OOC: I figured posting this here would be as good as any. Really, this is what Tormal will be doing for a good part of his time @ Greerson. I know it's quite a bit of reading but if you can please let me know what you all think. Dave, I hope this was where it should be posted. I also posted it in Tormal's CAG thread for safe keeping. Anyway I really had fun writing it... let me know if it's at all boring!
------------------------------------------------------------------------------
The air begins to settle as Belmay’s blessing descends from the brightly lit sky. In the distance a careless shuffle of leaves and branches can be heard and is quickly followed by the murmurs of conversation. After a few moments Kynd and Tormal blindly step into an open clearing on their short march back to the manor. Tormal almost stumbles upon the last bits of untamed trail but recovers before any serious damage is done. In the distance the manor can be clearly seen. “I assure you it would have gone much better if I actually knew how to communicate with the wolf.” Tormal argues “I… I just feel that could have been done a bit less… forceful” He raises his shoulders in question. Kynd laughs and the two continue through the brush back to the manor.
Back at the manor Tormal is quite obviously happy with the conclusion of the expedition. He states that it could have gone a bit better though he cannot argue with the results. It’s apparent that he worries ill word of the situation may reach Wolf. However, if it were a true concern of his that fact was easily overshadowed by his now “livelier” persona. He seems a bit less stressed now then he was just a few days before. Although quite talkative, Tormal takes only a small amount of time to reflect before he retires for the night. He stumbles into the nearest bed chamber and quickly drops into a deep sleep.
….
A note is posted on the door that reads:
“I must now wait for Wolf to answer my call. I do not know that the outcome of what I have done will be for better or worse or whether there will be any at all. I ask that any word of what I am doing in the forest be kept to this group for I fear Greerson may look upon me with ill intentions if they were to find out. If you need to contact me I will only be across the stream a ways. Otherwise I will no doubt return in a few days time.
Tormal “
A fresh morning breeze flows through the trees whispering a silent song along its path. A cool crisp feeling overwhelms the forest as the dew crowned leaves shine under the rising sun. With the earth beneath his feet soggy and chilled, Tormal carefully steps in between two large trees. The song of a bird and the soft gurgling of a stream can be heard in the distance. Tormal takes his time gliding through the forest because although he’s not far from the manor any mistake out here could be fatal. Tormal came prepared and carries a small backpack filled with some salted pork, a bit of cheese, some bread, nuts, dried fruits and various other items for simple survival. Hanging from his pack is a plucked chicken and a black skillet you may have seen back at the manor. In one hand he carries a tent and in the other his trusty quarterstaff. Stuck in his belt is a newly sharpened dagger, two large pouches and a water skin all of which are partially covered by his blackened sash, the only noticeable connection he now has to Gobadan’s Military Academy.
For most of the beginning of this excursion Tormal is, at best, uncomfortable with his surroundings. He keeps himself busy meditating and even took a short walk without getting too lost. It’s during the evening and night when the world closes in on him that he feels the worst. The sounds of all the night life fill the air and a bitter chill floods the forest. He can often hear…. things in the distance he cannot make out. Needless to say the nights are spent tightly wrapped and with quarterstaff nearby. Throughout the first couple days Tormal had managed to setup a decent camp site - for him at least. A small partially dug out fire pit lay in the center surrounded by some large stones. There lay a smoldering tree branch cooled by midnight's touch and several large logs nearby to resurrect the fire when needed. A couple feet from the fire lay a small tent but the wildlife gave no leave and still overwhelmed Tormal’s space.
It’s obvious after the third night that Tormal would have to find somethi more to do with his time. Perhaps he would just give it a try. Perhaps he could contact Wolf just out of his own will. If Ceru can, why shouldn’t he be able to in some abstract way? Of course this was something that would have to be done in the morning. Tormal couldn’t hope to meditate properly in a setting he couldn’t even concentrate. Tormal simply questions “How could it be done?”
On the morning of the fourth day Tormal awoke and hastily managed the campsite. It was particularly cold that evening so he rushed to make a small fire. He stumbled to his pack to grab a bit of meat and some dried fruits for a quick breakfast and noted that he should have brought more food. He may have to take a trip back to the Manor and pick up some more supplies pretty soon. But before taking the short trip back Tormal manages to clear a small area that lay in between several trees and had very little under brush. After taking a bit of time to clear his mind Tormal places the small wooden wolf Ceru had carved on the soft soil in front of him. Like always he runs through his same routine.
“Ohm-deh-sah-naschohm….”
