A time for hunting.. - Samheen 27th (Late MT) - Niamh

[Brytan]

As Niamh carried on without fail, lending a helping hand where she could in the chaos of triage she got many odd looks and frowns when the usually so careless youth came up to the beds of the injured. But as she tended to them the suspicious frowns disappeared and heartfelt smiles came in their place, joined by thanks as Niamh moved to the next casualty.

Others were coming up to help. Victims who had been aided got up and started to help where they could aswell, inside the inn or outside in the town. The flow of injured seemed to slow as time went on and soon only the most injured and the dead lay on the cots in the dormitories of the Threed Fox Inn.

Them...and Culwago.

With a terrible scream the kit suddenly woke. Turning Teladriane to look, aswell as some of the other kanthrop present. His body was writhing on the cot, his eyes aglow with a strange black and blue sheen. A thin veil of mist seemed to envelop him as his clothes tore where his limbs and body changed, starting with the nails on his hands and toes and his fangs.
He was shifting.

Teladriane went to him, but all she could do was look at him. "This is not right. He was not ready to warp. His trials hadn't even started." the woman muttered to herself while she looked at the dark shapes of the panther slowly exchange those of the boy who had been there before.

[Catherine Durenne]

Outside, much of what transpired passed by Catherine unnoticed. She needed all her concentration to shut out the pain and to fight the numbness that tried to cover her thoughts. "What has happened? Why has this happened? Everyone... Who..." images of her time on the island flashed by, memories of her fellow kanthrop, "What went wrong?"

Kiala's voice brought her back from her memories, she almost smiled, the return of her mentor would be a nice diversion from the depressing thoughts that welled up inside her. But when she looked up and saw how Petran rushed from underneat the trees she crawled up. "Something is not right..." She took a step forward, towards her mentor when she saw the thing that followed him. Immediately she took several steps backward, fear coiling inside her. "What IS that?" But before Catherine could take a better look at it, it vanished. "Sunlight destroys it? Something strange is going on..."

The kit cautiously walked up to Petran, eyeing the spot where the thing had disappeared cautiously. "Petran? What happened? What was that?"

[Niamh Windwalker]

Concerned, Niamh hovered by Teladriane, for she had yet to experience her own change, and this seemed – agonizing – wrong – unexpected.

“Is this wrong? Is there nothing we can do?” Fear for herself colored her widening eyes, for while she had glimpsed the Change once or twice (though most Kanthrop sought privacy at that time) this misty glow unnerved her. It was strange to see a fellow kit changing, Shifting, from what she had known to this – writhing black mass on the cot.

[Brytan]

Outside...

What townsfolk were on their feet, rummaging through the debris of their homes, already busy to erect the sturdy tents once again left their tasks and rushed to the Kanthan who lay on the ground at the edge of the village. He was completely out of breath, his deep black fur a glimmering sheen of dark, the black hair wet with sweat from an endless run.

Catherine was one of the first to get to him. He got up into a sitting position, slowly. Someone set down a bowl of water from which he drank greedily. Several of the men from the village, Catherine couldn't distinguish who through the crowd, had grabbed weapons and were checking the forest's edge.
At his pupil's words he looked up, his eyes reflecting an emotion she had never before seen in him before. Fear. The always so steady and reliable panther, her mentor and tutor ever since she was four yahren of age sat before her with deep fear in his eyes. "I...don't know what that was. I was in the woods at the behest of Hawkeye when that thing set upon me from nowhere. I tried to fight it, but every time I hit it my claws just seemed to pass right through it, as if it wasn't even there." Scratches on the back and front paws of the Kanthan indicated the same didn't go for the panther master. "I had to run, there were more. I could hear them whispering, screaming through the trees. Had to warn you all."

But his eyes betrayed his words. He felt shame. Shame and fear, uncommon to him he had betrayed his beliefs of honorable combat to the death, even against an impossible foe.

Inside the inn...

Burns passed as the kanthrop present looked upon the kit Culwago as he underwent the transformation for the first time. His arms and legs making way for the limber paws of the panther, his head exchanged for the feral features of the wild animal within. A long tail grown, black fur covering his body. Teladriane and the others watched in shock.

