Night Watch Storytelling

[and be blue]

Night Watch Storytelling

These are the wee hours of the night; when the dark is enough to lay a blanket over the earth, the small sounds amplified and heightened by the uncertainty of what is making them. When a cricket's chirp carrying across the swamp to catch the ear of a young foal and send him shivering deeper into the mud. When a smudge across the sky catches the wide, newly-opened eyes of a young filly and leaves her aching to make something herself. When a doe and a buck, hopelessly in love for just one night, have finally come to rest and slump against each other in a tangle of tails and a flutter of crumbling leaves.

A small group of Kimeti has gathered into a cluster, tight enough that their flanks almost touch, that swishes of plumed tails are enough to brush fur against fur and startle youths halfway out of their skin. They have chosen a flat, rocky expanse of land near the Tidewalkers' home to stage their production, and behind them the winds whistle through stone.

Stories are heightened by the atmosphere, and stories are their goal: eyes lit-and-unlit flit around the circle, trying to determine who will make the first offering, who will break the silence with some great tale of romance or some flitting story of sorrow or an epic that leaves young Kimeti itching to get out and explore. It is not a contest, yet there is a certain sense of competition -- for the mere joy of being the one to hold the rapt attention of this ragtag and daring bunch, to prove oneself able to take the quiet and the dark and to stay awake til morning comes.  

[and be blue]

Raffle Event

This is a storytelling raffle event, meant to simultaneously give away two children of the Night Watch breeding and to help fulfill the 'storytelling' aspect of your Legendary prerequisites.

In order to participate, all you have to do is tell a story in character as if you are part of the above gathering. Please post an img of your uncert in the post to show who is telling the story, and try to echo their voice in the telling.

If you have no Kimeti who could be telling the story, then write as the Kimeti you'd some day like to own, so that you can save your tale for part of his or her legendary requirements.

Each Kimeti can tell one story, and newbies with none can each tell two stories, for two imagined Kimeti. Kiokote are also welcome in the circle. For each story told, you will get 1 ticket in a raffle for one of the extra Night Watch babies.

If you're looking for inspiration, or cannot come up with a good tale to tell, try looking toward the classics and reworking an old story into something new. Anything goes -- whether it be a tale out of Greek mythology, a story from ancient Japan, or some Shakespearean romance re-written for hooved creatures in a swamp -- so long as you put your own original spin on it.

This event will be open until Sunday, June 27. It will be locked the following morning, around 9AM EST.

 

[and be blue]

Ticketholders

1. face your demons
   
2. xelhaspixiestix
   
3. lostandtold
   
4. lady aria starstone
   
5. Daijonakain
   
6. dyslexic rat
   
7. silvershieldwolf
   
8. flayre the pyro girl
   
9. andraia

 

[xelhaspixiestix]

He figures that it's a good time for his story; Downpour talked about stars and separated loves, cold feelings and longing that surpassed everything-- it's close enough, a good enough opening, that Peeper leans forward, ducking his pale head forward so the firelight catches his eyes. “I know a story about stars.” He bounces (a small bounce) a little further forward, tipping his head back to look up. “I know a story about stars.” He says it again, rubs his chin against his foreleg, and starts for real.

“Once, when the swamp covered the world in every direction as far as could be seen from the top of the tallest hill, which was much taller than all the hills we have now put together as one, there was the most beautiful doe. She was as swift as the breeze, as cheerful as birdsong, and so beautiful that to look on her was to be gladdened, even when it was a rival doe doing the looking, or a buck she'd declined.”

He shifts on his hooves, aware perhaps that this is not the sort of story one would expect from him. Does! He doesn't much like does, even now. “But there was one buck who always found himself looking at her from afar, and while his love for her never wavered, it seemed to grow brighter and brighter in his heart until he felt like he was only a shell for his love for her.

“This buck was not the strongest, or the fastest, or the most handsome. He wasn't bright or clever, but he was steady and stubborn and he knew that he loved her more than any buck had ever loved any doe, right back to the beginning of everything.” He stamps a hoof, punctuating the sentence. “And one night, when the stars were clear but the moon was shadowed, and he saw that his love lay alone, sleeping under a willow, he crept to her and whispered a promise.

“He swore that he would bring her back a star, to prove his love, to show her that even though he wasn't the fastest or the strongest, even though he wasn't clever, he loved her more than any buck had ever loved a doe, and would love her like that forever, even if she hadn't been half so beautiful or swift or cheerful or sweet.”

Peeper shifts, the first non-bouncing movement he's ever made in public, and glances up at the stars again. “He traveled that night, creeping past the edge of the swamp while it was still so big that it covered everything, and ran for days on end. He went toward the rising sun, hoping to catch a star while it slept, before the darkness woke it and it rose to join the other stars in the sky.

