Hydaelyn Role-Players

Just short little story I wrote about an encounter my character, Y'amra, had in the jungle of Eastern La Noscea. 

Strong language warning. 

It was the sound that first alerted him. The crunch of the brush as it was trampled underfoot. The cawing of a few stray birds dislodged from their nests as their home was disturbed so abruptly; the crack of rocks broken and crumbling. A dark ear twitched, swivelling around to listen to the new series of noises, and the young Seeker turned his head. It was a low rumble, a quake that grew ever louder, and the male’s brows furrowed visibly as his body followed with the turn. 
At a glance, it seemed quiet; nothing out of place, no sights out of the ordinary. The jungle of the eastern parts of La Noscea was as it always was. 

Except for that sound.

It grew louder now, and soon enough the sights that accompanied the new sound made themselves apparent. A flock of birds flew out from above the treeline, heading northward in a large group, blots of black against the blue sky. Amra turned his eyes in the direction that came from, his tail swaying readily behind him. He had been stalking a pack of coeurl for the past bell, and one had veered off, easily tracked and ready to fall once Amra decided to pounce. It was his hunt for this sun.

He didn’t have long to worry about his prey, however. Beneath his feet, vibrations could be felt in the earth. An earthquake? No, it didn’t explain the direction of the sound. His breaths fell steadily from his nose, and his eyes narrow noticeably at the trees, which had started to shake and sway as if following the brush of a nonexistent breeze. Thin stalks topped with red, luminescent leaves, rounded overall and especially beautiful at night were shaking as if frightened of the storm to come.

Their appearance was sudden, breaking through the trees without heed for neither terrain nor surroundings. A herd of them, too many to count, and Amra didn’t have enough time to bother with trying to avoid them. A Goobbue herd, obviously spooked by something with how fast and carelessly they were lumbering towards him. The crash was first, then several trees bowed before them, falling to the ground easily under the stampede of the gargantuan creatures. Amra’s ears pin back against his head, and he wastes no time hanging around. Turning on the spot, he starts to run, the hairs on the back of his neck standing up, and his tail fluffed abnormally. He scampered up rocks and darted around trees, looking for a way to escape the path of the herd, but he was surrounded on both sides by high cliffs.

They were gaining on him swiftly, unencumbered as he was by the plants and trees of the jungle, for where he fled around or over them, the herd simply barrelled through them without a care. There was nothing else for it. He veered to his left, heading for the cliff. It wasn’t overly high, and he was a good climber. If he was fast, he would be able to escape to safety. He leaps at the last second, arms outstretched as his body collides with the side of the cliff, his sheathed greatsword clanging audibly at his back. Fingers scrabble for purchase against the uneven stone, raking against rock until he finds a handhold.

With only moments, he starts to climb, working his limbs, pushing them to move faster as he scrambles from point to point, jumping at times if a hold was beyond his immediate reach. A fulm, then two, then five… ten… He could make it-.

No.

The goobbues were too many. It seemed as if every one of them that inhabited the jungle had been roused and were careening through the land. The bumped into each other in their fright, hard collisions that had some of the creatures lilting to the side of the herd before stumbling back on course. It was one such collision that saw two of the larger ones knocked aside, their hulking bodies crashing against the side of the cliff with force. He was only a few more fulms from the top when it happened, the cliff face quaking and jolting severely. His hold interrupted, Amra lets out a yelp as his fingers slip. Claws scrape against the stone, but to no avail, and he falls. This was it. He would be trampled beneath a herd of Goobbue. Such a fucking stupid way to die.

Before his body hits the ground, the stragglers of the herd make their way through the canyon, small arms flailing with their mouths agape, letting out guttural sounds of fright to announce their presence to all who dwelled in the jungle. He would swear that even those at Wineport could hear the sounds. One knocks into him mid-fall, sending him flying towards the cliff where he crashes against the rock, his back crunching sickeningly against the stone. His eyes shut tight, wincing as a loud groan slips past gritted teeth. Dazed and his body wracked with pain, he falls once more, and this time is uninterrupted as his body smacks against the dirt amidst myriad tracks and dents left in the ground. Dust still floated about, and it caked his body as the herd moved on. Amra lay still, unconscious.

Night had fallen by the time he awoke, and the first sound he heard wasn’t the squawk of birds nor the growls of the denizens of the jungle, but voices. Familiar voices.

Voices that filled him with a sense of dread.

Groaning, the Seeker stirs, body rousing slowly and sluggishly as his eyes creep open. Ears twitching erratically, he first notices the pain, and he hisses outwardly in response to the fire in his torso. Anything broken? He couldn’t tell, the pain too harsh. Maybe a couple of ribs… Better than his spine being shattered, at least. Groggily returning to the waking world, he tries to move, to heave himself to his feet as a few blurred shapes enter his field of vision amidst a sea of brown and green. 

“Oho! He lives. Fucking hells, Amra, I thought you were a goner, for sure.” Amra makes out words, and he groans again, this time with distaste as he recognized the man behind the voice. Aldgoats. N tribe Tia.

“Best be thankful he does, Ohde, we don’t need Rikke’s wrath upon us for killing his son.” Another? A woman, this time. Two of them? Wait… He flicks an ear, and realizes that he was surrounded not by two, but three of them. A third’s footfalls could be heard by his head.

“Rikke’s wrath? Cull your fear of that idiot, Airabe`. Rikke won’t strike against us for this. If Amra had died, who’s to say it wasn’t just a hunting accident? I’m not gonna walk into the fucking Jaguar camp and announce to their chief ‘hey! I killed your son! Have at me, swash swash, buckle buckle.’” Ohde responds with a malicious tone, and more steps are heard as Amra squints up at the trio who leered above him.