"This is not how it should go. Can he have had the dream already? But the trials haven't occured yet. And that light..." Teladriane was muttering to herself. Jerin Steelclaw joined them, wiping his brow after having done repairs to the inn and helping out where else he could, not having been injured in the crash himself. "Dear, perhaps you should show the others to the second dormitory? It's all secure now, give the lad some privacy." Jerin ushered his wife and the others outside, but lingered when he saw the look in Niamh's eyes as she watched the agonising change in Culwago.

"The shock must have triggered it." Jerin said to the young woman standing there. He rested a hand on her shoulder. "There is nothing we can do right now, but we have to leave him be. You'll find that when he Awakens for the first time he will be less of himself than usual and you wouldn't want to be near him when he explores his Inner Animal."
He started moving her out of the room, making sure there was no one else left. Outside, in the hallway he turned Niamh to face him. "I know what you're thinking dear, but the change is different for all of us. What is happening to him I'm not sure of, nor why it's happening before his trial. But you should not worry yourself with these uncertainties, we already have plenty of other things to do."

[Eidolon Myrlin]

(what happened to Eidolon during the crash)

The longbow weighing down his shoulder, and with a small shoulder-bag filled to the brim with arrows strapped around the other one, Eidolon made his way into the woods. He followed the dirt path that would right through the Gnilwoh forest, set on reaching the Goldenback fields. A variety of birds dwelt there, and many made a good meal. As Eidolon’s sandalled feet dragged through the dust, he thought once again about the weapon on his back. He had used it only a few times, and without much success at that. The kit preferred to rely only on himself and on what the forest could quickly provide. He was quite skilled in fishing and he had caught birds and rabbits on more than one occasion using loops made from young tree branches. He half-decided to abandon the bow once more, pushing back the tendrils of guilt that snakes around his mind. There’ll be lots of time to practice later on, he bribed his conscience and walked on. It would still be some time before he would get to the Goldenback fields.

Yet, alas, he never reached his destined hunting ground. Eidolon had pulled out his flute and was trying some simple tunes, when all of a sudden the earth shook and threw him off his feet. Eidolon gurgled, quickly dislodging the musical instrument that had wedged itself deeply in his throat. He couldn’t breathe for a moment, and then bent double, coughing and spitting. He wiped his mouth with his hand, and stared at the red spots that flecked it.

“What a tremor,” he said out loud. “The biggest of them all so fa-“

Poor kit. He had no idea what was about to come. A violent impact shook the whole island as it met the land beneath it, and the once floating earth rang in one long, painful vibration, every grain of sand, every rock it consisted of, singing and trembling in pain. The force of the collision threw Eidolon a good distance away, and he lay on his side, wheezing, his breath knocked out of him. With watering and bloodshot eyes, he stared as the earth around him cracked and shattered, making place for sharp, jagged rocks. One of them pushed through the ground right beside the cowering youngling. Eidolon closed his eyes.

He must have passed out. Or did he? All the kit could remember was that he was being torn apart, his spirit in a close connection with the island. The ground buckled beneath him like a charging bull; His inner animal screamed and twisted, gnashing with its sharp teeth. Run! Hurry! Escape! But there was nowhere to go. A cloud of dust rose above the land and descended on Ursa like a pillow a greedy relative presses over a dying man’s face. Small grains of earth and soft dust covered everything, getting under Eidolon’s eyelids and into his nose, suffocating him and the land he lived in... The beastly part of his soul raged and raged, yet the kit stayed icily cold, devoid of all emotion. It was better not to think of anything, only stare at the destruction about him with unseeing eyes, and to listen to the roar of the wounded island with deaf ears. Gradually, his inner animal calmed down as well.

He lay on his stomach, fingers clawing the earth. His fingernails were gone, the raw meat below them bleeding. The island slowly ground to a halt. The netherish screaming died down and a deadly silence descended on the once blissful Ursa Etheria. Not a twig moved, no animal rustled in the bushes. Silence.

