Moth and Man: Chapter 1

Rain fell in the jungle.

It had been falling for close to an hour, the incessant downpour batting upon the canopy leaves.  The deluge almost made it impossible to hear- only the occasional boom of thunder breaking it up.  Animals of all sorts would do well to take cover, the cold rain drawing away any warmth.  Only a madman or desperate beast would dare venture forth under such conditions.

A pair of men, the former, were doing such a thing.

Stalking forward, turning aside plants, the two figures seemed to enjoy the rain more than anything.  Despite their heavy robes or large stature the greenery seemed to pose them no problem.

The shorter of the two, the fellow in the patched up robes, held his head high and gazed up into the rain.  Laughter was nearly surfacing after each thunder clap, his huge wolfish smile all but hidden beneath the bronze pig-helm.  Though the rain muted it, the multitude of wooden charms and beads upon him clinked and clacked together with each movement.  Clashing with the robes was a long, similarly bronze blade, buckled to his side.

Compared to his friend, the first fellow may as well have been a dwarf.  The other loomed nearly seven feet in height and was built like a statue.  Broad chested, a broad waist, the dark-skinned man was clearly built for brutal combat.  Where his lamellar and rawhide did not cover, blackish spiral tattoos ran all along his skin, black against brown.  Even along his bare scalp these designs had been etched.  Rather than any sort of blade he balanced a massive club upon one shoulder, the brutal weapon nearly as tall as himself.  Along the more girthy end were several bronze caps, some stained, sticking out haphazardly.  Much like the weapon, the wielder was nearly as blunt.

The air rumbled and all but shook as lightning struck, this time closer.

Sûn didn't hold it back.  Genuinely amused laughter escaped from him, his chest shaking beneath the robes.  The huge moor, Mubarak, only regarded him for a moment before letting out a laugh of his own.  For several moments they just howled and hooted at the storm.

They didn't need to share any words.  Several years they had traveled together.  For the past three weeks they had been trudging through the jungle, into the endless canopy and green, in search of a temple rumored to hold an enormous gem.  As cliche and standard as it may have been the locale was exotic.  And the prospect of storms, huge beasts, and orcs hardly bothered them.

And it was perfect, Sûn thought, simply perfect.

The storm was not coming to them- they were coming to the storm.  The roaring and screaming clouds seemed to be centered upon their destination.  Not only would this cover their approach but also let the elementalist tap into his most primal of magic.  Though no hurricane, or proper storm, it would greatly bolster him.


Time passed, only measurable by the infrequent thunder.  Sûn did not know how long they had continued.  Only that the temple finally came into view.

It was built in a similar fashion to pyramids, and was in fact one, though several of the faces had sections carved out to form stairways or designs.  Formerly abandoned, moss and vines had reclaimed much of the building.  A very large doorway stood open in front, orange torchlight dancing within.  A wispy, almost imperceivable buzzing had built up around the entire place, the unhallowed ground humming with energy.  Some sort of powerful magic was underway.

Two sentries stood outside of the entrance.  Their outline could just barely be seen against the light.

Sûn had long since lost any respect for orcs.  Strong as they might be they were too stupid and violent even for him.  Mubarak no doubt felt the same.  The two of them slowed down to a halt at nearly the same instant.  They then regarded one another.

Silently the elementalist made a throwing motion at the orcs.  He then pointed at Mubarak, and up, rotating his finger in most of a revolution.  This would work best if the moor flanked one of the orcs.  And he'd know the signal to attack.

Mubarak nodded gravely and then crouched down and began to move off to one side. It only took a few seconds before he disappeared.

The elementalist would have a moment to prepare.  He exhaled once and began to center himself.

It did not take him long.  His senses and gaze turned up to the heavens.  Raw energy was abound up high- naked, pulsing, there for the taking.  For a few moments he blotted out all sound and all movement, every bit of his attention focused upon the storm.  Since a young man he had been training for this particular action, to channel the nearly limitless power of the sky for his own use.  The majority of the man's charms had been built for this purpose- to assist him with his magics.  Not only did they help his focus but also shielded him from the energy that would otherwise take his life.

Suddenly he snapped back into clarity.  Strength and energy flowed through his body.  Every little discomfort, pain, and weariness seemed to simply wash away.  Past injuries and scars felt negligible.

Without a pause Sûn advanced towards the sentries.  Once he came within thirty feet of them he made his move.  A quick motion brought his right hand up and above his head as if he were holding a spear.  And then Sûn did what he does best.

The thrill of melding the thunder to himself was almost beyond words, exhilarating beyond belief.  For a brief instant his mind could encompass all the energy up in the heavens.  He could not see, so much as understand the clouds pushing and breaking against one another, the static and fire crashing upon the ground far off in the form of lightning.  In this instant he felt like a god, as he gazed into the heavens with his mind.

His arm completed the throwing motion and the out-of-body experience ended.

The heavens responded in kind.

An extremely bright flash all but blinded Sûn, even as the air detonated and exploded.  His vision turned pink and jittery.  Though it was over too fast to be seen, the elementalist knew that a pure-white bolt of lightning had just struck the orc in front of him.  What was left could not be recognized as such- merely a blackened, still-burning form missing most the flesh above it's shoulders.  Even after the act his ears rung painfully.  A mantle of energy remained in front of him, filling the air, left behind in the powerful bolt's wake.

The other sentry was not prepared for that.  For an instant the orc gazed at him in horror-struck silence.  This ended as soon as Mubarak stepped up to it's rear, heaved the massive club above his head, and brought it down upon the stunned creature's neck.  A massive thud and cracking noise told Sûn beyond doubt it was dead.

Once Sûn's ears stopped ringing they advanced upon the doorway.

Before they entered the elementalist could hear a dull chant in the orc tongue.  The magicks were also much more intense from this close- where before it had been a charge in the air, he now felt as if he was approaching an open flame.  Frowning, Sûn motioned for the moor to take a look first.

