It's misty and cool alongside the river at dawn, with Bright Treasure's rays just appearing far to the East. Fires are being brought back to life here and there, but for the most part the camp is quiet except for the incessant lowing of Bison cows and the occasional Heron call.

As the Braves arrive one by one, leading their mounts and carrying just their weapons and bare necessities, they spy in the middle of the slow moving serpent, four men standing on a sand bar.

As one they raise their arms and wave for the braves to wade over to them….

The Prairie Thunder Clan's four shaman's.

Kobal wades through the water towards the Wise Ones, carrying not only his weapons, but also the staff that Angelika Snowspear has suggested he meditate upon.

His sleep was a bit troubled, and he feels nervous as he approaches the shamans and this moment.  Though perhaps part of it is the cold of the water swirling about his legs and feet.  In any event, the cool water brushes away any tiredness he feels.

As he steps onto the sandbar, he senses the gravity of the situation - the next step in his manhood.

Kaonu tries to stiffle a yawn but fails, he's tired after the long night's festivities, and both arms ache from all the drumming.

That said he can still manage a smile and rests his free arm on Kobal's shoulder, wincing only slightly at the effort.

"We'll be fine…Trust in your strengths and the fact that Thunder Bird chose you. Last night I spoke to Tokar Eight Sable and he said normally it was the brave who chose the Rival and not the other way around. We are meant to be here…"

The young brave still  manages to look just as nervous as his friend, and almost on cue Yellow wing jettisons an avalanche of dung as they descend the bank.

"Must be catching….The nerves that is…"
This message was last edited by the player at 11:40, Mon 18 Nov 2013.

Melock, with a big smile on his face he leads Stinky across the serpent what a fine day to set off on an other adventure

Amara had been quiet and withdrawn ever since the previous day. She wrapped her shawl tight around her against the cold in the air. Thunderfoot was aagitated by something nearby and she couldn't figure out what it was. Amara had to constantly provide her mount with reassurance to stop her from running off. Only once they'd entered the serpent towards the wise one did she settle, Amara leading her by the reins across to the erstwhile island where the wise ones were.

Greeshar is silent and brooding in the morning, riding the mighty Stoneskin and carrying only his weapons and assorted fetishes and necklaces. Using his great rhino prod, he urges his mount into the water along with his comrades, and it occurs to him to watch for any appearance of Thunderbird or his kin in the dawn light.

As the braves draw closer they realise that not all the fog is from the river, for on the island are many clay braziers belching forth thick white smoke.

The four shamans spread out slightly, feet lifting in exaggerated bird like movements, and as one begin to beat drums, each keeping their own beat. Covering the men's face are carved bird masks, hook beaked and with a crown of different coloured feathers…

The noise and smoke immediately begin to confuse the senses, distorting angles of vision and playing havoc with hearing. As the party gather on the island the banks vanish, to reappear suddenly much closer, only to vanish in another gout of smoke and to appear several bow shots away.

Cloud Walker or Thunder Bird as he is now, throws something into the nearest fire and the smoke turns Orange matching the feathers on his crown. This is repeated one by one, by each of the shamans, Fire Hawk, Raven and finally Condor, who of all the men walks the strangest, long, unsure strides as if only just having learned to walk…

Soon there is Black, Golden and Brown smoke mixing in with the Orange, with the drumming getting louder and louder.

Still the Shaman's have not said anything, as they now move in and around the young braves, with leering eyes and bobbing feathers. It would almost be comical if it where not such a serious occasion.

All present feel that the chill in the air is not only from the time of day….

Late to the fathering, Blackeye at his side and with Kohana trailing behind with all his equipment, Salen hurried as best he could. His expression was grave, but it sparked into unexpected joy when he looked to the sandbar.

Four shamans! Was Long Grass truly returned?

Somehow Kaonu's wince reassures Kobal, maybe as a reminder that none of them is perfect.

He ponders his brother's words as he crosses the water.

He'd expected a representative of the Sky Watcher clan at this ceremony, even if the clan has fallen on lean times.  Now, as he steps onto the sand bar, he realises that one of the shamans is Condor.  Is that Long Grass?!  He smiles at Salen, happy for the brave, and for Long Grass too.

