Flagg
Kassarock
TokyoPewPew
Mae
TlalocAncient cedars bristled overhead, roaring softly in the winds that blew over the forested ridge. Peculiar weather indeed for the middle of winter on the steppe; much too warm. For nearly a half-moon, a warm spell had settled over the land, liberating the rolling plains of its blanket of icy crust. The people of the steppe certainly welcomed the milder weather. Their appreciation was tempered by the reminders of their oracles, who affirmed that winter warm spells were bad omens.
Atu, however, was never one to put much stock in the words of oracles.
The hooves of their steeds crunched soggily against the muddy slush of the forest floor. Atu's eyes scanned across the understory, seeking any twitch of motion that seemed out of place against the gentle sway of the windblown evergreens. His ears listened for the the slightest rustling that might indicate the movement of their quarry. But he could only hear the sound of the wind through the needly boughs and the soft hooffalls of Muhtai's horse: his only company.
Muhtai and Atu had been companions since they could ride - a young age indeed, considering the people of the steppe are often acquainted with horsemanship as soon as or before they can walk. When their friendship was six winters old, each drank a cup of blood cut from the other's right palm, and they became blood brothers by the ancient laws the Nyumashen and Kuotohun himself. Since then, Muhtai and Atu had been inseparable. And so when Atu suggested that they take advantage of the unseasonable warmth and go for a hunt, Muhtai could hardly refuse.
After some time of riding softly through the forest, Atu heard what sounded like a distant bird's call: twi-twi-tweee. He recognized it as Muhtai's attention whistle, and halted his horse. His blood brother had stopped a few paces behind him, pointing to his pupils with two fingers and then pointing down to a patch of disturbed mud nearby. A layer of slush had been overturned, exposing moist pine needles and fresh mud. Crisscrossing trails of fresh deer tracks radiated out from the spot. A bevy had been here to seek out nuts and roots buried under the patches of old snow. Judging by the freshness of the tracks, they hadn't been gone for long.
It was then that a flicker of motion drew Atu's eye. Perhaps a hundred paces in front of them was a magnificent stag too busy pawing after seeds buried under half-melted snow to notice the hunters. As quietly as he could, Atu drew his bow and notched it. As naturally and thoughtlessly as he walked or drew breath, Atu pulled the bowstring against those wide cheekbones and immediately let the arrow fly.
Something had alerted the stag. Perhaps the nigh-silent strain of the bow, or perhaps the sound of the arrow's fletching cutting through the air. In any case, the beast bolted off, and not a moment too soon. A masterfully-placed arrow flew throw the air where the beast's chest had been an eyeblink earlier. The arrow's razor-sharp iron head found itself lodged three knuckles deep in the trunk of a cedar instead of the stag's beating heart.
With that, Muhtai and Atu smashed their heels against the haunches of their horses. The chase was on. Puffs of horsebreath streamed from the nostrils of their steeds as they were galvanized into action. Clods of mud and soggy snow were thrown into the air as the horses bolted after the deer.
Atu's braid of fine black hair billowed as he steered the horse around mighty trunks and boulders. As the hunters picked up speed, they saw fleeting glimpses of their prey bounding away. One moment, the deer's rump could be seen bounding through the understory, only to disappear behind a trunk. Then another glimpse of those mighty antlers crashing through a patch of leafless bushes. Muhtai now sensed the opportunity to fell the beast. In a single fluid motion, Atu's blood brother drew an arrow from his quiver and pulled the bowstring against to his face and fired. Without even waiting to see if the arrow hit its mark, Muhtai drew another arrow, pulled it to his face, and fired. Draw, pull, release. Draw, pull, release.
Each arrow came within inches of the stag's rump. But the stag knew to strafe and change direction at the last minute, and each arrow ultimately missed and embedded in a trunk or a patch of snow. It was becoming clear that this was an old, experienced stag. He had witnessed other brushes with hunters and he had survived each encounter. Even so, Atu was determined to make this one the stag's final hunt. He kicked his heels against the horse's sides twice, pushing it as fast as it could go.
Trees rushed past him with the wind and he felt bits of moisture against his cheek - it had begun to rain. Atu paid no attention to it, devoting the entirety of his attention on his prey. His world narrowed to the fleeing deer, the bouncing head of his horse, and the bow in his arm. Neither the fat raindrops falling through the canopy, the darkening sky, nor the distant rumble of thunder were noted.
In the distance, the trees gave way to open grassland and the boughs of the cedars opened up to reveal a sky of tumultuous stormclouds. The deer was quickly running out of forest, as Atu had intended. Here in the trees, the beast's maneuverability and the cover of the forest gave it the advantage. But the open plains belonged to the horsemen; the lack of cover would spell the beast's doom.
Atu and the stag broke through the treeline and charged across an open expanse of grass upon the ridge's edge. Up here, the steppes rolled for leagues and leagues to great mountains far to the west. But from the north, a terrible storm rolled across the sky, flashing angrily with lightning. Cold rain fell hard upon the land as it approached.