Mubarak did, just barely poking his forehead and eyes around the doorway.  Perhaps two seconds later he slowly inched back and frowned.

"Many orcs within," the moor said, his voice a rumbling bass," perhaps two dozen.  Shaman.  Ritual talismans.  They have a captive."

"Ugh.  You see the gem?"

"Yes."

Sûn blinked for a moment.  "Captive?  What kind?"

"I cannot say.  It may have been a costume of some sort.  That or a bug."

The elementalist grunted, perplexed.  The face-plate blotted out most of his vision so he bowed his head and pulled it free.  Sûn then chanced a look of his own.

It was a lot to take in at once.

The main room of the temple was a large hall of similar size to the exterior.  One could have easily fit a hundred people within this chamber.  Torches burned angrily, hissing and popping, illuminating all the grooves and etchings in the stone.  Toward the center of the room was a more raised platform.  Upon this an orc shaman of one sort or another was waving their arms about, chanting their ugly language, bones and heavy robes making their appearance something unsettling.  A large, brilliant gem of scarlet stood at the apex.  Several slaughtered animals, and stranger beings, lay about the base of it, blood dripping and poured out into the cracks in the floor.  And more than a dozen orcs, easily more, stood around the room in a messy circle.

Still.  Sûn's eyes fell upon a figure in the far back of the room, something brilliantly blue colored.  He would have to pull back but this was enough time to see a large fuzzy frill and several more limbs than normal.  Interesting.

He removed his head from the doorway just as slowly as Mubarak had.  They then regarded each-other once more.

"How do you wish to do this?" the moor asked, voice low.

"Fast and loud."

A small smile touched Mubarak's face.  He made a small motion with one hand, one that may as well have read 'be my guest'.

Both of them shrugged off their packs.

Sûn's heart began to speed up in anticipation.  Once inside the building he would be greatly limited.  His power could only really be thrown around beneath the open sky.  Sure, he could occasionally chuck some energy near an open window or hallway, but that was quite different from slugging it out beneath a giant stone pyramid.

No matter.  He had his somewhat extensive sword training, in addition to a few tricks.  He would not be helpless.

Sucking in a deep breath, Sûn returned his helmet.  The weight felt comforting.  A small motion unclasped his sword from it's buckle, and then he held the bronze blade skywards with both hands.  The storm would remain there, churning for some time.  It only took a few seconds for his mind to connect once more, to form that exhilarating connection with the endless magicks above.  Lightning fell once more.

Again there was the massive explosion of sound, and light.  But unlike last time it was called directly upon Sûn.

He felt it when the energy connected with his outstretched sword.  In one instant his heart was racing, the next liquid fire began to pulse and beat against his arms.  The hilt of his sword literally felt as though it might scald his flesh, burn it straight off, and his arms throbbed in rather excruciating pain.  The sword that had once been bronze now shown brighter than any star, blinding to behold.

Once Mubarak returned to his side, the two of them charged within, screaming out their battlecries.

Sûn's was mostly deafened by that of his companion.  Even after the lightning he could hear the blood-curling roar, the scream of his friend, that rivaled the thunder in sheer intensity.  Mubarak's battle cry was the sort that folks could hear from hundreds of feet away.  Within another building.  And would fear for their lives.

Already within reach were a few orcs, startled by the two's sudden appearance.  Swinging downward with an overhead chop, Sûn's foe just barely reacted in time.  This did the orc no good- the moment the weapons touched there was an explosion of white sparks, the little embers flashing blindingly and shooting off five feet in every direction.  The beasts weapon was sheared directly in half.  Sûn's blade, unhindered, continued the descent.  It ended somewhere within the orc's waist, having sizzled through it's shoulder and down, bisecting most of it's chest cavity.  The sword also lost it's glow- it took the elementalist a solid, powerful yank to free it.

Mubarak had no trouble of his own.  Swinging his club in massive loops, the moor could strike at any nearby orc with bone-crushing force.  When one blow missed, the man would simply continue the motion- bringing it up and behind his head, swinging it a full 360 degrees around his body.  The momentum would then build up and carry on for the next strike.  One orc was too slow to react, taking a solid blow to the chest.  A similar strike from Mubarak had once shattered the skull of a bull.

As soon as the orcs rushed them Sûn performed his final magick- calling down one last strike.  Mubarak had already seen the motion and leaped to the side.  A smaller bolt flashed into existence from behind, moving just over Sûn's head, and struck a handful of the orcs at once.  Flesh burned and smoked.

From that moment on things got a bit out of hand.  Now further into the building the orcs rushed at them from all sides.  The only thing keeping them from being enveloped and leaped upon were the massive, looping strikes from Mubarak.  And even he could not cover them both- time and time again Sûn had to bring his sword in close, using it to parry aside the various spears or blades that the orcs used.  An opportunity presented itself- the elementalist swung to the right, deftly stopped half way, and instead ran his sword through the orc's chest.  Blood splattered his robes.

A spear managed to get through their defenses, punching clean through the man's garments, carving a channel through his left shoulder.  It was distant and numbed by the energies still within him, but this didn't stop Sûn from letting out a low grunt of pain.  He'd wear more armor if it weren't for all the lightning he threw around.  Well, except for the helm.  That was a necessity.

The two continued fighting shoulder to shoulder, back to back, slowly advancing further in.  Half a dozen dead or wounded orcs already sprawled across the floor.

Mubarak was fairing just as well.  Being a larger target, and not nearly as fast, he'd already taken several smaller cuts along his hands and arms.  Though his armor did serve him well in blocking the larger cuts, and jabs that got through, the little injuries could easily add up over time.  Sweat already began to run down his brow as he continued the massive attacks.

