It's an Ice Age - Group Rp - 18+

[SqueezeBabe]

The grass was soft beneath him, and the wind carried the smell of the meadow to him. He could smell the crushed grass where he had stepped, the colourful flowers that swayed gently in the breeze. He closed his eyes and concentrated. Beyond the meadow he could smell the open plains, and beyond that the smell of pine from the forest. He tilted his head and concentrated harder. He could hear the scurrying of small animals nearby, and further out the sound of a small wild cat stalking it's prey. From the edge of the plain came the sound of thunder. The bison were coming.

 

Tyr stood slowly, he always felt a bit unsteady after he'd been out Searching. As the Shaman for his tribe he had many spiritual talents, the ability to Search for game, the ability to speak to the spirits that watched over his tribe and he was the best healer they'd ever had. It was whispered that he was chosen by the the spirits, his red hair as proof. The legends said that those with hair the colour of fire had been marked by the spirits and were destined for greatness. He was the second most powerful man in the tribe, he had his pick of women, and the best food choices and in return, he provided spiritual guidance and healing for his tribe. He wrapped his leopard skin cloak around his broad frame, it was the single piece of clothing that identified him as the shaman; he had killed the great cat on his spiritual journey as proof of his ability. Despite it being spring, the wind still carried the bite of winter in it.

 

Long easy strides carried him back to the cave, people looking at him expectantly as he appeared. He waited until the members of his tribe had gathered around him before announcing his find. The herd of bison he had seen were still three days away from the plains that their cave overlooked. It would give their hunters time to prepare themselves for the hunt. The herd would be full of young calves newborn and fat from their mothers milk, providing them with some much needed fresh meat. The women would go out and collect the fresh young buds of early spring, and the Spring Feast would be held to celebrate another winter they had survived.

 

He needed to prepare himself for the Spring Feast, whilst the other members would hunt and provide food, it was his job to speak to the spirits and beseech them for another prosperous year. They would need to once more store enough food for the next winter. If they failed, the tribe would simply die.

[Teesie]

Engraved in the piercing green eyes was none other than hunger. Watching the threat overturn in a lifeless state brought about relief through the tribe of hunters. Fang, the group leader, had been named commander for a reason. He was mostly known as the tactician of the group as well. Once all heed to the man's warnings, there would be little to no injury, but if any it was never fatal.

 

The group surrounded the wolf that had just been killed and started to strip and skin it for materials of later use. Fang and his group was in an area of danger and he could tell. In order to leave safely, the others would have to be quiet and not make more noise than one could prevent. The rustling of the bushes and grass beneath their heels was unpreventable, so it was bound to happen.

 

"Listen to me. We are in the middle of the wolf's den. I'm going to get all of us out of here as best as I could, but it can't be a success without you all helping. In any case we are on the move and you get left behind....Do. Not. Panic. If so you'd possible scream and that would only lead to your death. Eventually one will notice you're gone and I, myself, will come to search for you. Does anyone not get that?"

 

Silence reigned through the air only left for the opportunity of one to speak up if any questions. Fang smiled and nodded, "Then let us go." gesturing for the others to follow him.

 

"Wait!" Another added, for Fang to turn around to notice it was Shinji. "My wife....s-she's pregnant. She is not able to move that fast. What the hell can we do for that?"

 

"I can work around that." The leader said, not liking the tone of the statement as much. He'd look over it though, seeing as the situation could cause for anyone to be panicky. Shinji just have a nod of his head before combing his fingers through his wife's hair. The tribe only consisted of two women and three men. All had come in search for a sighting that was rumored to be around the area. There had seemed to be a specie of some sort of creature that was said to be a monster of the region. That very creature could be a helping to the group. Manipulation could go a long way, that was for sure.

 

Glancing around, the only sound heard were of howling creatures, ones that was threatening them all of their lives. The leader, Fang, was at least prepared for a battle or two if it ever opposed. The bow and arrows strapped to his back was helpful for long-distance attacks, just in case there was a preventable path that needed to be crossed.

 

"Ok, we move out now." Giving a brief, but adamant, look to his followers. All but one nodded, albeit that was expected from Maribelle. She was surely the egotistic bitch in the group. Fang said that it would be the death of her, although it was most likely a false statement. The woman had skills with the small daggers that she carried. Shaking his head, the red head turned to face forward once again and observe the area. Everything was clear in sight, but the growls and howls told otherwise. The group was defiantly in a tight situation.

[InkompleteWish]

(I don't know if i am good at fighting scenes but well, here i go and try. )

 

Tooga`s brown middle lenged hair fluttered in the wind, his lean body hidden behind the stump of a tree. They were on a hunt, today a lone sable toothed tiger was their prey. It seemed old and not that agile as it might have been in the past. So for a group of four it would be an easy prey to hunt. He gripped his spear tighter to his body and made a dash for the next tree. He was careful to not make any sound to alert the animal of his approach. Tooga was given the task of distracting and attacking first. Since he was the only one with the age of 27, the most experienced young lad in their group, he was seen as a fast and strong hunter. It was nice to receive the trust of his people. He was separated from the others, to be able to lure the tiger facing him and leaving it’s back open for his brethren to attack. One wrong move and he might end up dead. He knew that. The others, an old veteran who slowly grew grey hair was their leader on this hunt. The other hunters, both of them, were even younger than him and this was their first hunt today. Tooga wanted to set a good example, the tribe lived from their hunts and if they weren’t good hunters the whole tribe would suffer.