Eidolon had no idea how long he stayed there, blood oozing out of his mouth with every rasping breath, in the shade of the newly emerged rock. He didn’t understand anything, but he didn’t care for the moment. His lungs were on fire. The only thing he could do was to keep still. Agonizing visions filled his mind and faded away, vaguely remembered under a hazy veil of pain.

Sooner or later, however, he did stand up, long after the ground had come to a standstill. He slowly inched his way up to a standing position, clinging to the sharp rock beside him. The bow was swiftly unstrung and Eidolon used its wooden base as a walking stick, leaning against it when his chest threatened to explore. Thankfully, his legs seemed all right. For a few moments of clarity of mind, the kit was able to think clearly. Worry about the village filled his mind, pushing all other thoughts out. I must get back! He began walking in the vague direction of his home. It wasn’t easy. The path had disappeared and even though the kit knew this part of the forest like the back of his hands, no landmark had remained unchanged. Trees bogged the forest floor, crushed as if made of paper. If one of them had, by Ursa’s will, survived, it was coated in grey dust and unrecognizable. Eidolon climbed on a pile of rubble and looked around. His eyes met a dead landscape, ghostly trees and no living beings. Only the sun in the sky remained the same.

The kit couldn’t stop himself. His hand balled itself into a fist and he raised it towards the heavens, an ugly expression on his face.

“Why, Great Mother, why?” he tried to yell, but ended up spitting and coughing. It’s just not fair. We’ve always lived in peace – why do you send this on us? Yet the sun remained silent, and so did Ursa. A small breeze picked up and played with Eidolon’s hair. He shivered and sneezed... A then stared so hard his eyes almost fell out of their sockets.

The breeze was different. It smelt... odd. Like some spice. Like salt. It was clearer and rushed through the kit’s nostrils, giving his brain a sharp pang and a clean wash. He could think straighter. He had a clear view of the mountains, and didn’t like it one bit. A large part of them seemed to have gone missing, the highest peaks now reduced to low, jagged hills. To the east, the mountains were gone altogether. Eidolon shook his head and hurried to the village as fast as he could. However, it still took him quite some time, a few marks in the least. He lost his way often in the unfamiliar surroundings, and had to rest once in a while to ease the stitch in his chest. The pain was coming from one place, and the young Kanthrop hoped he got away with a mere broken rib. The ghastly, pain-streaked hallucinations and visions of his first few burns after the crash didn’t return, and he thanked Ursa for that from his heart. It seemed the cool new breeze was helping him.

(the village)

Finally, he got to the village. Or rather to the remnants of it. Eidolon blinked a few times and, still leaning on his bow, hobbled forward. There weren’t many Kanthrops left in the wrecked tents. The injured were being transported up to the Treed Fox Inn, which had somehow survived all the damage, and the rest of the village’s inhabitants were trying to repair as much as they could. Eidolon sat down for a moment to catch his breath and looked anxiously around. His heart leapt with every face he recognized – however, he couldn’t help feeling most concerned about the few kits that were supposed to take the trials with him again. Ardal had gone collecting herbs... Who knows where he ended up. And Niamh too, lost in the forest. What about Culwago, Catherine? The last Eidolon had seen them, they were also on their way to hunt. The young kanthrop narrowed his eyes and prayed (not for the first time this day), that they were all right.

Horrified, he watched the scene with the white wraith and Petran unravel before his eyes. Before the ghost melted into thin air, he was on his feet, leaping towards the edge of the forest, rapidly stringing his longbow. It wasn’t the best weapon imaginable, but it would serve well. He wheezed and coughed once again, but hid whatever he was feeling. Now that he was among others, the kit took care not to show signs of pain.

A few men from the village were carefully wading through the rubble at the forest edge. He joined them, squinting to make out anything in the hazy gloom of the dust-coated trees.

[Niamh Windwalker]

"... we already have plenty of other things to do."

