[center]You don't get a damn title.[/center] [hr] From the coast of Atokhekwoi, a falcon flew inland. For days he had scoured the Eye, but he had found nothing that would aid his search. Arryn had little choice but to move on. Searching this land would take far more work, but it had been closest, and thus it had made the most sense for him to come here next. He flew high above the trees, his sharp eyes cast downward, searching for anything of note. In a clearing he saw four Selka sitting around a gentle fire, knapping some rocks into fine points. Lean-tos were set up in a circle around them, and pelts dried in the open air. There was gentle laughter and plenty of conversation. How strange. They had the appearance of mere beasts, yet they had assembled a fire and built their own shelter. He had not known anyone aside from the gods or Arya to do such a thing. Were intelligent creatures becoming more widespread? This called for further investigation, the bird decided. He flew down to the clearing, perched himself on a tree stump, and gazed at the seal-people with evident curiosity. “Look,” The youngest noticed the bird first, “What is it?” Panganeem looked up and wiggled his nose in thought, “I’m not sure, I’ve never seen one around here before.” “It looks like it’s staring right through us,” The largest Selka said, moving an anvil like fist under his chin. He suddenly smiled and nudged Panganeem, “Maybe it’s here to learn a thing or two from the master.” Arryn’s head snapped toward the larger selka, and his expression seemed to darken. With lightning speed, the bird shot forward, and delivered a light, swift, feathered slap of his wing to the Selka’s face. It would barely even sting; it was merely intended to shock him. Just as quickly, Arryn flew back to his perch. [color=brown]”You should learn from me,”[/color] the bird’s telepathic voice spoke matter-of-factly. The large selka spat out air in surprise as the others began to laugh, only stifled by the sudden message blinking in their very minds. They froze and looked around, before finally all laying on the falcon. The hunters slowly picked up their spears from the ground. The skinniest one spoke, “We did not mean to insult you wild bird, we are simply rejoicing.” [color=brown]”I am Arryn, avatar of Kalmar, the God of the Hunt,”[/color] Arryn introduced himself. [color=brown]”Who made you?”[/color] he asked. They all looked at each other dumbstruck before the skinny one called out to the bird, “Father Kirron is our God.” Panganeem stood from his spot around the fire. “What Yuppiglo says is true,” Panganeem answered, “Father Kirron is our God and who we hunt for.” [color=brown]”You are hunters?”[/color] Arryn realized. [color=brown]”You should worship Kalmar as well.”[/color] Panganeem blinked at the suggestion. “Father Kirron is the God of the Selka,” Panganeem smiled, “I am selka, I am a hunter, I am under Father Kirron and he grants me strength.” The other hunters nodded at this and gave a resolute ‘ryeah!’ [color=brown]”But Kalmar could grant you strength as well,”[/color] Arryn argued. [color=brown]”You could have two gods instead of one.”[/color] “You cannot bribe me,” Panganeem put his hands on his hips, “I am a man who already has everything, from my daughter to my day, I am complete.” The other selka nodded at his words. [color=brown]”No one is complete. There is always room to become stronger. There will always be more challenges,”[color] the bird’s eyes narrowed, and it leaned forward, as if getting ready to strike again. [color=brown]”And gifts are not bribes,”[/color] he added. “You are a strange and depressing bird,” Panganeem called back, “I think you have stumbled upon the wrong camp.” The other hunters gave a snickering laugh. Arryn launched forward, and this time gave another feathered slap, this one at Panganeem himself. Once again, he returned to his original perch, but this time he said nothing. “Pbbft,” Panganeem spat out a down feather, “If unnecessary violence is the way of you and your God Kalmar, then I will have no more of this. Leave us in peace, Wild Bird, so we may continue our day.” There was another chorus to punctuate Panganeem’s sentiment. [color=brown]”No,”[/color] Arryn intoned. [color=brown]”I will watch you hunt. I will judge you with my own eyes, and I will see how much this Kirron has taught you.”[/color] Panganeem scowled at the bird, “Just stay out of our way, bird.” Arryn scowled back. [color=brown]”You stay out of mine.”