 

He made his way to the tiger’s side with careful steps and avoided any branch or plant that could reveal his location. The carnivore didn’t smell or notice them yet, it slowly continued to trot his way towards the water hole that was further ahead. Suddenly it’s ears pricked and he turned his head. One of the younger hunters stepped on a branch and alerted the tiger of their location. Without thinking about it, Tooga sprang forth from his hiding place and pointed his spear towards the tiger. “Hah! Here is your opponent!” he taunted the cat, though he knew that the animal wouldn’t be able to understand. In a tribe, the older ones protected the youngsters, it was just the education he grew up with. So risking his life for his hunting partners was a normal thing. The saber-toothed tiger growled and made itself ready to pounce. Sadly, Tooga knew he wouldn’t be able to evade or to hope for his partner’s help. He had gone to far ahead already. So he braced himself for the large animal, the tip of his spear pointing towards the beast’s heart. If luck would be on his side today, then he might survive this hunt.

 

The wind stilled and the birds stopped their chirping when the great cat roared. Tooga felt his muscles tense and he readied his spear for the large carnivore. He knew that he might not survive but the cat would die either way. So he will try his best to wound it that much, that the others of his hunting group could kill it. He felt his neck hair rise at the bloodthirsty eyes that stared him down and the large paws that wanted to sink into his smaller frame. The time seemed to slow down and he readied himself for the impact of the beast. His spear made contact with the soft flesh and the stone tip embedded itself in the cats chest. The paws that were around two hands away from him, were now digging their claws in his sides. The large mouth with long and sharp teeth closed over his right shoulder and he felt immerse pain.

 

Both of them didn't let the other go. Tooga continued to push the spear further into the beast, trying to stab it's heart and the best dragged its claws down Tooga side, making him bleed all over. The teeth closed even more around his shoulder and he heared bones crack under the pressure. He did not register which bones or the fact that his feet lifted from the ground. Both of them landed on a heap on the floor, the weight of the cat was far to high for Tooga to carry. His conciousness was leaving him and he knew that he was on the verge of death. He only registered the war cries of his fellow hunters and felt the pressure on his shoulder and body lifting. He heared voices but he couldn't make out what they wanted. The only thought running through his mind was //At least the others are safe.// and he drited off into a slumber. Mabe even an endless one. He was sure that his shoulder was probably crushed and his hipbones would have been damaged far to great. If he did survive, then he might not even be able to run, yet alone walk probably. But his mind stopped along the way and he fealt darkness consuming him.

[b.lueeyes]

Dark hair fluttered in the wind, flowing like water in the breeze as it flew by, the fog slipping away as the morning began, the mountainside flanked by light, the world awakening. He sat on a large boulder, edged on a side cliff-face, overlooking the outer valley, knowing that he was in prime position for when the bison would be coming through here in not one day... He would take down the largest he could, take it down on his own; he was a lone wolf. It was how he preferred it...

 

Kaan lifted his head, and moved to stand, the wolf pelt across his shoulders giving the slightest shift as he did so, lithe muscles shifting. He had been on his own for a long time, preferring the company of the world and his own mind to that of others. Taking up what little he had, a large spear, and the small amount of fish he had left from his hunt, wrapped in a skin of a mole he had recently skinned. Turning towards the valley, he decided that now was the time to move, and to seek some fruits, knowing that he needed to eat more than the meat he had been catching for the past few days.

 

He was a hunter; foraging was nothing to him...even if it did take some time. When one was on their own, it took time to do such things, to find food and proper shelter, wood and stones. Even skinning animals took time, which resulted in less kills, but more meat for him alone. Kaan had not been with a tribe...in a very long time...and when he had, he had stolen their food right out from under them. It was what it took to survive out here, and while he was young, he was more than willing to do such things.

[SqueezeBabe]

There was a commotion happening at the front of the cave; Tyr narrowed his eyes and quickened his pace, it looked as if there was someone being carried on a stretcher, and as skilled as the women were at dying leather, he didn't think that they'd ever be able to match the bright red colour of fresh blood. Already there was a crowd of tribespeople gathering around the still and bloodied figure and some of the women had already begun wailing. Tyr pushed his way through the crowd and knelt beside the stretcher; the young man was still breathing, but he wouldn't be for much longer if he didn't do something to save him.

 

He stood back up and hurried into the cave, commanding that the youth be brought to his part of the cave. The tribe had been lucky when the cave was found many generations ago, it was wide and spacious, easily fitting the current members, but it had also contained passages that branched off into other smaller caves which were used by the chief as his private quarters and by shaman to give them privacy whilst they conducted their ceremonies and healing. Tyr once again gave thanks to the Spirits that were listening as he was sure that this healing was going was not something that the rest of the tribe should be witnessing.

 

The stretcher was brought in, and the laid gentle down, Tyr already going through the drying racks for the herbs that he would need. He had an acolyte to assist him, a timid and shy boy who had shown some aptitude for the memorisation of the healing herbs; Tyr issuing his instructions as the need arose - to collect all the cooking stones in the cave so that they could be heated and in turn boil water. As the boy rushed back into the main cave, Tyr took out his stone knife and swiftly removed the young mans stained and tattered clothing, easing away the leather that was stiff with dried blood. The movement disturbed the wounds that had clotted slightly, generating a wave of fresh blood to seep from them. The young man was already pale, his lips tinged blue.

 

The youth's shoulder at been torn open by sharp teeth, the white bone showing through the bright red meat, his sides rent by sharp claws and it looked as if his pelvis had been broken. It would be a miracle if he survived, in fact, it was a miracle that he was still breathing. Tyr picked up a piece of absorbent hide, dipped it into a bowl of antiseptic solution made from dried marigold flowers and proceeded to wash the mangled body, taking care to flush the wounds - wounds from any of the great cats had a tendency to fester if not treated properly; the evil spirits resided in their claws and teeth and brought infection with them.