He begins with, what is referred to as, the cleansing. The Cleansing is a combination of syllables or a small chant to clear the mind for meditation. After an hour’s time has passed he has completely lost the world around him. All sound, feeling and distraction of any sort has faded into nothingness. A sense of floating endlessly through time and space overwhelms him. This is the point of true meditation, of course, at which point the individual has the ability to focus on what ever it be he wants. In most cases it would be his Ki but today, Tormal is reaching in the opposite direction for answers. In a sense it is the only way he can relate to what Ceru has spoken of. “Perhaps this is what it feels like?” he wonders.
An impenetrable white fog swirls around Tormal. The echoing sound of nothing, dull and bland, fills his ears. But he brings his thoughts upon Wolf instead. He calls out to him in any way he can. He demands Wolf’s help. While he knows Wolf will probably get the word eventually it would be better, in Tormal’s opinion, if he can get the message to him personally. “Visions are not uncommon when an individual has triggered something within, that their Ki may react to….” Tormal recalls an instructor saying roughly two years ago back at the academy.
Everything could be seen for miles! Tormal found himself standing upon a cliff edge and the sun raged down upon his already sweaty face. A small breeze glides across the ground taking some leaves and pine needles with it. Below him a shining river cascades down a valley surrounded by a lush forest which abruptly ends against a golden wall of stone. Huge pines tower into the sky all around Tormal covering the land in a thick carpet of all shades of green and brown. He stands confident upon the cliff edge and stares over the land for several minutes. A hawk takes flight from a nearby tree and swoops effortlessly down the cliff side. The sound of a breeze can be heard whistling through the trees. “Complete Serenity….” Tormal whispers and the trees around him give way to the sound of his voice. He can see the trees sway like a ripple through water, until the horizon takes over miles and miles away.
For several minutes Tormal feels unlike he ever has during any meditation. He feels a presence of something greater, something far out yet so near… or better yet omniscient. At best, this is the closest thing to a supernatural feeling Tormal has ever had. Warmth fills his body as complete comfort and serenity overtake him. He feels more whole, protected and even powerful then he ever has, almost as if he had died and returned to a place of pure untainted happiness. Individuality and uniqueness fill his heart and mind. Yet this is something from the outside and not from within. Tormal is certain something has reached him even if he doesn’t know what it is. After much time and without any hesitation or fear Tormal dives off the cliff as if accepting a welcomed fate.
He finds himself back at the campsite standing and holding the wolf figurine straight in front of him with its flanks braced between both of his flattened hands. It would seem he wanted to protect wooden beast in any way he could. Tormal recoils in confusion and quickly looks around. The joints in his knees hurt badly. “How long had I been standing there?” he wonders to himself and quickly hobbles back to his camp. Everything is quickly accounted for. Tormal takes an extra minute to tuck the figurine safely into his backpack and sets the pack in his tent. It couldn’t be to late, the sun had just recently passed overhead. “Perhaps it was an hour after noon?” In any case he realizes the time and hastily takes off toward the manor to replenish his dwindling food supplies.
It’s near dusk before the calm forest scene had been disturbed again. “I almost took time from these lands I did not have. Any more and I may have gotten lost out here.” He reaches up and reties the piece of cloth tied to the tree above him. “I’m lucky that fire still smolders!” he laughs to himself. Something has changed with Tormal this evening but even he cannot figure it out. There was a new sense of confidence that laid over him like a shell on turtle and an even greater sense of purpose under that.
This evening was far better then the last few. Tormal sat outside for a good part of it staring through the gaps in the trees to the stars above. To him the sound of night was now as welcome as that of the day. In his hands Tormal twirls the wolf figurine around. The fire in front of him danced wildly. It cracked and popped, sending small beads of light into the darkened sky. An owl calls out into the night far behind as he lays back and shuts his eyes.
The next day is spent preparing his campsite. Tormal takes several hours to gather numerous large logs and stones. While it may seem mundane to some, Tormal takes great pride in the fact he doesn’t lose track of his campsite. However, the problem is found when Tormal mistakes some purple flowers for something less then they were. He slowly walks down a half way cleared path and stops. Off to the side he notices a large stone resting between several large plants and carelessly walks over to remove it. It wasn’t until Tormal began to walk away that he started feeling the deep burning in his legs and arms. He quickly drops the stone and pulls back his sleeves. Several large red dots littered his arms and legs. They swelled up like cherries upon a tree literally covering his lower body and forearms. The pain, although bearable, greatly slowed his progress. After some time Tormal decides to take a quick swim in the nearby stream. “Purple flowers are no good” he thinks to himself.
