The Great Hunt
Saturday, 21 June 2014 23:00![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
littlesilvertipIt took us a while to make it back, the pathways between the umbral onion layers often being bizarre and complicated, but it was a safe trip back none the less. I separated from my cousin to go unpack in my new den, and barely caught any sleep before I had to be up and ready to go for the Great Hunt.
This year is about the most unprepared I’ve ever been. No talens, no fetishes, no silver dedicated. I could have asked Nersarta to help with making one, but even though he’d agree, I don’t think I’d ever ask him. Not unless the caern was on fire. And worse, my spirit is feeling taxed from the many bribes I’ve been making, and the wounds on my flank hadn’t healed. But someone has to go lead the Great Hunt, and if Fire Dancer is staying back to just guard…
I stopped by the Sept Compound on the way there - smells of food! - and it was Fells the Wyrm. She offered me food, asked about the wounds I had, while doing things in nearly-wolf. I wondered why she was cooking if she’s in that form. She made some excuses, said that the animals thought she was a weird looking bear (Not unless they have a broken sense of smell), and was elusive about it. She made some comments about being fat, which was weird. She has a bunch of fat on her chest too, but that’s not the same. I almost told her that, before I realized those sorts of things are usually best not said to ape born. They don’t like even obvious stuff said. This turned out to be a good idea, because she started going on about how I was bigger than her because of my service to the grandmother. What weird nonsense that is. Service to the grandmother doesn’t make you bigger. Being bigger makes you bigger.
I got down to business, and told her I have a plan for rescuing her head, but she’ll need to get hallucinogenic mushrooms and peyote for some of the rites I’ll need to do. Rite of Dreaming takes almost as long brewing the draught as it does performing the rite. After laying out the sort (and her mentioning wanting to trade me for talking to some spirit later), I realized I should head north before the hunt starts.
The Hunt.
A good group there, more on guard against the enemy striking us back. As I expected, I was the elder warrior there, and so after all the talens were distributed, we went into the moonbridge.
It led us to the bawn, barely a few miles away, in the Umbra. That’s never a good thing.
I had the exploration pack go first, and they found the fallen tribe enacting some ritual. I split the hunt into two parties, and we pincered them. Fighting was fast and furious. They had silver (I knew I was under-prepared) and my wounds from before got aggravated, along with a whole load of new bellywounds. I had to leave the fight long enough to heal myself, before diving in again. There were a few ‘spirits’ to kill as well.
We captured one alive. I filtered through his mind, finding their only plan was ‘Eat, find, eat.’ They all had iron collars on, and showed signs of past restraints. The abominable spirits oozed the black water. Black eyes on the dancers, black blood, ooze from a tree. Everything felt cold and icy. The ‘spirits’ did not behave as spirits, ignoring gifts to command them. Like Oath-Ring tried to use a spirit gift on a stone. This is all connected to the Nothing and the Eater. I’m willing to bet those spirits were mere echoes of spirits that had been consumed. Those shapechangers we fought were those who had been forced to gaze into the pit, and lost their minds. Or so I suspect.
On the way out, I felt someone try to give me the urge to gather up one of the collars. And then again - not a coincidence. Nice try, Tail-Eater, but I’ve got some armour on my mind now. I’m writing this off as an innocent, obvious means of telling me he wanted it - a sort of messaging system, and not him trying to traipse around my brain clumsily.
I sent a message back to him that we should meet, and then settled in to rest in my retreat. Contact with the Nothing produced a series of nightmares that were almost a welcome respite from the normal ones about burning in flux. At least I have some variety in my horror.
This year is about the most unprepared I’ve ever been. No talens, no fetishes, no silver dedicated. I could have asked Nersarta to help with making one, but even though he’d agree, I don’t think I’d ever ask him. Not unless the caern was on fire. And worse, my spirit is feeling taxed from the many bribes I’ve been making, and the wounds on my flank hadn’t healed. But someone has to go lead the Great Hunt, and if Fire Dancer is staying back to just guard…
I stopped by the Sept Compound on the way there - smells of food! - and it was Fells the Wyrm. She offered me food, asked about the wounds I had, while doing things in nearly-wolf. I wondered why she was cooking if she’s in that form. She made some excuses, said that the animals thought she was a weird looking bear (Not unless they have a broken sense of smell), and was elusive about it. She made some comments about being fat, which was weird. She has a bunch of fat on her chest too, but that’s not the same. I almost told her that, before I realized those sorts of things are usually best not said to ape born. They don’t like even obvious stuff said. This turned out to be a good idea, because she started going on about how I was bigger than her because of my service to the grandmother. What weird nonsense that is. Service to the grandmother doesn’t make you bigger. Being bigger makes you bigger.
I got down to business, and told her I have a plan for rescuing her head, but she’ll need to get hallucinogenic mushrooms and peyote for some of the rites I’ll need to do. Rite of Dreaming takes almost as long brewing the draught as it does performing the rite. After laying out the sort (and her mentioning wanting to trade me for talking to some spirit later), I realized I should head north before the hunt starts.
The Hunt.
A good group there, more on guard against the enemy striking us back. As I expected, I was the elder warrior there, and so after all the talens were distributed, we went into the moonbridge.
It led us to the bawn, barely a few miles away, in the Umbra. That’s never a good thing.
I had the exploration pack go first, and they found the fallen tribe enacting some ritual. I split the hunt into two parties, and we pincered them. Fighting was fast and furious. They had silver (I knew I was under-prepared) and my wounds from before got aggravated, along with a whole load of new bellywounds. I had to leave the fight long enough to heal myself, before diving in again. There were a few ‘spirits’ to kill as well.
We captured one alive. I filtered through his mind, finding their only plan was ‘Eat, find, eat.’ They all had iron collars on, and showed signs of past restraints. The abominable spirits oozed the black water. Black eyes on the dancers, black blood, ooze from a tree. Everything felt cold and icy. The ‘spirits’ did not behave as spirits, ignoring gifts to command them. Like Oath-Ring tried to use a spirit gift on a stone. This is all connected to the Nothing and the Eater. I’m willing to bet those spirits were mere echoes of spirits that had been consumed. Those shapechangers we fought were those who had been forced to gaze into the pit, and lost their minds. Or so I suspect.
On the way out, I felt someone try to give me the urge to gather up one of the collars. And then again - not a coincidence. Nice try, Tail-Eater, but I’ve got some armour on my mind now. I’m writing this off as an innocent, obvious means of telling me he wanted it - a sort of messaging system, and not him trying to traipse around my brain clumsily.
I sent a message back to him that we should meet, and then settled in to rest in my retreat. Contact with the Nothing produced a series of nightmares that were almost a welcome respite from the normal ones about burning in flux. At least I have some variety in my horror.
