This is a tale of the Borderlands of Valenwood and Elsweyr according to AFriend and Dro Ragg`id


Hunting Hunters Hunted
Too far, too late, no more
The First Arc

exerpts from
The Writings of J'sada the Wise


Prologue

The lonely figure, running ... running he knows not where, but far, far, for sure ... eyes tearing ... breath smashing ... deep into lungs ... and rushing out again ... cannot stop ... must not stop ... lead them ... away ... never allow ... the hunters ... to catch up ... run away from ...

Only, in his mind, deeply buried, an anguished wail is gradually forcing its way upwards. With each footfall that thuds into the leafmold, the jarring impact that forces more breath into and out of his screaming lungs, his fear shudders nearer to the surface. Soon, he knows, soon he will become a mindless machine, a living, running, wailing banshee, forever wailing: "my baabeeee ...! " And only his killers will ever know.


~~~


Part One

Like the essence of shadow did they move, leaping from one branch to another, as if the very air was pulling them along with its lithe embrace. They raced through the trees without a sound, without bending a single bough as they stalked their prey. The Band of Tree Sap Acolytes moved as one; flying here and there as they launched their light and powerful forms from one vine to another; and perhaps the vines themselves were handing them on, propelling them through the vast canopies of Valenwood.

Below and before them, far ahead beyond reach of their mortal senses, so far they knew they could not arrive in time, as their hearts stained and their muscles creaked and tore, and unceasing they raced on, their Communion showed them the tragedy unfolding beneath the Canopy of the Great Green.


~~~


Several Bosmer scouts carefully picked their way through the undergrowth. Skilled as they were, and as quickly as they were moving they could not outpace their hidden stalkers. Even when their sharp eyes looked up into the darkness above them they could not discover the secret the shadows held. Their hunters, skilled and highly trained Khajiit warriors, could disappear behind a broad leaf spray or slip behind the trunk of a tree on instinct alone, just before those eyes found them. No leaf was turned, no twig snapped, no small creature received or gave warning. And for this hunt the hunters were mostly relying on scent so that they were able to keep a fair distance between themselves and their prey.

The scouts without doubt had no clue they were being followed, and were assured that the forest about their haven was clear of the enemy - or supremely skilled as they too were in the ways of the Forest, the hunted would have disappeared into the trunk of a tree and all would have been for nothing. Though the war raged on to the east they knew there was simply no way raiders could have gotten this far into Valenwood without their keen mer eyes spotting them. Their arrogance was common of Khajiiti prey, for they never knew what dangers awaited them above and out of sight.


~~~


The band of warriors was varied, for each had their own purpose in this raid. A single Alfiq ran ahead of the pack, gliding through the trees like a forest nymph. She was easily able to outpace the rest of the band. The housecat-like beast was certainly as intelligent as the rest and her small form allowed her to move much closer to the targets without alerting them. Behind the Alfiq trailed several Suthay-raht dressed only lightly in clothes from their homeland. Both male and female, the Suthay-raht were tasked with setting flame to the villages and towns they encountered with utmost speed while their more powerful cousins attacked directly.

A frightening sight trailed the leading group - a small legion of Cathay-raht warriors. The large jaguar-like Khajiiti would be the primary assault force once they discovered the location of the enemy's village, and it would be they who rained from the trees like wild fire falling from the heavens. Each one carried a curved Khajiiti blade that was both cruel and efficient, and all wore light custom made leather armor that hugged their frames perfectly.

But the truly impressive thing about the army wasn't their numbers, their size, or how well equipped they were. Indeed the most significant aspect of the army of Khajiiti was that they all moved as silently as death itself, and the Bosmer had no idea what they were leading to their home village. To look up would reveal nothing, and to listen for them was futile. One might as well attempt to see the air or listen for the sound of silence.


~~~


It was not long before the Bosmer scouts, satisfied that all was as it should be, turned home empty-handed, without any information on the location of the enemy. As each Bosmer city was fighting for its own self interest there were no warnings, no messages from neighboring cities that had already fallen to the Khajiit. The raiding party was well ahead of any refuges from those towns, so the small sleepy village of Laer'De'Lange carried on its slow daily routines with no inkling of what was about to befall them.

