Night…..

The sudden shower of rain vanished as quick as it had arrived and those huddled beneath hastily erected hides appeared, grinning and shaking themselves dry….Laughing at those who'd brazened the deluge and were now soaking wet.

Sea Season…..A time of renewal, the tail end of Winter Fertile and heralding the arrival of fresh pastures, thanks to the much needed water it brought.

With the sky crystal clear once more, the cold seeped in and those about the campfire edged forward,  just as a large handful of dung was thrown on to the embers…. A muttered charm causing it to flare with a sudden loud whoosh.

"Mahome be blessed" goes the reply, and then the chatter begins again, young voices quickly drowning out the ever present noises of the clan's Bison Herd….. A thousand head strong, they filled the nearby canyons and gullies with their incessant lowing and bellowing.

A week since initiation….. And now one special group of those young adults sat huddled amongst a copse of Skull bushes, under the watchful eye of their Shaman Feather Wait, and Tokar Eight Sable, a hardened brave and respected initiate of Waha.

Feather Wait drew on his pipe, blowing a long stream of smoke into the brisk night air, as two small forms came scurrying into sight. It was Yasha and Dust flies high, an elderly couple, once of the Ostrich clan and for as long as anyone present could remember, slaves.

Between them they carried a spited impala, which they lowered to the ground in front of their masters, immediately smacking at any grasping hands and letting fly with friendly curses.

"It's okay" grunts Tokar, "let the youngsters eat…They've earned it after today…."

The warrior seems happy for once and he waves the old man and his wife to one side, where they sit on the edge of the fire's glare, threadbare blankets pulled about their shoulders.

Sitting down next to the Shaman, Tokar indicates the roast  "Off looking for strays again and this mob surprised a small herd of unguarded impala. Against the odds they ran three of them down, Only Foundchild himself knows how."

Feather Wait just nods and exhales, eyes watching the group over his birdlike nose, as a flurry of Skull bats launch themselves out of the nearest bush.

"Mmmm...."

For each of those present it had been a hard week, as they were adults now and expected to pull their weight even more so than before. Endless chores, weapon training, reciting of stories, learning of knots and riding until sun down; Looking for strays and keeping watch for the ever present raiders.

Storm Season had passed and at the start of Sacred time they'd each been launched along the path to adulthood. Separated from their families, they'd been brought to the hidden sacred camp to enact ancient rituals and ceremonies, designed to reveal their natural strengths and weaknesses, before entering the Godtime and walking with the Great Spirits themselves.

There Darkness was bested or embraced, new trails walked and secrets revealed, each experiencing their own special path, before returning to the real world to receive their Clan's marking and tattoos.

As Adults!

This happened every few years….As regular as regular could be, except this time something strange had happened. Each of those who'd returned, came clutching a single large feather, either black, golden or orange, and speaking of being guarded on their journey by one of the Three Feathered Rivals…..

"Mmmm..."

Greeshar stood alone, the picture of an awkward, forced nonchalance. Where the other youths talked and laughed and boasted, Greeshar's gaze was turned inward. Thinking about what had transpired at the ceremony, and during the subsequent week, he pondered what the future held for him.

He smiled at Amara when he noticed her nearby, but the bison people remained strangers. If they talked behind his back, then so be it. He would have strong comrades of the Storm Bull.

Yet he still unconsciously brushed the orange feather at his waist, and thought.

Amara beamed with pride at both her and her brothers accomplishments. Only a week ago they were children underfoot and in the way and now they were adults among the people. She smiled at those of the Bison clan that she knew. She was thankful for the Bison clan, even though they had strange ways, they were close to her heart. They had provided for the Sky Watchers in their time of need and soon it would be time to pay in kind for what the Bison people had done. She had tied her orange feather into her hair, part of the braid that told of her status in the riders, firmly secured there, to tell all she had met the Thunder bird.

She watched the others around the fire, waiting for the heat of the fire to warm her bones, the smell of the cooking meat filling her nose and senses waking the desire to taste the food. She wrapped herself tighter in her shawl, anticipating the sense of community that the evening had in store for them.