Off to the side Sûn could see an orc readying several small axes.  Ranged weapons were generally a bitch for the two of them, given clear weather or indoors.

Bronze flashed.  Sûn intercepted the first axe, striking it out of the air with the center of this blade, nearly wincing at the edge-on-edge contact.  Another axe flew, which he intercepted as well, but the third he was unable to.  An oncoming spear was the greater threat, so as he parried that the small axe got through.  It hit Sûn just below the heart.  Though it did not pierce through his several layers of heavy cloth, and charms, it did knock the wind out of him.  The man all but stumbled backwards into his companion.

The moor felt the sudden weight of Sûn at his back, bumping into him, and switched his fighting style.  Lowering the grip on his weapon, the giant began to swing his club in more literal circles, using the full length of the weapon to give them space.  He kept this up for several circles, giving Sûn the much-needed pause to stumble and try to catch his breath.

At just the right moment an orc jabbed a spear on in, just when the moor's club was out of place.  Sûn saw in the corner of his eye how Mubarak parried the blow on one bracer (though it split wide open and bled), grabbed it in one giant mit, and literally yanked it from the orc.  Still continuing to swing the club with his left hand, the moor flipped around the spear.  Looking like some sort of madman, or dervish, he waited for his club to be out of the way before throwing.  Though a long thrusting boar spear, and not meant for such use, it easily soared through the air.  It then plunged into the orc shaman's chest, only stopping when the flanges literally prevented the weapon from going deeper.

Everything kind of paused at that- the adventurers and orcs alike.  Then the magic current in the air vanished, was swept away, and the orcs screamed in rage.

It was not the sort of sound that you heard so much as felt.  A dozen orcs, each big and ugly, howled out in anger at the same time.  It was felt more than heard.

"Shit," Sûn cursed, out of breath.

They went berserk.  Two more orcs fell to Mubarak's club, and Sûn took a third, but the other nine literally threw themselves at them.

The elementalist dropped his blade, quickly unsheathing a decent sized dagger and extending one hand.  He went under beneath all the weight.  Without pausing he placed his palm upon one orc.  One word later one of his charms turned to ash, burning out, and the beast staggered away screaming.  Steam rose from it's eyes and mouth.

Sûn only had so many of those particular charms.  Him and Mubarak began to chop and punch and kick, literally fighting like cornered animals.  Blood fell, not all of it the orc's.  There were too many blades to stop, and too much orc muscle to hold back.  Many of the weapons clanked against his helm, slashed charms off his body, or simply sliced through Sûn's robes and into his flesh.

The knife-fight did not last long.  They never did.  A few long moments passed and suddenly a dozen orcs lay dead.

All but one.  Sûn growled at the last orc as it's hands tightened around his neck.  The pressure become unbearable, up until Mubarak took two large steps and kicked it in the head.

The pressure stopped.

Sûn lay on back on the ground, hacking and gasping for air.  That had been a little too close for comfort.

He took several long counts to catch his breath.  He then retrieved his sword, which was disgustingly nicked and battered, and pulled himself up to his feet.

Mubarak stood to his side, a large cut along the man's scalp and bleeding down his face.  Already one of his eyes were squeezed shut.  Several other less bloody but similarly ugly cuts were scarlet and slick against his dark skin.  Though Sûn wasn't hurting too bad, what with the magic, he could not ignore all the light pains across his body.  He'd be feeling a LOT worse in a few hours.

He stepped back on over to his pack and retrieved the bandages.  Together with Mubarak they wrapped their wounds.  One of the rags ended up in the moor's big hand, pressed tightly to his scalp.  He looked more amused than anything.  It would make for a fine scar.

Nodding to himself, bandages drawn tight, Sûn stepped on over to the platform.  Upon the tall pedestal lay the gem, large and delicious as all hell.  The energies had already vanished, so he took the moment to knock over the chalice with all the blood, kick over the candles, and deftly swipe the ruby off the little stand.  So good.  They'd fetch a fair price for that once they returned to civilization.

But wait.  Sûn turned his head back toward the rear of the room where the strange creature remained.  From up close, and without the orcs, he was able to get a much clearer picture.

It was some form of humanoid bug, that much he could easily tell.  The creature seemed long and lithe, the four arms segmented at the elbows and wrists, four clawed fingers sticking out each.  A very thick mane of bright-blue and white hair rose up around it's head, falling half-way down to the chest, and puffed off every which way.  Two long antenna rose out of this ball of hair, similarly fuzzy looking.  Unlike other bug antenna these were almost leaf-shaped, and made up of many small left and right... protrusions.  One of them were bent at an odd angle and hardly moving, likely broken.  It's head was quite small and ended in a sharp chin, noseless, and seemingly without mouth.  The eyes were very large and black, nearly glossy.  Two light-blue wings matched the color of the plume, though they were lined in white, and were quite pretty looking with all the black lines.  Generally it was kind of fuzzy.  Instead of a mere bony carapace it was also covered in a layer of white hair.  Again, generally fuzzy.  Sûn couldn't help but notice how the waist was tiny, the hips wide like a human female, and the legs long and lithe.  Since he had no basis for comparison Sûn figured this a female.

It had been forced into a kneeling position, shackles around it's neck, wrists, and ankles.  Much of the hair looked damp, and he could make out a few black-like bruises and cuts along with the broken antenna.  A quick look behind him confirmed what he had suspected- others of these things had been sacrificed.  The four-armed corpses seemed to add up.

"What the hell?" he finally wondered out loud.

Sûn turned off to see Mubarak nearby, who only furrowed his brows in seeming agreement.  After looking back to the bug Sûn leaned forward and peered a little closer.

It flinched away and seemed to shrink in on itself a little more.

"Easy," he hushed," I'm not going to hurt you.  It's okay."

Sûn raised a hand, only for it to flinch once more, leaning away to try and distance itself.  The shackles prevented it.