 

His acolyte worked quickly and efficiently, boiling the water by dropping the cooking rocks fresh from the fire into the watertight wooden bowls until the water steamed and simmered. Tyr would need birch bark to create a cast for the youth, the bark when soaked in hot water would become flexible, allowing him to shape it as required before it dried and hardened, preventing mobility. He also laid out the stiff white sinews that he would use to stitch together the gaping wounds, again, the sinew would be flexible once soaked in the hot water, allowing enough movement to stitch the skin and muscle together before drying stiff.

 

Tyr worked tirelessly, hours passing, day turning into night, before he'd finished. Amazingly the young man was still breathing, but now his wounds had been treated, his broken bones set, and now all that remained was rest. He'd hoped that Spirits would be favourable and his efforts not in vain. He looked tiredly over at his acolyte and smiled gently; he'd fallen asleep a while ago, but the boy had worked very hard, he'd make a fine healer in the future. Tyr peeled his own clothes off, washing himself down with the remaining hot water, before moving his sleeping fur over to the youth's side. He'd need to be close in case he woke up... he lay down on the soft furs and yawned, drifting off into a much needed sleep, a prayer to the Spirits that watched over them on his lips...

[InkompleteWish]

A long endless space full of nothing. It was dark, not even a light shone in this darkness. He felt his body floating in this space. No sound came from it and Tooga could only hear his own shallow breathing and the faint thumping of his heart. The hunter couldn't feel anything nor think, it was as if he is in a trance. His body didn't listen to his commands and he continued drifting in this endless space. It was cold, icy cold. Was death like that? Was it dark and cold? Not a single sound or light that showed him the way to the afterlife? Would it just be floating around in a dark space with nothing happening? That couldn't be it right? His kin was believing in the spirits of the earth. So why wasn't he with them? He was sure that he must be at least damaged beyond real repair. How could he live? With the wounds that he felt in the fight, he wouldn't be of much use to his tribe anymore and his only solution was to die. Yet....why did he still have the hope to survive? Was it because he wanted to live? Was it because he wanted to see many things? Tooga did not know but this darkness didn't want to let him go.

 

Drifting, drifting endlessly. Time wasn't present so he did not know how long he was in this darkness. But after strengthening his goal to stay alive he opened his eyes only to be welcomed with darkness. Yet, there was a light far away. The light continued to grow thinner and thinner so Tooga assumed he was drifting away from the light and deeper into the darkness. He did not want that. The hunter tried willing his body to move but it was of no use. It was as if his own flesh and blood was frozen to the core. Even if he wanted to move, he could not do so. An image opened before his eyes. His tribe, his family mourning for his death. The young hunters, merely kids, he was able to save crying for their loss and clutching his sleeves and chanting for it to not be true. The old veteran was hurrying to make a stretcher of what was given him. A few bones of the dead saber toothed beast and some hide of it made a makeshift stretcher. It was not good and probably wouldn't be able to transport his wounded body back to their camp. But the veteran had a pained facial expression. The older man wanted to do everything in his power to save Tooga. And that drew a small smile on Tooga´s face.

 

No he could not die yet. He had so much to learn, to live for. This time wasn't the right one. Tooga decided that it wasn't his time to die yet so he fought with his own body. Gritting his teeth and willing his body to move towards the light. Yet, no matter how he pushed and pulled, he was not able to move. The will was there but not his own bloody body. Tooga needed help from the spirits to make his tattered body move. It was just a question of time. The veteran would of course be able to bring him to their camp and of course the shaman would do everything in his power to save him! That was just how things went. He would survive! He will not be beaten by death! The shaman would call for the help of the spirits and Tooga would feel the life returning to him! He was sure, Tooga was believing in his tribe and most of all in the spirits of the earth!

[Teesie]

Green orbs observed the area, a pressure of lives weighing on his shoulders. Fang had been in dangerous situations before, but it never included his tribe. The leaders life was constantly threatened so it was nothing new, although now being in a situation where the whole group could die was a different ball-game. There was no way that the man could make even one mistake in guiding his people. If one was given, a life could be lost.

 

Red hair fluttered in the wind, thoughts dashing through the red-head's mind. Over the travel to the new area, Fang had already lost three others members. Even though it wasn't his fault, the guilt was placed upon him. Maribelle also blamed him for the losses, especially since one was her kid.

 

"Ok, let us move." He ordered, slowly creeping along the path to the direction in which they had came. It wouldn't be easy seeing as the tribe was in the center of the carnivore's territory, albeit Fang refused to let fear of defeat conquer him.

 

After a small amount of path was traveled, the green eyes caught sight of movement. It could be a saber tooth tiger, or something much different. Starting to the distance, the red head lifted his hand to tell the others to halt in their steps. The other figure needed to be discovered before moving forward once more.

[BlaqueCatt]

Harsh pants echoed through a dimly lit space, the sounds reverberating off of cold stone walls. Weak light trickled into the cave-like room from a hole in the ceiling—used for the ventilation of smoke from fires—and a doorway on the south wall, which faced the rest of the encampment outside. The far corners of the cave were dark, and the atmosphere was chilled, as it was not late enough for a warming fire to be lit; wood was not hard to come by, but the smoke would become too thick by nightfall, the time when the fires were especially needed. The floor of the center of the cave was covered with heavy animal pelts—bear and deer mostly—while the rest of the floor was littered with moss, lichen, and dried leaves. The walls of the cave were full of small cracks that held various forms of plant life, including flowering plants, herbal plants, and regular forest greens. Sweet and bitter scents mixed in the air, brought on by the plants when they bloomed, and also when they were cut. This was the work-space of a medicine man, often referred to as a shaman; a healer and a spiritual guide, hence the herbs, poultices, and mysterious aura.