Kobal's chest filled with pride on hearing the words of Eight Sable, though he tried not to let it show.  So long he had waited to stay in the bachelor's camp, to be an adult.  With his height, he had long towered over some adults in the clan, and it had stuck in his craw many a time when he'd been reminded of his place.  But now he was a Man!

He knew what he must do, to show his maturity.  Unfolding his long legs, he moved to the impala, drew out his knife and cut the backstraps out of the carcass, offering those choicest parts to Feather Wait and Eight Sable.  He was pleased that his hand was firm and his strokes confident has he displayed his butchery to those in the tent, and to Waha.  At least he hoped he'd looked like a Man who'd done this many times before...

That done, he took his place back in the ring about the Mahome's warmth.  A hearth fire like any other, except this was one for adults.

Yet amongst all his happiness, he felt a streak of uncertainty as he looked about his brothers and sisters in the circle, and his gaze fell upon Amara and Greeshar.  Many of his real brothers and sisters had returned from the ceremony with black or golden feathers.  But like him these rhino riders had an orange feather...  Even the smallest things that these rhino riders did seemed different, like how they crossed their arms.

In reply to GM (msg # 1):

Melock takes his turn selecting his part of the sable, and as he walks back to the fire smiles at Amara and promptly trips over his own feet narrowly missing the fire. he picks himself up, dust off the meat and sits down by the fire not making eye contact with anyone else and starts eating.
This message was last edited by the player at 07:17, Thu 22 Aug 2013.

Tokar accepts the food from Kobal with a wink and gets stuck in straight away, grunting with satisfaction. Reaching behind him, he pulls from the ground a wobbling skin and throws it to Kobal

"Kumiss, made by my Mother...Drink and pass it around. You and the other's have earned it today. Not seen Impala caught like that in many a year....Was good work and fine lance work from you Amara. Not bad, not bad at all."

You could tell that he nearly added For a girl, but a look from the Shaman cut him short.

To cover this, he turned his attention to Amara's twin brother Greeshar.

"Oi, big fellah, come over here and sit, there's food...Eat....Or do you not eat meat we're you're from?"

Though sat as close to the fire as the others, Feather Wait is enveloped in darkness, his face only becoming fully visible as he darts forward to peck at the food held in his claw like hands.

As he shifts to get more comfortable, so the darkness shifts too, almost as if alive, and those closest could swear that they hear the rustling of hundreds of feathers.

"Melock"

His voice caws loudly across the fire

"Tell me what you see?"

In reply to Feather Wait (msg # 7):

"i see a cloak of living raven feathers, Feather Wait" replies Melock in an awstruck voice "where do i get one he thinks

In reply to Melock (msg # 8):

The Shaman nods once and then returns to eating his food.

Amara smiled at the compliment "It might have been my lance which speared the impala, but it was quick twist of the head that you taught me that made it tender and tasty for our stomachs." she inclined her head to Tokar in thanks for the lesson, before nudging her brother not a little unkindly to go forward to drink with him with a glare suggesting he not dare back down.
This message was last edited by the player at 12:38, Thu 22 Aug 2013.

Fireborn sat looking into the fire, the feather in his hand as much of a focus to him as the dancing flames. Breaking his own self imposed trance he partakes of both the roasted impala and the kumiss.

He smiles at Tokar and says..."Great honor to Amara and also to your mother who made this kumiss...a better batch I have never tasted."

Again he is drawn to the fire, always the fire. He sits too close just to feel the heats intensity.

In reply to Feather Wait (msg # 9):

Melock glances around briefly, smiles and then tries the Kumiss. "I agree with Fireborn, this is indeed fine kumiss. Tokar, you honour us with this".
and then he offers the kumiss to Greeshar Longhorn with a smile

"Aye but you took down the second" replied the warrior "It was a fine group effort, rare to see ones as young as you work so well together, especially so as two of you are Sky Watchers and all...Makes me proud so it does...."

