Lineage Savana

A day’s travel never sounded so long as when one needed to make it, you thought, eyes peeled as you ventured out from the woods surrounding your village and onto the Savana nearby. Still it wasn’t that bad. You were accustomed to hard movement for hours on end, part of the consequences of endless exploring, leaping, running, and crawling your way through the woods.

But you had to admit... the savana sun was savage.

You’d never been out in the open cover of the tall Savana grass yourself before, knowing that within the sea of vegetable material were a wealth of predators which knew intimately how to hunt the grassy stalks. And besides that, you always felt exposed without the careful cover of the forest to protect and guard you from above.

Still you needed to go and from the tales which the hunter, Kursonn, told as she tried to prepare you for the outside, the Watering hole would be a good bet for a place to start. Maybe catch something good from her various descriptions and tales, and while you didn’t have any formal training in hunting and tracking prey, you figured it couldn’t be so hard to make a first catch... you had a couple of advantage on your side.

You’d spent most of the night in a tree, as was your usual, moving again only after daylight broke, as was your habit. Years of time spent running all about the woods, hunting, fishing, and being content to move alone would pay off in quite a tangible way.

After all, now you didn’t have a home to go back to when the night became too much. When the darkness grew more fearsome than welcoming. When your stomach growled in protest and your arms wanted not the burden of slaying and cooking prey.

Not even more than a night and already you crave the food you will not be having again... not for a long time.

Silently you wondered what mother would be making.

You clenched your fists and teeth. You’d wanted this. You still wanted this. And this was the price of that desire.

Silently you told yourself again and again, that you would gladly pay... that no price could have been too high for what you have gained.

You needed badly to believe that.




It’d taken several hours more, till even after the noonday sun had finally peaked and you began to set up camp beside it. A bit out of the ways you thought, to both take advantage of it for the hunt, and for your own uses.


[}+====================+{]
Mundane Hunting DC: 30
Mundane Hunting: Finesse 1, Perception 1, Wild Heart 5, Dice 19
1d100+1+1 → [17,1,1] = (19)
[}+====================+{]



Shit.

You tried and you tried for hours, but to no avail. Nothing was biting the bait. No attempts hunting or fishing for any regular creatures you could find were a distinct failure, not even a mouse seemed to be active at the moment. Everything prey probably avoiding the area due to your strange new scent... and the fact that it was probably still steeped in Hydra blood.

Still you weren’t about to be deterred.









Boring...

You hated it when you couldn’t find something which you wanted on the hunt, an empty feeling which permeated your body as you watched the waving grass of the Blade Sea savannah. You needed something to do that would occupy your mind.

Better to pack up and travel a bit. Maybe come back to the watering hole at a later time to stalk prey. Right now you’d be better off searching for something useful.


<}=([}|||||||||||||||{])={>
Exploration roll: Wild Heart 5, Mobility 1, Perception 1, Endurance 3, Dice 100
1d100+5+1+1+3 → [100,5,1,1,3] = (110)
<}=([}|||||||||||||||{])={>











Blood for blood



The flesh of your arm finished sealing itself completely as you readied your Harpoon for conflict.

You’d been told of these creatures, their common status as terrors of the Blade sea made them infamous despite their relatively low power. But even the lowliest of Bastards stood head and shoulders above ungeared humans in a direct conflict, and though you yourself hadn’t gone very far beyond human baseline as yet, you were confident in your ability to with stand such a threat.

Your eyes lock together with its own. No easy openings for it to exploit as it circled. In part you suspected that it was trying to line up once more with the damaged side sizing up any advantage which it could take from the early wound to your person. Exploiting that expected hole in your defense might have been a good idea, but you decided against it.

No, instead you begin to move, circling it even as it circles you, letting your arm come up and forcing yourself, despite the soreness inherent in the rapid mending, to show off how ineffective it’s first strike had been. Posturing was important, something you’d learned long ago in your trips into the forest, often when confronted with an animal it was just as important to Seem strong, as it was to BE strong. And even now you were sending a powerful message to the predatory beast.

A message which it did not ignore.

You watched as eyes sharpen upon you, following your movements, each step a dangerous dance and it tried to assess its chances at another rush. Still, you think, even if it seemed protected, everything still had a soft side to it. Already you could see the unarmoured underbelly, and the lack of armour on the tail between the base and club. Targets for your attack.

You let yourself circle closer, reading for the strike.


1d20+3+2 → [1,3,2] = (6)
1d20+1+1+5 → [11,1,1,5] = (18)

Almost as to some marker, both spring into action, the bulk of the Bastard beast hurtling it forward at an astonishing rate,  even as you dive forward instead of away, intent on getting inside of it’s guard to pin down it’s tail.

A sudden shift.

You lean the right, trusting your instincts as you place weight on one foot then push your off from your mark with all your might!

Success.

You avoid the tail even as it curls in, taking the rush for what it had been, a feint to get the creatures most effective weapon in play. And even as you throw yourself past it, you sink the harpoon right into its exposed flank, ripping upward into the muscles at the base of its powerful tail.