By the end of the day the clearing right next to Tormal’s camp is filled with unnatural oddities. Logs hang suspended in the air by rope from tall trees. Stones stand stacked at different heights all around and any wildlife in the area had certainly evacuated for now. Tormal’s training camp had been completed. He wasn’t about to let time rob him of his skills or strength. If wolf was going to come, then good, if not his time out here wouldn’t be spent doing nothing!
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The next three weeks can best be described by a dancer in the month before she gets the chance to present a lifetime’s work. A divine sense of devotion and dedication, discipline and shear determination crept out from the clearing. Often the calming sound of a cleansing meditation could be heard. At times it complimented the sound of the forest in its magnificence. At other times the sound of dedicated battle could be heard. The thud of flesh against wood the crunch of stones and the hiss of cloth surround Tormal.
Many times one could find Tormal standing atop a branch high in the air for hours at time. There he would dance his kata along its winding path back and forth much like a warrior on the horizon painted against the settling sun - A demonstration of pure grace and focus. At other times one would catch him aggressively engaging the space in front of him. He would spin, move forward, step to the side step forward and continue. The idea was not the movements but their speed and precision. Braced against Tormal’s flattened palms were single blades of grass held in place only by the speed of his movements and position of his hands. If at any time he lost the blade he failed and tried, not just the movement but the entire kata again and again – A demonstration of devotion and determination. At the end of every day he would sweep aside the shattered logs and flakes of stone and set fresh logs anew for the next – A sign of strength. With the rising of the sun day after day tormal could be found sitting like a statue atop several stacked stones meditating and chanting to the world around him – A demonstration of purity.
If there was one thing he learned from his time in the forest it was that perfection, in the sense many think of it, is unattainable. With the conquering of any goal there is already another that has risen to challenge.
An image of a god towering above the mountains below comes to mind. Benevolent light shines down all around him. Clouds part, mountains form and fall all at his will. An overwhelming sense of clarity, purity and benevolence floods out. The gods are as close to perfection any can think of. But even they, the gods, are not perfect. With all of their power and strength they often let their affairs get in the way or stop them. Perhaps perfection meant the continuous pursuit of itself?
Suprisingly the only real distraction Tormal suffered was toward the end of the third week. By this time he had already felt far more confident in his abilities then he ever had. The day had gone well. He was actually taking it easy for the most part just sitting around enjoying the day. He had just finished his meditation for the morning and was eating what was left of his bread and cheese. He sat there enjoying the warm sun and several squirrels could be seen wrestling the trees above. Tormal opened his canteen and finished off the water inside before laying back to take a short nap. The fire in front him had nearly burned out by now and a long poking stick he had found a few days back lay with its end under the embers.
He lay there thinking he may go back to the Manor in the next day or two. If Wolf had not come yet he could only hope he would find him some other time. At the same time though, there was no true reason for him to return. Well, except for food and some company. But the quiet was welcome break too…
Tormal quickly sat up something scraping against the undergrowth could be heard nearby. It was almost dark and the forest was unnaturally silent. Tormal suddenly felt uneasy and reached for his quarterstaff. It was quickly getting dark and the only noticible sign of life were the few moths flying randomly above him. The smell of smoke still lingered and he took note of the now shorter poking stick left in the fire. He may not be as smart as ayla or kynd with their survival abilities but he knew silence was a priority in this situation.
After several minutes the source of the disturbance is revealed. With a sudden rush large beast came storming out of the nearby bushes. It looked like a solid black bear but far leaner and a bit faster in Tormal’s opinion. But there was little time to think. In a flash the snarling beast was atop him. A flurry of razor claws and sharpened teeth had nearly manifested themselves on top of him. The beast roared and tried to tear into Tormal’s throat. Lucky for him he had managed to squirm out of the way just in time. For what seemed like an eternity Tormal struggled for his life. He used every resource available to try and dismount his foe. Not before he had several bite marks on his arm and a nasty gash on his chest did Tormal finally maneuver himself to a position in which he could get up. He tried desperately to keep the beast at bay with his legs and finally got a good kick to its face allowing him time to get up.
The encounter was far from over. Tormal had already been hurt pretty badly. Blood trickled down his arm and dripped off of his finger tips. He held his chest with his other arm and took stance. The beast stood there, low to the ground, on all four as if it were going to spring on him again. It was obvious tormal would have to end this encounter in some way.