"Easy.  Easy."

Without knowing what else to do Sûn reached on up and pulled off his helm.  His messy sprawl of hair one more fell free.

That did seem to do something.  The creature seemed to halt at that.  After a moment he realized it was peering back at him.

And then it made noise.

It sounded like... bells.  Ringing bells of some sort.  Though it was obviously not bells, Sûn thought, it made some sort of musical ringing sound.  And it did in fact appear to have a mouth- two tiny mandibles, fuzzy as all hell.  They made some clicking noises along with the bell ones.

For a brief moment Sûn wondered if it was some kind of witchcraft.  He had never heard any sort of language, communication, or anything like it.

Nah.

"I don't understand what you are saying," Sûn hazarded.

An amused grunt came from Mubarak.  Sûn turned to him.

"Yeah, yeah, I know," he growled, before turning back to the bug and softening his voice again," you likely cannot understand me, either."

More bell sounds.

"Mubarak," Sûn said, off to the side," have you ever seen a creature like this?"

"No," the moor rumbled.

"Me neither.  It's bizarre," he responded, then to the bug- "Wait one moment."

Turning back around, Sûn stepped on over to the dead shaman.  Quickly he began to pat down the orc. He deftly ignored the massive chest-spear and gory mess.

"What are you doing?" Mubarak asked.

"Checking for keys."

"Hmm?"

"For the shackles?" Sûn suggested, his tone impatient.

"Urgh?"

"You know, to get that thing out?"

"To what end?" Mubarak asked.

Sûn blinked at that.  He didn't fault the big man for wondering what his thought process was.  Mubarak was as well-intentioned as himself, but they did not share a psychic connection.

"Ambivalence," the elementalist finally answered, smiling.

He found what he was looking for.  Returning to the bug, Sûn began to plug the shackles with the bronze key, unlocking each of them in turn.

Once the final shackle came free the thing made more... bell noises.  It rang more.  It then seemed to wilt a tiny bit, drooping, and rubbed at all of it's wrists.  It was kind of weird seeing all the arms in motion- the main two were in the correct spot, but two slightly shorter arms stuck out of it's lower sides, a bit above the waist.  He also did feel a bit of empathy for it- the thing's many wrists, and neck, were somewhat raw-looking from the bindings.

It drooped a little more to the side.  Standing and moving would probably do it some good so Sûn extended a hand out to help it.

For a moment it seemed to regard him, looking at his hand.  But it did eventually hold out one of it's own and accepted the gesture.  Together, Sûn helped it up to it's feet.  A bit of pain lanced up through his hand.  Oh, right.  One of his fingers were cut open down to the bone.  He'd have to go out into the storm and sear that shut in a moment.  Otherwise, he felt surprised at how fuzzy and warm the bug felt, despite the rigidness, and how light it was overall.  Standing straight up it definitely had a lot of leg, long and lithe, but still stood a hand shorter than himself.  It was quite exotic.

/She/ was quite exotic, he corrected himself.  Given all the proportions, and the way it held itself, he was beginning to doubt it was a male.  Although he couldn't say for certain, since that one...

He stopped that train of thought.  From so close up, within arms reach, he could tell that she was lightly trembling.  The poor thing.

After a long moment it made some more bell sounds at him.  The tone almost seemed unsure.

"You are free to go," Sûn reassured," you are safe."

She finally seemed to get the idea.  One moment the bug was holding still, and the next she was suddenly pressed up against Sûn, all four arms wrapping around his body in a hug.  One of the antenna drooped over his shoulder, the other dangling off to the side uselessly.

That... that was not what he was expecting.  Sûn continued blinking in confusion as it made more bell sounds, but it was not entirely unpleasant.  Off to the side Mubarak made an amused noise.

"/What/," Sûn asked," is happening right now?"

"A bug caresses you," Mubarak narrated.

It certainly was warm and soft.  Sûn would be lying if he wasn't a bit puzzled and the slightest bit uncomfortable, but what the hell.  She was clearly frightened and relieved.  He'd all but be doing the same thing if someone swooped in and pulled him out of a sacrifice.  He lightly returned the gesture, hugging back with one arm.

"Honestly I've had worse."

"Mmm."

The creature pulled on back at this point and continued to make those musical sounds, plus clicking.

"Okay then," Sûn began," let's do a quick pass and leave?"

"Yes."

The elementalist extended both of his hands to the bug.  After a brief moment she accepted them.  Gently the man took a few steps to the side, leading it out of the way, off to one wall.

They then got to work ransacking the temple.

There was a lot to be taken from just that room.  At once Sûn moved on over the large clay urns, some covered in cobweb, and began to smash them open or knock them onto their sides.  Several panels appeared to also be storage bins or cabinets of some sort, so he gave them the same sort of treatment.

At the same time Mubarak hefted his club and began to smash open locked containers, suspiciously large benches, and anything else that may have been hollow.

They'd done it often enough to be efficient at it.  After a few minutes the elementalist continued to the disheveled parts of the wall, where he had a sure foothold, to literally step up a few more feet.  He began to pluck small ornaments off the walls.  Candles, small shiny rocks, all of it went into their packs.

Just as Sûn was wrapping up with that, Mubarak moved on over to the largest statue in the room.  Seemingly made of some kind of rare crystal, or mineral, the large moor merely smashed the head off at the neck and deposited it.

The bug kind of flinched at that last one but otherwise patiently waited.


In all it probably took a little over fifteen minutes.  Satisfied, Sûn moved back over to the creature.  She lightly flinched again.

"Alright.  We are leaving- you can follow us if you like, I guess.  But you should go home."

The creature responded as she always did.  If only he could understand that noise.

After giving her a brief nod Sûn began to pace on out of the building, carefully stepping over the dead orcs as he went, putting back on his helm.  Mubarak and the bug followed.