Tokar stands up and excuses himself to pass water, pushing his way past a Skull bush and sending another flurry of bats skywards. It's fully dark now and the red glow of a dozen nearby fires can be seen through the high bushes, and if one was to look further they'd find a score more past those, and the same again if one was to go the other way.

Drums began to play, low and slow, mixing in with the sounds of the herd, as over head the smoke from all the cooking began to hide the Stars.

All in all, a typical night deep within the Wastes....

Kaonu seats and looks nowhere, as if he was not really present. He’s wet from having spent his time at the entrance of his tent during the rain, looking outside, sometimes whispering like for himself. He holds an orange feather, which he slowly caresses. When the kumiss flask comes to him, he suddenly wakes up from his dreaminess. “Ow, excellent ! Even better than the one my mother Inta-talks-fast makes. Whatever Tokar bring us, it is always good. He seems to be happy with us. Hey, the drums are playing, let’s sing and dance!” He attaches his feather to his belt and starts lousily the “Three Horns in a Bag” song.

In reply to Kaonu Windspeaker (msg # 14):

Melock joins in, badly out of key

Greeshar, standing silently, studiously looked down and avoided any gazes that might mock him. In spite of that, he began to notice that there were other orange feathers like those he and his sister carried.

Maybe there were a few here who might not mock... he thought to himself. He looked up and saw Kobal looking at him. He started to bristle, then saw that the youth held an orange feather himself. He could be thinking the same thing that I am.

Just then Melock tripped while giving his sister cow-eyes, and he couldn't help but smile. He included both Kobal and Melock in his gaze, watching them to see how they reacted. He looked up with a start when he realized Tokar was talking to him. Should I go over? Or will they laugh? Maybe I should throw my knife...

Amara's nudge and glare spurred him to action, but he rethought his reply. “Yes, we eat meat and savor it,” he said with an attempt at bravado.  Greeshar stepped forward, tension in his muscles as the firelight reflected from his dark eyes. He took the kumiss skin from Melock with a brief smile, then sprayed a well-aimed stream into his mouth.

Wiping his lips with his forearm, he handed the bag on to Kaonu and joined Tokar. He inclined his head with all the gravity a young man could muster, and said, “My clan taught us to work together at need, though we will go forth alone as well. But I see the folk of Prairie Thunder have skill too.”

Greeshar stopped speaking as the singing began. He cut meat and shared with Amara, letting the juices run down his chest. He made a point of trying to note all those whose feathers were orange.

Fireborn beams with pride at Tokar's compliment. If may have not been the first impala brought down but it was still something to be proud of.

When Kaonu starts his song, Fireborn joins in right after Melock and does not sound much better.

Amara enjoyed the food her brother brought her. Unlike him, she took care eating it, making sure none of the juices spilled over her clothing. She smiled in greeting and empathy to poor Melock as he stumbled around the campfire. When the kumiss arrived for her to drink, she stood holding the bag in a way that one of the men might, her eyes screwed tightly shut as her throat filled with the fire of the drink. She passed the skin quickly to another trying not to let her tears show at the potency of the drink.

Amara sat back down quickly after the drink. Whether it was the drink or the company that gave her the courage, she joined the song. Her voice quite in contrast to that of the men. It joined the mens song, singing in harmony, weaving the mens voices into a true song as it joined the wind.

Kobal wipes the slightly sweet yet sour kumiss from his lips as he savours a cut of the impala.  But he stops and listens when Feather Wait addresses Melock.  Kobal knows that there are spirits everywhere, but the power of Feather Wait is apparent and when the wise one is around, the sense of the presence of spirits is more immediate.

He nods inwardly in approval when he hears Greeshar talk to Eight Sable.  The man honours us with his words.  Man.  Yes.  We are all Men now.

