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Ceramic DM - Spring 2005 (Late Bloomer) - We have a winner.
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<blockquote data-quote="Speaker" data-source="post: 2340061" data-attributes="member: 6571"><p><strong>The Lady For The Tiger</strong></p><p></p><p>The Lady For The Tiger</p><p></p><p> Two figures on a distant beach, one male, one female. They sit, eyes locked, her grey eyes locked on his. Between them a stock of wood, arranged to burn but not yet aflame. The sun is strong. </p><p> “Now." Whispers the lady, and the other leans forward, ever so slightly on the hard, rocky soil. A deepening of mind, and suddenly-</p><p></p><p> -he is at rest, on a strong branch of this tree. This is his home, as much as any place may be home for one of his bearing. For he is the true master of the wild, the Bengal White Tiger. There is no animal like him, and the presence now beginning to fill his head knows that there will not be, never again, for this is the last of his kind. Slowly his breed has been eliminated, and even those who live in captivity have passed away, victims of broken freedom and quiet boredom. His fate is as desperate as any of those animals he may have fallen upon to prey in the past, and now he-</p><p></p><p> -the fire is starting to burn, a flame from nowhere, steadily building. The women nods to herself, almost imperceptibly, face and veil shining in the firelight (picture of a woman’s face), and the man holds his place. Indeed, his body remains still even as his mind descends upon the noble beast, so far away and so lonely. But as time passes, that distance decreases and the man becomes the tiger, and now he frowns, for something is happening. The fire-</p><p></p><p> -smells something on the wind. It is a smell of another animal, but of a different sort. And with that smell comes a memory of danger for the white tiger. In one swift movement and uncoiling of powerful limbs, the tiger rises to its feet. It pauses then for a second, making sure, testing the wind thoroughly. For he is the greatest hunter of this place, yes, but there are greater hunters still. And now he can taste many of them, with every breath. </p><p>This is not the first time he has been hunted. Those who seek him have become desperate, for with every death of his like siblings his value has risen. Now his teeth alone would fetch the price of a manor, his hide a large tract of land, and his bones a great reward. The tiger does not know this, now as he tenses for the chase, but the presence in his head understands and comprehends the desperate peril now at hand. </p><p>And now the time for waiting has passed, for the smell of humanity is coming ever nearer. The tiger leaps, and as he hits the ground his great feet are already moving. A voice cries out in alarm, and then with joy, and now the chase is on. But this is the tiger’s home, and for all the planning and the numbers of those who hunt him, the tiger now is at his finest and will not be made easy prey.</p><p> Now the jungle passes by as the tiger picks up speed, and the presence marvels at how he might at one moment gracefully spring to this tall rock, then the next fling himself there, to that towering tree, not pausing and racing in mind as well as body, seeking refuge because the hunters are all about, and every way seems to lead to a desperate trap and defeat. Now ahead the tiger catches a glimpse of a pursuer. The man stands still, a weapon raised, and now there is a blast of thunder and the tiger turns only just in time to avoid the bullet. With a bound the tiger could take vengeance, as the man throws down his makeshift firearm and turns in fear, but instead the sharp retort of the weapon sends the tiger charging past the man an on into the bush. But the other hunters have heard the shot, and now their smell presses down on the tiger more sharply then before.</p><p>But finally a glimmer of safety. At one moment the tiger is flying over a collection of misshapen branches and mossy rock, and the next the ground drops away fifty, a hundred feet. Down the tiger drops, falling now faster, and then-</p><p></p><p> -dances high now, flaring with the desperation of the chase. The man sits rigid, eyes locked on the flames. His companion, however, is now moving. Slowly she rises to her feet, glances to the stars. And more slowly still she begins to change. The veil drops in to her face, becoming a pattern of black stripes, and her skin whitens and begins to grow fur. As the fire crackles now she drops to all fours. Her limbs begin to shorten and become more heavily muscled, her hands to become great paws, and now where stood a lady stands instead a-</p><p></p><p> -there is water all around as the tiger completes his dive (picture: tiger in water). Bengal tigers swim as naturally as they run, and now the tiger drives forward with his powerful paws, pushes through the water of this clear pool and up towards the surface. Now he enters the exiting river, floating downstream, a brief respite, paddling only to keep afloat. The sounds of the chase are above him, but his puny pursuers dare not take the plunge to follow after.