Welcome to Gaia! ::

"Thank you kindly," Watch smiled, raising his head.

The blue and white buck stepped closer, stopping to look at every kin in the gathering. He recognized a few from stories told by his tribe. Owl Caller, the shaman; Longclaw, the Westfen leader. Stumping them would be difficult, but he loved a challenge. With a friendly smile, he began to speak;

I am what came before the Mother of the Glade,
I am the only thing that she never made,

I am faster than a Kiokote in flight,
I am more clever than an Acha is bright,

I am louder than the Kimetis' song,
I am braver than the Totoma is strong,

I am more poisonous than a plant that steals breath,
I am the only thing you can eat that causes slow death.

What am I?

With that question hanging in the air, he stepped back, giving the gathered time to think.

Watch chuckled, smiling at the invitation, nodding once more to Feverfew. It was nice, even more importantly, interesting, to be involved with the traditions of another tribe. He'd take the information gathered here and spin tales of the young kin's accomplishments.

"Not too difficult, no. I am a child of the Sun-Chasers, riddles and stories are our trade." The white buck smiled and paused, "But what of mine? Too hard? I'll share another if you wish."

"The Sun-Chasers?" Feverfew tilted her head at that, it was a name she had not heard before. "I've never heard that name, but clearly they are very talented. I can't make heads or tails of your riddle. Perhaps one of the others will be able too."

I'M ENTERING FOR DOE 3
Name Landfall
Proposed Role Gatherer
Short Personality She's snippy and sarcastic, occasionally being unnecessarily rude to the other members. But she does truly care about the wellbeing of the clan and all of its members, she just has a strange way of showing how much she cares. She also has a habit of rambling quite a bit If you happen to catch her in a quiet moment, though you might see that there's some emotional burden weighing her down.

Pilgrimage Her tail flicked behind her in a very deliberate manner, beating out an agitated rhythm as she waited for the two bucks to finish speaking. Some of us have important things to discuss with Longclaw, she thought, ignoring the fact that this other male had just returned from his own pilgrimage and probably brought back valuable information as well. It just wasn't as valuable as her own.

Finally, their conversation came to an end and Landfall didn't take the time to see if it looked like the buck was pleased with the results of his pilgrimage. She simply stepped right up to the clan leader without the slightest bit of consideration for someone who had been a fellow apprentice. There was no greeting, she went straight to tugging at the string around her neck until the satchel attached to it dropped to the ground between them and exposed the leafy plants inside.

"There's tons of it over by Little Neck. A bit out of the clan's territory, but I'd be willing to step past the boundaries for this stuff. Great for keeping wounds from getting infected. Also heard from another kin in the area that it's good for getting rid of fevers, but I wouldn't put too much faith in that. She looked a little-" Landfall paused to make a motion with her head before continuing, "Y'know? I might have mentioned there were giant gators in this part of the swamp, though, so we probably won't have to worry about her stepping on our land. Maybe...Can never really tell if stuff like that sinks in with those types."

Had she not remembered that the whole point of speaking to Longclaw was to complete her pilgrimage, she might have continued on in this fashion for quite some time. Thankfully, for him, she fell silent at this point, eyes locked onto his as she as patiently as she possibly could for his response.

I'M ENTERING FOR BUCK 4
Name Rift in Stone
Proposed Role Hunter
Short Personality Aloof and haughty, Chasm has no respect for the weak. When he encounters physical or mental weakness, he has an acid tongue and will not hold back his opinions on the value of weak kin in the swamp. He is especially critical when he meets weak kin who are not kimeti. They do not deserve the ground they stand upon. He can just barely tolerate the existence of non-kimeti in the swamp, and cannot tolerate weakness in any kin, not even in kimeti, so he absolutely believes that he is in the right to drive weak non-kimeti out of the swamp. In contrast, he can be extremely respectful when he witnesses examples of mental or physical prowess in a kimeti, though there is still something of distance in his countenance even then.
Pilgrimage
Chasm had set out on his pilgrimage knowing it was his duty, but not at all thrilled about the prospect of meeting non-kimeti. He kept his head high, but he did not interact much with other kin. Kimeti, to be sure, at least could elicit a greeting out of him, but no others. He had struck out with little inspiration, too stuck in his ways to afford much creativity, but that is, of course, what the pilgrimage is for: to grow and to learn.