“Nngh…” Amra groans out, his voice slightly hoarse. “Stampede, Ohde? That’s low, even for you. Craven.” He starts to push up to his feet, but a boot crashes into the side of his head, and Amra yelps in pain, torso swiftly shoved sideways as he dips back onto the dirt, this time lying on his front. Now there was pain in his jaw along with everywhere else in his body. His hands move to either side, intent on pushing himself up quickly as he growls out, fangs bared, but before he can get a fulm from the ground, a heavy boot is pressed upon his back, and he is forced back against the dirt.

“Ah! Fu-Get the fuck off me before I tear your fucking throat out.” Amra hisses, though in his position, such a threat was gone largely unheeded. Ohde simply laughed, and Amra knew by the direction that it was his boot which was pressing him down.

“You ain’t in any state to be threatening us, Amra. High and mighty hunter you are, quelled by a pack of Goobbues and left like a stain of shit in the dirt.” The pressure on his back increases, and Amra lets out another growl before he whips a hand behind him, trying to catch at the boot. Ohde was fast enough to lift his heel in time, but the absence of a foot on his torso gave Amra the opportunity he needed to whirl onto his back, hands moving immediately to the sole of that boot before pushing upwards against it, forcing Ohde to stumble back, off-balance. Kicking out, Amra’s foot collides with Ohde’s stomach, and the other Seeker is knocked back further, groaning with the impact.

From the corner of his eye, Amra sees another kick aimed at him, this time from the side. The third, unnamed Miqo’te who hadn’t spoken yet was trying to subdue him, and Amra throws a hand out, blocking the kick. His fingers curl around the second male’s ankle, and he yanks on the leg, pulling it over his body.  A thump announced the man falling to the ground, but Amra didn’t much care about that. His other hand had flown up, palm pressing to the knee before pushing. Hard. There was a loud crack that sounded out in the night as he broke the bone, and a scream fills the air. Pushing the male’s useless limb off his body, he starts up, but once more doesn’t get very far.

Halted this time by the presence of a knife at his throat. Airobe` had entered the fray before Amra could get the upper hand, her body leaning over his own, her visage an expression of warning, lips curled and teeth bared in a silent snarl, which Amra mirrors as he bares his fangs at her. But he knew the situation to be out of his control. 

“You wouldn’t dare. There hasn’t been a death between our tribes in over ten years, Airobe`.” Amra growls out, his hands slowly lowering to his sides.
She hisses back threateningly, the blade creeping closer to Amra’s neck, and the man could feel the sting of cold steel against his skin. “Try me, Amra. They won’t find your body after you’re dead. Now sit down and shut the fuck up.” Her gaze lingers for moments that seemed to stretch into an eternity, both Seekers staring intently at each other before she lifts the knife away, and stands slowly. “How bad, Jahn?”

Amra growls a final time before he slowly starts to get to his feet. The Miqo’te with the broken leg, Jahn, responds with a low hiss. “Just a break. Nothing to cry over.” Amra turns his head, and smirks at Jahn, who narrows his eyes in return. This time he wasn’t interrupted as he stood, and Ohde steps forward, having recovered from the blow to his mid-section. 

“Run home to Daddy, Amra. Tell him we’ll keep harassing his hunters until he offers good terms with Undai. Your tribe claims twice the land ours does. Share with the rest of us.”

Amra puts some distance between himself and his attackers, back straightening to stand tall despite the pain he felt. “And what have you done to earn it, Ohde? If Undai thinks threats are the best way to win peace, then he’s a fucking idiot.” Heaving a huffed breath, Amra starts moving his hands over his body, checking various pouches to make sure nothing was missing. All was there. All except his blade, and he turns his eyes to Ohde once more, mouth opening to question the male. Before he can utter a word, Ohde turns, picking up the sheathed greatsword that lay in the dirt behind him. Amra silently watches, then holds out his hand.

 Grinning, Ohde holds firm to the blade, eyes lowering to look it over. “Your tribe has the finest steel, the finest tents, and the best land, Amra. And what have you done to deserve it? Pampered little golden boy who slays a few beasts and thinks the world owes him every luxury it offers.” Sneering, he passes the sword to Amra, who takes it and stows it at his back. “Run home, little hunter. And if I hear about you doing to another what you did with Keira, then I will kill you.”
Amra’s lips contort into a snarl, and he bites back immediately with a retort. “At least I didn’t have to tie her up and take her unwillingly. She’s not even a part of your tribe anymore, last I checked. Working at the Gate in Limsa.”

“Because of what you did. Stay away from our lands, Amra. You have more than enough. Stay within them.” Ohde nods to Airobe`, who moves to Jahn’s side to help him up, supporting him as he stands.
Amra tilts his chin upwards, then just smirks. “You disgrace your tribe, Ohde. Best hope another Tia rises to replace Undai soon. It’s the only way the Aldgoats will be redeemed.”

Ohde scoffs, and shakes his head. “Fuck off, Amra. You have no right to talk to me like that. You stand there and act like you know what it’s like in our tribe because of the stories you’ve heard. And what do you think we hear of you? Best think about that before you do something stupid. Again.”

Amra is silent for a long moment, then bares his fangs in a growl. “Stay off our land, Ohde. You want to talk, set up a fucking appointment. Now get the fuck out of my jungle.”

His ears flick, catching a few muttered words of response, the tone scornful, but Amra had already turned away and darted off into the brush. He needed to make a quick exit before he punched someone.

And because the pain was getting worse. Once out of sight, he buckles. It would be a slow walk back to the camp. The med-tent sounded like a damn good idea right about now.

Fucking Aldgoats.