</p><p> But something is wrong. The tiger can still smell men. And now up the river towards him comes a speedboat, its motor harshly blazing a trail, and the tiger lunges for the bank. The boat is impossibly fast, heading his way against the current, and now its passengers can see the tiger and they too take aim and fire their own guns. But the tiger has reached the bank, and even as his hide is scored by a lucky shot he pulls himself out of the water and dashes back into the green wild. Behind him there are shouted orders and oaths, and the boat motors to shore.</p><p> The chase is on as strong as ever, and somehow the tiger knows that this is his hour of final glory and releases all of his reserves. The presence in the tiger’s head is once again awed, as the tiger now doubles its speed and swiftly powers over vines and through bushes. For a moment, escape seems possible, even likely as the tiger plunges through and past the noose tightening around him.</p><p> But this hunt is like no other hunt before. The forest is teaming with enemies who have hunted his kind before, and now they are ahead and the tiger can smell their determination. Swiftly he darts aside, heading almost back the way he came, and then again he turns before the river patrol can catch him and heads again in a new direction. There are more shouts, and the presence in his head notes that this is a trap a long time in making, for the cordon of foes has not been shaking by the tiger’s tactics, either his jump into the water or his quick reverses, and now the tiger is forced into one path and one path only, and the tiger himself can sense the rap that is coming. But of to go back or to cut to the sides would mean certain death, and so the tiger must run on and hope he can outrun death itself. And then the trap springs shut about him, as-</p><p></p><p> -Bengal white tiger, as terrific and as strong as the one occupied in chase so far from here. The tiger-once-a-woman now leaps over the blazing fire, coming face to face with the concentrating man, turning at the last second to avoid bowling him over and instead gracefully sliding to his side, eyes locked on his.</p><p> “Soon.” Is all the man says, and now his teeth are clenched shut together and his mind is so tightly wound to the tiger’s fate that he refuses to feel the fire’s heat on his face as it roars still higher, blazing for that far off tiger and the desperate, inevitable fate in hand. The sun is dropping lower into the sky, but the fire is burning brighter and the heat is coming on hard now, and now the newly shaped Bengal white tiger and the man sit still as statues as events race to their final conclusion. And then the time comes, and the fire-</p><p></p><p> -the tiger, in his haste, crashes into the nets spread out to ensnare him. Desperately the tiger surges forward, his muscles tense beneath his white skin, and with that lunge he almost breaks free, snapping two of the small trees that hold fast the net through sheer brute force and rending the net through. But before he can slip out through the small opening before him, his hunters are upon him, dragging with them a heavier net weighted with stones, using their combined strength to throw it over the white beast they have cornered. Now they grab fast the net.</p><p> But the tiger is still stronger then all of them and the weight of the net combined, and with one great paw he sends a man flying. Only the promise of greed manages to hold fast the others, and the next minutes is one of confusion as the tiger bears this way and that, sending some into the bushes and tearing at the cords that now garrote his white and black neck. Then with a final lounge he pounded free from the moorings they sought to place around him, with a final gasp pulls the net from the hands of all those about him and sending them off their feet. Now the tiger shakes free and prepares to begin the chase anew, even as one of the net minding enemies rolls for his gun. The tiger races for the shelter of further woods, when there is a crash of thunder behind him, and then his thigh is pierced and he cannot but fall, carried by his own momentum forward into the bushes and once again he is falling, but this time there is no water and the slope is not so steep, and the great white hide of the tiger is scored with mud and welts and blood. </p><p> Panting, he attempts to rise to his paws, but he cannot. The bullet that hit is thigh has disabled his hind legs, and now he is trapped, waiting for the end. And the men are coming for their prize, safely assured of their victory, laughing and joking at a job well down.