Niamh eyed Jerin, reluctant to leave Culwago to face the change alone, especially one so strange that it worried Teladriane. Yet, she accompanied Jerin without, and nodded her acceptance of his words. Turning back to the main area of the wounded, she eyed the surrounding. Her deft fingers twitched in memory of the bandages wrapped, and cuts salved. The Kanthar wrapped about her limbs was dotted with spots of dried blood, both hers and others, and lighter fingerprint dots adorned her thighs, where she had wiped the greasiness of little leftover salve from her hands.

The trickle of injured had slowed and the available helping hands had increased, leaving Niamh slowly entering the main area of the dormitory with a hesitant look on her face. Her steps carried her past the open front door, and she paused there a moment, her eyes stretching out beyond the lintel as if she might find less destruction than she remembered. The odd-scented breeze ran chill fingers through her hair as she peered out, one, slightly disappointed that the display was as broken as she remembered. She stood there a moment, watching and listening, a forearm leaning against the doorjam and her head resting tiredly on the back of her hand.

[Brytan]

Outside

Catherine and some others were still around the shaken Petran as Eidolon joined several hunters to search the forest's edge. Two groups of three, a common denominator in the Kanthrop hunting style, usually accompanied by a scout overhead. The scouts were out over the island now, so they'd have to do with eyes on the ground alone. The dust was settling more in the open areas but the remnants of Gnilwoh loomed overhead as an odd fog still lingered between trees. A mixture of dust and cloudcover from an unknown source made seeing hard. At off times a breath of wind would swirl up some of the mist in a vortex pattern, carrying more of the unfamiliar scents, throwing off the unexperienced kit.

They searched for almost half a mark, but nothing else was discovered. "We should go to Petran, talk to the scouts, see what they have seen and heard before we venture deeper into the woodland. Who knows what awaits us." This came from Gabrielle, the packleader for the pack Eidolon was in. She was a toned woman, obviously muscular but not so much that it took away any of her feminine physique. Her canine eyes scouting the perimeter, her nose doing much the same.

Inside

Niamh helped where she could for a few more marks, until everything seemed to pretty much run itself. Jerin and Teladriane had taken account of everyone who had to remain in bed (forcing a few since they were eager to do their own part) and were cleaning up what remained.

"You should go out Niamh, thanks so much. You've been a great help to us. You should go and see about your own things. Have you taken some time to check your tent?"

A snarl emanated from the closed of dorm where Culwago was left alone. They had heard him walk around in there from time to time and only Jerin had passed through the colourfully embroidered flap which sealed that part of the inn from the main lobby several times to check on the warped kit. Again he walked up and took a quick peek through the opening. "He's getting tired. He's going to sleep now. I reckon he should be himself by morning."

[Niamh Windwalker]

Reluctantly, Niamh peeled herself away from the doorjam, nodding in silence to the pair before her sandaled feet padded their way outside. A moment's hesitation allowed her eyes to pick out the general direction of her resting place, and she began to pick her way among the paths between mounds of rubble and outjutting stone. The uneven ground, forced her nimble toes to search for safe movement, though her muscles seized with exhaustiong the one time she tried to jump from one outcropping to another, and she stumbled.

Her eyes searched the rubble, fingers occasionally dropping to pluck and toss material out of the way as she neared where she thought her home ought to be. Splintered poles of other kanthrops' huts scattered across the ground, some still attached to hides, others dangling shreds of fur-bearing fibers.

Great Ursa! How can all this be? The mournful thought echoed as she began searching the heap which she hoped had been her resting place, hoping to salvage her belongings. If this were not her home, she moved a few steps aside to the next heap of hides and poles, until she discovered the correct one.

[Eidolon Myrlin]

An arrow placed in his bow and ready, Eidolon crawled around the edge of the forest together with his small team. His nerves were on the verge of breaking, but he held on with sheer force of will, too proud of his Kanthrop heritage to let a telltale movement of muscle give away his churning and scattered feelings. The bow felt awkward in his clumsy fingers. The kit wished he could prowl around so silently and elegantly like Gabrielle and the other Awoken Kanthrops, so in contact with their inner animal that they could rely on their senses. Eidolon's sense of smell wasn't very good in the first place, and now, with the unfamiliar salty taste in the air, it was completely useless. As for his sharp sight... No much use in a fog.