“What he didn't know was that the doe he loved had not been so deeply asleep, and had heard him make his promise. She knew, when she couldn't find him in the morning, that he'd gone looking for a star for her.” It makes him smile a little, not a grin but just enough of a smile to show that he appreciates the irony involved, though many have accused him of being too shallow to understand the word.

“She waited-- long past the time when all the bucks who had wooed her had found mates for themselves and all the does she had been friends with had had children, and their children had had children, and their children had had children.

“She waited until time crumbled-- the swamp began to shrink in on the edges and her sight began to go dim from staring upward so hard, trying to catch sight of her lost buck, the one who had promised her a star and hadn't come back yet.

“When she creaked and knew that there wasn't much time left, she set off. She knew that it was a long journey, and she wanted her bones to lay beside those of the buck who had dared to go looking beyond the bounds of what they'd always known to prove that he loved her more than any buck had ever loved a doe.”

He shifts again, hoof lifting and then settling back in the print he'd left before, exactly, with no blurring. “She followed her heart; the road to him was inlaid on in it the hoof prints that he'd left behind the day he'd gone to find her star, as if the sun had baked the shallow mud he'd walked in until they lay perfect and whole inside of her. She walked, for her old bones could no longer run, and walked, and walked further, until she had walked up the side of the highest hill that had ever been, and was so close to the sky that her breath joined the clouds and cast shadows upon the swamp the same way they did.

“She waited until sunset, when the sky was orange and red and gold and the wisps of her breath caught the light and reflected it back at her, and watched the sky for her buck. She knew he was there. She waited, her head tipped back, until all the light had left the sky and the stars glowed bright and heavy, so close she thought that she could jump into the sky and catch them in her mouth, or knock them down with her hooves.

“And when all the stars had filled the sky above her, she rose to her full height and threw her head back and cried to the stars in a voice that was full of love, where is my buck? He went to find a star for me! O stars, have you seen my buck, the one who loves me more than any buck has ever loved a doe since before the beginning of everything?” Peeper throws his head back as she in the story does, rising slightly on his hind hooves so that for a moment he, too, is silhouetted as she must have been.

“And the stars answered, in their small cold voices, so that she had to listen as carefully as she could, holding her breath with hope. We have seen him, they said. O Doe, who is as beautiful as any doe has ever been, we have seen your buck. He came to us to find a star, telling us tales of your beauty and warmth, and we told him what we will tell you.

“O Doe, said the stars, leaning close together so that the sky blazed with light to her dimming eyes, There is only one way to find a star. You must shed your hooves, your tail, and your scales, and become one. She sat there, thinking, watching the stars wheel above her, but it only took as long for her to decide as it does for a frog to catch a fly.

“O stars! I wish to find a star for my buck, who is not strong or swift, bright or clever, but loves me as no other buck has ever loved a doe. Tell me how to shed my hooves and my tail, my scales, so that I can be a star for him as he is a star for me!” He settles his hooves, carefully, tail twitching in the dark.

“Dear Doe, they said, Sweet Doe, Beautiful Doe--- jump! This time, she did not hesitate, but gathered her hind legs under her and sprung forward, galloping as they told her and using the great boulder on the side of the tallest hill there ever was to fling herself high, high into the air, as high as any kimeti had ever jumped.

“The arc of her jump took her so high that the stars took her into themselves, and cut her shape out in the sky with her buck, overlapping, so that their lights clutched each other, together, forever running through the sky with their scales brushing, their cheeks touching, and their tails twined. They run there still, if you can find a hill high enough to see the stars so clearly that they feel close enough catch, or knock from the sky with your hooves.”  

[lostandtold]

Lightstream is the next to step forward, tilting her head in respect for Peeper, her dark hair falling over her shoulders. She’s normally a solitary doe, living alone with her clearings and her maps, but she has come just for this gathering. “I too have a story of the stars,” she says, “and of the great hunter and the great huntress.” All at once her normally absent voice becomes intensely focused on the here and now, on the dark of the night and the lonely stretch of rock.

As always, she looks up, at the countless stars scattered in the sky. “Once, when the world was still new and strange creatures teemed throughout the swamp, a mighty buck walked the Swamp. He was so tall that the deepest water reached only to his knees, and he was strong enough that the ripples from his steps disturbed fish that he could not see. He was a hunter, the greatest hunter, and he traveled south, hunting crocodiles and bears.”

She pauses, for a beat. “Until he met his match.

“For in the south dwelt the greatest huntress. She was so swift that she could run on top of the water, so cunning that she could outwit a fox, and she shone like the moon. She was a hunter, too, and she had spent her whole life in the northern swamp. She was hunting a crocodile when their paths crossed.

Suddenly, she rears and slams both front hooves into the rock, mimicking a killing blow. “He killed the crocodile -- her mark. Enraged, she attacked him, and for three days and nights they fought, until all living creatures had fled from the south, until they were both exhausted, and still, there was no winner. Then they agreed that the greatest hunter and the greatest huntress should not fight, but hunt together, and they traveled north.”