</p><p>The bravest among them is selected to have the honor of the killing shot. Carefully he pushes forward, and the tiger bats towards him with his forepaws but he is too far. The hunter lines up his shot, to be sure that the pelt is good and presentable for sale. Now he will manage to feed his family, ensure that he can continue his habit of purchasing rich cigars, perhaps even buy a small motorcycle, from to proceeds of this sale. So he things as he gently pulls the trigger, and the thunder of the shot is almost an afterthought, and the bullet now races to its target-</p><p></p><p> -freezes in mid air, as time slows, and the man now reaches to pat his companion on the head, a final farewell between two friends who have set themselves on a path that could only separate them, a path more moving for what it means, only to them.</p><p> “Now.” the man whispers, daring not to say more in case his voice breaks and reveals the sorrow he holds in check. Then he raises his arms into the air and screams, and then time is moving again as the air around him twists-</p><p></p><p> -the bullet performs well, and the tiger lies dead before the hunters. And now they stand in awe, for with the death of the great animal it seems to change and become more beautiful then before. The signs of the chase have faded away. Even the wounds given to it from the quick shots of its pursuers and the roll down the embankment have disappeared. The tiger is whole and nearly unmarked, save for the final, fatal shot.</p><p>For a moment then men bow their heads in a universal gesture of respect. They know they will never hunt such a foe again. The time of the white tiger has passed, and with it has gone the hunt.</p><p> Now the hunters load the carcass onto the sling, carefully so as not to muss the coat of their prize, and perhaps with a touch of respect. And then they are gone, and the jungle is left to its own devices.</p><p></p><p> -and the fire dies, all at once and without a sound. The ashes are still and cold, but one that burns brighter for the darkness (Picture – burning ash). The man slumps backward, leaning against the tiger beside him, his tears now falling.</p><p> They lay for some time like this. Then, the tiger shifts, standing up onto its two good legs and turning its mighty head to stare the man in the eyes. The man stares back, and the tiger’s piercing blue gaze seems to hold the two fast as the final ash finally succumbs to the chill air.</p><p> Then the man rises to his feet, and placing a hand on the tigers head he turns to face the horizon of that beach. Finally he nods, and then he and the tiger are gone as the air twists once more.</p><p></p><p> Now the beach lies empty, as the sun sets in the distant sky, a bloody sunset to the hunt.</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="Speaker, post: 2340061, member: 6571"] [b]The Lady For The Tiger[/b] The Lady For The Tiger Two figures on a distant beach, one male, one female. They sit, eyes locked, her grey eyes locked on his. Between them a stock of wood, arranged to burn but not yet aflame. The sun is strong. “Now." Whispers the lady, and the other leans forward, ever so slightly on the hard, rocky soil. A deepening of mind, and suddenly- -he is at rest, on a strong branch of this tree. This is his home, as much as any place may be home for one of his bearing. For he is the true master of the wild, the Bengal White Tiger. There is no animal like him, and the presence now beginning to fill his head knows that there will not be, never again, for this is the last of his kind. Slowly his breed has been eliminated, and even those who live in captivity have passed away, victims of broken freedom and quiet boredom. His fate is as desperate as any of those animals he may have fallen upon to prey in the past, and now he- -the fire is starting to burn, a flame from nowhere, steadily building. The women nods to herself, almost imperceptibly, face and veil shining in the firelight (picture of a woman’s face), and the man holds his place. Indeed, his body remains still even as his mind descends upon the noble beast, so far away and so lonely. But as time passes, that distance decreases and the man becomes the tiger, and now he frowns, for something is happening. The fire- -smells something on the wind. It is a smell of another animal, but of a different sort. And with that smell comes a memory of danger for the white tiger. In one swift movement and uncoiling of powerful limbs, the tiger rises to its feet. It pauses then for a second, making sure, testing the wind thoroughly. For he is the greatest hunter of this place, yes, but there are greater hunters still. And now he can taste many of them, with every breath. This is not the first time he has been hunted. Those who seek him have become desperate, for with every death of his like siblings his value has risen. Now his teeth alone would fetch the price of a manor, his hide a large tract of land, and his bones a great reward. The tiger does not know this, now as he