He took a split second to envision it as the scene flashed across his eyes. He would jump over the fire and land a kick on the beasts back then roll off to the side. By now, he imagined the beast would be back in his face snarling and slashing. At this point he would cart wheel over it, grab the poking stick and thrust it into the creature’s flank. And he did just that.
The plan was executed nearly perfectly. But even at that the creature was not bested. The smoldering stick stuck deep into the thing’s back leg hindering its movement but not its will. By now, Tormal felt he could finish the situation. With more ferocity he had ever felt he smacked the creatures claws away grabbed its head and spun it straight over his shoulder. A crunch and snap rippled through its body just before it landed a hollow thud on the earth at Tormal’s feet.
After a few minutes have passed Tormal is finally ready to take a better look at the creature. He kneels down over it’s corpse and maneuvers its now twisted head to a better position. “Ahhhh” he proclaims “it’s some sort of cat! I’ve never seen a black one before. Looks a bit like the ones in the mountains back on Crene…. But they were golden.” He stops and looks around noticing that it was abnormally dark. He stands back up and walks to his tent and grabs the flint and steel. He takes a bit of time to start a fire and then walks back to the feline.
Tormal sighs “Thank you”, and bows his head to the cat. A sort of respect for nature and his opponent, never seen before, flowed out him. He some how felt in debt toward the cat, after all, it was he who had invaded its home. He wasn’t at all sure what to do. He certainly didn’t want the cat to lay out rotting both because it didn’t seem right and because it would attract that unneeded attention. After a bit of time he finally decides to cremate the corpse hoping he was not invading someone’s or something’s unknown belief. He fount out it is far more difficult at night to find anything in the forest, let alone dig a second fire pit large enough for the cat.
It takes an hour or two of shuffling and wondering around before Tormal has completed the half decent fire pit for the cat. Several large logs are stacked under and around the cat. Tormal has to lift the muscular beast onto the pile – which takes some time. He then litters the pit with what was left of the tinder he had and some of the wood chips he created over the weeks. Before he ignites the fire he uses his dagger to remove a single claw from the beasts paw and tucks it away into his pouch.
The fire burned hotter then he had expected. The smell wasn’t in any way pleasant but it was a sort of “last retaliation for the cat” he laughed to himself. He stared into the fire for a long time pondering the irony of what occurred earlier. “The cat was certainly acting naturally. On a literal level it was just protecting its territory I’m sure…. But on a deeper level I see more.” He thought to himself. “The cat was my complete opposite in a form of pure and raw strength. It was a battle between good and evil, wolf versus cat, instinct vs intellect.” He envisioned a great battle between a wolf and a lion for a long time and then nodded in appreciation. He leaned back grabbed the blanket and sat there in his own silence for a long time. He began to feel a certain level of doubt about wolf. To Tormal chances are it would take him a long time to respond and even that depended on how far Wolf actually was. “He could literally be anywhere… well… on this side of the river at least. Perhaps I’ll return to the Manor tomorrow. I’m quite tired of the silence for now.” He nodded off….
~ The heavy breathing of running surrounded him, he felt as if he was running along side or in the midst of a wolf pack. It was dark yet he could see perfectly. Trees blurred past him on either side as he ran tirelessly to… what? He ran and ran. Behind him a pack, two white wolves, a grey and a speckled one follow closely by. The chilled wind of night blew by his ears. Something drove him, pushed him to continue on…. ~
Tormal is again back at the camp. The fire in front of him is still burning strongly. He must have been startled awake. In the distance a faint howl can be heard.
Tormal wakes the next morning and decides to hang on just a bit longer. He might as well continue to try and hone his skills until the group is ready or until wolf finds him. He was certain that he heard a wolf last night but it could have been any. For now he would continue to wait and practice.
Several more days had passed and Tormal again began to lose hope. It was again at night. Perhaps it was the night that had that affect. The dark closeness and chill have a supernatural feeling to them sometimes. A sort of overwhelming veil filled with confusion and loss. “That is certainly why Belmay had given us the second moon” He thinks. “I understand that feeling now…” He would be returning, in the morning back to the manor. He felt he had done enough for now and yearned to speak with the group again. He was running low on food once more anyway and tonight may as well be his last out here. He tosses the last log on the fire before dozing off for the night….
Once more he is startled awake but nothing seemed out of place. He stared into the sky amazed by the number of stars he could see. He’d count them if he could… but then again he would go insane. Something shuffles out of the corner of his eye and he quickly looks over. A wolf sits quietly starring into his eyes. Tormal sits up and a second and a third can be seen on either side of him. He even feels another behind him. They sit quietly, panting, pacing and waiting….