“But if he alone had been mighty, and she alone had been swift, then together they were devastating. They tore a path through the swamp as they hunted, and they destroyed almost every creature in the swamp.

“The creatures of the swamp cried out to the Motherfather, pleading for protection, and the Motherfather answered. There was no bear strong enough to battle the buck, no snake swift enough to fight the doe.” She lowers her voice to a foreboding whisper. “And so She created the scorpion.

“This was a scorpion as long as I am from nose to tail-tip. Its body was strong enough to withstand the hunter’s hooves, it was quick enough to confound the huntress’ steps, and the venom of its deadly sting was potent enough to overwhelm even these two. It alone could hope to match them.

“When it found them, there was another terrible battle, until the very waters of the swamp fled from the north, and the thunder of their blows was heard at the southern edges of the swamp. But in the end, the scorpion won.

“With two lashes of its tail, the greatest hunter and the greatest huntress were stricken. The scorpion itself, however, could not hope to heal its grievous wounds, and so it too laid dying in the midst of the battlefield.

“The other Kimeti came forth after the battle. They sang of his strength and her speed, and they asked the Motherfather to remember their might. The Motherfather agreed, and lifted them into the sky, forming their star-shapes. But to protect the other star-shapes -- for they were as mighty as stars as they had been as flesh and blood -- she lifted the scorpion to the stars, too, and throughout the seasons, it chases them from one side of the night sky to the other.” Lightstream tips her head up and back, towards the night sky, moving her head in a graceful arc, tracing the path of the star-shapes. “She then created smaller scorpions, and placed them in the swamp, as a reminder that even the strongest and swiftest of Kimeti must respect life.”  

[Aria Starstone]