tenses for the chase, but the presence in his head understands and comprehends the desperate peril now at hand. And now the time for waiting has passed, for the smell of humanity is coming ever nearer. The tiger leaps, and as he hits the ground his great feet are already moving. A voice cries out in alarm, and then with joy, and now the chase is on. But this is the tiger’s home, and for all the planning and the numbers of those who hunt him, the tiger now is at his finest and will not be made easy prey. Now the jungle passes by as the tiger picks up speed, and the presence marvels at how he might at one moment gracefully spring to this tall rock, then the next fling himself there, to that towering tree, not pausing and racing in mind as well as body, seeking refuge because the hunters are all about, and every way seems to lead to a desperate trap and defeat. Now ahead the tiger catches a glimpse of a pursuer. The man stands still, a weapon raised, and now there is a blast of thunder and the tiger turns only just in time to avoid the bullet. With a bound the tiger could take vengeance, as the man throws down his makeshift firearm and turns in fear, but instead the sharp retort of the weapon sends the tiger charging past the man an on into the bush. But the other hunters have heard the shot, and now their smell presses down on the tiger more sharply then before. But finally a glimmer of safety. At one moment the tiger is flying over a collection of misshapen branches and mossy rock, and the next the ground drops away fifty, a hundred feet. Down the tiger drops, falling now faster, and then- -dances high now, flaring with the desperation of the chase. The man sits rigid, eyes locked on the flames. His companion, however, is now moving. Slowly she rises to her feet, glances to the stars. And more slowly still she begins to change. The veil drops in to her face, becoming a pattern of black stripes, and her skin whitens and begins to grow fur. As the fire crackles now she drops to all fours. Her limbs begin to shorten and become more heavily muscled, her hands to become great paws, and now where stood a lady stands instead a- -there is water all around as the tiger completes his dive (picture: tiger in water). Bengal tigers swim as naturally as they run, and now the tiger drives forward with his powerful paws, pushes through the water of this clear pool and up towards the surface. Now he enters the exiting river, floating downstream, a brief respite, paddling only to keep afloat. The sounds of the chase are above him, but his puny pursuers dare not take the plunge to follow after. But something is wrong. The tiger can still smell men. And now up the river towards him comes a speedboat, its motor harshly blazing a trail, and the tiger lunges for the bank. The boat is impossibly fast, heading his way against the current, and now its passengers can see the tiger and they too take aim and fire their own guns. But the tiger has reached the bank, and even as his hide is scored by a lucky shot he pulls himself out of the water and dashes back into the green wild. Behind him there are shouted orders and oaths, and the boat motors to shore. The chase is on as strong as ever, and somehow the tiger knows that this is his hour of final glory and releases all of his reserves. The presence in the tiger’s head is once again awed, as the tiger now doubles its speed and swiftly powers over vines and through bushes. For a moment, escape seems possible, even likely as the tiger plunges through and past the noose tightening around him. But this hunt is like no other hunt before. The forest is teaming with enemies who have hunted his kind before, and now they are ahead and the tiger can smell their determination. Swiftly he darts aside, heading almost back the way he came, and then again he turns before the river patrol can catch him and heads again in a new direction. There are more shouts, and the presence in his head notes that this is a trap a long time in making, for the cordon of foes has not been shaking by the tiger’s tactics, either his jump into the water or his quick reverses, and now the tiger is forced into one path and one path only, and the tiger himself can sense the rap that is coming. But of to go back or to cut to the sides would mean certain death, and so the tiger must run on and hope he can outrun death itself. And then the trap springs shut about him, as- -Bengal white tiger, as terrific and as strong as the one occupied in chase so far from here. The tiger-once-a-woman now leaps over the blazing fire, coming face to face with the concentrating man, turning at the last second to avoid bowling him over and instead gracefully sliding to his side, eyes locked on his. “Soon.” Is all the man says, and now his teeth are clenched shut together and his mind is so tightly wound to the tiger’s fate that he refuses to feel the fire’s heat on his face as it roars still higher, blazing for