 

This specific work-space was currently occupied by two young men; the shaman himself and one of his patients. Laying on the floor was a toned, muscular man with messy brown hair that touched his ears and dark blue eyes that could barely be held open; his breathing was shallow and fast, his expression contorted in pain. His lower body was covered by one of the animal pelts, his chest bare and exposed as the shaman used a thinner rabbit skin—unfurred, of course—to clean the blood from the large, gaping wound across the man’s pectorals. By the shaman’s feet—he was kneeling beside the man—was a small man-made pool of water that was refilled every day. The shaman dipped the skin into the water repeatedly in a mechanized way, his face blank as he carefully wiped away the blood. At one point the rabbit skin grazed across an exposed nerve, causing the man’s body to arch and a hiss come from between his lips. The shaman calmly placed a hand on the man’s abdomen and held him down, his touch cold against the injured man’s skin.

 

“Quiet,” he murmured in a soft voice, one that resembled a whisper. The man responded immediately to the gentle command—a shaman’s word was law in their tribe, followed even by the chief—and forced his body to remain still. The shaman let out a quiet sigh and pulled both hands back, laying the rabbit skin on the side of the pool. He then stood and crossed the cave with rather elegant strides, his long legs carrying him swiftly across the ground. The black wolf pelt around his shoulders fluttered at the movement; the pelt was one of the many symbols of his position as a shaman.

[b.lueeyes]

Bright eyes scanned the area, taking in the shrubbery of the landscape, the sounds of wolves howling in the distance like family calling him back. He was in the centre of what he called Hunter territory, practically prime territory for both hunting and being hunted. The best of prey, the best of predators...or the worst, depending on what they attacked. Kaan knew he could make his way through this area without detection by the majority of higher-predators; sabres, bears, and some others, but the wolves...no, they knew him and they knew his methods. Not that they would attack him...not most of them anyway.

 

Wolves in the area had learnt by now that he was not one to be attacked. Kaan was more wolf than man really, he kept to himself, respected the packs, left what he didn't need to the pups. The wolves knew...that those who attacked him ended up as pelt.

 

He slinked through the undergrowth, passing over one of the larger trails that had been carved through the area after hundreds of wildebeest migrations. Kaan's dark hair fluttered around him as he leapt down, fully intending to cross the paths.

[SqueezeBabe]

Tyr had woken up several times during the night to check on his young patient and was pleased that it seemed that he was at least still breathing evenly. His skin hadn't warmed up to indicate fever or infection yet, but the young man wasn't out of danger yet. He would be sleeping for a few days at least, and it would be easy enough to get his acolyte to help look after him from then on, washing down the sleeping body, changing the furs around him, mixing the medicines and helping the unconscious man ingest some sort of fluid. That was going to be the difficult part, if the patient couldn't or wouldn't swallow properly, they'd have to spend hours trying to trickle water into his mouth, taking pains to makes sure he didn't choke.

 

As dawn came, the sounds of people waking filtered down to where Tyr was. With a sigh and a groan he roused himself. He'd have to go out and reassure the patients family that their boy was indeed still alive. He sifted through the pouches of herbs that he had; he'd put together some tea, some Chamomile and Lemon Balm to calm them, some mint for taste, he'd put in a touch of Valerian to help them sleep, no doubt they hadn't gotten much of that either. He crushed the leaves in a small stone bowl and took it with him.

 

He was right about the parents being frantic with worry, and he did his best to reassure and calm them, serving them the tea and promising to ask the Spirits to intercede on behalf of their son. He didn't lie to them about their sons condition, stressing that it would indeed be a miracle if he survived, and even more of a miracle if he wasn't completely crippled. The tribe itself was well off enough that it would be able to support their son if he was, but there would be stigma attached to his injuries that he'd have to do his best to smooth over. He spoke with the Spirits often enough to know that sometimes accidents did happen, and it wasn't always a result of being cursed or angering them.

 

He left the parents and returned to his patient, at least he'd be able to meditate close by, though he preferred to do it out in the meadow; if something went wrong, it would take him too long to get back, so whilst his patient was still unconscious, any praying would need to be done by his side. His acolyte was awake and preparing his morning tea when he got back. He gave the boy a tired smile. Now that the boy was up, he'd be able to get some much needed rest, trusting his acolyte to wake him if anything happened. He gave the boy some instructions and bedded himself down in his furs once more.

[InkompleteWish]

The light was still far away. To far to be able to reach it, yet still in sight. It was taunting Tooga. He knew that he could reach it if he would be able to move but he was bound. Bound by the darkness that wanted to drag him even farther so that he will not see the light again. Till now, he was able to idle in the position he was in. He wasn't drifting towards, neither farther away from the light. It was soundless and cold. Almost unbearable. Yet he could fantom that he was in the space between the living and the afterlive. His slowly beating heart told him so. *tha-thump tha-thump* it went, not slowing down or picking up. Yet it was faint, signaling his proximity to death. It was alluring to just close his eyes and let the steady rythme of his own heart guide him further into the darkness till it stopped. Yet he was to fixed on staring towards the blinding light far away. Tooga wanted to reach it, have his parents arms close around him and tell him everything is fine.

 

Reality is different though and even though he wanted to survive, deep inside his mind resided the thought that he wouldn't be able to hunt anymore. That he would merely be a burden to the tribe, one more mouth to feed. He did not think about the other possibilitys he could take. Collecting, crafting, fishing. There were so many jobs in the tribe that he would be able to keep his pride. In his state however, he wasn't thinking about them that much. It only mattered to live or to die. And he would love to live his life. Nevermind the consequences. They will be dealt in due time. His lingering was short lived however as he felt a coldness creeping up his right shoulder (the one which is wounded). It was pulling him deeper into the darkness and he felt his body growing numb. //No....NO!// he struggled. Death would not take him this day and even if it did, he would never accept that fact. Maybe he will return as a spirit, it was a common believe that the most strong willed people of his tribe would be resurrected as spirtis to help guide the living.

