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--- campaigns:taika-daagru:2021-11-06 [2022-01-15 22:29] – typo corrected concavenator
+++ campaigns:taika-daagru:2021-11-06 [2022-07-17 00:12] (current) – Added stuff from the 5th of March pinkgothic
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 Giya looked calmer; perhaps she had expected this to happen since the beginning. In her experience, Merciful 'Au'a must have allowed far worse things. She stared deep into the hazy darkness, perhaps having already triangulated the source of the nearest voice. Why did she say nothing? Did she want to meet this fate, was this enterprise no more to her than an elaborate suicide? And yet, Kukri could see, though her throat would pass no sound, that Giya's posture was tightening, and her muscles were tensing under the coat.
+**pinkgothic**:
+The best plan perhaps was to sit tight and ready oneself for flight. Making too much of a fuss was just as likely to attract attention as it was to help them.
+Kukri considered it a good idea to keep a nervous eye on their provisions - if they did have to bolt, grabbing as many as was reasonable was the best they could likely do under the circumstances.
+If their current position was directly attracting the attention of a predator, they wouldn't have many provisions left if they abandoned them, turning the entire expedition into a failure. A failure she might have prevented with marginal foresight, even. And so she applied the foresight, which didn't put the slightest dent into her private terror.
+Silently, she brought a few of them to Giya's specific attention, trying to communicate wordlessly 'if we run, you grab that; if we run, I grab this' in as few gestures as possible. They could leave several things here and return for it later, but any food left behind likely had to be considered lost.
+**Concavenator**:
+Giya followed all of Kukri's gestures, nodded politely; and then whispered: "No".
+She stared fixedly into the pale murk in the east, from which the bestial voice was coming (having moved there from the north, which meant the thing was close enough to be circling around them). There must have been outrage in Kukri's posture, as Giya followed: "If run, run light. No things. Now still." That curtness was more than her imperfect grasp of formal Chaatai; she was minimizing her words, apparently still hoping to avoid detection. While sitting on supplies?
+**pinkgothic**:
+This was perhaps the downside of travelling with someone who was used to having nothing. Kukri was approximately provided for - if she blew this expedition, that would change. But how did one make it clear to someone like Giya? It wasn't like they could have a respectful debate about it. In fact, Kukri was considerably less willing to make mouth noises than her guide, a fact which grated against her fear to sour her mood toward her companion.
+The heavy things were tents, blankets and bottles, all of which she would abandon at the drop of a hat - they had little use to a wild predator, other than trace smells that would turn up nothing of great interest.
+But food like the cured and dried meats were some of the lightest things they were lugging through the wasteland. Kukri fully intended to take what she could manage to seize in a split second's motion (and, with her already being primed for the exact gesture needed, it should hardly take longer), whether Giya liked it or not.
+**Concavenator**:
+Did Giya suspect as much? Her pupil shifted a few degrees toward her companion, and she whispered: "Not hunting, maybe not hungry... One won't hunt while other's close. Won't think of food. Still, still. We run after, when say. If far, if far, take things."
+Of course. //A poke of predator flesh must be sustained by several pokes of prey flesh, and so on down to plants; the smaller the plant life, the more numerous the steps, and exponentially broader is the base needed; a polar //yachakri// could weigh half a -- half a burden, and require perhaps a thousand times that in plants; the average distance, in this sparse environment --//
+Kukri's thoughts shattered like a wave against a cliff. Yellow eyes had blazed into existence in the dark haze, staring down from a height greater than any living thing should have. //Three paces tall, no more --// The thing looked at her, and she saw it rush forward, and she felt burning knives rend her body and scatter it to the wind. But no, it stepped not directly toward them but in slightly askew a direction, still looking forward, focused, thank Merciful 'Au'a, on something else.
+It was in front of them, and a voice came from behind.
+**pinkgothic**:
+The urge to run before Giya said so was very nearly overwhelming, but in that Kukri had never particularly wavered - if she wasn't going to trust her guide to keep them alive, there was little reason to consider her a guide at all, rather than a sentient beast of burden. And while the sharing of burden had been the reason Kukri had sought Giya out, she //had// decided to treat her as a guide, and she was not going back on the decision now.
+Her concern for the food had remained, even past all the rationalisations. If the creatures were going to meet near their current haphazard camp, even if it was for mating, free food was free food. It didn't smell very strongly, but she trusted the predators here to have a keen sense for making out even trace scents.
+But as the creature appeared, the carefully planned motions were gone and it was all Kukri could do to stay frozen still, primed to run.
+**Concavenator**:
+The //yachakri// stood at no more than fifty paces away, its feather coat glaring white like frostbite, nostrils smoking in the turbulent air. It thrust its head forward and hissed, a venomous sound, like water running over burning coals. It hissed and spat at the darkness, at the hidden voice that had offended it by trespassing on its domain, or by failing to protect one.
