 'bout in a habitat that was not his own. Indeed, many horrors lurked in the great Sea of Grass that had yet to spread to any other locations, but it seemed this particular bear was one of the rare animals to defy his base needs to go exploring the 'great beyond' for something grander.

That would, however, be true if said bear were actually a real bear at all. No, he was a kelvic, though some might not know that based on a quick glance. He moved like a bear, grunted like a bear, sniffed around like a bear, stood like a bear when needed, and quite obviously looked like a bear. Not one native to Cyphrus, though; this particular creature outweighed even the grassbears that called the great plains home, his fur thick and seemingly darker against the green-yellow coloring of the grass. If one were to really look, though, a few things would set him apart.

The first being the pack clenched in his jaws. Said pack was a common leather one, nothing defining it above others past the necklace securely tied to one of the straps. On the necklace dangled a large, sharp tooth of chimpanzee origins, and if one were familiar with the fellow named Laenariel, they'd be able to tell that this pack belonged to him because of the aforementioned necklace. The pack itself was no worse for the wear; it wasn't stained by blood nor any other sort of gore, and only a bit of mud had marked the bottom. So the pack had either been stealthily stolen by this large ursine, or the beast was actually Laenariel himself.

The answer would come only moments later, when the beast dropped the pack and suddenly, in an insanely speedy swirl of light particles, there he was, standing right where the bear had been. The change had been instantaneous, easily able to be missed if one had blinked their eyes or even glanced elsewhere. This man was also quite large, physically taking somewhat after his bestial form. His hands and feet were covered in dried mud, though it hadn't deterred him as he picked up his pack.

He had started to walk as he worked, the necklace having been removed from the single strap it had been tied to and placed around his neck, before he had opened the pack fully. Inside was a pair of weathered old boots and worn trousers, while a bit of food had been stashed off to the side. He stopped, bent down for a few ticks to get the trousers on and then the boots, before he continued his journey.

He made his way for another ten or so chimes before the ground under him changed, and continued to become wetter until he stood at the edge of Lake Lari. This land had obviously been traversed many times, judging by the markings peppering the muck; the prints of both man and animal. The lake itself was a beautiful beacon of bounty, the water sparkled refreshingly under the sun.

Having always cared little for getting dirty, the dark-skinned man went to his knees, scooped up a bit of water with his hand and brought it to his lips for a taste. The pure freshness of the nearly clear liquid brought a slight smile to his face, which caused him to now use both hands to bring the water up to drink. He had taken few chimes to do so, and the stuff dripped off his slightly bearded chin and cheeks. His chest rose and fell faster than normal as he panted for air.

His eyes were already searching the lake, trying to find the fish that he so loved. From where he knelt, however, he hadn't seen anything; the lake was quite large, and chances are he'd have to be further in to actually catch anything good. Of course, the action mattered little to him.

Laenariel had just been about to start removing his boots when he stopped, having thought he heard the tell-tale rustle of grass behind him.

OOCDefinitely good, as you can see - I was able to wring my muse for a good while. Hope it's enough. ^_^

by **Konrad Venger** on February 7th, 2017, 3:56 am

Godsdamned petching Syna...

Konrad had to bite down hard to choke back the curse that threatened to vomit from his lips. Gods, was there no predicting the weather anymore? The season had been insane beyond reckoning - red, raging heat in a time that should have been white and freezing - but that was taking the cake. He'd kept Syna at his back for a reason: ruining the vision of anything ahead of him, yet keeping low enough and in the grass to prevent his silhouette giving him away-

-and the bastard bloody orb just blinded him. From ground level!

For a moment he'd snorted and hissed and some whisper of treason-magic-trap cycled through his mind, but... there was nothing. No follow-up, no capitalization, nothing. Just more sighing grass and blazing light from above, making the lake beyond the mud and reeds so bright he could barely look at it.

Back here again.

Of course he hadn't strayed far from the lake. The bear wouldn't be, the human hunter following it wouldn't be, so why would Konrad be any different? He paused and studied the tracks. Yes, they were fresher. Water was still pouring into the human's prints. Konrad wasn't one to judge time yet, his tracking wasn't so precise, but his own prints weren't much different looking than these.

Where are you...?

His question was soon answered. There, beyond ranks of reeds and pools of mud sucking and drying at the same time, a great, black boulder of a head was bobbing up and down. Chopped up and hard to make out, Konrad guessed he was kneeling, but as he crept closer... gods, the man was a petching monster. He couldn't make out a weapon yet, but part of him thought the sod wouldn't need one.

Konrad shook the thought away as he closed in on the man. From the rear, of course. He wanted a good look at what he was dealing with. A human, as far as he could tell. Not much in the way of clothes, but if he was Drykas and surviving out there, that didn't surprise him. He followed the tracks, the footprints, and... aye... it was him. Had to be.

Something that should have been solid turned out not to be. Konrad's tread went from cat-like to drunken Jamoura, and a clump of reeds rustled angrily at his presence.

Mister Huge and Black paused in the middle of raising a shoe as big as Konrad's head. The Sunberth man contemplated putting an arrow in the ground next to him, just to make a point... then discarded it. Softly. Smoothly. Sociably. An alien lesson in Sunberth, one he'd embraced in Kenash, and was refining in Endrykas.