After he had gotten as many as five paces outside there was a lot more bell sounds.  Sûn turned back to the bug, peering at her through his helmet's narrow visor.  It seemed to slightly sway and stumble, weakly, but was clearly trying to get his attention.  After she got close enough she nudged him with one hand.

"Yes?"

The bug extended it's lower secondary arms.  The elementalist kind of regarded this for a moment, blinking, looking at the gesture.  Was it asking for a hug or something?

He found out a moment later, once he held out a hand of his own, and she merely grabbed the sleeve.  The bug then began to lightly urge him off to one direction in particular.

"Sûn," the moor spoke up.

"What?  I'm wondering where it wants to take us."

"And be eaten?" Mubarak asked, only slightly humorously.

"Oh, please.  Admit it- you're as curious as I am," Sûn responded, his arm nearly interlocking with the bug's," maybe there's a city or something out here."

"Full of bug-people?"

"Yes."

Mubarak considered this for a moment before speaking," that may wish to eat us?"

"What is it with your fear of being eaten?"

"Past experiences," Mubarak rumbled," have taught me that most non-human creatures walking upon two legs wish to eat us.  Orcs in particular."

"Oh?"

"Teethed birds.  Orcs.  Lizards.  Maiti.  Most Shetani.  So on."

"You seriously think these things will eat us?" Sûn asked.

"Mmmmmmm.  Does it have teeth?"

"What?"

"Does it have teeth?," Mubarak repeated," for eating meat?"

"Dammit Mub."

Sûn took off his helmet yet again, letting it hang from around his neck by a strap.  He then gently ushered the bug to stop.

"Alright, uh," he asked her," do you have teeth?"

Bell sounds.  Almost inquisitive.

"Teeth."

He accented this by opening his mouth, and leaning down slightly, pointing at his mouth.

She leaned the hell away in response.

"Dammit, uh."

What followed was an interesting amount of pointing at his mouth, Mubarak's mouth, and poking the large man in the face.  It took several minutes, but eventually the bug seemed to get the vague idea.  Him and Mubarak watched as it's mandibles moved around a little bit, clacked, and a tube-like tongue or proboscis poked out a few inches.  Sûn was able to see both in clear detail from half a foot away, though the proboscis was admittedly a bit squicky.

"There," he finally said, turning back to Mubarak," happy?  I didn't see any teeth."

"Perhaps it eats like a spider?" Mubarak suggested.

"What, with web?"

"No.  Turning the prey's insides into water and drinking them out."

"I don't-" the elementalist sputtered," what the hell?  That's disgusting."

"Yes," the big man agreed," yes it is."

Sûn couldn't help but peer sideways at the bug.

"Isn't this... she... some sort of papilio though?  She's bright and has those same impressive wings.  That sort of adds up."

"Perhaps," Mubarak agreed slowly, thinking.

Sûn rolled his eyes.  "Come on.  We've faced far more dangerous and vile things."

The moor smiled at that.

"True."

Fed up with the halt, the elementalist once more grabbed the bug's hand, urging to continue leading.  And hey- Sûn was pretty sure she had learned the words 'hand' and 'mouth', at least.  That was progress.  Technically.


***


The three of them stumbled through the jungle for some time.  Before he had forgotten Sûn went ahead and called down more energy, searing shut his two worst wounds.  For more than a minute after he had more or less incoherently growled and cussed, spitting, roaring in agony.

Otherwise the journey went smoothly.  The bug seemed to have a good sense of both direction and path-finding, taking them around obstacles, leading the adventurers around the worst of brush.  This meant that it only took them several more hours, or half of the night, before they were finally spotted.

It was abrubt- Mubarak was still speaking of past cities he had been to, places previously explored, when branches far up in a nearby tree made a hell of a ruckus.  The two went alert immediately, hands lowering to their weapons.  Mubarak even reached over his shoulder and rested one hand upon his club's bindings- given a second or two's notice he could unclasp the strings which held it to his back.

This turned out to be unnecessary.  The tree rustled once, twice, and then two shapes blurred down toward them.

Sûn had almost been expecting it.  This didn't prevent him from drawing his sword a few inches from the sheathe, or lightly jumping back when the two moth-creatures dropped out of the air a few paces in front of them.

They were of the same kind.  Like their rescued moth, these beings were built tall and gangly, a literal mane of poofy hair around their heads and upper chest.  But unlike hers, these new ones were also a few inches taller and more solidly built.  The colors were generally more muted as well, Sûn noted, and each of them carried several thick javelins.  The kind that would penetrate trees and bushes from above with contemptuous ease.  Some form of thick, fibrous material also wrapped around their chests and lower body.

They immediately stepped closer- both of their antennas beginning to bob and whirl close to the rescued one, bell noises a plenty.  The clangor of clicking and ringing was almost headache inducing.  It was also pretty apparent when they indicated toward her wounds, and then a moment after, regarded both Sûn and Mubarak.

He kept a steady gaze on both.  After a few more moments one of them lowered and bowed at the waist, the gesture unmistakably polite.

"So far so good," Sûn said, for Mubarak's benefit.

"Mrmm."

The female bug once more grabbed Sûn's sleeve, nonchalantly, and began to continue on.  One of the others began to pace along with them.  The elementalist was mostly surprised when the third took a few large steps, gait quite bouncy and even, and then launched itself up into the air.  For a moment he could hear and see the powerful wings knocking about dirt and pushing leaves away, moving in a dizzy loopy pattern.  It quickly vanished into the treeline.

"Impressive," Mubarak rumbled.

Sûn felt much the same.



It was actually a very short walk after those first arrivals, before they came to the village.  More of the beings arrived nearly at the same time- all wearing shawls and bearing javelins or spear.  The clangor of buzzing became intense.  They were then ushered through a screen of heavy plants and entered the town proper.