[/color] [hr] Panganeem breathed in. Particles of dirt itched the back of his throat and stung his wide black eyes. He was in absolute darkness, with only the orange fade of Heliopolis leaching through where the dirt that covered him thinned. A reed was stuck between his lips and his arms were pushed onto his chest, a mighty spear laying against him and setting uncomfortably in the crook of his neck. The selka sighed through the reed and closed his eyes. Grains pushed against his eyelids as he did and he sucked in a gulp of fresh air from above. His nostrils were closed and his ears were open, he could hear it in the distance. He sucked in the rest of his breath and then held it. His chest expanded and then stopped, the only sound was his gentle heartbeat, controlled by his calm demeanor and what flew around outside. Creatures started to scream as the rush of fire sounded in the distance. The wind howled, and Panganeem gripped his spear tightly. The sounds came closer. Hooved animals ran, small critters scurred, and the fire approached. The light beyond the dirt veil started to glow and the selka opened his eyes once more. The light flickered, and he suddenly shifted. Exploding from the shallow grave, Panganeem screamed, his spear shooting forward with precision as his Pyrgerakia mark attempted to slow down. In a single moment there was a loud squelch as his spear punched through the fire bird’s neck. The immense bird collided with the hunter and sent the two bowling. All around the screams of the Pyrgerakia’s mate erupted and Panganeem scurried to his feet, hauling his blaze colored prize with him. He looked up in terror as the wind favored mate began to swoop down from the skies, dropping the shredded and burnt deer it had captured. With one arm wrapped around the feathery neck of the firebird and the other holding the bloodied stone spear forward, Panganeem quickly back peddled. The female suddenly dove. The hunter put his mark between him and the mate, forcing the female to flicker back up, just avoiding Panganeem’s spear. Dissatisfied, the mate screamed and began to flap its wings. Panganeem closed his eyes as a cutting gust was launched at it. Slowly his footing started to slip, and then, with the spark of a sudden idea, Panganeem shoved his spear through the end of his dead mark’s wing and pushed it outwards, spreading the feathers of the dead bird. The powerful blast of wind caught Panganeem and the mark, catching the wing of the dead bird and launching the pair. The mate screamed as Panganeem used the dead bird as kite, escaping the opening and being pushed into untouched jungle. Panganeem grinned madly in spite of the sudden thump of his landing, his back smashing through a sapling. Slowly his laughter leaked out, fueled by adrenaline. “It worked,” He laughed, “By Kirron it worked.” There was an approaching scream and he jumped to his feet, back shooting with pain, “Oh no. It worked.” The selka threw his catch onto his back, arms wrapping to support it, and spear held in his fingers. With little else, he started a funny mismanaged run. He slipped through the trees the best he could with his clunky package, the screams darting ever closer. Cuts of wind started to chill his sides and exposed areas of his back and he grimaced, pumping his legs as fast as he could. “Father Kirron give me strength,” He groaned as a dull pain began in his knees. Panganeem juked around a large tree, dove past a few bushes, skipped over a sudden root, and turned sharply away from a rocky outcrop, and then broke from the treeline. The other three hunters who had waited for him at the hunting camp stared with wide eyes. “Spa-Spears!” Panganeem shouted and dropped his prize before turning. The other selka quickly mobilized, reaching for their javelins. The four hunters grouped up around the prize as the female Pyrgerakia richoted out of the trees, fury in its eyes. Seeing the small bunch of spears pointed at it, it once again battered the area with a powerful gust, nearly knocking the hunters over. They bent their knees and grouped closer, the wind bounding over them instead of through them. The Pyrgerakia screamed and flew circles around them, looking for an opening. One of the selka looked to Panganeem for guidance, and the hunter nodded with a sudden smile. The younger selka suddenly broke from the others, sprinting as fast as he could perpendicular to the Pyrgerakia’s flight. The mate roared and dove on the unprotected selka. It’s feathers flared and it’s talons reached forward, ready to pluck the hunter from the ground. A might beak opened and a blood curdling scream announced its presence. Panganeem squinted at the scene, and with two expert steps and a heft of his broad shoulder, he launched his spear at the occupied bird. There was a squelch and a plume of feathers as the spear rammed into the bird’s ribs, knocking it out of the dive and onto the ground. Like wolves the hunters descended upon it, using their chisel stones to cut its throat. The group looked at each other, faces suddenly turning mirthful. They broke out laughing, “Not one, but two,” one of them announced and slapped Panganeem on the back. “Father Kirron looks after his hunters,” another gnashed his teeth, full of energy. Panganeem himself sucked in a wild breath and fell flat on the ground, his back shooting with pain but a massive smile on his whiskered face. “For the strong!” “Ryeaah!” The others shook their fists. There was a screech from above. A third Pyrgerakia was nearby. Due to the sun’s light, they would be unable