Sometimes, not being a bastard pays dividends.

He stepped back, into the soft mud, putting quiet distance between the huge black and himself. Not taking his eyes off him but not taking aim, either. Whoever he was, he wasn't a sodding bear. He kept low, body crouched and sliding across the mud and grass, until he'd a made a long, slow arc around the man... and his eyes went down into the mud again.

Searched. Trying to find just the right indents in ground made of them. It wasn't a quick process, but considering the size and depth he was seeking-

There.

He found the trail again. Long and thick, deep with the weight of three or four men packed into one furry body, talons gouging deep into the earth with every step. Konrad spared one more glance behind him, saw the top of that dark body bobbing up above the grass.

Then he faced forward again, where the tracks led, and thought of the man no longer.

by **Konrad Venger** on March 5th, 2017, 1:45 am

He knew he had to turn back. As the chimes went on and the track wound further, he could hear the sounds of Endrykas become fainter. Konrad was a pretty dangerous bastard against most men he could come across, but he wasn't stupid or arrogant enough to think he'd have much of a chance against a nightlion, or gods forbid, a glassbeak.

Or a bear, and yet here we are.

He supposed he was just stubborn. Stepping through the grass as lightly as he could, each footfall coming slow and careful, eyes darting through waving ranks, searching for... anything. Then flicking back down to the tracks he was following, jumping from imprint to imprint. He could see they were getting fresher, but much as he listened or squinted, he couldn't hear the guttural snorts or see the lumbering, shaggy form beyond the grass in front of him.

But he could hear water lapping. And where there was water in this Syna-blasted landscape, there were sure to be animals.

Lake Lari was fed by streams and rivers like any other inland body of water; many had dried up during this demented season that scorched and burned rather than snowed, rained, and flooded. Konrad followed the tracks until the grass parted and there was the cracked, sloping sight of a river bed run dry. He squinted down it and saw it was slightly higher than the river, and beyond the rise... he could see the water shimmering and slopping.

Things moved in it. Around it. But nothing like what he was searching.

Does that matter?

Konrad paused and licked his dry lips. Plans changed, and that was the same with a hunt. A hunter sought prey, meat, sustenance; whether it was from the tracks he'd first found or the target he came across instead, it didn't matter. His eyes were hungry, his body was tired, and he could see prey traipsing around the water's edge that would be easier to take down than a bloody grassbear.

The hunter slipped back into the cover of the grass and made his way closer. Stayed to patches of mud that sucked at his boots, but hid noise perfectly. So with wet feet and a set expression, Konrad came to the edge... and dared to raise his head to see what was there.

Antelope. Not deer. He'd learned to distinguish in his time with the Drykas. Deer weren't uncommon in the Sea of Grass, but antelope, with their short, straight or twisted horns instead of antlers like roots curling from their heads, were even more so. Smaller, faster, more skittish, but even they had to come to water. Konrad would wager plenty of them had fallen to fangs and claws bearing fur or scales since they'd arrived. It didn't matter. They had no choice.

Neither do we, he thought as he sighted the closest one and raised his bow. We still need meat.

We. As if he were part of a group. Well, he was, but by design and necessity, not blood or loyalty. Everyone had to pull their weight, or they were left behind. Konrad could appreciate that, cold-blooded shyke that he was. But it also put the pressure on, and he had to deliver like everyone else.

That and he wanted to improve. He didn't think it would matter to him, but the more he tracked and hunted and trapped and snared... he could feel his familiarity, his expertise growing. All just more skills to be acquired, allowing him to adapt and thrive wherever he landed. A season ago, drop him in the Sea of Grass and he'd have been dead by dawn. But now, well...

You'd be dead by sunset, but progress is progress.

Sound and movement. That's what the antelope reacted to. Smell was no problem, not with the air so still. Konrad kept as immobile as he could, only his eyeballs moving as he tracked the stunted deer picking its way across the muddy shoreline. Thirty paces away. Maybe forty. Quite a distance, but he was out of options. Slowly, very slowly, he raised his bow, pulling back on the string as he did, back muscles bunching up as he followed Sloane's advice from what seemed like long ago.

The wood came up, and an eyelid closed. Squinting down the arrow until the head of it was barely moving over the flank of the antelope. He breathed in sharply, and with a flash of fur and stone-black eyes, the thing turned and looked around.

Seemed to gaze right into his face. Right before he fired.

by **Konrad Venger** on March 5th, 2017, 6:59 pm

"Bollocks!"

The arrow flew true, just not true enough. Bells of practice across the season hadn't made him into a Drykas horse archer by any means, but he still knew the basics. Nocking, drawing, aiming... most of the time he actually hit what he was aiming at. The antelope was a big target, too, and still instead of trotting or running. But it had seen him, and before Konrad's eyes, in that split tick between the string twanging and the arrow head finding its mark the antelope-

-jumped-

-he cursed-

-and the arrow buried into one of its legs rather than it's chest cavity.