The place had been clearly built with an intelligent, directing mind.  It was quite open- up until the highest point of the village, the massive tree-trunks nearly bare of branches, up until their canopy blotted out the sky.  Many massive gourd-like shelters hung from large branches or were built directly against the trunks themselves.  At the entrance of each of the dwellings were a small lip or balcony and what may have been a woven curtain.  The actual gourd-homes appeared to be made up of woven branches and soil, solidly built, and bore random beautifications.  A quick look revealed various small flowers or long strips of cloth.  Many had a large orb-like growth of vines, and crystal, that shined with a gentle blueish light.  Naturally none of the homes had ladders or walkways.  These creatures almost certainly did not need them.

Motion buzzed and blurred around them.  Though there were as many as fifteen, maybe even twenty of those homes, Sûn could count already twice as many of the beings.  With each moment another would flutter out in a buzz of wings and land down on the ground with them.  Their rescued bug seemed especially popular- they were all but swarmed and touched by antenna dozens of times.  Glancing from head to head, the elementalist began to note the great variance in their colors.  One blue's mane was wholly different to another's red, which itself was a different hue to some purples, scarlets, and yellows.  A few bore some large clay pots, either in secondaries or slung over their shoulder.  And a closer inspection revealed some sort of crude writing- along much of the cloth were series of black dots and curved lines, small and neat.  It felt like quite a lot to take in at once.  Mubarak and himself were clearly no longer home.

A pair of the bug-people broke apart to let on in a new figure.  It almost immediately became apparent that this new arrival was a kind of itself- aged and carrying respect.  The creature's own plume of hair was a deep, faded purple, flanked with red streaks.  It stood tall and serene, despite the obvious mark of time and abuse.  On both antenna were small knots and growths, scars, that almost make Sûn think of the bulges on trees or knotweed.  One of it's secondary arms were also weak and withered, devoid of any kind of motion.  Several nasty scars ran along this same arm.  It had evidently healed by now, though this did little to cover the black-like swelling, and channels still broke up the otherwise smoothness of the carapace.  Within the plume of hair a few objects lightly bounced.  A handful of small decorations had been woven in- one a remarkable seed, almost snowflake like in shape.  A few other bones of one sort or another.  Sûn felt amused.

It knew their own moth, Sûn could see.  The two engaged in a bit of antenna waving, buzzing, and then embraced.  Sûn should have assumed as much.

Several long moments passed before it stepped closer and studied him and Mubarak.

Still, the big-old bug guy did seem somewhat amused as well.  It peered between the two of them, antannea bobbing to and fro.  Eventually it extended out a hand with one claw- it used this to point around the sides and top of Sûn's head.  The chieftain then let out a deep, (probably) inquisitive stream of noise.

Ah, yes.  Sûn didn't always have the luxury that was trimming his hair.  Years of traveling the wilds had taught him to cut it himself, when absolutely necessary, but even then it would not sit well bouncing all over the place.  Over time he'd taken to braiding much of it into dreads, and for the hell of it, including a few small charms here and there.  Maybe one day one of them would even deflect some embers or something.  It could happen.

But that was why the chief seemed potentially amused- among all the souls there, only Sûn and this old one seemed to go the "wild crazy shaman" route with their hairdos.  Maybe it knew magic or something?

With a start Sûn realized that it had become mostly silent, save for the occasional buzz of wing.  All of the creatures seemed to be waiting for something.

"Perhaps a friendly gesture?" Mubarak hazarded.

"What do you mean?

The large man collected his words.

"Back home, the more primitive dune-dwellers and barbarians could occasionally be swayed by small boons or trinkets."

"Boons or trinkets," Sûn repeated, thoughtfully.

Ah, what the hell.  He reached up and ran one hand across his mop of hair.  Sûn then found what he had been looking for- a small, bell-shaped piece of wood with a sigil carved into it.  He undid this charm and offered it to the chieftain.

That spurred on a whole lot of buzzing and leaning closer.  The old timer accepted it with gnarled claws and held it up for a moment for all to see.  It then removed one of it's own little baubles, one of those snowflake-like seeds, and held it out.

Sûn of course accepted it.  Together, at the same time, the two of them began to tie in these new baubles.

Fricken hell, Sûn thought, all the while.  Here they were doing their hair and exchanging pleasantries.  He felt like with all the emotion-sharing they'd turn into women or something.  Mubarak was a lot more patient where it came to these things.  And he didn't even have hair.

With the maybe-formal greeting out of the way, many of the creatures left to go about their night.  Beneath the gentle, blue glow, the others began to surround the two of them.  The more curious would extend out more of those seeds or baubles, and the odd glowing doodad, while the others stood off and watched with clear curiosity.  Mubarak and Sûn had to politely wave them off.


On and on this went.  For a little longer they were beset by all sides by those wishing to trade.  After reluctantly parting with a few coins, or baubles, they were then prodded and led along to part of the clearing to the side.  There Sûn watched as they wordlessly ushered Mubarak along, over to a seat, and indicated towards all of his wounds.  The large man seemed reluctant to encourage them for obvious reasons.  This lessoned when the bug-people seemed to know what they were doing.  A pair of them removed the bandages and dressed Mubarak's wounds, cleaning them, and then applied a fibrous, clear substance from a pot, which seemed to cling over the gashes.  He reassured Sûn that it was not poisonous, and felt suitable for covering a wound.  Even so, Sûn didn't feel the need.  His worst wounds had already been thunder-treated, and he had lived through far worse.  His bandages would do for the time being.

Next up was more communication.  The two were taken to a slightly larger clearing, where they could see square-like clearings of grass, framed by small logs.  Within lay a level patch of sand.  The use became apparent when the chieftain took three sticks and began to draw figures into the sand, each of the three arms moving in perfect synchronism.  Curves and lines became more complex shapes in a very artful fashion.  Sûn and Mubarak watched with interest as several different scenes and shapes were drawn.