 

(outside his mind, so basically his real body acting)

 

A light groan can be heared from the still person. Followed by whimpering and tossing and turning as well as mumbling. The person startede shweating and he turned his head now and then in an attempt to shake something away. He was trapped in a nightmare. Due to the wounds it was natural that he would get nightmares since the pain would cause these illusions to be created. It was often followed by a fever if not taken care of immediately.

[Teesie]

Fang studied the figure ahead, noticing that it was a wolf. This could be dangerous seeing as those creatures came in packs. That was a situation that Fang was trying to avoid. Glancing around the area, the red head gave a sigh of relief once noticing that the five of them weren't surrounded. Placing a hand in his pocket, he watched as the wolf continued to trail along, not knowing that they were there. Moments later, the group began to slowly move, retracing the path that they had followed once before. It would lead them back to their base, the area where they had set up camp.

 

The path was clear for a while, the only sound being the steps of their footsteps, although soft. Fang was unsure how long it would take to leave the den of the carnivores, there could be no camping in such an area, it was just too dangerous. Breaks were needed frequently to keep their energy up, so now would actually be a good time to do so.

 

"Ok we stop for a break for now. We need to refresh ourselves to keep moving. It wouldn't be good if any of you slowed down." Setting the bag onto the floor, a small amount of fish lingering inside. It was surely cold by now, but it was still something to eat. "You all can get as many as you like, we should have more by tomorrow." Hinting at the group having to hunt for more food, just in case. There was no particular movement, besides the other's reaching for something to eat, but Fang didn't care much. The need for a drink was what pulled a sigh from the leader. He would have to quickly go find some, the rushing of water sounding like heaven to his ears.

 

"You all, I will be back. Seems like I'll have to travel to get us something to drink."

 

"You can't expect to go on your own, right?" The youngest of the group, Emmi, asked. She wouldn't let the leader fend for himself if he happened to get into a battle. "I'm coming along as well then." The red head stared at the girl for a moment, admiring her bravery. Giving a small nod Fang shrugged before beckoning the teen to follow him..

[BlaqueCatt]

Not wasting a moment of time, the young shaman knelt by the western wall of the cave and picked up a large, slate-like rock from the ground in front of him. Beneath the stone was a storage-place that held various dried herbs, bandages made of skins, and other medical equipment. The shaman tilted his head slightly, his eyes scanning the contents briefly before settling on what was needed. He reached into the hole and pulled out a very thin stick of bone with a hole at the thicker tip, a few strands of tough thread made from plant fibers—the same thread used to sew clothing—and a thin but sturdy wrap of deer skin. He also took a few large green leaves out as a last-minute decision. He used his foot to nudge the stone back into place before making his way back to the near-unconscious man lying in the middle of the room, his light footsteps barely making a sound.

 

The man cracked open his left eye when he felt the shaman take a seat near him again. He opened his mouth to speak, but no words would come from his dry throat. The shaman looked at him with sympathy in his eyes, but did not move to give the man water. Instead he dipped the bone-needle into the pool of water, swirling it around for a moment, his gaze distant. Then he put the needle in his lap and took the green leaves in his hands. He brought the leaves to his mouth and chewed them with practiced skill, making sure they had become a suitable paste—not lumpy—before spitting the contents into his hand. He rubbed the needle into the paste, sanitizing it, then applied the remains to the edges of the gaping red wound. The man drew in a sharp intake of breath at the feeling; it was burning hot at first, then became cool and soothing. The shaman’s lips twitched into a half-smile before the look vanished completely. He placed a hand on the man’s forehead in a gesture of comfort before, without warning, jabbing the needle into the side of the wound.

 

Now the man was vocal, and he screamed like the wounded animal he was; the shaman narrowed his eyes and turned his body so that he was sitting on the man’s legs, keeping him in place. He said nothing as the man whimpered and sniffed, ignoring the tears trailing down his face as his own steady hands stitched the wound. When he was finished—knowing the area was tender—he gently blew on it in to relieve some of the pain-induced burning and leaned back to study his work. Satisfied that the man was not going to die at that very moment, he took the deer skin and began to wrap the wound; there would be serious consequences if the stitches came undone before the man was fully healed.

[BlaqueCatt]

{Bump}

[SqueezeBabe]

(Skipping

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- is ok hun, you just write more when you get back.

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, it's back on!)

 

 

He hadn't had his eyes closed his eyes for very long, he was sure of it; he probably hadn't even gotten that much actual sleep, but his mind's eye opened and he found himself in the Spirits realm, where he often went to commune with them whilst he was meditating. He looked about through the swirling mists, wondering why he was even there; it was very rare that the Spirits brought him here without some serious preparation before hand; the meditation and fasting was very important. The Spirits were not to be taken lightly, and if one attempted to enter their realm without the proper preparation, then they ran the risk of being lost forever, their mind totally consumed and their body left as a drooling husk.

 

Tyr cast his mind’s eye about, looking through the swirling mists for the Spirit that summoned him. He felt the presence, even if he didn’t immediately see it, and the deep voice resonated through his being.

 

“You need to save him.”

 

Tyr frowned. It wasn’t a voice that he was familiar with, but he couldn’t deny the power that reverberated through the mists. “I’m assuming you mean Tooga. I’ve done everything I can, the rest is up to the Spirits.” The voice cut through the mists once more, “It’s not enough, he will still die, you need give him your life force.” Tyr was confused by this, “My life force? Do you mean my blood?” The mists swirled and the voice was silent. “Wait! What do you mean?” Tyr protested but it was to no avail; the mist continued swirling until he was left with the darkness inside his head.