And so, when Chasm returns to Westfen lands, he is a buck who has learned something, learned to grow even if his personality has not changed. He returns with a story, something he had never put much stock in:

Her name was Tatterhide, her pelt red as blood, with only a band of night about her face. She was her mother and her father, clever as well as strong. For now, she was but a young doe going on a hunt with her father for she had much to learn.

“Little Tatterhide, little one, learn to hunt, bide your time.”

Black Dog let his daughter lead the way; this was her lesson to learn afterall.

“Choose your prey wisely, do not be rash.”

It was with these words in her ears that little Tatterhide led her father off into the swamp until she scented her prey. She crept towards the scent, her father followed her on light hooves. She stopped when she was close enough to see her prey. Several body lengths away was a fat, sleek rox getting ready for winter.

She whispered, “That, father, will be our prey.”

Though Black Dog nodded, he seemed to be paying more attention to the dark expanse of water the rox was drinking from than the rox itself. “Go ahead then.”

And so, little Tatterhide dropped into a low crouch and wove her way, near silent, through the brush, careful of her hooves sinking into the ground.

Black Dog watched her go, eyes sharp and watchful, he would offer help later, corrections, to make her swifter, faster, more efficient, but for now, he was a silent observer.

Tatterhide tensed when she was close to the rox and right as she sailed at the clever creature, already moving to escape, the water exploded with a splash. A shot a crocodile gripping the rox with its jaws just as Tatterhide found purchase and pulled back.

Dragged partially out of the water by the sheer force of Tatterhide’s jerk, the crocodile twisted this way and that, rolling as it often did to tear its prey apart. The rox was dead, that was for sure. Now it was simply a fight between kimeti and crocodile to see who would get it. The crocodile released the rox and shot forward at Tatterhide. She was quick and managed to evade the strike, but she dropped the rox as well.

“Let it go, Tatterhide!”

But little Tatterhide was much too determined to let a crocodile steal her prey so before it could take the rox into the water, she dived forward, gripped the rox and gave a ferocious jerk of her neck, pulling the crocodile farther away from the water than it had already come.

Black Dog was wiser than his daughter was brash and though he kept telling her to let go and leave it, Tatterhide would not. Black Dog was not a coward, but he would not intervene for now; this was his daughter’s lesson to learn. Despite this, he worried for her; he did not want to see her hurt even though it would teach her a valuable lesson.

And so, he watched as she struggled, advising her when he could and trying to tell her to leave the rox to the crocodile.

She fought as hard as her body could manage, but she was small still, not quite full grown, and the crocodile moved in ways to conserve its energy while she fought with all her might.

Soon, she was exhausted and though she wouldn’t let go, her actions were not so quick and it seemed likely that if the crocodile so chose, it would get its jaws on her so Black Dog ordered her to come to him.

It was not often that her father ordered her to do anything, more often than not leading her to lessons and letting her learn them on her own. So when she heard the command, she finally gave in and let go, slinking to her father’s side, defeated. The crocodile watched the pair warily, rox gripped in its jaws.

Black Dog led Tatterhide in a deliberate show of turning around and taking slow steps away.

Satisfied, the crocodile lumbered around, twisting to face the water and took its heavy, crawling steps towards the water. Black Dog heard the turn and it was then that he turned back around.

“Watch, little one.”

And he charged, taking advantage of the crocodile’s blind spot; it could not see what came directly behind it at its neck. He was on top of the crocodile before it could react and struck out with a sure hoof, cutting into its neck. With another neat strike, the crocodile was still. Then Black Dog bent down, took the rox from the crocodile’s jaws and tossed it over to Tatterhide who caught it deftly out of the air.

He smiled at his daughter who smiled back.

“Know your enemies’ weaknesses, know you limits, and know when there is more than one way to achieve an end.”

And so, father and daughter returned to their resting ground, their prizes, a rox and a crocodile, gripped in their jaws.