+And there the second //yachakri// congealed out of the air, right behind Giya and Kukri, who, flattened on the ground, bit a bag to prevent herself from turning around. The two beasts paced against each other, around each other, now silent, except for the crunch of snow under their bulk, and the flow of air through their poderous lungs.
+Concentrated on each other as if the rest of the universe had crumbled away, they walked back and forth, left and right, each trying to press the other into turning away. For an undefinable time they did so; and when the snow was sufficiently trampled, and the air sufficiently warmed, they lunged at each other. If they'd been powered by springs and clockwork, their attacks could not have been faster, nor more simultaneous.
+They bit and rammed, never deep enough to threaten each other's life; they locked jaws and pushed with their chests, tendons and muscles swelling enough to deform the thick plumage, cursing each other with gurgling bellows. They whipped their head away from the locks, their necks straining beyond belief, and returned to pacing around each other, their mouths agape, vomiting funnels of vapor.
+There was no acknowledgment from them that anything else existed.
+**pinkgothic**:
+If she had been of sound and clear mind in that moment, Kukri would have marvelled at the display -- it was almost surely true that Giya and her were witness to something that no one had ever witnessed to such exquisit detail. And while there was a good chance she would vividly remember enough of it to take note of it later, //keeping record// was an impossible luxury, far out of scope of what her adrenaline-eroded cognition was capable of thinking about.
+Thankfully, her limbs were sufficiently close to cramping that even her instincts thought it unwise to leap into a run without another prompt. Her wide eyes tracked what they could given the inopportune angle of her head, witness to vast swerving tails and shuddering feathers as vast swaths of flesh collided.
+Whether it was truth or fancy, she was convinced that if either of these creatures as much as fell on them, it might fatally crush their bones.
+**Concavenator**:
+After endless seconds, the lunges became somewhat slower, the hisses somewhat quieter. Black streaks of ground had been bared in the snow, and the face of the beasts was pink with smeared blood.
+Then one of the two surged forward and seized its rival by the neck, apparently finding little resistance, and dragged the both of them down. The //yachakri// writhed in the broken snow, growling, kicking at the air, whipping the ground with their mighty tails. The beasts met rarely in the polar waste, and it seemed to Kukri that the fight, having proven the might of both while breaking neither out of this land, had turned into a monstrous coupling.
+Giya turned to Kukri, pointed to somewhere in the southern darkness, and whispered: "This way. Take things. Run now".
+**pinkgothic**:
+The mentally-practised motions from before were back with a surge of clarity. She seized what she'd picked out, sprang up as though stung and bounded into the direction Giya had gestured toward, her full attention on every movement, acutely aware of every larger blemish in the ice in a manner that even her best concentration during moments of clearer thought could never have rivalled. Certainly not while running.
+**Concavenator**:
+The wind was stirring once again -- or was it air pushed around by the two enormous bodies? Having surprisingly managed to gather all supplies, the two travellers leapt out of their hiding place, running around the ice fence that stood in their way, and then out into the further south. The Moon peeked now and then through wounds in the clouds; at that, the haze and the snow reflected the light into each other, turning the whole landscape into a pale, liquid fog. Not the best in which to hide, particularly with the dark coat of all 'ikra, but they were soon out of reach.
+The beastly sounds could no longer be heard; the sound of their boots sinking through the crusted snow was now enough to cover them. There was no way to say in which direction the //yachakri// would have gone afterward; certainly two opposite ones, but even so the odds of meeting either again were low.
+//Not as low as those of meeting one in the first place, let alone two.// Although it was a blessing that two predators had stumbled on their shelter at the same time, as one alone would not have been so helpfully loud.
+They walked forth, with little hope of taking sleep again. Hopefully in a few hours they would be able to take shelter among rocks. The mountains were still far, and the air so cold.
+**pinkgothic**:
+Kukri had not expected them to be as successful in rescuing their supplies as they had been, but eventually the adrenaline from the encounter ran low and she noticed she was paying the price for the constant tension of those moments, joints aching from more than just the cold.
+Her mind was slow and sluggish from the aftermath of the stress, but clung to one insight: She would have to draw these beasts and report on them as best she could. She held on to the mental images as though there were any risk of her forgetting them, as if they had not already been etched into her soul.
+It was not a good time to stop and rest, that much she knew. It was better to keep walking for a little while, slowly but surely, and rest by gentling herself in those motions, not by sleeping. There was no telling what sleep would do while she was in this immediate post-adrenal state.
+Far too easily, she could picture herself settling down in a place where the snow and ice would simply consume her in her sleep.
+**Concavenator**:
+Giya strode with little visible effort through the snow, now ankle-high, the great sediment slope that had drifted from the mountains year after year. She did not seem too shaken by the recent event, and even as it transpired she had kept a cool mind. Was this a common occurrence in this place? The common wisdom of Grikaa charged the people of the far south with a preternatural resistance in face of the worst hardships, though opinion was divided on whether such resistance was innate or a matured over a lifetime of exposure. In this particular moment, Kukri did not believe she could ever grow accustomed to a night like this.