 

His eyes opened and he blinked a few times. The noises of the cave filtered through to him as he slowly wrestled with his consciousness, but one sound was more prevalent; the moans from his

patient. Tyr groaned as he got up, he didn’t feel like he’d gotten any sleep at all despite closing his eyes. Communing with the Spirits was not something restful. He looked about for his acolyte but it seemed the boy had joined the rest of the cave in their daily activities. He poked at the embers of the fire and fed it a few wood shavings, building it back up so that he could once again boil some water. He’d need to make more tea and check on the poultices that were covering Tooga and did so whilst mulling over the words the Spirits had spoken.

 

Life force? There were many things that could be considered as “life force”, the blood that flowed through his veins was full of life… he pondered this further as he began preparing the herbs for new poultices.

[InkompleteWish]

Tooga continued to groan and twitch. The darkness around him has changed making place for a new scenery. The forest he had been hunting in earlier. Was he seeing his dead again? But no, the great cat stood still before him, it's red feline eyes boring into his very being. It opened his with sharp and bend teeth clad mouth, a slow and dark sounding voice surrounding both of them. "You have a strong will human....but no normal medicine may save you from what I have injected into you." it spoke, the saber-tooth's cat eyes gleaming. "It is fun to see you fragile humans struggling with their life and thus I wanted to relieve you of that burden but it seems.....you were quite a bit stronger than I thought." the dark being spoke, making clear that the beast he had slain was, or rather, is an evil spirit. The earthly shell has been destroyed by his own hands and it seemed like the dark being had taking a liking to his body. "You will make a fine spirit. But not a good willed one like you want to become." it said, dark chuckles starting to grow in volume until it turned into evil laughing.

 

Tooga was not able to speak but he was refusing the evil spirit. The laughter didn't die down and the once beautiful forest scenery was growing dark once more. Dark mist was crawling it's way towards him and the beast's body slowly disappeared into the awaiting mist. "There is no escape......you are mine." it echoed around him. Tooga wanted to wake up, to just forget everything that happened. He wanted to be freed from this pain he was feeling. He didn't want the coldness, he wanted warmth. "S-someone. P-please! Help me! Spirits please!!" he pleaded, having lost a bit of his hope to escape from this place on his own. The darkness was crawling closer again, wanting to take him to the underworld. Tooga wasn't able to fight on his own, he needed help!

[BlaqueCatt]

The shaman paused when he felt the man’s breathing even out, a sign that he had finally lost consciousness. The shaman sighed once again and got up off of the man’s legs, gathering his supplies and returning them to their place. He made a mental note to give the man water and an herbal tea to help with the pain and swelling around the damaged tissue. He decided to leave the man in the middle of the room—it was too much trouble moving him to the men’s sleeping quarters in his condition—and settled down against the wall across from the supply hole to rest.

 

His rest was cut short, however. As soon as the shaman’s eyes closed, there was a swishing sound by the doorway; someone had pushed aside the flowering lichen curtain and entered the cave. It was a sign of disrespect to enter uninvited—it was customary to wait outside—which meant that only one person in particular needed to speak with the shaman: his father, the chief of the tribe.

 

“Misha?” a gruff voice called out, sounding echo-like. The chief was a big, burly man, standing at six-foot-five in height and weighing over three-hundred pounds; most of the weight, however, was muscle. He was the size of a brown bear and had the temper of one, always quick to argue; he was fight first, ask questions later, the exact opposite of his son. His strength was looked upon with awe by the people of the tribe, and his wife was continuously told how lucky she was. Misha, though, knew first-hand that being the family of the chief was not easy; there was much to be expected, and despite the fact that the chief was kind to his people, he was strict and traditional with a narrow-minded view; again, the opposite of his son.

[Teesie]

Fang trailed toward the noise of the rushing water. He wished that the stream wouldn't be too contaminated or else this would be a blank trip. Emmi stayed beside the leader, listening for any noise besides that of the moving stream. After a while, the two was presented with the sight of an open field with a steady flow of clear water racing off into an even bigger lake. "Well, looks as if we made it here without any problems." Fang began, hoping to start a conversation between the two to remove the awkward silence. The only answer that was given was that of a hum. It was quite difficult to communicate under such circumstances, the youngest being a bit fearful of what could happen.

 

Emmi was quite good with her weapon of choice and could sure enough fight off a wolf or two; albeit she always felt uncomfortable and less safe without the whole tribe. "I see that you aren't into much of a conversation." The red head voiced, bending down to dip a container into the body of water.

 

"I would rather not sir. I just wish you would hurry so we can get back to the others. I don't feel quite safe with just the both of us. The man glanced back, the plastic object being pulled away from the wet substance and tightened to hold the liquid inside. "Hm, I see." Taking out yet another container. Fang couldn't blame the other girl. Even he, as the leader, was unnerved at points. It wasn't necessarily a good area they were in; so it explained the situation. Sometimes Fang wondered would he ever run into other human as himself. Ones who were willing to help and not fight him off.

 

"Sir Fang....we have a problem." She whispered as her fingers tightened around her weapon. Two wolves were heading their way; there was no escaping the creatures path of wrath. The leader glanced up, quickly closing the bottle and placing it against the ground. The two now had a fight on their hand.

 

"Make sure to pay attention. I don't want you getting hurt."

[SqueezeBabe]

He'd changed all the poultices; they were hot and sticky with the fever and infection. He shook his head in disgust as he threw them into the fire, wrinkling his nose at the acrid smell they gave off. He wiped the young mans fevered brow with a soft pelt that had been soaked in the icy cold water of the river. As he watched the young man struggle with the fever within him, his mind raced with all the possible herbs he could use, systematically discarding them; the patient was now too weak, and the cure could possibly kill him, but Tyr had to keep trying everything until there was no hope left.