to make it out clearly, but it appeared to be swooping down upon them with intent to kill. It missed. It struck the ground near them, and slid until it crashed into a tree. It soon became apparent that it had not been swooping, but falling. It was on its back, and Arryn stood upon its face, his talons wedged into its eyes while his beak repeatedly pecked and stabbed into the creature’s throat, puncturing flesh and drawing blood with each jab. Then Arryn stopped, and dug his talons out of the Pyrgerakia’s eyes, for the larger bird was dead. “Three,” Panganeem corrected, looking over the bird with a certain approval. The other hunters stared on until finally the youngest piped up, “Good kill, wild bird.” The bird bobbed his head in what vaguely resembled a grudging nod. [color=brown]”That was well done,”[/color] he said to the selka, and then after a moment he added: [color=brown]”Kalmar would have been impressed.”[/color] “Well, thank you,” Panganeem accepted the compliment, wiping sweat from his brow, “If he ever wishes to hunt with us, he is welcome.” The other hunters nodded in agreement. [color=brown]”I do not know if you will ever meet him,”[/color] Arryn said. [color=brown]”The lands he watches over are far to the north, across the sea.”[/color] The bird was silent for a few moments. [color=brown]”Which is more important to you?”[/color] he suddenly asked. [color=brown]”Being able to remain hidden, or being able to track?”[/color] “Honestly,” The largest Selka spoke up, “If it wasn’t for our tracking, I doubt we would have even known where to hide.” “Juttyu is right,” Panganeem nodded, “If you don’t know when and where to strike, what good is it all.” Arryn nodded. Then, he closed his eyes. [color=brown]”In Kalmar’s name, I give you a blessing.”[/color] Suddenly, Panganeem would feel more alert, more aware. His eyes sharpened, his nose was more refined, his ears more keen. He could better notice irregularities in the environment, it was much easier to distinguish between smells, and the range of his hearing had increased. Based on the reactions of his fellow hunters, the same had been done to them as well. “See?” Panganeem said with laces of appreciation, as he blinked “That’s a gift. No runner up, no circumstance, not a bribe.” [color=brown]”Hmph.”[/color] Arryn grumbled, and was silent for a few moments. [color=brown]”I have a task I need to return to. I give you my kill - waste none of it, or it will offend me and my master. Farewell.”[/color] And with this those words, the bird flapped his wings, and left. Panganeem watched the bird leave, a respectful smile on his face, “Alright men.” He clapped his hands. “Juttyu help Yuppilgo with the female, me and Hejingo will take the male and extra.” The group collected their weapons and rolled them in fur bundles before strapping them to their backs. Keeping their eyes on Arryn as he flew away, they took down their tents and turned them into stretched leather platforms on two poles. They loaded their prizes on each and hefted them, two hunters to a litter. They made their trek back to the coast, through thickets and flats. Eventually the group spilled out onto the cove of the Grottu, bypassing the sacred grounds of the Grottu beach. When they arrived they couldn’t help but noticed the stick village was somber and quiet. Several huts had been smashed and a great stone altar sat complete in the center. Panganeem furrowed his brow and let his litter down by the altar. Selka began to flock the hunters with sad eyes. Panganeem looked out past the zombie like crowd and spotted several mounds in the hills that lead away from the cove, opposite to where he emerged from. He looked at one of the stone workers, a deep red scar on his brow. “What happened?” “Oh, Panganeem,” The worker muffled past a emerging sob, “We were attacked.” Fear crossed Panganeem’s face as he looked at the crowd, eyes scanning furiously, “Where is Tyuppa?” The stoneworker choked on his answer. Panganeem spoke louder, “Where is Tyuppa?” “Where is Tyuppa?” He pushed through the crowd, freezing as he became face to face with Chieftain Hoshaf. The Chieftain had a weary look on his face, and a dangerous look in his eyes that made Panganeem uneasy, “Where is Tyuppa?” “Dead,” Hoshaf said a little too easily, “Killed by a demon.” “A- a demon?” Panganeem’s face twisted with sadness and fury. “She had fled after her battle with Yimbo, but left our children and workers dead,” Hoshaf sucked in a breath, his voice steady, “We weren’t strong enough.” “Strong..?” Panganeem looked at his kills, “Fled.” The hunter pushed passed the chieftain, eliciting gasps. He grabbed the male Pyrgerakia by the throat and with a hand on its ribs he tossed it onto the altar with a big groan. The crowd surrounded him as he hopped onto the stone platform and whipped out his stone knife. “No, no no!” Thumfatem came running, “Panganeem, get down from there.” “No,” He muttered as he kicked the Pyrgerakia’s body flat across the altar. “Panganeem! This is not the way