They learned a few things.

Most importantly these creatures had seen humans before.  Or at least the chieftain had.  He showed them clear pictures of different human getups and figures, along with what have been a crude rendition of a castle.  After drawing several trees, then smaller versions, and what may have been a land-mass, Mubarak was prompted to show the old bug their map.

It was stained, had several holes, and had a third ripped off.  But still.  The old-timer indicated toward Sûn and Mubarak, and then at the map, giving them a vague idea of where they might be.  The two were already aware of their location (vaguely) but it was reassuring.  These creatures likely had a good idea of their surroundings considering they could fly.  Perhaps they knew better than him or Mubarak.

After a bit of half-assed drawing of his own, and copious amounts of gesticulation, the adventurers explained their intentions.  Probably.  The bug seemed to understand that they wished to sleep and return home.  To this purpose they were lent two of the tree-gourds to pass out in.  Getting up into the structures turned out quite the challenge.



It admittedly was a little nice, Sûn thought, later that night.  For too long they had been sleeping only inches up off the ground, resting their heads upon rocks.  It was also luxurious being able to let down his guard and rest apart from Mubarak, who was one home over.  Though he was a great fighter, and friend, the elementalist could only listen to Mubarak's snoring so much.

The inside of the gourds were comfortable even if a bit plain.  The construction kept out most of the moist jungle air, and heat, seemingly a few degrees cooler within.  Sleeping in his undergarments was long overdue.  The bed almost felt too soft, especially when he added his bedroll, and wrapped up in the blanket that had been left for him.  For the first time in weeks Sûn could feel a light, cool draft upon his skin, and the absence of worn-in travel clothes.

He was comfortable and unbelievably tired.  The sun was soon to rise.  Yet the man could not sleep.  Part of it was due to his crazy day, and still taking in what he had seen, but there was more to it than that.  The energies he had called down were no longer present, having grounded out, so he was treated to the sharp agony of several large cuts and bruises.  Hence the laying on his back.  Anything else would have aggravated the cuts fiercely.

Sûn nearly dozed off.  Sleep's gentle caress never took him, though his dozing mind did think back upon old memories.  Images of his tiny village, mentor, and prison shifted to and fro.

He was once more jerked away from sleep when Sûn heard the now-familiar buzzing.  He sat up slightly in readiness, and curiosity, and turned to the curtained entrance.

It gently drifted open.  And then one of the moth-people stepped into his shelter.

His eyes had long since adjusted to the darkness.  This changed when a tiny, gentle blue light filled up the room.  For a second or two he didn't recognize this newcomer.  Only the broken antenna told the elementalist who this was.  The blue light seemed to change the white portions of her body.

He sat on up.

"Hey," he said," what are you doing here?"

She made those musical bell-sounds and then stepped over to him.  Her primary hands held a small tray, two bowls sitting upon it, along with the vine-sphere that cast the light.  The bug-gal set this all down upon the nearest dresser.

Sûn sat up completely, wrapping the blanket around his shoulders.  His legs dangled over one side of the bed.

Now close enough, the female extended one hand.  One claw extended still further, indicating toward his shoulder and hand.

"I'm okay."

He /had/ seared them shut already.  She was there when he had done it, clearly dismayed at his pain.  Though the scars were ugly as all hell he'd be fine.  And his other cuts were negligible in comparison.

The bell sounds resumed.  Though Sûn had no idea what she was saying, he could in fact make out the unyielding and adamant tone.  This continued on for several seconds.  After giving it a moments thought he changed his mind.  He'd had infected wounds before, and these felt clean by comparison.  Even so, getting off some of the dirt and grime was too tempting to pass up.

"Okay.  Fine."

Sûn shrugged off the blanket and sat up straight, hands resting upon his knees.

She saw to him.  The moth-person would first dip a small rag into one of the bowls, evidently containing water, and then wring out most of it.  Gently she used this to wipe at his cuts.  It burned and stung a little as they were cleaned out.  She then used a corner of this same cloth to gather up that sticky clear resin, applying this to the wounds much the same way.  The eventual warmth was comforting.

For several long moments Sûn sat there, still as could be, as she treated his wounds.  Several times he looked into those large black orbs, or at her general fuzziness, trying to read what was on her mind.  The alien anatomy revealed nothing to him.

The gal moved onto his arms, and hands, cleaning the nicks there with the same gentle steadiness.  One or two bled, which may have been a good thing.  That helped remove any debris.

Only after every cut, every nick had been dabbed off, did the moth-gal do something different.  Once more she wet the rag, but this time didn't wring it out quite so much.  Claws more open, she placed the rag upon the front of his shoulder, wet and refreshing as it was.  She then began to run the cloth across his athletic shoulder and chest.  She was cleaning him.

Sûn stopped her, grabbing the hand.  He did not like being dotted upon.

"It's okay," he breathed," I'm fine.  I'm not a child- you don't need to wash me."

This had always bothered him.  People normally treated him as an avatar of destruction, or a warlock, or just a mystical figure too steeped in strangeness to be approachable.  That was of course inaccurate (most of the time), but still left him unused to a more gentle touch.  After the long time in that dungeon he also had a hard time letting others get close.  Sûn was the product of his past experiences.

He lightly turned the females hand around, looking down at her wrist.  The normally smooth carapace was scratched up and raw looking, much of that area scuffed free of hair.

The elementalist extended out his other hand.  Even with the massive language barrier they both recognized this gesture.  She extended her other primary.

Sûn accepted this hand also, turning it over much like the other, gently.  This wrist was just as bad as the other, if not worse.  He knew the others would look much the same.

He also, realized abruptly, that he was holding both of her hands.  His eyes widened in sudden realization and he released both.

"I'd be more worried about you," he said, honestly," I don't even know how long you were in that temple."

