Ok, safely sat in Kiev and just sorting through work stuff before the board meeting this afternoon. The slides are ready and only have one error on them, as far as I know, so it should be good. While I'm abroad and you're still playing with Chinese Zodiac signs we'll take a break from the main story :)
The tiger The Elves hissed as the hunters approached them. The Elves were gathered around a long table, carrying long-bladed daggers made by their silver- and iridium-smiths and wearing richly-embroidered tunics and knee-length pants. It was clear at a glance that this was a ceremonial occasion for them. Hardras, the lead-hunter, took a moment to look carefully: the Elves were all barefoot and the table was set atop a flattened mound. Grass grew, thick and dense and well-watered, long green strands tangling casually around ankles and calves. He hesitated, and then held up his hand for the hunters to stop. While the Elves ignored him, he showed four fingers, then two, beckoning those behind him. The signs were clear to them, and the elf-girl Eltayba was shuffled to the front to stand next to him. "This?" Hardras spoke as few words as he could write. "They are Vikoss'i domovik," said Eltayba, "they are... rich? powerful? blessed?" "High Elves," said Hardras, his words coming out like a grunt. "Exactly," said Eltayba. "High Elves. They are secretive, they do not share with the lesser Elves. This is probably the ritual of the Tiger, but... we would do it differently." The Elves at the table seemed to perceive a change that was invisible to the hunters, and they moved suddenly, switching positions like fish rearranging their school. They now surrounded the table, and as one they lifted their daggers and then drove them downwards into the centre. There was a high-pitched wail, perhaps a scream, that didn't end. It intensified, and then the High Elves bent forwards, daggers set aside, fingers tearing into something and feeding morsels of food to their mouths. The hunters waited, some covering their ears, until finally one of the High Elves looked up. His mouth, lips and teeth, were smeared with something red-black, and the black pupils in his eyes were widely dilated. "What for come you?" His, or perhaps its, voice was like a wood-saw making the first cut, jagged and coarse. His nose flared, large nostrils scenting for something. "Permission to continue our hunt," said be-Amos, the Speaker of the Hunt. Hardras looked at him and nodded. "We hunt stag, and it has entered the lands of the Elves. It is bloodied, but not so much that it cannot recover." The High Elf bent down, eating again, and a soft buzzing noise competed with the noises of chewing and lip-smacking, while the unceasing high-pitched wail provided background pain. Then he lifted his head once more, and there was some scrag of meat caught in his sharp, pointed teeth. "Yes," he grated, and the hunters bowed their heads in thanks and moved swiftly on past the table. "Eltayba," said be-Amos as they left the clearing and Hardras started hunting for the signs of the stag. "What did they eat?" "One of their own," she said without hesitation; she and be-Amos had spent several evenings already discussing elven cultures. "The Tiger hunts seldom but effectively and attacks with overwhelming power. The ritual of the Tiger invokes that strength and the power, but the cost is... one of your own." be-Amos shuddered. "The wail...?" "They may not die until the ritual is completed," said Eltayba, and she refused to look him in the eyes. "We would... do it differently."
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Ok, safely sat in Kiev and just sorting through work stuff before the board meeting this afternoon. The slides are ready and only have one error on them, as far as I know, so it should be good. While I'm abroad and you're still playing with Chinese Zodiac signs we'll take a break from the main story :)
The tiger
The Elves hissed as the hunters approached them. The Elves were gathered around a long table, carrying long-bladed daggers made by their silver- and iridium-smiths and wearing richly-embroidered tunics and knee-length pants. It was clear at a glance that this was a ceremonial occasion for them. Hardras, the lead-hunter, took a moment to look carefully: the Elves were all barefoot and the table was set atop a flattened mound. Grass grew, thick and dense and well-watered, long green strands tangling casually around ankles and calves. He hesitated, and then held up his hand for the hunters to stop. While the Elves ignored him, he showed four fingers, then two, beckoning those behind him. The signs were clear to them, and the elf-girl Eltayba was shuffled to the front to stand next to him.
"This?" Hardras spoke as few words as he could write.
"They are Vikoss'i domovik," said Eltayba, "they are... rich? powerful? blessed?"
"High Elves," said Hardras, his words coming out like a grunt.
"Exactly," said Eltayba. "High Elves. They are secretive, they do not share with the lesser Elves. This is probably the ritual of the Tiger, but... we would do it differently."
The Elves at the table seemed to perceive a change that was invisible to the hunters, and they moved suddenly, switching positions like fish rearranging their school. They now surrounded the table, and as one they lifted their daggers and then drove them downwards into the centre. There was a high-pitched wail, perhaps a scream, that didn't end. It intensified, and then the High Elves bent forwards, daggers set aside, fingers tearing into something and feeding morsels of food to their mouths. The hunters waited, some covering their ears, until finally one of the High Elves looked up. His mouth, lips and teeth, were smeared with something red-black, and the black pupils in his eyes were widely dilated.
"What for come you?" His, or perhaps its, voice was like a wood-saw making the first cut, jagged and coarse. His nose flared, large nostrils scenting for something.
"Permission to continue our hunt," said be-Amos, the Speaker of the Hunt. Hardras looked at him and nodded. "We hunt stag, and it has entered the lands of the Elves. It is bloodied, but not so much that it cannot recover."
The High Elf bent down, eating again, and a soft buzzing noise competed with the noises of chewing and lip-smacking, while the unceasing high-pitched wail provided background pain. Then he lifted his head once more, and there was some scrag of meat caught in his sharp, pointed teeth.
"Yes," he grated, and the hunters bowed their heads in thanks and moved swiftly on past the table.
"Eltayba," said be-Amos as they left the clearing and Hardras started hunting for the signs of the stag. "What did they eat?"
"One of their own," she said without hesitation; she and be-Amos had spent several evenings already discussing elven cultures. "The Tiger hunts seldom but effectively and attacks with overwhelming power. The ritual of the Tiger invokes that strength and the power, but the cost is... one of your own."
be-Amos shuddered. "The wail...?"
"They may not die until the ritual is completed," said Eltayba, and she refused to look him in the eyes. "We would... do it differently."
Greg - this is all rather... chilling. And expertly done. That last line is perfect.
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