that far off tiger and the desperate, inevitable fate in hand. The sun is dropping lower into the sky, but the fire is burning brighter and the heat is coming on hard now, and now the newly shaped Bengal white tiger and the man sit still as statues as events race to their final conclusion. And then the time comes, and the fire- -the tiger, in his haste, crashes into the nets spread out to ensnare him. Desperately the tiger surges forward, his muscles tense beneath his white skin, and with that lunge he almost breaks free, snapping two of the small trees that hold fast the net through sheer brute force and rending the net through. But before he can slip out through the small opening before him, his hunters are upon him, dragging with them a heavier net weighted with stones, using their combined strength to throw it over the white beast they have cornered. Now they grab fast the net. But the tiger is still stronger then all of them and the weight of the net combined, and with one great paw he sends a man flying. Only the promise of greed manages to hold fast the others, and the next minutes is one of confusion as the tiger bears this way and that, sending some into the bushes and tearing at the cords that now garrote his white and black neck. Then with a final lounge he pounded free from the moorings they sought to place around him, with a final gasp pulls the net from the hands of all those about him and sending them off their feet. Now the tiger shakes free and prepares to begin the chase anew, even as one of the net minding enemies rolls for his gun. The tiger races for the shelter of further woods, when there is a crash of thunder behind him, and then his thigh is pierced and he cannot but fall, carried by his own momentum forward into the bushes and once again he is falling, but this time there is no water and the slope is not so steep, and the great white hide of the tiger is scored with mud and welts and blood. Panting, he attempts to rise to his paws, but he cannot. The bullet that hit is thigh has disabled his hind legs, and now he is trapped, waiting for the end. And the men are coming for their prize, safely assured of their victory, laughing and joking at a job well down. The bravest among them is selected to have the honor of the killing shot. Carefully he pushes forward, and the tiger bats towards him with his forepaws but he is too far. The hunter lines up his shot, to be sure that the pelt is good and presentable for sale. Now he will manage to feed his family, ensure that he can continue his habit of purchasing rich cigars, perhaps even buy a small motorcycle, from to proceeds of this sale. So he things as he gently pulls the trigger, and the thunder of the shot is almost an afterthought, and the bullet now races to its target- -freezes in mid air, as time slows, and the man now reaches to pat his companion on the head, a final farewell between two friends who have set themselves on a path that could only separate them, a path more moving for what it means, only to them. “Now.” the man whispers, daring not to say more in case his voice breaks and reveals the sorrow he holds in check. Then he raises his arms into the air and screams, and then time is moving again as the air around him twists- -the bullet performs well, and the tiger lies dead before the hunters. And now they stand in awe, for with the death of the great animal it seems to change and become more beautiful then before. The signs of the chase have faded away. Even the wounds given to it from the quick shots of its pursuers and the roll down the embankment have disappeared. The tiger is whole and nearly unmarked, save for the final, fatal shot. For a moment then men bow their heads in a universal gesture of respect. They know they will never hunt such a foe again. The time of the white tiger has passed, and with it has gone the hunt. Now the hunters load the carcass onto the sling, carefully so as not to muss the coat of their prize, and perhaps with a touch of respect. And then they are gone, and the jungle is left to its own devices. -and the fire dies, all at once and without a sound. The ashes are still and cold, but one that burns brighter for the darkness (Picture – burning ash). The man slumps backward, leaning against the tiger beside him, his tears now falling. They lay for some time like this. Then, the tiger shifts, standing up onto its two good legs and turning its mighty head to stare the man in the eyes. The man stares back, and the tiger’s piercing blue gaze seems to hold the two fast as the final ash finally succumbs to the chill air. Then the man rises to his feet, and placing a hand on the tigers head he turns to face the horizon of that beach. Finally he nods, and then he and the tiger are gone as the air twists once more. Now the beach lies empty, as the sun sets in the distant sky, a bloody sunset to the hunt. [/QUOTE]
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