Bright Forest Walker listened to the tales of the others, and then nodded a little. "My tale is not of the stars... But the heart of a place far from here, though still in the swamp." She glanced down at her hooves for a moment, then looked up again. "In this place, there is a large stand of trees, or perhaps a small wood... It is hard to say, really, which is a truer way to describe it. It doesn't truly matter, either. Once, however, that stand was small, merely a single, weak tree. It stood alone for many years, uncounted years, and clung on, but never seemed to thrive.
Nearby, a small tribe had made a home of one of the few semi-dry places. They eked out a living, though it could not be called luxurious. All worked hard to eat, to have water. They did not have much time to play, or tell stories. Only the youngest had time free, and they did not go far, for there was always a single doe who kept watch on them. So things continued for a long time, until one day, a young couple had their first sac. Just one, and it was hard to say if it held one or two babies within. The couple tried to hide that it bothered them, that they were not very fertile, and protected their sac with all their hearts.
Finally, their efforts were rewarded. The sac hatched and from within emerged two babies, a boy and a girl. They were strange, though, not really resembling their parents, nor were they identical. The boy was green, green as the freshest leaves of summer, with bright yellow eyes and deep green markings, so he looked like a walking leaf pile. The girl was brown, like the healthiest tree in the world, and her hide was marking to look like bark. Her eyes were pale pink, and her parents were saddened, seeing she was blind. Nonetheless, they cared well for their children. The boy's name was Whisper In The Trees and the girl was Silent Strength."
Walker took a short breath, pausing, as she gazed off into the distance, and sidled a little, then continued. "They were different, as might be expected, but her brother was a devoted protector of his sister. Strength, however, was adventurous, which worried her family... With no sight, how would she be safe? Nonetheless, they did what they must, and contributed to the tribe.
One day, while their parents were off searching for food, Strength and Whisper were being minded by a doe called Eyes See All. Strength grew quickly frustrated, for Eyes wanted her close, convinced the blind little doe would be in danger. She hmmphed, and refused to play, or eat when something was brought, just laying there, looking mad. Whisper, at first, tried to cajole her, but then decided, for once, to go play and leave her alone.
That night, when their parents returned with what they had found that day, they found something more. Whisper was still playing, but Strength... She was not there. How had Eyes let her go? Eyes proclaimed innocence, for she had seen Strength just moments before, right at her side! Whisper looked around, frantically calling his sister's name. Soon the adults were searching, for this incident upset them all.
When some one finally found her, she was beneath the tree that was not far, that weak little tree, and staring up at it. Well, so it looked, but of course she couldn't see. When asked why she'd gone off, she only said 'I smelled something, and it was me.' She would say no more, no matter how she was pressed. She was punished, of course, and for many months, Whisper kept close, never letting her stray from his sight.
Silent always seemed to yearn, in that time, for something. She would stand at the edge of the group, pointed towards the tree. When they grew old enough to begin assisting in gathering of food, she always seemed to try to go that way, but Whisper insisted she stay close, and he'd gather, she could help by carrying, or letting him know when she smelled something good.
So the time past, and they grew to adulthood. Strength never seemed to care about the males in their tribe, other then her brother, but Whisper began to notice the does, wondering if, maybe, it was time for a mate. He was torn by his desires, to protect, and to find a partner, and one day, that proved to be what distracted him to much." Here, Walker turned her gaze to sweep across the listeners, then focused on any eyes that seemed most caught. "Strength gathered her courage and wits and left, while he was talking to a lovely doe. She did not say a word, just slipped out, as Silent as she could be. She headed straight for 'her' tree, and settled down, building a small nest, just big enough for her to rest in, then lay her head on the root.
When Whisper realized she was gone, not with their parents or anywhere in the tribe, he knew she was at the tree. He headed for it, quickly, but found, to his shock... He couldn't find it. Or rather, he found a lot of it. Many trees, all looking alike were there. What had happened? He began to weave his way through the trees, finding no sign of Strength.
After a long time, he grew tired, so tired, and collapsed next to a tree. He did not notice that this one was different. It was strong, and had grown much larger then the others... Indeed, the only thing it was missing was an abundance of leaves. Whisper began to softly cry. 'Oh Strength, Strength... Sister, Twin, were have you gone?' As his tears dripped down, they splashed on the tree... And as each tear landed... A leaf appeared, green as his hide. Finally, he cried himself to sleep, unaware of what had happened over him.
He slept long, troubled by bad dreams, then suddenly he was woken by an odd feeling. What had woken him? He lifted his head and found himself covered in leaves. Leaves of yellow like his eyes. He looked startled, then looked up. The tree overhead was... covered in fall foliage, as were all the trees around. And they had all grown larger. What had happened? How long had he slept?" She gave a small smile, and then Walker nodded. "It was long. Months... He could see the changes that marked the season of fall. He looked around... And there was Strength. He started, and moved towards her.
She did not move, nor speak. When he touched her... He found she was as still as the woods, her body feeling like the tree her head rested upon. At that, he wept again, in greater pain... Until he heard a soft voice coming from the tree. 'Brother... Thank you for the gift of your love... Between us, the trees will grow, and prosper, and our tribe will have fruits and berries in great number, come spring. We need never again be so trapped by life. But for this, I knew I was born to give my strength.' A single flower burst into bloom on the tree, as leaves rained down, covering Silent Strength's form. The flower was as pink as her eyes, and beautiful. 'Be strong and show our people this harvest and live, live long... And remember that the strength of your heart was what made it possible for me to give us this gift.'
She went silent, and no matter how Whisper called, she didn't reply. He returned home, with a heavy heart. Their family and tribe greeted him with great joy, thinking both were lost. He told them his tale, and then waited.
Come spring, his sister's words proved true. The woods flourished. And he could tell which was the tree of Silent Strength, because it always held those flowers. The others had yellow or blue or purple, but never pink. He returned, regularly, gathering fruit. He lived many years, and had many children, but he never forgot his sorrow and loss. Finally, old as can be, he told his family good bye, and went into the trees, never to be seen again.
The tribe there say that in the fall, the sound of laughter can be heard in the tree at the heart of the wood, like two younglings playing... And the wood has never lost it's strength." Walker was silent a long moment, then said "This tale is told to remind us all to value those that we love, but not to hold them back, for we know not what wonders they can create." She nodded her head to whoever was next, leaving the air open for a new tale.  

[StarScarred]

A buck as liquid blue as rain steps into the clearing after the brightly colored doe finishes her own tale. There is a sense of calm and confidence to him, as he stands there patiently, that speaks of a buck older than his years. His voice, when he speaks, is deep enough to carry to even the furthest Kimeti in the circle-- and he begins:

“This is the story of Crane, the first winged bird. Crane was created by The Swamp to teach those birds without wings how to fly, as a messenger and gift from the creator herself for those wingless birds who sang so much praise to her in the days of Old.

Long, long ago in days too old for most Kimeti to even remember, birds walked the land and looked up longingly at the sky and the sun and the moon as many Kimeti do today. They walked on four legs, and their front legs were just like those they have now. Many of the birds from the Old Days adapted to live in trees, to get as close to the sky as they possibly could, and they learned to sing, and some even, to dance, in order to try and please She who lived, even then, amidst the stars.

Perhaps they thought that if they could only get the Mother to see how very much they longed to move across the sky as she did that certainly their wish would be granted. So they sang and sang, every morning at first light, every evening before the sun set, and all the hours in between their sweet birdsong filled the air-- yet they never came across anyone who claimed to be Mother Swamp. No one granted their wishes. Generations of their kind passed on throughout the years-- but the birds continued to sing as sweetly and as devoutly as ever. Every day and every night and all the hours in between, Mother Swamp heard her children singing. Finally, one day, a group of small birds very much like the songbirds of today were wandering along the edge of a stream, and came across a kind of bird they had never seen before...” Soul Drift's voice trails off for a few moments as he looks around at the glowing eyes of bucks and does before him. There is a calm steadiness to his voice, a calming expression in his face..