Then, as the shamans begin to move about them, he stands still, unsure of what to do, except watch this ritual solemnly.

The shamans move about the braves and their mounts, banging drums and cawing like birds. Though their movements look chaotic in their randomness, the braves realise that there is some method being implemented, for the sandy ground is now covered in intricate pathways that begin to glow with a blue luminescence…

Now that they are closer, it can be seen that the shaman's bare lower legs are covered in bundled feathers, arms too, and as the magic builds the men flicker, alternating between giant spirit bird and mortal man.

A flash of flame and their stands Sun Hawk, a deep pool of darkness hiding Raven, a bulging rain filled cloud outlining Thunder Bird and finally a patch of open blue sky with Condor soaring centre piece.

The drumming stops.

And at the four points of the compass sit the Shamans on their Bison.

North Sun Hawk.

East Thunder Bird.

South Raven.

West Condor.

Without a word they turn, nudging their mounts in to a trot, the dense smoke swirling in and around them to fill in the space where they once stood.

Time to go...

Melock will mount Stinky and follow Raven to the south Good luck brothers and sister At least I'm not the only one going alone. Hacha would have loved this his face momenterally becomes down cast as he thinks of Hacha, but he is on his own adventure now

Silent all this morning, Fireborn mounts Cloudkiller and follows to the North. His heels dig into the massive sides of the bison as he urges his forward fast so he does not lose sight of the shaman.

Greeshar thrills to the feel of magic in the air, and he sits straighter as he watches the majestic Thunderbird appear. His feather token feels potent, and he places a hand upon it to tap its secrets. Urging the mighty Stoneskin forward, he follows his vision, alert to whatever may come. Bathed in the presence of the powerful bird, Greeshar considers its qualities, and tries to envision them in himself. He has no trouble seeing that it is a good fit, and he flexes his powers, including the mighty Stoneskin in his aura.

Amara reached out to her brother, holding his hand in solidarity. Her eyes showed only confidence as she rode after the Thunderbird shaman. While they were no longer children, they were not really adults in the eyes of the tribe. This would go a long way towards raising their stature in the clans. With a smile she didn't really feel, she let his hand go to put it on the reins of her rhino.

One by one the young braves head off after their respective shaman, each swallowed by the clouds of smoke and mist. At first there is nothing to see, just the vague outline of the person in front and the occasional outcrop of rock or bush. The ground is hidden and their mount's footfall silent as if walking on air.

Slowly they begin to ascend a gentle slope


Breaking out in to…..

As the shamans move about the braves, gradually a pattern becomes clearer to Kobal. Slowly his body starts to sway in time to the movements of Thunder Bird as it appears to glide, bank and turn among the party.

Then suddenly shamans are on their bison and turning away.  Shaking off his reverie, Kobal quickly climbs onto Black Hoof and urges his mount forward, so as not to lose sight of Thunder Bird in swirling mists.

As the smoke whispers around, he has a sudden sensation that he's no longer riding on firm ground, but somehow soaring in the air.  Disorienting, but he tries to relax his mind and body to accept the sensation.

It was indeed Long Grass - there was no mistaking him, particularly after the recent journey and trials that Salen had shared with the shaman. With a light kick of his heels on Kohana's flank he urged his bison onward, and westward, following the chosen path.

As the last brave vanishes so does the smoke, leaving an empty sand bar in the middle of a slow moving river. On the banks sit two old fellas of the Prairie Thunder Clan, fishing rods in hand.

"Reckon we'll see any of that lot again?"

"Who was it?" replies the other, his face crosshatched with a myriad of tiny scars.

"Bunch of young 'uns, talking fast with their breeches hanging off their arses. Wandering Rangers I heard my grand daughter call 'em. She came home last night, wouldn't shut up about some Rhino rider, all cow eyed she was. Tell you they's nuthin' but trouble."

"Aye, stealing our women…Wandering Arses more like it…."

"Aye."

"Aye."

"Got a bite!"

"So you 'ave…"