Your instinct is still dimmed, said the snaggy voice in Eidolon's head. The youngster sighed and gripped the bow tighter. He squinted through the mist, but it was like trying to look through milk. The omnipresent dust wasn't helping either.

All in all, Eidolon couldn't help feeling glad they hadn't found anything. Battling with a wraith in this situation would be a suicide. Petran was one of the most powerful Shifters, and he had survived by a miracle. Eidolon hadn't lost respect for the Kanthan, not at all. Instead, the evil that had chased even such a brave soul grew into monstrous dimensions before his troubled mind's eye.

Gabrielle ended the search. There was nothing.

"I will talk to the scouts," he offered. In this moment, he couldn't think of a less appealing task than talking to Petran, unintentionally reminding the panther with every word that he had ran away, and, in a sense, failed. Eidolon could imagine himself in the mentor's place and he knew that he would hate to talk about such an experience again and again.

"Maybe I'm soft," he went on, lowering his voice. "But I don't want to be Petran's - hm - tormentor." He cringed. "Not the right word, I see."

And he didn't push it any further, hoping Gabrielle would understand.

[Brytan]

Niamh didn't have a hard time finding her belongings. The tent she slept in was in the same place as it had been always, be it that it's radius had slightly increased as poles and patches of leather had been scattered when the ground below one of the supporting poles gave way and tore the construction apart at the smoke hole in the top. Everything she had left in the tent before was still there, be it covered in dust and a mound of rubble she had to move before finding everything she sought. Some pieces slightly damaged, clothes which had been hanging up torn where the tent had left it's marks.

Eidolon's suggestion was met with a mournfull look from Gabrielle. "Indeed, Petran seems quite shaken. As any would be under the circumstances. But we all know what he's like." She herself had been a pupil under the great hunter until her Awakening several Yahren ago and as such she as many with her knew what a proud man Petran was. "Oni and her scouting party should be coming in soon. If you would go and find them and ask them for their report that'd be great. Report back to Petran so he can coordinate a plan of attack. I'm sure he'd appreciate that.

Petran had been taken to a tent. Catherine's questions meeting with snarls and anger some of the other tribeswomen had thought it best to tend to him in silence. He had taken some time to warp back to his human form, so his wounds were tended more easily without the aid of the shaman who was more skilled in tending to animal shapes aswell.

As parties of kit and Awakened did their best in and around the village to safeguard everyone from threat, a dark being lingered at the edge of the woods. It sought safety in the twilight beneath what was left of the forest canopy and looked upon the Kanthrop going about trying to find their Kanthan's mysterious assailant. "The time is almost right. Soon...soon..."

[Niamh Windwalker]

Her muscles groaned with further activity as she rolled up her belongings in the tattered hides of her roof after digging through the rubble. Frustration and anger coursed through her veins, as she surveyed it all, before sliding behind a screen of bushes and exchanging the bloody, filthy garments for slightly tattered ones.

Glancing back over the village, she noted a gathering and turned slowly, feet picking her way back to hear what was happening.

[Exeunt] to:

https://tazlure.nl/board/viewtopic.php?t=12649

[Eidolon Myrlin]

"Will do!" nodded Eidolon, giving a playful salute. The look in his eyes was grave, though. "I can't possibly imagine how everything will go on," he said presently, shaking his head. "It would be bad enough with only the descent. The ghosts couldn't have chosen a worse time to appear."

With a shrug of shoulders, the kit scuttled off to look for Oni. He jumped from a pile of rubble, spreading his arms like wings. He could almost feel feathers shimmering on his elbows and fingers. Almost. Eidolon landed heavily on his feet and winced as his damaged rib tried to claim his attention.

Oni was bound to be around somewhere. The young kit hoped to find her quickly and to bring her to Petran's tent. The masterminds of his race would know how to continue, and he was sure eager to hear what they would decide on. In the village, most decisions turned into a discussion sooner or later.

OOC: If all goes well, Eidolon shall trample off after Niamh to above mentioned thread.