to go about this,” Thumfatem struggled as he attempted to lift himself onto the platform. Panganeem paid him little mind as he suddenly shoved his knife into the nape of the bird’s throat and with a loud rip, dragged the blade down. The skin of the bird split open and blood poured as his blade skid over the ribs and deep into the gut. The entrails spilled over the altar and Panganeem shouted: “FATHER KIRRON,” His voice was shaky, eyes darts. The crowd started to scramble, eager to get the hunter down, but he kept hacking at the corpse, tears starting to well. “Grant me the strength,” He yelled over and over as he methodically cut away the birds skin and opened every last intestine, “grant me the strength.” He cut off the head and began to empty out the innards as hands tried to pull him down, “Grant me the strength to avenge my daughter.” He reached into the cadaver's chest and popped the ribcage open, tearing out the heart, an elbow sending Thumfatem back, “Give me the strength to see Tyuppa in peace.” He began to cut out the liver, “grant me the strength...” his voice broke into a sob, “FATHER KIRRON!” The rest of the hour droned on like this, the blessing having gone to the wayside of anger and emotion. Eventually Thumfatem gave up on trying to dislodge Panganeem and left with the other sacrifice. Hoshaf barked a few orders but in the end, he decided to leave as well. By the time the crowd had left, Heliopolis had set, and Panganeem laid caked in dried blood, eyes closed. His hunting friends were the last to leave, unable to convince him to leave the Altar of Kirron. [hr] "Hey." A rough nudge struck Panganeem's shoulder. The sound of the ocean waves kept his consciousness tethered away from his sleep. "Hey, hunter." The voice was deep and impatient. "Wake up." The voice was also strangely familiar. Five more nudges in quick succession turned annoyance to mild pain. "What, did you eat too much? You don't want me to carry you off this pile of rocks. Wake up." Panganeem shivered awake, his body creaking as he sat up, “Who? What?” He squinted, the night sky was illuminated with the lustrous gardens. He saw the shadow before him and blinked, his new eyesight making quick work out of the man’s features. He stood tall over Panganeem. Taller than any selka he had seen, and broader too. In one hand, he carried a hefty club made from some kind of bone, carved with intricate flowing patterns approximating exposed veins. A round shape on his back made from a solid piece of inland wood could have been a shield. Starting from the top of his round selka head was a bright pink paint that drizzled down his upper body, having dried in place as rivulets carried themselves down. Long dried brown leaves made a skirt down his waist. He wore a frown. "You prayed, didn't you?" The large selka warrior said. "What's your name?" “Yes,” Panganeem nodded, flakes of dried blood peeling off his neck, “I am Panganeem.” He paused, his voice one of wonder, “Are you… Father Kirron?” The warrior's chest puffed up with pride. His lips pursed and his whiskers perked to the sides. He snorted. "Pfft, no. My name's Gralph. I'm a...uh..." he looked up at the darkened sky. "A night! No! A...killer night. A K'l-night, sort of." He turned his club up and made circles with it. "A k'night, I'm working on it. It's not important. The important thing is, we gotta walk. Come on." Gralph bent down and hoisted Panganeem up under the armpit with his free hand. “Woah.” Panganeem blinked as he was lifted. With a new found vigor he hopped down to his feet, only coming up to Gralph’s shoulder. He coughed a few times, as if jump starting his heart, “Yes, yes. Let’s go then.” The pair carefully made their way down the stone construction, leaving the red stains behind them, and made their way onto the beach. They were unaccosted walking along the beach, but Gralph kept his mouth shut. Whenever Panganeem breathed in to talk, the k'night would push a finger against his mouth and hush him. Only once they were a good distance from any hut did Gralph speak again. "I got a feeling in my head about half a day ago," Gralph explained. "A real stinker of a feeling. Like...the kind of feeling you get when you're watching a bird fly too fast into a tree, falls on the ground with a snapped beak, then the life fades from it as its eyes slowly close, you know that?" The k'night looked at Panganeem beside him. Panganeem seemed to look glazed as he made a face, “I know that, and I think I also know what it’s like to be the bird.” "No you don't," Gralph said casually. "If you did, you wouldn't be here talking to me." He took a breath. "Anyway, I checked with Yimbo. He...or is it she?