 

His mind went back go his encounter with the strange spirit. "Life force". Tyr had tried animal blood, trickling the dark red drops between the parched lips of his patient, and when there was no change except to see him worsen, he'd tried his own. This had slowed the downward spiral, but the young man was still dying, and would die if he didn't figure out the riddle the Spirit had left him. As we watched the rise and fall of the chest that struggled to draw in air, he settled into a trance; his hand on the young mans forehead and began to breath for him, giving him precious minutes.

 

A sound filtered through his concentration; one of the infants was screaming as if it's life depended on it, and perhaps in a way it did. It got Tyr thinking of possibilities he hadn't dreamed of considering as options. He drew the line at sacrificing another life to save one. The Spirit's ways were mysterious but certainly did not involve death magic; he didn't worship those Spirits but instead fought to protect his tribe from them. The squalling infant grated on his already frayed nerves, interrupting his train of thought. The crying stopped abruptly; the infant had obviously been given a nipple, life-giving milk... the Spirit had specifically said his life fluid, but he was a man and obviously didn't make milk for infants...

 

The idea seemed absurd, but it was the only thing he hadn't tried. His "milk" might not feed and nourish, but it definitely created life. Adjusting his furs he began to stroke himself to hardness until his hand was moving slickly along his flesh. His breathing quickened to match his pace and before long his body jerked and he filled his hand with the sticky white fluid that helped to create life. He opened the youth's mouth and slid his fingers inside, wiping the still warm cream along the tongue and forcing him to swallow. He watched the youth carefully, looking for any signs of change. Was he breathing a little easier? Did his cheeks look less flushed from fever?

 

Tyr was overcome with weariness, and he dragged his sleeping furs closer to his patient before falling asleep once more. Would he meet with the Spirit once more? Would the young man survive? Only time would tell if he'd interpreted the Spirit's message correctly.

[InkompleteWish]

Tooga continued to silently scream in the dark place, the echo of the evil laughter still ringing in his ears. It was pure hell; he got the feeling he burns. The pain was unbelievable, so death felt like this? Just pain and darkness? But no, the evil being made it like this. Surely death wasn't this 'evil'. The great spirits protected them after all. They would make sure that every being would make it to the other side safely. But if an evil spirit has sneaked inside the dying being then of course it would make death as painful as possible. It was just in their nature to torture them.

 

It took a long while before Tooga felt a pull in his heart. Making it thump faster and faster. He felt energized and felt life returning to him. "No! Despicable humans, they have informed the spirits of this. I shall wait for my time again until then I will give you the freedom you seek human. But just you wait." the evil being spoke in an eerie voice and vanished into the darkness. His cold body slowly warmed up, he could feel his fingers and his face again. Tooga flexed his body out of reflex. The life.....it was returning, he felt warm and welcomed. The spirits really did help him, probably over a shaman. Now....he just needed to wake his physical body up, to make it move. To make it live again.

 

- (Time skip) -

 

It took nearly all night for Tooga's body to return to normal. The fever was nearly gone; the pain was still there though. In the first morning rays that shone onto his face, he cracked his eyes open getting blinded by the light for just a moment. The young hunter blinked several times and turned his head. Only to come face to face with their tribes shaman. Tooga knew him but not personally. Until now he hadn't needed the shamans help but now he was more than just grateful to him. It seemed like the other took care of him, the shaman seemed exhausted. It was probably a battle to help Tooga survive, as much as it was a battle for Tooga himself. Though the hunter wanted to move and thank his saviour, he wasn't able to. Just a mere move of his right arm shot pain into his brain. Neither could he talk because of his parched throat. The only thing he was able to speak was a low grunt.

 

Obviously his body was damaged but he did survive. It was a miracle and Tooga was more than just overjoyed. A lone tear dripped down to the ground. He was just so happy to get another chance. To live with the tribe and his family. In that moment, the hunter decided to repay the shaman. The shaman that did everything to save him from the evil spirit. The other didn't get much sleep or rest because of him. It was only fair to Tooga that he will do something for the other because of this. Loyalty and gratitude were one of the many traits in the tribe. A hunter could only feel whole again if he thanked his helper good enough. And the fact that he was saved from death would mean to help the shaman for the rest of his life.

[Teesie]

Fang sighed, watching as the lance was repeatedly stabbed into the side of the wolf, blood gushing from the wound. Emmi groaned as she snatched her weapon back once more, giving a smile as she faced toward her leader.

 

"Phew, that was easy. We need to go back to the group before we run into more trouble."

 

"Yeah." The red head replied, taking heed of the girls advice, but not before quickly filling more containers; which Emmin wasn't agreeing with.

 

TIME - SKIP

 

The group was finally out of the wolf's den, traveling a trail that was unknown to them all. Shinji, being the first in a while, opened his mouth to speak.

 

"Leader, shouldn't we stop for rest once more. We've been traveling for the last nine hours and I don't mean to sound needy, but...I'm I need of some refreshments. I spotted a cave up ahead and was wondering could we take shelter there for the time being. My wife can no longer keep up. She shouldn't have been traveling this long."

 

Fang turned to regard the husband of Maribelle's and nodded. The leader was unaware that they had been traveling that long. Maribelle surely needed some rest, most of all.

 

"I apologize for such a long travel. Lost track of time. Yes, let us take shelter."

 

 

 

 

 

 

[BlaqueCatt]

Misha opened his eyes and turned his head to look up at his giant of a father, his well-adjusted eyes able to see the man’s figure clearly in the dark while the chief struggled to make out his own hand. “I’m here, father,” he said in his naturally quiet voice, pushing himself to his feet and gliding over to him. The chief grunted and reached out with his hand, waving it around until it touched the young man’s shoulder, making said young man wince; his father’s gentle touch was equivalent to the touch of a mountain lion.