At once everything that could flee on that side of the river, did so. Screeching, whooping, calling, hissing, flashing white fur and bounding into the grass or splashing into the water. Wading birds remembered they actually had wings and lifted off in a cacophony of squawking feathers.

Konrad ignored it as best he could, breaking from cover and pounding across the mud. The antelope was fleeing, blood spurting from its leg, down to just the three but that was enough to spring away from the water and-

-land heavily, toppling, then back up again, leaving a smear of crimson as it went into the grass-

"No you petchin' don't!"

Before the hunter tracked animals, he'd sought men in a very different place. Most times when he struck, it was mortal, but he'd been young or reckless enough to have let a few go with their legs still under them. He knew that a man cut or pierced deep enough left a trail as sure as fire through snow. Blood always told. It smeared and shone, painted walls or left gobs of itself pooling on the ground.

Konrad had pursued that trail many a time. This was no different. Only the terrain and quarry was.

He bounded after the creature, tired muscles scorning their exhaustion as the thrill of a kill within his grasp seized them. Bow still in his left hand, he pulled his kopis on the run, never taking his eyes off the shuddering patch of grass the antelope vanished into. Then he got close, and saw the blood, the way it was painted on the brown and green stalks.

Leading him onward as it shone in Syna's rays. Glistening jewels of life amid the drab undergrowth, and he slowed to a jog as he followed the trail. Crashing ahead of him, pitiful cries from an animal crippled and already losing the flight it needed. Sedon had told him that animals like antelope were fast, incredibly so, but only over short distances. A few hundred yards, and you'd never catch them, not ever, but keep up pursuit at a steady pace, if you had the time and the line of sight...

Or if you knew they were dead anyway.

After a few chimes, Konrad could hear the cries getting closer. The rustling growing weaker. A few chimes more and he could hear a bobbing, lurching shape ahead of him. The grass parted and there was the antelope, pink tongue lolling out of its mouth, three working legs kicking, trying to find purchase on ground already scarlet and soaked. The arrow was still buried in there, shaft snapped off as it had run but so much blood oozing out that one entire leg seemed painted in it.

It gasped. Every other breath it made a sound like a child crying. Calling out for help that would never come. Konrad stepped briskly over, raising his kopis. He'd heard Sedon say some Drykas words over prey he'd killed before, like that wild cow out on The Run days ago. Something about respect for the prey, and observance of Caiyha's bounty.

Konrad had his own method of showing respect, or mercy. He brought the kopis down without a word, and took the antelope's head off in one stroke.

by **Konrad Venger** on March 5th, 2017, 7:22 pm

"Myri's Cunny... soddin' dead weight..."

Sometimes you couldn't leave a body where you found it. Sometimes instructions or prudence dictated that they had to be moved. Konrad never much liked those jobs; felt too much like hard work, and shyke, that's why you became a ganger, wasn't it? To avoid that kinda shyke? But necessity was a merciless mistress, and he'd done as he was told.

And every time, he'd marveled at how even a scrawny man seemed to double his weight once the life had left him. Apparently, it wasn't just men.

The hunter grunted and growled and cursed as he got the antelope over his shoulder, minus its head. He contemplated taking that with him, but decided not to. For one, there wasn't enough meat on there to fill a single stew bowl, and for another, he'd have enough to carry.

It was simple enough, just difficult to coordinate. The forelegs went over his left shoulder, the hind legs over his right shoulder, with the bulk of the thing resting over his shoulder blades and the back of his neck.

Of course, "resting" was a little too simple. Because there was a lot of weight back there, and it was pulling back, wanting to hit the floor and get away from the man that had killed it. He had to hold tight to the legs, keep them pulled forwards, and that wasn't easy when he had a bow to heft around, too.

Until he stuck an arm through the bow and let is rest across his torso, wood over his chest, string over his back. The quiver was at his belt, along with the kopis and everything else...

He looked around the killing ground. Nothing but that dead, staring head in a pool of blood, already turning black in Syna. Konrad nodded to himself and then started following the blood trail backward. Once he was back to the water, he had only to follow that and eventually he'd come across Endrykas. Until then, it was long, heavy strides he took, eating up the ground as fast as he could, for he knew like any predator that blood in the air would bring all sorts of unwanted attention.

Sweat blinded and muscles strained. He ignored them. He wasn't leaving his kill, not again. The heat and the other beasts of this place wouldn't bloody well embarrass him. He heard water lapping, bird calls and splashes, took one mighty step and found the wet mirror of the river in front of him, flowing towards... the lake, of course. And on its banks would be-

A thousand trees limbs creaked at once. That's what the bear sounded like. Konrad froze, then turned back very slowly... and the low roar sounded out again. From where he'd come from. From the killing ground.

"... petch it!"

Konrad Venger started running, scattering birds and lizards as he went, heedless to eighty of dead antelope flapping and smacking into his head from behind. Again there was that roar, and he didn't dare look back, just like when that granadile had chomped down on that bird he'd been after, and he didn't stop running until he was back to Endrykas.

He was hardly one for repeating history, but that day, he didn't seem to have much of a choice.

by **Rufio** on June 16th, 2017, 7:49 am

G R A D E

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