+Then her companion -- her guide, really -- said: "If we reach the rocks of the mountains, yachakri don't hunt on rocks".
+**pinkgothic**:
+Kukri muttered some form of assent. She wanted to pick Giya's brain on the yachakri, find out more about what she knew of them, preserve that information -- but not now. Unlike Giya, Kukri's gait was less accustomed to the snow, and while she did not quite //struggle// forward, she did lag behind increasingly, if only slightly.
+But there was one thing she could say and mean it: "Thank you for your help."
+**Concavenator**:
+To that, Giya responded by quickly muttering something in her dialect, then paused for a few heartbeats, turning to look back at Kukri, and said: "I want to say-- is my duty". Finally she turned her head again to the field of rock in their front, slowing down her pace, as if contemplating the vast graveyard of stone that lay in front of them.
+The glaciers started to appear in the mist, heavy and swollen and unnaturally white. At that alien sight, Kukri briefly wondered what, exactly, she had just thanked Giya for, and whether the absurd events around their icy wall had not been just a frightful dream. She shook her head, feeling her brain almost as numb as her fingers. She could not let a low temperature take away her faculties of reasoning and observation, could she? What power could a mass of water claim over her, just by virtue of being in the solid state?
+The wind was not even at its worst. There were places in the Polar Fields, on the other side of the mountains, where the ground had been stripped bare of all snow, naked black ground shivering under starlight, and the air was so dry that not the smallest trace of frost could form. One could be there and believe that the world was still a young egg of bare rock floating around a budding Sun, any form of life being a strange dream of the far future; if not for the corpses of mummified seabirds strewn here and there, wherever blind storm-winds had tossed them.
+So, they went forward.
+**pinkgothic**:
+Something about the glaciers made them look like large, slumbering oceanic beasts, white bodies streamlined and smooth but for the scars of ancient battles.
+The adrenaline was fading, making way for a sense of awe simultaneously eroded and intensified by the her deep exhaustion. They would have to set up camp soon and rest, whether she wanted to or not. They couldn't continue walking indefinitely, no matter how much the glaciers erased all feeling for the distances they still had to cross.
+"Let's look for a safe spot to set up camp," Kukri suggested.
+**Concavenator**:
+"Yes, let's," Giya agreed, "when on the rocks". This much exertion as this hour of the year was as unnatural as a behavior could be while still being physically possible; every part of the body of the two travellers protested against it, from stinging eyes to aching toes down to the hereditary corpuscles screaming deep within their tissues. //We did not travel through your ancestors a thousand thousand times for you to throw us away into the waste.//
+Soon the crunch underfoot changed its pitch; like reefs uncovered by a falling tide, crests of stone arose out of the snow, dark granites of incalculable age, worn smooth by the wind. The polar breath had sculpted them into towering walls and carved into them deep canals, flooded by snow. Many had narrow openings that could easily be closed by piling ice blocks or fixing a strong canvas, saving the trouble of raising two walls out of four.
+**pinkgothic**:
+It was the kindest gesture the harsh environment would ever offer them. This was a desert of ice and stone, providing at most shelter, and in discovering the relative gentleness of the eerie landscape they were entering, Kukri felt a sense of terror knot in her chest.
+She knew it was mostly her exhaustion causing it, the ache in her bones, the lingering emotional effect of their earlier encounter with the yachakri, the extreme solitude as they were choosing to rest, not any rational concern for her own safety - for they had come well prepared - but that made it no less compelling.
+Even Giya in her extreme poverty in some sense was used to being embedded in a civilisation that would help provide for her. For Kukri, the effect was stronger still. But they were perfectly isolated here, far from any support, in a place where nature would give them none.
+Kukri fervently hoped that sleep would let her catch her mind before it spiralled into madness.
+**Concavenator**:
+Soon the gaps were filled, north and south, and the canvas was thrown above in the manner of a roof, keeping the howl of air out for once. By their own hands, as if they were the last survivors of a vast catastrophe that left the rest of Tagra still and silent. Which they might well have been, far as they were from any communication with the wider world. (Poorly suited, of course, to repopulate it; but Kukri would not have appointed herself matriarch of 'ikrakind even with the best possible mate.)
+Slowly Kukri's mind sank back into sleep, though yellow eyes and hissing bellows took form in the smoke of her thoughts, and made her jolt and twitch in her bed. The canvas flapped in the wind above, but with a soft and steady rhythm that seemed to promise it would not break free. That much, at least, was comfort. Giya's breath suggested she was at peace, perhaps already sleeping; 'Au'a knew what sort of life was one in which that day's experience was an unremarkable one.