The drums resume– louder this time. Steady. Normal.
By the time the torches are relit, the clearing is empty. Only the elders remain, standing where blood had been.
The Shaman's jaws harden, his lips part as he speaks up,
"The council will convene in half an hour, to discuss this crisis." He declares, "Get your things in order."
His ornamented bone staff clinks as he walks away, leaving the elders still lost in their worlds.
Soon, they muster their composure, walking through the stronghold– their fur loincloth billowing against the midday draught.
"Elder, what should we do?" A concerned simian shouts, making for the elders...only to be stopped by crisscrossed spears bloking the path.
The said elders ignore all the shouts and inquiries, eyes pinned forward as they walked towards the great oak.
"Elder, elder..."
The voices fade behind them.
****
(Half an hour later)
A retinue of elderly simians seat around a wooden carved altar, the weaved branches upon which they sat swayed gently against the gentle draught hitting the canopy of the great oak.
The shaman clears his throat, garnering the attention of the six simians before him.
"Let the council of the seven commence."
His authoritative voice booms, cutting through the branches, yet not leaking down below as it gets swallowed by the wind.
"Concerning this crisis, has the public outrage been quelled?"
"No...the warriors are barely holding them back." An elder quips in, "We might have a mass histeria on our hands."
The third elder snickers, "At this point? Anarchy is ___"
"The fifth should answer, patrols are in his domain." The third shifts attention to the fifth.
All the others turn their gazes and lock it onto the elder in question.
"What? I have nothing to say... don't pretend that all this didn't catch you all unaware." The fifth responds upon feeling their gazes.
"After all, I'm only in charge of patrols, the second is the one to answer, he's the master of intelligence."
The shaman grabs his brows in frustration. All this nitwits knew was politicking and beucracy....a bunch of incompetent nincompoops.
"Urhuhm. Do you have anything tangible?" He roars, his __ teetering between frustration and anger.
"What of this so called demon? Has anyone set sights on him?"
He questions, guiding the meeting back to its objective.
"As per your orders, nobody has left the stronghold." The third quips.
"And you didn't think it imperative for intelligence to be gathered?" His question surges, sarcasm dripping from his voice.
"Your grace...I-"
The shaman sits there, listening to excuse after excuse, it was a miracle the stronghold was still standing...if such nitwits were its elders.
Fed up with the incompetence of the council of seven, he rises from his seat, his staff landing violently against the branch flooring.
"Listen! This is how it will be from now on..."
*****
In the other side of the trial lands, the subject of the unrest and great turmoil within the simian stronghold was happily whistling a tune– blissfully unaware of cogs turning in the background.
Only if he knew... that one 'simple' and albeit brief shadow dunking had led to unfolding of events he would _________________.
"Kai, what are you doing boy?" He asks, interupting his whistling to question the action of his beast companion.
His call goes unheeded, he snorts realising the weasel had ignored him.
"Ahh."
He loosens a long exhale, his moods elevated by his successful experiments.
Most of his posed theories were getting proved one after the other, if not all.
Abberant had proved to be quite a formidable shade, and he was learning really fast too– judging from the beast corpses piling up before him.
He had ordered him to hunt a few minutes back...and now?
The jungle was being laid to waste under the fury of his obedient shade.
Though he was not that 'formidable' as Rain would have us believe– all the beasts before him were mundane... unranked.
Well, they still counted for something, right?
"Kai, what is that?" He questions, his brows rising as he regards the pale-purplish thing his weasel was dragging out from the waters.
He flashes his [Appraise] skill, gleaning into its records.
[Pale liverwort]
Rank: Tier 1
Remarks: unknown
"Huh?" A puzzled gasp escapes him, he'd never seen a ranked plant nor herb before...all he'd run into were mundane at best.
He pries open the weasel's maw, grabbing the pale liverwort in his hands, running his fingers across it, examining it closely.
Everything about the tuber-plant was mundane.
And so, he tosses it back to the anxiously waiting weasel, who chomps into it, letting out a satisfied sigh?
Wait?
Did Kai's eyes glaze and roll over in ecstacy?
Rain couldn't believe the sight before him! He rubs his eyes again and again, yet still everything remained.
To his further confusion and utter surprise, the weasel bites off a piece and drags it before him, settling it within his open palm.
If his interest wasn't piqued already, now it was blaring*
He gives it a sniff, inhaling a fermented apple- cider like aroma, soothing to his nose, albeit prickly.
His senses were urging him to have a bite, yet his intuition was telling him that it would be a bad idea.
"Fuck it!" He snaps, tossing the small piece into his mouth.
ArrrrhhhhHHiishhh.
A long gasping inhalation follows immidiately after, a soothing and ecstatic feeling surging.
All caution gets thrown out the window as he wrestles the last piece off Kai's maw, swallowing it in one gulp.
Then, the feelings surge, all his senses getting lost in dazzling oblivion.
The feeling was so intense that he didn't even realise nor ___ the incessant chimes of the voice of Ur.
Colours mesh and dance across his vision, swirling and dragging him with it....before everything blurs, swallowing him whole.
****
Moments later, two silhouettes are seen darting across the jungle canopy, deranged laughter echoing in their wake– cackling as if monkeys on cocaine.
In fact, the truth wasn't that far from the fact.
A yelp of ecstacy escapes Rain's maw as his fingers slip off its hold against the perch.
He hangs there, teetering on the verge of a fall- one that he wouldn't survive– yet he was laughing out his guts.
Leveraging his weight, he leans against his foot hold and the left arm, getting a better grip with the loose hand.
He could feel them slipping- the tense situation made his heart trum in exhiliration
A cold wind blows, sending loose leaves swirling as they plunged into the horrid depths down below.
His instincts prickles, sending warning up his mind, Rain frantically looks around, eyes struggling to shrug and suppress the effects of the herb.
A silhouette darts at the edge of his vision, too fast for his eyes to discern its outline.
Skreech.
It tackles him, sending him tumbling down the 'horrid' depths...only that the depths were not that 'horrid' and the creature was Kai!.
A loud and ecstatic laughter erupts within the jungle, sending birds flying off their perch.
It would be this day that the tale of a deranged demon and his weasel of debauchery begins within the jungle.