“You see, this bird did not stand on four legs as they did, but on two very long, and very graceful legs. It's neck, too, was long and graceful, and even it's beak. But where the creature's front legs should have been, were long, thick, strange limbs that the birds had never seen before. The strange new bird watched it's audience with knowing eyes, and suddenly lifted those strange limbs, beating them against the air and the water and-- oh! Up into the air it moved! The earth-bound birds could not believe their eyes! They watched in utter amazement as this strange bird suddenly took to the sky, watching with awe the graceful ease of it's movements until finally it landed again, next to their huddled group.

One of them, the bravest one, finally stepped closer to the strange and beautiful bird, and asked, as politely as he could, 'Why, we've never seen a bird like you before. Where do you come from? And how is it that you take to the air like the firefly or the dragonfly? We have sung songs of praise and longing to dear Mother Swamp for generations, back before my own grandfather's time, but we have never seen a bird fly before! Please, teach us how?'” The buck chuckles softly and tosses his head a bit at a firefly which had landed, ticklishly, against his sensitive nose before he continues.

”The strange bird cocked it's head at the little one and seemed to smile in a wise and kind way. 'Little cousin, my name is Crane, and I am indeed the first bird to be granted flight. These are my Wings, and I will teach you the knowledge that I know, and perhaps when I am done, the Motherfather will grant those chosen amongst you the gift of flight, and your children, and your children's children, until one day all of the Swamp is filled with birds of flight.' Crane beckoned with a turn of her head, and all of the little birds followed her to a dry place away from the muddy creek bank.

Well, Crane was a very charismatic bird, indeed, and as she began to tell them how she heard the voice of the Motherfather telling her to teach the other birds the way of flight in her dreams before she even woke up and viewed the Swamp for herself, all of the little birds crowded around. You see, the Crane was created from the Motherfather, and so was never laid from an egg, never hatched, and never knew the ways of being a little Chick-- but the Crane was indeed very wise, and very kind and knowing. The other little birds revered her as a friend, a mentor, and a confidant. So the Crane described to them her wings-- how the air and the winds carried her up to the sky, and the way the Swamp looked below. She told them to keep singing, for indeed She did hear their calls.” Soul does not pause, now, caught in the telling of his own tale, and the words pour out smooth and measured and easy to follow, but filled with meaning-- the voice of a Teller.

“Days and weeks, months and years passed. A few birds woke the next day, throughout this time, with newly found wings on their body, replacing their front legs! And with all of them, as she had promised, Crane taught them the ways of flight. One by one, she led them off tree branches and in the air as they struggled and learned, until all of them could take off without his direction-- and what a sight they made! Then, when the Chosen all had their wings, Crane retired from her job, though still lived among them. She took for her mate one of the winged Chosen, and they had very fine children indeed, many of whom took after her own shape and grace, and these too took mates of their own.

As she had promised, the Chosen all bore children with wings, and more and more the Swamp became filled with their beautiful, arcing forms as they darted here and there throughout the Swamp. Still, though, many of them continued to sing-- songs of thanks and praise to the Motherfather, for all that had been granted to them...” Finally the buck comes to a close, his tale ended, and looks around at the gathered kimeti, and his two familiars who, above all, seem the most pleased.

“That is the story of how the first Crane came to be, and how all winged birds that we know today learned to fly, and got their wings. It is still said today that the Crane is one of the most beautiful and graceful birds of the Swamp, fashioned as they were to be the first of the birds with flight, and that the Songbird, the mate which Crane chose for herself, has the sweetest song of all, and was perhaps the most influential in that ancient time before birds knew how to fly.”  

[Dyslexic Rat]

No Kimeti have graced my path as of yet, so this story is told through the eyes of a doe named Witch Hazel

The first Crane.....The first Crane. That was a great opening for her story. The tiny doe took a step forward, the story inside her giving her new found strength, like none she had ever had before. Raising her head, Witch Hazel met the eyes of all the other gathered to tell their tale.....to find some kind of pride again...or maybe even for the first time. Still Grass, Witch Hazel's mongoose, knew of the story about to be told, and snuggled up against his companion. He too, was anxious to hear what tale this small doe had to tell.

Taking another timid step forward, the feeling of the story inside Witch Hazel could no overpower the general timid personality of the smaller than usual doe. Taking a deep breathe, her head lifted again, this time, meeting the gaze of ever Kimeti, familiar, and pet alike with her silver eyes. "My story...." she said, the words seeming to flow out of her mouth like the wind does over a grassy field. "My story," she starts again, "is on the same theme as Soul Drift's, and speaks of the mongoose and his companions, paired with Kimeti in the swamp for the first time for survival." Glancing at Soul Drift, who had this calm strength about him, she bowed her head in recognition before continuing with the story.

