[centre][b]Nujia'tzie – Native PDF Scout[/b]

[@Jeddaven][@GingerBaron][@KSix][@Bright_Ops][@BangoSkank][@Eisenhorn][/centre]


[i]The Da'ah Hinterlands, centre of native resistance on Arishe 42.9.[/i]


The wind of [i]Ti'achi[/i] blew all about the near-naked body of one of her native sons, his hands lacerated and bleeding from his climb but he was unable to half his climb, or to let go entirely, should he allow the snaking gale that lashed his bared skin to send him tumbling down into the lower valley then it would be the end of all he was or could ever be. This he could not allow.

Inch by torturous inch he ascended higher up the mountains, spreading out behind and below him the steaming jungles of the so-called 'Hinterlands' – one of the only places remaining that had not been defiled by the Imperial occupiers – and ahead and above him the sacred plateau upon which he knew the prophet of his faith would be waiting.

Nujia'tzie had made sure to shed himself of all Imperial iconography, even the Cadian-pattern helmet covering his head had been studiously scoured of the aquila adorning the forehead, his torso bare of any clothing against his copper skin and his bottom half wrapped in a pair of grox-skin leggings that left the feet exposed.

It took nearly an hour more, his muscles burning with lactic acid and fatigue, dark eyes half-closed as he rolled over the edge and lay motionless on the comparatively flat top of the mountain plateau.

“So,” came a voice from afar, Nujia'tzie leaping to his feet and pulling a Militarum-forged combat knife from his hip as he did so, eyes scanning the treeline close at hand and passing from left to right... left to ri-

“You have finally arrived, my son.”

This time the voice, as well as the figure that had appeared from nowhere into his line-of-vision, stood but a few feet away.

They were clearly a native of the planet, their long black hair with bones and other fetishes entwined, the skull of a saurian jungle predator perched atop their head, and a pair of eyes astoundingly blue for one of the native race. In one hand they held a spear-cum-staff topped by an eight-spoked wheel, and in the other a series of meditative beads. A one-size-fits-all robe of dyed red hempen fibre covered them like a sack with arm and legs hole, a single belt of interlinked bones pulling it in at the waist.

“Put away your blade, child, and follow me.”

It was only now that Nujia'tzie noticed the Dreamwalker had not opened their mouth once.


[hr]


For over an hour they walked in complete silence through the more woodland-like environment of the mountain, starkly contrasted against the tropical valleys below, coming eventually to a wide open clearing containing a man-made structure of standing stones; four of the stones, all as tall as five men atop anothers shoulders, had been placed in a circle around the middle of the clearing, between the tree edge and the middle of the place. In the perfect centre stood another stone, this one clearly older and baring more marks than its siblings. Lastly, cut into the waist-height grass that was the floor of this place, were straight paths leading off in eight directions.

“Welcome to my sanctuary,” tittered the androgynous speaker of the Gods, taking deep breaths as they pointed to each stone in turn, “these are the stones of [i]Ch'gorn[/i], god of war and of the blood, this one of [i]Saanch[/i], our lord of wisdom, lore and knowledge, his stoic but morbid relation [i]Un'gurl[/i] is the protector of [b]this[/b] stone, and lastly [i]Laseanch[/i] the mistress of fertility, health and perfection.” A smile could not help but appear on the holy representatives full feminine lips as they spoke in ten different voices.

“This one?” Questioned Nujia'tzie, making his way into the circle of stones and placing a hand tentatively against the most central.

“Ah, a joining of all four, to represent convergence of each of the divine majesties.”

“I see,” acknowledged the PDF scout, turning to face the Dreamwalker, “you summoned me here [i]Eh'haya'tey[/i], but did you Viper Lance alone?"

"You are perceptive, young warrior. No, I have summoned a coterie from this planet and beyond, messaged them in a multitude of ways, individuals that may be of service to us and to the Gods in the coming times of hardship and vengeance ahead. Yes... we shall need warriors... but we shall also need the wise, the foolish, and those who pray to the Gods for many things.”

Now they would have to wait, for others had been summoned and others would come, to help or to hinder, as ally or eventual enemy, only the Gods knew.