Out here, the deer had nowhere to hide, he was at Atu's mercy now. Draw, pull, release.
But before Atu could see his arrow find its mark between the stag's shoulderblade, his narrow world exploded with the flash of lightning as he felt Kuotohun's power.
And with that, the blackness consumed him.
Atu, however, was never one to put much stock in the words of oracles.
The hooves of their steeds crunched soggily against the muddy slush of the forest floor. Atu's eyes scanned across the understory, seeking any twitch of motion that seemed out of place against the gentle sway of the windblown evergreens. His ears listened for the the slightest rustling that might indicate the movement of their quarry. But he could only hear the sound of the wind through the needly boughs and the soft hooffalls of Muhtai's horse: his only company.
Muhtai and Atu had been companions since they could ride - a young age indeed, considering the people of the steppe are often acquainted with horsemanship as soon as or before they can walk. When their friendship was six winters old, each drank a cup of blood cut from the other's right palm, and they became blood brothers by the ancient laws the Nyumashen and Kuotohun himself. Since then, Muhtai and Atu had been inseparable. And so when Atu suggested that they take advantage of the unseasonable warmth and go for a hunt, Muhtai could hardly refuse.
After some time of riding softly through the forest, Atu heard what sounded like a distant bird's call: twi-twi-tweee. He recognized it as Muhtai's attention whistle, and halted his horse. His blood brother had stopped a few paces behind him, pointing to his pupils with two fingers and then pointing down to a patch of disturbed mud nearby. A layer of slush had been overturned, exposing moist pine needles and fresh mud. Crisscrossing trails of fresh deer tracks radiated out from the spot. A bevy had been here to seek out nuts and roots buried under the patches of old snow. Judging by the freshness of the tracks, they hadn't been gone for long.
It was then that a flicker of motion drew Atu's eye. Perhaps a hundred paces in front of them was a magnificent stag too busy pawing after seeds buried under half-melted snow to notice the hunters. As quietly as he could, Atu drew his bow and notched it. As naturally and thoughtlessly as he walked or drew breath, Atu pulled the bowstring against those wide cheekbones and immediately let the arrow fly.
Something had alerted the stag. Perhaps the nigh-silent strain of the bow, or perhaps the sound of the arrow's fletching cutting through the air. In any case, the beast bolted off, and not a moment too soon. A masterfully-placed arrow flew throw the air where the beast's chest had been an eyeblink earlier. The arrow's razor-sharp iron head found itself lodged three knuckles deep in the trunk of a cedar instead of the stag's beating heart.
With that, Muhtai and Atu smashed their heels against the haunches of their horses. The chase was on. Puffs of horsebreath streamed from the nostrils of their steeds as they were galvanized into action. Clods of mud and soggy snow were thrown into the air as the horses bolted after the deer.
Atu's braid of fine black hair billowed as he steered the horse around mighty trunks and boulders. As the hunters picked up speed, they saw fleeting glimpses of their prey bounding away. One moment, the deer's rump could be seen bounding through the understory, only to disappear behind a trunk. Then another glimpse of those mighty antlers crashing through a patch of leafless bushes. Muhtai now sensed the opportunity to fell the beast. In a single fluid motion, Atu's blood brother drew an arrow from his quiver and pulled the bowstring against to his face and fired. Without even waiting to see if the arrow hit its mark, Muhtai drew another arrow, pulled it to his face, and fired. Draw, pull, release. Draw, pull, release.
Each arrow came within inches of the stag's rump. But the stag knew to strafe and change direction at the last minute, and each arrow ultimately missed and embedded in a trunk or a patch of snow. It was becoming clear that this was an old, experienced stag. He had witnessed other brushes with hunters and he had survived each encounter. Even so, Atu was determined to make this one the stag's final hunt. He kicked his heels against the horse's sides twice, pushing it as fast as it could go.
Trees rushed past him with the wind and he felt bits of moisture against his cheek - it had begun to rain. Atu paid no attention to it, devoting the entirety of his attention on his prey. His world narrowed to the fleeing deer, the bouncing head of his horse, and the bow in his arm. Neither the fat raindrops falling through the canopy, the darkening sky, nor the distant rumble of thunder were noted.
In the distance, the trees gave way to open grassland and the boughs of the cedars opened up to reveal a sky of tumultuous stormclouds. The deer was quickly running out of forest, as Atu had intended. Here in the trees, the beast's maneuverability and the cover of the forest gave it the advantage. But the open plains belonged to the horsemen; the lack of cover would spell the beast's doom.
Atu and the stag broke through the treeline and charged across an open expanse of grass upon the ridge's edge. Up here, the steppes rolled for leagues and leagues to great mountains far to the west. But from the north, a terrible storm rolled across the sky, flashing angrily with lightning. Cold rain fell hard upon the land as it approached.
Out here, the deer had nowhere to hide, he was at Atu's mercy now. Draw, pull, release.
But before Atu could see his arrow find its mark between the stag's shoulderblade, his narrow world exploded with the flash of lightning as he felt Kuotohun's power.
And with that, the blackness consumed him.