"When the first Kimeti graced the swamp, deciding to live here and start families, there wasn't a lot of other places where they could comfortably live. There was something about the swamp here," she said, her head turning to the swamp they were standing at the edge of, feeling the others following her gaze, "something about this swamp that made them feel comfortable, safe, content." Taking a deep, shaky breathe, Witch Hazel continued.

"The Kimeti population grew and grew and the food supply became less and less. The Kimeti, so happy with their home, were panicked. How were they to survive here without food? Surely they would die, as many had already done before them, becoming one with the earth again." Her words seemed to have made the night seem darker, more quiet, much less safe. How ironic, that she were to speak of the very same swamp, but feel totally different. Still, she continued on, "More and more Kimeti began to die off and there was no food to be found. Even the strong grew weak, too tired and malnourished to hunt. All they felt they could do was wait....." The last word came in a sigh. "Just wait..." The damning tone of defeat in her voice made the night darker still, and the sounds of rustling brought chills to everyone in the group, it seemed.

"Some of the younger Kimeti, who still had hope that they would make it through the famine that seemed to be plaguing the swamp where they'd lived for so long now. They knew there had to be a way. Venturing out one day, they went in search of berries or something they could eat." Still Grass was now on top of Witch Hazel's back, growing more excited as the story went on.

"The younger Kimeti came upon a clearing, where the sound of a sort of chittering alighted on their ears. Deciding to follow the sound, they happened upon these furry things, later recognized as mongeese, that were eating a snake. A snake, of all things. How did they get them out of the trees? As they sat there watching, they asked themselves that question many times." Witch Hazel paused, clearing her throat and catching her breath.

"One of the younger Kimeti stepped on a branch, a loud snapping sound echoing through the forest. The mongeese pricked up their ears, saw the Kimeti, and ran. Why were they so afraid? The Kimeti did not want to harm them. The offending Kimeti stepped forward. 'We did not come here to harm you,' he said, his voice confident, but comforting to the frightened little animals. One by one, the mongeese popped their heads out of bushes and trees and eventually got enough courage to come back out in the open. They noticed how thin and frail the Kimeti were, and offered them some of the snakes they'd caught from the trees. Delighted, the Kimeti enjoyed their food and felt the hunger fade out of their minds and bodies." Witch Hazel heard a sound in the woods. Probably another Kimeti, too timid to become one of the circle, but curious enough to stay close and listen. Sighing, shivering against the wind that blew through.

"'Why are you so thin?' one of the mongeese asked, tilting his head to the side in a curious fashion. All the Kimeti looked to one another, waiting for one to speak. Finally, one of the bucks spoke up. 'Back in our home, the swamp, there is no food any longer, and our friends and family are dying off. We came here in search of food.' It was then that they realized how few mongeese there were. Only about a dozen, it seemed. 'Why are there so few of you mongeese?' one of the other Kimeti asked. Surely they had plenty to eat, with the ability to climb trees and the like. As if it were deja vu, the mongeese looked to one another, sadness written over their faces. 'Well,' one stepped forwards, 'We're awfully small, and the larger predators out there keep killing us for food. I'm afraid we are all that's left.' Sadness seemed to fall over the group like a blanket of down. It was then that they had the epiphany that would save both species." Witch Hazel glanced to everyone in the group. Sure, her story wasn't like Downpours, so heart wrenchingly beautiful and dark at the same time with morals and teachings to keep close. It wasn't like Peeper's or Walker's, speaking of love so strong that it lead to sacrifice. Hazel's story was simply about survival and making a companion along the way. No more. No less. But now was not the time to ponder over such things. The Kimeti before her were waiting for the tale to finish, to reflect, and to continue.

"The Kimeti and the mongeese alike discussed the idea that came into all of their heads. Finally, one of the Kimeti spoke. 'How about we come home to the swamp with you. You protect us from predators and we will catch snakes from the trees for you?' The mongeese nodded. The snakes in the swamp had more babies than the Kimeti did. Kimeti obviously couldn't climb trees, so there was an abundance of snakes to be had. After a while, everything was settled. The mongeese settled on the Kimeti's backs and they headed on their way." With the mention of mongeese riding on the Kimeti, Hazel turned her head to nuzzle Still Grass.

"The Kimeti and the mongeese worked together for many years, and in that time, both populations grew back to their normal size, and the bond between the mongeese and the Kimeti grew stronger and stronger." Witch Hazel bowed her head, signaling the end of the story. "If there were to be a moral to the story, which I doubt, it would probably be something like love your pets and familiars because they may very well save your life and others lives one day." Witch Hazel smiled as the Kimeti with familiars and pets around the circle showed their affection for each other. The story seemed to have reminded them of how strong their bond actually was, even though they couldn't talk together.