 

“Aha, there you are!” he bellowed in a voice so loud it made Misha’s ears ring. “How is Golo? Is he still able to hunt?” Misha rolled his eyes; his father was always straight to the point, which wasn’t always a negative thing, but he had no idea of how to be comforting. The shaman allowed his father to usher him out of the cave and into the bright light of the early evening. In this new brightness, Misha’s features became much more distinguished: his body was lean and lithe, built for a runner more so than a fighter; what he lacked in muscle he made up for in his speed and agility. He was not thin, but his build was smaller than most men, and he only stood at five-foot-six, his weight no more than one-hundred-thirty pounds. His eyes were a startling pale green color, complementing his straight, glossy black hair that reached just past his shoulder blades; it was always tied back in a ponytail that draped over one shoulder, his front bangs touching just above his eyes and his side bangs going past his ears and touching his chin. His skin was paler than the tanned tones of his fellow tribe-mates, as he spent most of his time inside his work-space, away from the sun’s rays. His face, plain and simple at first glance, was often creased by lines of thought or of curiosity.

[SqueezeBabe]

Tyr was exhausted, even in his dream state he was exhausted, barely having the mental strength to navigate through the mists. He called out, even his inner voice sounded feeble and weak to his own ears, "Will he live now?" The void was silent, it felt empty to him, had he over-exerted himself that much that he couldn't feel the spirits anymore? The thought sent a wave of terror through him, fear clutching at his heart. If he couldn't be the Shaman, then what would he do? He reached his hand out desperately through the void, seeking... searching...

 

A tendril of warmth caressed his outstretched fingers, a soft lilting, feminine voice spoke to him. "You've done well Shaman, the boy will live, your tribe will prosper in ways you never imagined..." As the voice faded, the warmth gently pushed him from the void and back into his own mind, "Rest", the whisper felt rather than heard, and before he fell into the truly deep sleep of the exhausted, he couldn't help wonder why the Spirit that had spoken to him was a woman.

 

When he did finally awaken, the cave was dark and silent. Had he slept for the whole day? He looked over at his patient with concern; he was pleased to see that his acolyte had stepped up and cared for the young man whilst he was asleep. The poultices looked fresh, the young man himself seemed much healthier, his face no longer flushed with fever, his breathing easy as he slept peacefully. Tyr got up quietly, noting that his acolyte had even set aside a fresh cup of water and some dried meat for him to eat. As he chewed on the meat slowly, he looked back over at the crippled young man. What kind of future would he have now that he couldn't hunt? Would the women teach him how to craft? Would he be happy making weapons for the tribe to use? The important thing would be to assure him that he was still useful to the tribe; that no one would make him leave... Tyr himself would take him on as a second acolyte if he had to.

 

He washed the last of the meat down with the rest of the water, before easing himself back into his furs. Dawn would be a few hours away, and whilst nothing required his immediate attention, it would be good for him to get more rest. Now that his patient was going to live, he needed to address the Festival and the First Hunt.

[InkompleteWish]

It wasn't long before Tooga fell asleep again, this time without any dark 'dream' invading him in his sleep. The hunter was finally able to rest both, his mind and body. Though he had slept almost two days now probably he was still pretty tired. The evil being had left his body, at least Tooga wished for this. It did say that it would return. He just hoped that it was gone from his body. But now was not the time to be thinking about the future. Tooga had to think about the present. First he had to replenish his power and then he had to search for an activity to help the tribe. The hunter was sure that many would help him in his search. Weapon crafting, collecting berries and other things. Tooga was sure that he could find something, but it didn't ease the pain that he could probably never hunt again. He had been trained in hunting his whole life and now he had to change it. It was a hard step but one Tooga was willing to take. The tribe was keeping together, only other tribes might see him as a disgrace. And he could live with that. As long as his tribe didn't push him away....

 

(I hope a time skip to the next morning is okay. )

 

Morning soon came and Tooga willed himself to open his eyes. The light slowly crept through the openings on the cave entrance and filled him with life. Soon enough an acolyte made his way towards him and asked him how he felt. He was immediately taken care of. Tooga got some food and fresh water to ease his parched throat. The shaman was still asleep next to him so both of the younger males talked with hushed voices. The acolyte told him of the hunt and what happened afterwards since Tooga was near death. It stung to know that he caused his tribe so much sorrow. He would love to finally move again but the acolyte as well as the pain kept him from it. Tooga just hoped that he will be able to move soon enough since always laying on the ground wasn't something the hunter liked.

[Teesie]

Fang and the group had finally reached the cave that was once in the distance. It was cozy, albeit a bit dark. Staying at the beginning of the cave would only leave them as supper for any passing predator, therefore the leader delved deeper in search of safety.

 

Of course when entering, the man heard whispers, despite that, he mistook it for his ears playing tricks on him. With a sudden stop, the red head squinted his eyes to stare at the small mass of light flickering in the depths of the cavern. Maybe there was someone else here. What other explanation could the sign of fire mean.

 

"Fang, are you sure about this? Maybe these could be other hunters. This place was rumored to have other people than ourselves. Maybe they aren't welcoming."

 

A shrug was given by the leader, the red head turning around to face Maribelle's husband. "I don't care. We need shelter. If times come for such measures, then well just have to fight for our saftey. It isn't anything we aren't use to by now." Once again advancing forward with caiutios steps. The light eluding from the fire got brighter, causing Fang and his tribe to ready their weapons, the leader's bow pulled as he stepped around the corner. Yep, there was definitely other people.