Chasm finished the story without flourish. He simply bowed his head. This was his offering to the clan, wisdom within a story. And the wisdom that Chasm gained was a new respect for storytelling and art, though he would always be a hunter at heart.


(sorry this is even longer than the last! his offering is long... he just really tugged at my muse until I finally came up with a decent offering.)

Watch pauses, deep in thought. This riddle is new, not one he's heard before. His red-hooded eyes close and he breathes in. Moments later, they open, and he produces his answer.

"Correct me if I am wrong, but I believe the answer is air."

"The answer I believe, if I may be so bold as to interrupt, is a fish in a river."

Sky-Like-Burning nodded to the gathered kin, saving a smile for his fellow-tribe member (his son, his mind whispered though Watches does not consider it so). He had only been long enough to hear the riddle posed to Watches. His answer of air was fair, but Desert believed different. Air would not die, but a fish would without water and only the river runs, not the ocean where he knew Watches had been to before. Stepping further out of the shadows, Desert spoke, his voice deep and resounding, but with a kind of mirth that spoke of love and joy, "Greetings, I am Sky-Like-Burning, I hope that I too may be welcome to join this gathering."

I'M ENTERING FOR Buck 2
Name Notch
Proposed Role Gatherer
Short Personality
Notch is a resourceful buck who will go to many lengths to please those he's close with, and to aid his tribe. Though he is friendly enough, Notch doesn't have a very big mouth on him in that he doesn't really like to talk or ramble if it isn't necessary. On the contrary, he's a keen listener in many ways, both toward other kimeti and the swamp itself. He'll gladly listen to someone's problems just as easily as he'll listen to the birdsong in the trees or the subtle splash of a fish beneath the water's surface. It's not to say he has all the answers, but he'll happily give someone an ear and a shoulder if they're feeling down.

Unfortunately, despite his eagerness to do well, his somewhat spacey demeanor can slow him down at times. He also has a small love and penchant for making up small stories and rhymes.

Pilgrimage

Notch's ink-colored eyes turned themselves toward the horizon as the young buck trudged on through the muck. Though it had been several days since the beginning of his journey, the solitude had not begun to wear on him at all. Rather, it sharpened his senses, invigorated him. The swamp, as always, was lush with life, and he was eager to learn at least one of its secrets so that he could share it with the others. The knowledge would allow them to grow, even if only by a tiny increment, through his contribution.

What would that end up being, though? He had mentored diligently and already had a fairly impressive knowledge of the plants and animals that one often encountered in their watery world. What was good to eat, what might kill you. Notch had come to the conclusion that he needed to find something new, something that the other kin would be able to make use of. It would be no easy task, to be sure...

The brown and white buck wandered for some time, using the cool parts of the day to travel and resting when he grew tired or hot. He felt no real need to rush, especially when noticing details could make or break an important discovery. It was only on the fourth day that he made the beginnings of a wonderful find.

The path Notch had taken, meandering and unmarked as it was, had lead him into an area of uneven ground, low hills that were just slightly drier at the top, where pools collected in the divots between. It was close to evening when he stumbled upon the small cave. It was shallow, eroded into the hill, but it was not the hollow itself that attracted Notch so.

The branches from the trees above wound themselves through the muck, only to become bare again once they grew through the roof of the cave. On each bared root grew a long, thin mushroom, and many of them were kinds Notch had never seen before. The next few days would be full of new discoveries...

------------

"Red around the rim, your outlook is quite grim." Noth laid down the first sample he'd brought back, reciting his rhyme. He'd found the deadliness of that particular fungus by accident, after watching a foxbun nibble on the cap of one. They had been suspect anyway, growing at the very bottom of the cave.

"Yellow spots, mind is in knots." He had eaten one of them, in the name of knowledge. It hadn't smelled poisonous, but it had induced some effects that were...interesting, to say the least.

"If it's green at the stock, it's pain that gets blocked." the last sample was laid down, the one that had made his mouth go numb for the entire return journey.

Notch had marked his way back from the little swamp hollow with the hopes of finding even more mushrooms that might had some kind of medicinal aid, and he could only hope that his contribution would be meaningful to their tribe.