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 Sunny Days of yore...

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Zas B'ul


Posts : 713
Join date : 2013-08-29
Location : Texas

PostSubject: Sunny Days of yore...   Fri 06 Sep 2013, 13:13

As Zas traveled easterly his mind swirled with thoughts of how he would feel after completing the quest and becoming a member of the Silent Striders, like his father. Unfortunately, with the joy of this thought, came all the hardships and suffering he had undergone to reach this point starting with the most recent dealings he had gone through, including the Fomor and it's terrible visions.

Zas settled into his ride and matched the pace of his horse breathing rhythmically, he recounted back to his early days with the Na-ta-hay to try and clear his head. All this ended up successfully doing was bring up more memories he'd rather have forgotten.

His mind played through the scene: The white children running around playing silly games. The General Store owner sweeping off the dust from the walkway. The Sheriff sitting back peacefully in a rocking chair, hat over his eyes, snoring contentedly. The only consistent sounds running through the town being the laughter of the White children, the Crazy Horse Saloon piano player missing every other note, and the ever constant warm southern desert breeze. It was Sunday, late in the afternoon. The nearby church had just closed it's doors for the day as the preacher had escorted the last little old female widow outside to her awaiting horse and buggy. Zas was preoccupied trying to chase down a wild turkey he had set his eyes on as it ran down the side streets.

Suddenly, seeming to come from out of nowhere, a towering cloud of dust became visible on the horizon. The ground rumbled beneath everyone's feet. The Sheriff's slumber was disturbed, causing him to immediately stand up and place his hat on appropriately as he surveyed the scene. The store owner stopped his mundane chore as he too tried to see the source of the ruckus. The children continued on, oblivious to their surroundings. The turkey made a mad dash into a small hole of a closed stable, breaking Zas attention long enough to feel the ground moving. He wandered cautiously out into the main street to see the commotion.

The Sheriff's eyes squinted at the cloud. He must have seen what it was, for as soon as he did, he started yelling and screaming all manner of swear words and hollered out to the the store owner to get the kids inside. The piano player continued butchering whatever tune he was attempting all the while. Zas couldn't quite make it out, but if the white people were running for cover, it wasn't good.
He made his way to the school house on the edges of town to try and get out of the way.

The cloud grew closer and as it did, vague shapes began to form. The sound of the children laughing, the piano player killing music as a concept, the Sheriff screaming, all were drowned out by the thundering sound of hundreds of hooves headed straight for town.

The shapes became more defined to eventually reveal the largest herd of cattle Zas had ever seen, which were being driven forward by dozens of men on horseback with painted faces, feathers in their hair, all screaming various war cries, in a language Zas had never heard. It was both exciting and terrifying at the same time. Zas felt completely powerless as the first of the powerful and unstoppable wave of beasts poured into the town. He dove inside the empty water trough for protection.

The thundering herd continued on for an indeterminable amount of time before eventually subsiding. The war cries growing louder and closer in the place of the herds silence, until finally they too just abruptly stopped. A lone wolf howl was the only thing to be heard. It sounded uncomfortably close, but it also sounded familiar, almost soothing to Zas, almost as if his father were saying, "It's ok. Don't be afraid.".

Zas chanced a glance outside of the trough to see if the strange painted men had left. In a way they had. Red stains and shredded corpses lay littered about the field just outside. Scattered weapons and arrows lay in varying areas nearby. A single trail of red wolf prints heading away from town, was the only possible reasonable explanation for such mayhem, though to Zas' knowledge, no wolf had ever been so vicious.