 

[SilverShieldwolf]

Moon Cloud was curious at what was going on and moved closer to hear. So the gray buck walked up behind Witch Hazel as she finished her story. “I have a tale to tell. It may sound have broken off parts of the story, but Walker has included part.” His quiet voice carried out all around as he stands a little taller. He slowly looks around, nodding to those that have told their stories. “My tale is..” he paused to look around again and then at the sky, “Is about the beginning of the Kimeti. It is something I heard while I was walking one night under a full moon.”

He rubbed his foreleg with his nose, letting his silence settle in before he started. He looked at the rocks they stood on and in a low voice began. “In the beginning the Swamp was a bare plain. All was dark. There was no life, no death. The sun, the moon, and the stars slept beneath the earth. All the eternal ancestors slept there, too, until at last they woke themselves out of their own eternity and broke through to the surface.” He dug some of the dirt, and watched the critters crawl around his hoofs. “There is a place called the Dreamtime and the eternal ancestors rose from there. They would wander around as animals, some in shapes we don’t even know now,” he glanced at them. “Sometimes the ancestors would be parts of two animals, and sometimes as part animal and plant. Think some of the Kimeti might be from these animals we don’t know about.” He flanks shifted at the thought, not that he was repulsed by the image, but it was something not for him. Moon Cloud knew he could drag this tale out if he wanted to, but he sensed others wanted to tell their tales also. So without further pauses, he continued, ”Two such beings, self-created out of nothing, were the Great Mare and Great Stag. Wandering the world, they found half-made animal beings. They were made of animals and plants, but were shapeless bundles, lying here and there, near where water holes and salt lakes could be created. The Kimeti were all doubled over into balls, vague and unfinished, without limbs or features. With great care the Great Mare and Stag carved heads, bodies, and legs out of the bundles. They made the faces, the tails and hoofs. At last the Kimeti were finished.” Moon Cloud made no wild movements; he just looked at each doe and buck as he talked. He insured himself that eye contact was made.

”Thus every doe and buck was transformed from nature and owes allegiance to the totem of the animal or the plant that made the bundle they were created from -- such as the plum tree, the grass seed, the large and small lizards, the parakeet, or the rat. This work done, the ancestors went back to sleep. Some of them returned to underground homes, others became rocks and trees. The trails the ancestors walked in the Dreamtime are holy trails. Everywhere the ancestors went some sacred traces of their presence -- a rock, a waterhole, a tree --were left for us to remember.” He smiled, for this next part makes him feel closer to the ancestors who may have made them. “You may think the story is over and maybe it is, but remember this: The Dreamtime does not merely lie in the distant past, the Dreamtime is the eternal Now. Between heartbeat and heartbeat, the Dreamtime can come again!” His voice gets deeper with the last part. He dropped his head, his sides heaving as if he ran, but his eyes stared to glow brighter.
 

[Flayre The Pyro Girl]

I have yet to walk the path with a Kimeti, so this story is told from the perspective of a doe named Lost Sunlight.

The dark Kimeti with the yellow starburst stepped into the ring of light cast by the fire. “I too have a story of the stars, though it is about their birth, and the doe who placed them in the sky.”

She closed her eyes, drew in a breath, and began. “Long ago, before the Motherfather blessed the swamp with Kimeti, the Sun met the Moon, and fell in love. The Moon was not impressed by the Sun’s radiance, for She far preferred the dark of the sky. And so the Moon turned from the Sun, and the Sun gave chase.

For many seasons, more than can be counted, the Sun and Moon circled the Motherfather, neither reaching their goal. Then, one day, the Sun called out to the Motherfather, who was creating the Kimeti. ‘Motherfather,’ cried the Sun, ‘if you would but hold the Moon for three days, I will bless your children. When they die, they will shine forever, a guiding beacon for those to come.’

The Motherfather thought this over, and agreed. When next the Moon came round, the Motherfather bade her stay for a while, claiming the Sun had had business to attend. The Moon acquiesced, and the Moon and the Motherfather fell into conversation. During this conversation, the Sun created a shining rope. When the three days were over, the Motherfather bade the Moon farewell, and returned to the creation of Kimeti. The Sun used the rope to tie the Moon to him, and though the Moon struggled, she could not escape.

Many more seasons passed with the Moon captive to the Sun, until she could no longer stand it. ‘Motherfather,’ she begged, ‘please hold the Sun for three days, while I escape this bond. In return, I will bless your children with knowledge of the heavens, so they can never be lost from you.’

The Motherfather agreed, and held the Sun for three days, conversing and complimenting, questioning and informing. At the end of the three days, the moon escaped the shining rope, and came before the Sun and the Motherfather with a copromise. For three days each month, she would visit the Sun, moving closer each night from her chosen resting place. After those three days, the Sun would allow her to leave, and keep away from her for three full nights once she reached home. The Sun agreed, and so we have the cycles of Sun and Moon.