Now free he gestured towards a few of the marks upon her torso.  Here and there the carapace was scuffed and slightly-off color.  Likely it was the result of blunt trauma.

The gal would not be having any of that.  Lightly, but with purpose, she brushed and pushed aside his hand.

Suddenly Sûn had an impulse.

Without thinking about what he was doing, or what this craving was, he gently extended a few fingers of his right hand.  Gently, very lightly, he brushed the tips of his fingers against her mane of hair.  It felt very warm and soft to his touch, something between a slick waterfall and velvet.

The moth-person suddenly held very still.

He noticed this.  But he didn't stop.  Sûn placed his palm upon her hair, near the side of her head.  He then ran his fingers through it.  He couldn't help himself.

His hand exited her mane further down, a few inches above the moth's chest.

The two looked at each-other.  In the dim light Sûn could see his own reflection in her black, unreadable orbs.  Him and the moth didn't move a muscle.

For an instant he even stopped breathing.  Both of them were still, very still, and there was a little bit of tension in the air.

An not entirely unpleasant sensation ran through Sûn's gut.

The moth-gal was the first to move.  Gently she turned to the side and retrieved the rag.  Wringing it out one last time, she then leaned back over to him.  Quickly but gently she brushed it across his forehead, then both cheeks, cleaning off his face.

She finally, gently reached over and pushed against both of his shoulders, urging the elementalist back down.  He lay on back and pulled the blanket over himself.

When he turned back she was holding the tray and standing tall once more.

"Thank you," Sûn hushed," good night."

She buzzed pleasantly at him and turned around, departing.

The curtain was pushed aside, and then he watched as the brilliant blue wings and mop of hair vanished, the buzzing growing quiet and then silent.


Sûn shifted around and adjusted the blanket, frowning.

He wasn't sure what had happen.  Sûn felt intoxicated by the night's events.  That and more than a little disturbed at how he had reacted, how he had felt a closeness and... maybe something else with a damned bug.  He had just gone along with it without thinking.  Why the hell did he react, both willingly, and physically in such a manner?  He just now began to realize the entire situation.  What the fuck was wrong with him?

It was a bit of an understatement to say he was bothered.


Even as sleep took Sûn, a confused look remained on his face.


***


Mubarak and him met up on the jungle floor in the early afternoon.  Apart from a handful of armed moths the town appeared mostly quiet.  Curtains were drawn about the entrances to most of the gourds.

The air was wet with moisture from last night's storm.  Gentle, warming rays of light poked through the canopy.  Birds and insects of a hundred sorts chirped and buzzed.

"- and nice beds," Mubarak finished," I was once spoiled and that came rather close."

Sûn grunted in agreement.

"Still," the large man continued," this turned out more pleasant than expected."

He peered at the elementalist for a moment.  Sûn's silence was jarring.  Normally he'd at least put out a half-hearted grunt of acknowledgment.

"What is on your mind, Sûn?"

Sûn blinked.

"Huh?  Oh, nothing.  We ready to set out?"

"Yes," Mubarak affirmed, almost more of a rumble than a word proper.

"Alright," Sûn began, pulling out the battered map," we have a vague idea of where we are.  Given that we traveled what?  Like twenty-"

Something buzzed.  Sûn frowned and turned toward the source.

An instant later grass crunched as the lady moth landed down, gently.

She was prepared for a walk.  Instead of bare carapace she now was garbed in a blue shift of material, wrapped about her chest and waist, loosely hanging free.  In each secondary hand she carried one of those javelins the males had toted, and two different objects were slung over each shoulder.  One of the two was a loose pack, bulging with unknown contents.  A strong, solid looking leather strap ran over and across her other shoulder.  On it hung a clay pot the size of a watermelon.  It rested over one of her wings.

A long, long walk.

"Wait, what?  No!" Sûn objected.

Bell sounds.  Clicking.

Sûn only felt a little conflicted, his mind already made.  As gentle of a presence as she was, as nice as she might be, it would NOT be safe for her to go with them.  Not at all.  They had very nearly been overwhelmed orcs just the last night- their bodies would bear the scars of that encounter forever.  This moth-gal was no elementalist.  No kind of warrior.  She had no place going with them.  She would be better served, and more protected, staying here.

He voiced as much.  "It is NOT safe or wise for you to come with us."

The moor looked between the two of them.  Several times.  "It, ah, she cannot understand you."

"Like hell she can't," Sûn growled.  He softened his voice, fractionally.  "Hand."

She held out one without hesitation.

Sûn indicated toward her wrist.  And then her bruises, her still not working antenna.  Add in a cut or two and she'd be nearly as battered as them.

"You just can't," Sûn continued, matter-of-factly," I'm sorry."

He turned aside, ignoring the moth as she made more sounds, and motioned Mubarak to follow.

Sûn took as many as three steps before the grass crunched behind them.

"Goddammit," Sûn cursed, turning to see the moth just as far away as before.

While she could not speak common her next gesture was clear as day.  Standing up straight, the moth turned her head up and back, looking down her mandibles at Sûn.  The one working feeler likewise stood out straight and back away from her head.  The bell sounds that followed were unyielding and harsh.

"You can't be serious.  No."

She was.  The moth-creature ignored him and began to stalk off ahead in the same direction.

Sûn covered his face and brow with his hand, letting out a miserable sound.  Mubarak softly chuckled for a long while.

"Willful.  Stubborn," the moor said, smiling," what have you gotten yourself into, Sûn?"

The elementalist gazed after the moth.  Her wings lightly fluttered, the pack and jar gently bobbing to and fro with each step.  In a few more moments she would vanish into the jungle.

"Argh.  I have no idea," Sûn admitted.

The two stood there for a moment more, silent.

After another miserable sigh the elementalist began walking.  Mubarak followed closely behind.