- It looked a mess. All scratches and whines. Pointed me over here. Y'see, I only get that feeling I mentioned when some sorry fellow nearby puts themselves into a, uh...what's the word?" He made circles with his club again. "When they get cornered, but they're not in a corner." He waved a hand dismissively. "I don't know. So, Panganeem, what do you want to do?" Panganeem seemed lost as he turned over Gralph’s words for a moment or two. Eventually he looked at the large k’night with conviction, “I want to avenge my daughter’s death. I want to slay the demon that casually tossed her life away.” Gralph stopped and looked with a lowered brow at Panganeem. He stared silent for an uncomfortably long time. "You got a woman, Panganeem?" Gralph asked suddenly. “I did,” The hunter kicked the wet sand idly, “But she died giving me Tyuppa. In a way, I never lost my woman.” He turned to looked hard at the ocean, “But now, well now I figure I have.” Gralph looked out at the waves in turn. “There is one thing I have left, and one thing I’m good at,” Panganeem turned back, “And that is hunting. I’m a terrible builder, and one of the worst comedians this place has to offer, but I can bring back the body of whatever is asked of me. I figure, this time I’m asking myself to bring back something -- or maybe it’s for Tyuppa. I don’t know.” Gralph grumbled. "And how much fun will you earn on this hunt of yours?" “I don’t know,” Panganeem sighed and hung his head, “I can’t imagine anything happy coming from this.” "Sounds pretty pointless if you ask me." Gralph sniffed and licked his upper lip. "I've tried the revenge game, Panganeem. Not fun. You're just empty handed in the end. You sure?" “I’m empty handed now,” Panganeem looked at Gralph, “And someday I will die empty handed, same way I was born.” Gralph craned his head down, folds of blubber wrinkling on his neck as he squinted hard at Panganeem's eyes. Gralph's lower lip sank to show some teeth as he hummed curiously. "You prayed for strength, didn't ya?" The words were almost conspiratorial. "You prayed for a way. I know how you can get that strength. Not like it's any fun seeing you splattered by some demon without a chance to wax on about how empty handed you are." Panganeem cocked his head, rolls forming on his neck, “I did; I prayed for strength.” He squinted, “How…?” Was all he managed. "How you'll get what you need?" Gralph straightened. "Let me show you…" He levelled his club horizontal. "See these carvings, hunter? Got these from selka tribes all the way up and down the coast. Even a few up river. Kirron likes the selka 'cos selka are full of sacred blood. That's why we can hold our breaths. That's why we don't get tired easily in the water. Blood's got power. But you don't get that power by spilling it everywhere." His voice lowered and his eyes widened. "You get it by letting it grow." Gralph's index finger traced a slow line along the club. "Each little image here was something I did to make another selka stronger. Each little image gives me more power. Make one of these clubs, go out -- hmm -- all the way to the furthest east and back should do it, and make selka stronger along the way. By the time you get back here with a club thick with your power, you'll have what you need." Panganeem seemed flippant at first, but as Gralph went on, the hunter sank into his words. By the end, Panganeem was holding an imaginary club of his own in wonder. He stared at his empty hand and nodded slowly, “Gralph, I will do this.” The k'night smiled. "Glad to hear it. Thought you were going to lose it on me." He clasped a hand on Panganeem's shoulder and turned him back towards the village. "Leave tomorrow morning. I'll be back at noon, and if I see your face, I'll make you eat your own shit." Panganeem gave the k’night an incredulous look, “If your words didn’t drip with wisdom, I’d say you’re full of more shit than I could ever eat --" Gralph threw back his head and showed the roof of his mouth. "Behahahahaha!" "...but they do, and so you aren’t.” Panganeem pointed a finger at Gralph, his own smile forming for the first time since his hunt, “I’ll be gone.” "Earn all the fun you can, hunter," Gralph growled heartily. Panganeem nodded heavily, a new spark in his gut, “I will.” He looked past Gralph, “For Tyuppa.” He turned to Gralph, “Thank you, I don’t know what a k’night is, but I’d say you’re a rather good one. He gripped Gralph’s forearm and gave it a single tug before turning to leave. Gralph gave an upwards nod and watched the hunter leave, a fist on his hip. His chest swelled with a quick breath, and fell just as fast, satisfied. [hider=Summary] Arryn finds a group of Selka hunters lead by Panganeem The have a back and forth Arryn decides to watch them hunt Panganeem manages to kill two P-birds Arryn kills a third They earn a subtle mutual respect and part ways Panganeem finds out his daughter is kaput He sacrifices things to Kirron in a fit of rage “Gralph” appears to talk Panganeem out of revenge and sets him on a different path. [/hider] [hider=Might Summary] Before: [i]Kirron - Blood, Strength - 6 MP - 6 FP[/i] -1 MP: Acquire the form of Gralph the K'night, a selka warrior. After: [i]Kirron - Blood, Strength - 5 MP - 6 FP[/i] [u]Kalmar[/u] -0MP (1-1, discounted by Hunting portfolio) to bless Panganeem and his hunters with enhanced senses. [/hider]