Now the Motherfather had created the first Kimeti, and they had lived long lives, until the first died. The Motherfather called to Sun and Moon to remind them of their promised blessings, and so the Sun made the bodies of the fallen shine for all to see. The Moon blessed the living with her knowledge, and all was well for many generations, until a doe called Clear Eyes Wander discovered a problem: with such bright ancestors, the heat was drying the swamp quickly, reducing borders and turning great ponds to puddles. Clear Eyes Wander thought more many days, and finally approached the Motherfather with her solution: place the dead Kimeti in the sky with Moon and Sun, as beacons and guides. The Motherfather and Moon and Sun conferred on this idea, and so Clear Eyes Wander carried the bodies of past Kimeti to the highest hill, where Moon and Sun picked them up and placed the Kimeti among the heavens in patterns, so no future Kimeti would be without the knowledge to return to the Motherfather.”  

[Andraia]

There was a lul after the last story while kimeti though about what they had heard and what they would say. Sightless listened for the cues of someone about to begin but when the pause went on long enough she took the moment for herself. There was a story that Sightless has heard a long time ago, she couldn’t even be sure where anymore. She wasn’t sure what it was that had reminded her of it, and although it was not the story she had intended to tell, when it came to her turn it was the one she chose to share.

“In ancient times, when evil magic made the swamp was still barren and dusty, there was a powerful buck named Scarab Wings. He was a great ruler and kept the kimeti in his lands safe from all dangers. One day a monster came, a wicked kimeti with unearthly tallents. He wanted to be king himself and used his magical abilities to curse Scarab Wings to an eternal slumber. The people tried to wake him but nothing could and they were helpless to stop the wicked sorcerer from seizing power. When they knew that defeat was upon them the king’s strongest and most loyal followers snuck his body away to a cave where he would not be found by the usurper.

“The MotherFather saw how much the kimeti had loved their ruler and how much good he had done for Her people. She appeared before the party and promised that he would not sleep forever and that though the world may change around him he would stay the same.” Sightless took this moment to pause and adjust her position. Her leg had fallen asleep. “She waited many years before the opportunity came to wake him. In that time the magic that turned the swamp dry had been lifted and life became as it is now.

“There was a young doe named Not Forgotten and she was a very inquisitive doe. She would spend hours listening to stories of the past, imagining what it must have been like. The MotherFather led her to the cave where Scarab Wings had been hidden. When Not Forgotten saw the sleeping buck she nudged him with her nose and he awoke. Dazed and confused Scarab Wings tried to stand but could not because he had been asleep for so long that his legs would not work. She asked him who he was and he told her his story. She listened with rapt attention and ask him ‘Are you cursed?’ to which he replied ‘I think I am cured.’” Sightless looked around the group with her blind eyes.

“She stayed with him, gathered food for him while he was trapped by his own legs and tried to help him regain his strength. While she cared for him he would tell her stories about the desert, his childhood by the river and the brave kimeti he led into battle. As the days passed he got stronger and stronger until finally he was able to get to his feet. Now it was her turn to share her world with him. She told him about the dangers of the swamp and the beauties. To Scarab Wings nothing could be as beautiful as Not Forgotten.

“Days became years, and Scarab Wings was as strong as he had ever been. Together with Not Fogotten he roamed the swamp, filled with a new longing for life. In his rush he did not notice how Not Forgotten grew more and more tired. One night she did not come to his cave, like she always had. He waited and waited but she never came. Eventually he left to find her and when he did his heart was broken. Although he was no longer asleep he did not age and without his noticing how much time had passed, Not Forgotten had grown into an old Doe. She was as crippled and faded as he had been when she had found him, unable even to walk. He stayed with her, gathered for her while she was trapped by her own legs and told her his stories as he watched her strength fade away.

“She asked if he was cursed, he said he thought he was cured then rested his head beside hers and hoped that she’d forget the question.” Sightless paused, the story always left her feeling strangely hollow. “Eventually Not Forgotten’s energy left her entirely and she left this life. Lost and alone in a world he did not belong in Scarab Wings was doomed to live forever.”
 

[and be blue]

Rolling winner 1!

1. face your demons
   
2. xelhaspixiestix
   
3. lostandtold
   
4. lady aria starstone
   
5. Daijonakain
   
6. dyslexic rat
   
7. silvershieldwolf
   
8. flayre the pyro girl
   
9. andraia

 

[and be blue]

Rolling winner 2!

1. face your demons
   
2. xelhaspixiestix
   
3. lostandtold
   
4. lady aria starstone
   
5. Daijonakain
   
6. dyslexic rat
   
7. silvershieldwolf
   
8. flayre the pyro girl
   
9. andraia