But even as you slam down into the ground, you do not pause, taking the tumble then pushing yourself up, almost awkwardly, as you drive the harpoon in harder, then wrench it back, laying bare a major artery even as the cluster of muscles which controlled the tail were also severed, this time by the very bucking motion which your thorny adversary tried the moment that the pain of the harpoon caught up to it.

[Enemy: 32 Damage + 10 Bleed ; 78/120]













You wince, your wounds itching even as your body speaks its craving, the wild world beckoning you to abandon all else but the scent of flesh and blood.

You needed to eat, wanted to drink; to bathe yourself in the sticky red of your conquered foe and feel the slick caress of its innards against your skin and tongue. But you remember too how it was that first time, how it was before you’d been chosen, how the scent of meat had been anathema to your senses, how you’d been teased and ridiculed for the very fact that you could barely even stand to see something freshly dead. You remember struggling against yourself not to bring up your meal the day your father had taken you out on a hunt; the bitter disappointment etched upon his face as you cringed and cried, the smell of blood visibly hateful to your senses.

You wonder now how you could have ever hated such a wonderful smell?

No.

Wait. You needed to stop. Think for a moment... you remembered something about these armoured hunters. Something about them normally hunting in packs except for particular circumstances. But even as you thought about it, no sign of other creatures seemed to show. Silently you nursed your wounds, marveling at how each twinge of pain sent an almost equal jolt of pleasure though your body, a silent thrill which gloried in the sting.

Was this even normal for the Lineage? Or were you just a freak?

Still with the scent of fresh meat in the air and no sign of anything else threatening having shown itself yet, you couldn’t help yourself but to take your harpoon and begin to use the sharpened section to pry at its body, carving away chunks of flesh in the process.

You lose yourself in an orgy of meat, the fresh tearing of flesh, the sweet tang of blood. Even fragments of armour flavor your desire to rend your prey asunder.

You hardly notice the scavengers which gather, their eyes glued upon you even as you feast.

A small creature, a Bastard bird, hops up to you as you dig into the tooth and blade marred groin of your prey, bravely stepping near enough to go for the carcass’ eyeballs without taking its own eyes off of you.

“Hey that was mine!” You shout, first words you’ve said for the day, chasing the scavenger back. It flutters away with a rapidity which you hadn’t expected.

[Passive gained: Defensive Edge (Passive) - Increases mobility in heavy armour.]
[Unfocused Search: [07:43] <+qqbot> RCa-QQ rolled 1d100: 26 = [20] + 6]


























You weren’t sure where it came from really, that sense of quiet indignity. How dear that boy take up your spot on the tree, such sleeping spaces were YOURS by right. A slight surge of anger rushed though you as you watched him snooze peacefully amid the strongly scented branches. Sure rationally you knew he couldn’t know; that this was not your territory, but that surge of angry desire floated there within your veins.

It gnawed at you for several long moments even as your mind fought its onslaught with the solid decrees of logic. That probably wasn’t healthy, but whatever.

Still even as your mind told you that you should be doing something to reclaim what was yours from this... interloper... the more sensible side of your brain spoke in whispers of feelings of both confidence and insecurity in a confusing mix. You were sure that the boy wasn’t a threat, couldn’t be a threat. After all he wasn’t Lineage, his fangs were dull and his Gear scant and weak. You on the other hand were armed, armoured, and tough. On the other hand he was sleeping in your spot... no that wasn’t right... he would be a threat to you if you were to sleep in your spot which he was sleeping in... right?

Ugg... The conflicting thoughts and feelings in your head just made this whole thing a bloody mess, and not the good type either. Still you wanted to know more about the local area, where the village was, if there was one and the boy wasn’t just some guy wondering hunter. And besides that you figured it’d be pretty important to learn about both the local Bastards, and the local Lineage as well.

And so you act.


[][][][]

He always liked it out here in the wild, the calming scent of the Rukka berries on their parasitic vine covering him in the night breeze. It was an old hunter’s trick really, Rukka vines weren’t normal plants an only grew on the intact corpses of Lineage and Bastards... or on gear, using the host tree as support.

He’d sacrificed a pretty old nearly useless direction finder gear to get this particular tree going, and it had served him well. With his eyes closed he could feel the rush of cooling breeze on the night air as he relaxed, idly allowing thoughts of spying on the girls down at the pools to dominate his thoughts even as he leaned into the branch upon which his weight rested. He’s chosen this tree specifically because of it’s sturdiness, and hadn’t had cause to complain since.

Rukka always kept away most animals and Bastards from a place, almost like there was a magic invested in the scent.

Bah, he hardly cared. It worked and he was comfortable. And in the morning he’d resume his hunt.

... Of course, there was also something to be said about large sharp objects being pressed against his throat while his eyes were still closed. Something that might have started with a very long A sound, if not for being sure that it was probably a very good way to ensure that whatever had the blade to his neck just made with the slicing and didn’t bother with any of the talking which he had already begun vague hopes for.