It was then as Zas began to crawl out of the trough and head back to his village to tell them about what had happened, that he was lifted up off his feet and a sharp edged weapon of some type was forced against his throat. The bone chilling cry of one of the painted men shook Zas to his core. However, rather than screaming out in fear or having the early stages of panic set in, a fury unlike anything Zas had ever experienced welled up from somewhere deep down within himself. He felt himself getting taller rapidly, his arms lengthening, and such rage that he couldn't describe it as anything other than pure and raw unbridled, unrestrained anger. His sense of smell also grew stronger, as was evident by the unmistakable smell of urine coming from his would be attacker. His vision also improved, as he could suddenly see great distances with ease, down to minute details. His hearing was likewise enhanced, as the distant shots of the Sheriff's pistol fired off, the rampaging herd of startled cattle footbeats slowed miles away.

The grip the painted man had on Zas was very quickly released. The edged weapon was likewise removed. Zas turned around to look down upon and face his failed captor to see the man scrambling to find his horse. His eyes were filled with utter terror and dread. The man's horse was rapidly galloping away from the scene and he had no chance of being able to catch it, but he made the attempt anyway. Never once did he cast a glance at the monster that stood behind him. His once terrifying war cries now sounded as plea's for help.

Had Zas not wanted to end the life of this man, he didn't think he would have been able to stop himself from it. Thankfully, no such ethical dilemma's presented themselves. Zas raced after the man, covering ground quicker than he ever had before. He was upon the poor warrior before the man could lift his arm to protect his face. Zas felt his body unleash itself at the man. The first swipe of Zas' now massive, claw-filled hand was a death stroke. Were the man to have miraculously survived it though, the second and third swipes likewise would have ended his life. However, even after the man stopped breathing, Zas continued to tear him apart cleaving through bone and muscle alike as though they were butter. Even after the man stopped resembling anything close to human, Zas continued. This rage could not be quelled nor satisfied.

Zas only stopped his attack after he couldn't find any pieces of the man large enough to cut up smaller. That was when he caught whiff of another creature nearby. With his bared fangs and dripping wet claws, he charged towards the direction of the scent he had picked up. His vision allowed him to make out a large black upright wolf whose paws were also covered in red that was just staring at him as Zas neared. Without hesitation, Zas threw himself at the creature. The other beast ducked out of the way much quicker than Zas could have predicted, and even managed to rake Zas along his left side. Zas howled out in pain. As he turned around to retry his assault, he swung his claws only to hit air. The beast was not anywhere in Zas' field of vision. However, a long slash in Zas back ensured that his opponent was still very near. Just extremely quick.

Zas wheeled around again this time holding out his elbow opposite the direction he spins toward in an attempt to catch his adversary off guard. Much to his surprise, rather than spinning around to face this quick foe, Zas finds himself being thrown to the ground. Zas head slamming against a rock. He blacks out.

He awakes some time later to find himself at home, in his father's tent, resting on the bed. He has a bandage wrapped around his left side with the smell of herbs and other medicines used by his tribe.
Zas goes to sit up, but is instantly overwhelmed by the pain. As he re-situates he hears his father speaking, "I had hoped this day would come. I am glad I was there to witness it."

Zas replies, "Father, what happened? Why am I hurt?"

Sho-sho-Ne answers, "You have undergone your first change. You are hurt because you fought me."

Zas quickly says, "Father, I didn't mean to--"

He is cut off, as his dad responds, "It is ok. I am not harmed. The same can not be said of the Commanche who attacked the town. You in your frenzied state made sure at least one of them would not dare enter our territory again."

Zas makes to ask a question as he says, "Were you there? Was it you to killed the others?"

He nods but says nothing allowing Zas to process it all.

Zas is quiet for several seconds before saying, "What do I do now?"

Sho-sho-Ne answers, "You are to become a Silent Strider like me. I will teach you our ways.... provided you wish to learn them. I can teach you how to better use your gift, how to commune with the spirits, though there are others better suited for that."

Zas tilts his head as he asks "What are we?"

His father answers, "We are Garou. We are Apache. In time you will understand. For now rest." He then walks out the tent.


Zas makes it to the base of the mountains by nightfall. Weary from his travels and his mind's incessant need to relive the past. He stops for the night to rest for what he knows will likely be the last time he gets a full night of sleep.
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