They were received back into their village with warm welcome, and as the keen Khajiiti warriors took up their positions above the town in the high trees and settled down to wait, the Bosmer below sang and danced long into the night.

~~~

Unlike some Bosmer villages along the Northern Borders of Valenwood this one was not built entirely from foreign wood imported from the Colovian forests to the north, because this was a Tree Sap Community. Here, deeper in the forest the people also used beautiful skins bound and burnished with resins rendered from certain insects and other exotic ingredients that their knowledge of the forest bequeathed them and could call upon the Ancient Lore they called the Pact to meld these with the Trees themselves; likewise certain special trees, giants empowered with magica, could be encouraged with song to open corridors and chambers within their trunks that could be lovingly polished, furnished and lived in. The Khajiit warriors knew something of this and knew all would burn well! As the mer below drank themselves into oblivion with fermented pig's milk the warriors made the final preparations for their assault.

Bosmer Mercenary Companies could be formidable foes when prepared, but these were ordinary folk, hunters and foragers, women with children and these could do little but die whilst attempting to flee from the invaders. Still, sometimes they would take up arms, wielding weapons taken from the Imperial lands and attempt to defend their villages, and they were always very skilled with bows. However, to develope and maintain skill with the foreign weapons requires regular training and those with sufficient knowledge to teach such skills were scarce outside the Companies, so their effectiveness in battle was limited. This particular village no longer had any brave warriors standing watch. So it was no surprise to the Khajiit above that as the first fires broke out mer simply ran into the night instead of fighting.

Indeed, soon every building in the small village and the trees around them were turned into a dancing inferno. The mer that attempted to flee the village found themselves surrounded by Cathay-raht warriors. It made no difference which route they attempted to use to escape the conflagration, for there were always warriors there to stop them. Their glowing yellow eyes haunted the villagers for the brief moments they had left of life.

If these trees could speak - but they could not, not that Khajiit ears could hear. But they could weep, and weep they did. Tears of green sap that soon turned red, then brown and blackening were blown upwards in sprays of incandescent steam, dust and ashes as they began to scream. Deep underground those screams were heard and a God began the long awakening from his sleep of eons.

The brave Khajiiti warriors had their fill of carnage that night, as they had on several nights before. The screaming of women and children was music to their souls and the burning stench of dead mer made them hunger for more. They were delighted then, when more of the succulent morsels appeared, on the outskirts of what was once Laer'De'Lange.


~~~

ty sir Adam - nice to get a bit of feedback - click on the link for part 2 - http://thewormhole.nfshost.com/forum/index.php/board,218.0.html

Hunting Hunters Hunted
Too far, too late, no more
Half Circle

From the Writings of J'sada the Wise



~~~

Part 2

Collectively the Khajiit assumed that these newcomers were late arriving survivors from the last village they had razed. They were nearly naked, covered in jungle mud, panting and shaking, they looked boarder-line insane, which fit the picture very well. As the army of invading Khajiit reformed into a group a low chanting thrumm began to fill the night air about the white-hot carcass of the village. At first the Khajiit feared that the Bosmer would call a Wild Hunt upon them, but they knew this was not possible without a temple.

Surrounded as they were the brave warriors were at a slight disadvantage now. The trees that they had used to enter the village were now fully aflame. They could not remain where they were, nor seek shelter in the deeper inferno of the village behind, but as far as they knew they had no reason to do so either. Hence the warriors launched themselves outward in every direction at the Bosmer emerging from the jungle all around them. The chanting sound grew louder and louder as the first line of Khajiit reached the ring of wood elves.

Khajiiti eyes flew wide with shock as each and every warrior in the first line impaled themselves on cruel green thorns that suddenly erupted from the ground itself. Their struggling bodies were raised into the air as the thornes grew and hung there writhing upon their impalements, their blind eyes stared down at the second line of warriors, stalled and entranced by the fate of their brothers and sisters. As the raiding party took a few steps back a wild, exstatic call raged from the circle of Bosmer.

"Y'free!!" They echoed each other again and again, in heated and passionate voices that booomed in a rising creshendo of orgismic tones. It was then that the Khajiit became aware that several of the Bosmer had been impaled by thorns that had turned the wrong way, but neither the hanging wood elves nor those on the ground themselves seemed very concerned with this and their febrile eyes shone wide as all sang on and on. There was nothing the Khajiit could do but fight for their lives, and try to open a hole in the ring so that some could escape.

So the second line of brave and blood-drenched warriors rushed all in the one direction, attempting to pierce the circle with brute force. It was then that the chanting for Y'free reached its height, and the pitch darkness of the night erupted with green fire and lances of ethereal energy that tore through the lines of Khajiiti warriors. They did not scream, nor did they panic, no the warriors continued to attack even as they and their comrades died.

As the psychosis of the moment set in time melted away into screaming and chaos and combat, no one knew what exactly was going on. All that was left to them was the sure and certain knowledge that they had to escape or all life would end forever. Though the Bosmer magic was great and terrible and wild even, that was not enough to contain the frenzied primal force that awoke in the Khajiit. So that by the time the bulk of the raiding party reached the edge of the ring the madness in their eyes mirrored the lunacy in the eyes of the Bosmer. Even with the help of their forest god the Acolytes were unable to withstand the insanity of the Khajiiti who had abandoned their swords to claw and rend their way to freedom.

The mad Khajiiti that escaped that night would return home to Elsweyr in the coming months. Their home coming was ill received as many were written off as dead by their brothers and sisters when they did not return immediately from that fateful night. To see them alive but mad was the ultimate insult to their honor, and many were put to death for failing to die bravely.

One Khajiit however made it home to tell the story of the battle, one Khajjiit who's sanity was still true. The tiny Alfiq now known lovingly as Peaquat relayed the story from her vantage point high in the trees beyond the ring of Chanting Bosmer. Though she could not speak as other Khajiit know it, she was able to share her story through her own eyes with the priestess she had grown up with and it is because of her that Khajiit now know the dangers of the Green Pact. It is because of her that Khajiit are warned of the wild fury of Y'free!

~~~

That is one masterpiece of an opening, bravo!

Cool, thanks I'll look into that.