He opened his eyes, and then crossed them at look at the blade which held him ever so uncomfortably still.

“Um... Hi?” He ventured, hoping of course to gain respite. Really he didn’t quite like how she glared at him down the edge of the blade. “Did you need something?”

Hopefully whatever she needed didn’t require him dead, or maimed. He was rather attached to all those fingers of his, they were nice fingers, strong and all the girls told him they were clever. His teachers were never quite as kind about them but hey, they were his and he wanted to make sure they stayed where they were.

Great he was babbling inside of his own head, while the strange girl stood silently above him staring with strangely coloured eyes in the moonlight.

“Don’t move. Don’t try to move. Just answer my questions.” She spoke in a low menacing tone, or at least it would be more menacing if her voice didn’t have that higher pitched quality to it that some girls just didn’t lose. Hell it’d be endearing if not for the solid edge which scraped sharp at his throat.

“Ahaha... Ask away! Your questions are my pleasure to answer!” please don’t kill me...

Her face screwed up cutely, she didn’t have that much in the curves from what you could see, but as a whole she wasn’t bad to look at, even with the armour hiding up whatever little she might have had to display.

“Where’s the nearest village? Who’s its lineage? How does he keep the village safe?” Ah, she’s asking traditional traveler’s questions. That wasn’t too hard then. Unfortunately a lot about this girl was adding up to him been caught off guard by a Lineage in a Rukka infested tree.

Great, now he’d never feel safe out again... mm… the nightmares for later he guessed.











You shuddered once again at the thought of your uncle’s caress... the power inherent in his touch still coursing through your mind as the implements of his construction held firm against you. You wanted to burn them. Get rid of this feeling of shame which coated you. You wanted to bathe in nice clean blood until you forgot about what it meant to be human again, this chill feeling which flooded your veins making you miserable with your lone thoughts.

You hated the dichotomy of rapture and joy against the dark stain of disdain which had soaked its way into your bones. Hated the fact that you’d loved every moment of his touch, caught up in the moment of your ascension and sure of your distance from the rules of humanity. To be regarded in the same way as the pariah which you’d always thought you might be shook you deeply.

You wondered silently if the freedoms which you’d always heard the Lineage to be inherently possessing were a lie. You didn’t feel any freer now than you did out in the wild open spaces. Bah... this introspection thing was for the scholars and mystic types. You needed some good action to clear your head, and you knew just where you could find it too.

“Ok!” You declare to the waking boy. “Hey, Yaaril right?”

“Geh? Wha?” He replied sleepily. Pretty cute actually, a bit older than you were, but not by all that much. Probably a year or three. You studied him intently as his mind and body caught up to each other from the throes of sleep. “Ah... yeah. Yaaril. That’s the name. Names are good, right?”

He was also adorably nervous around you. Somehow there was something in the scent of him which made you think of animal fear, though your nose wasn’t particularly great, it was a scent which made you lick your lips in something akin to desire.

It made him... interesting.

“Ok, sooo... what do you say to taking me to find this Balrigor critter you mentioned last night? Maybe help me hunt it down? I’m thinking bringing its carcass home to your village might do as a nice gesture of good will?” You smile at him sweetly.

At this he actually looks considerate, his lightly stubble lined face scrunching in thought.

“You know, that might not be such a bad idea. I mean I wouldn’t want to hunt it myself without a full team, but if you’re an even reasonably tough customer then we might be able to put it down. I wouldn’t mind being one of the ones walking home with it either... Balrigor’s been nothing but trouble and taking him down would give me good credit in the village.” He spoke absently, eyes darting over to your harpoon ever so often. “He’s been a nuisance, breaking any totems we put out in the savannah and coming over to trample our fields. Only reason we haven’t dealt with him yet is cause Rokks has been busy with more dangerous Bastards.”

You liked the sound of that. Well the getting credit part, having actively strong Bastards pop up around a settlement was a hateful experience which often restricted the freedoms of anyone who wasn’t decked out in enough gear to handle themselves.

Too many strong bastards settling in around a village could cause even more of them to congregate... and the end result of such a horde was often a complete removal of said village from the world. It was a horror story told again and again with different actors in the stories of her youth. Only the continual and active hunting of bastards which settled in would keep such occurrences at bay.

You also remembered that bastards born of plant eaters were almost always more vicious and more unpredictable than those who were born from creatures which predatory instincts to start with. And just as happy to devour the unfortunates who fell before them.

“Ok then, take me to it. We’ll see what I can do once we get there.” You smile at him again, that primal beat inside you going once more. But unlike the last time where you just followed your heart with reckless abandon you stay back, you watch him.

And somehow thoughts of Uncle taint your every look.

Together you stalk out to the lair of Balrigor.


It is long before you both find the beast’s lair, having been only a few hours away on foot. Too close for comfort for any village really.