The other sounds and activity in the tent invade his thoughts.  "Three Horns in a Bag" is addictive, even the way Kaonu sings it.  Kobal stands up and joins in, though if he's honest with himself, he doesn't sound any better.  He clasps a hand on Melock's shoulder and says into his ear with a grin, "These Rhino People have been with us only a few seasons, but I think she is our sister now.  I am no lawspeaker, but I think you must look elsewhere for your bride, haha."

Singing, he works his way among his fellow braves, in the general direction of Greeshar.
This message was last edited by the player at 03:09, Fri 23 Aug 2013.

Hacha sloped around the fire, darted in a for slab of impala meat, and then continued to circle, until he reached the two elders. He muttered a polite greeting, then squatted on the ground next to the Shaman to eat and watch the play of his fellows. When the Shaman finished eating, Hacha asked "Feather Wait? What is the  meaning of the feathers we brought back with us: one black, one gold, one orange?"
This message was last edited by the player at 04:14, Fri 23 Aug 2013.

Greeshar finds the kumiss and drinks. He meets Amara's gaze, fierce pride for his sister plain to read on his face. Watching the spirit-talkers uneasily, he moves away and finds himself nearing Kobal.

"Will you drink with me?" he says with a note of challenge.
This message was last edited by the player at 03:13, Mon 26 Aug 2013.

As Kaonu Windspeaker's rendition of Three Horns in a Bag gains strength it spreads to the other fires dotted about the plains, and hidden within the gullies and ravines of the nearby Mesas.

Tokar Eight Sable returns, bringing several older bachelors with him, drums in hand, and they sit amongst the younger men, keeping time to the song and adding their strong voices to the mix.

Magic is being weaved tonight, as Clansmen add their spiritual essence to the mix, making the very music tangible.

Feather Wait has begun swaying, muttering to the sky, his darkness spreading outwards and upwards to form a swirling patch of darkness above the fire.

The flames rise, combatting the sudden cold brought on by the nearing of the spirit world.

The Shaman turns his now bright eyes towards the young brave

"Ah my little Raven....You Know when to ask the right question."

The drumming continues, but drops in tempo, encouraging those still singing to stop and listen to the Shaman's words.

"Each of you here, as you know returned from your initiation holding a feather. For some it was Orange, the feather of Thunder Bird, or Gold for Sun Hawk and in yours and Melock's case a Black feather, that of Raven. They walked with you whilst you were on the other side....They chose you.... An honour and one, not in living memory, given to so many at once."

His pipe is raised and filled from a pouch at his belt, silvery powder that catches the firelight as he pushes it into the bowl.

A flick of a finger and it ignites, the fragrant smell drifting amongst the braves.

"The Feathered Rivals....That's who..... I shall tell you the story of who they are. Three spirits who protect and guide the Clans who worship them. Rivals each."

Feather Wait looks across at the collected youths and inhales

"Mmmmm"

More braves have joined the group now and other things, flitting half seen about the edge of the fire's reach.

"Once, along time ago, two mighty Spirits engaged in a series of contests which ended up with the world going mad and everything nearly being destroyed.

They travelled the world and performed one contest in each of the places they met. One place was near Genert's Garden in a clearing in the forests of Prax.

Yes, do not look surprised...all this land was filled with forests...

The two Great spirits wanted a contest of Animals and looked for a judge. Canny Trickster was a friend of one and had been banished by the other and wanted revenge.

 He took a bundle of feathers and spat on it, making a new deity he called Raven. The two Great Spirits said they would ask the first spirit they saw in the clearing to be their Judge, so Trickster hid Raven where no-one could see him. As the Great Spirits approached Raven appeared and became Judge for this contest.

The Great Sun Spirit produced the Sun Hawk, an osprey, a chicken and a winged horse. Great Rain Man made the mighty Thunder Bird, a sheep, a great deer and a mountain tiger. The playful Raven judged in favour of the Rain Man even though The Great Sun Spirit was clearly the winner. Sun Hawk saw through the deception and chased raven from the field. Afterwards, Thunderbird always defeated Sun Hawk who defeated Raven who defeated Thunderbird."

Feather Wait passes the pipe to Hacha

"Smoke....And pass it on."

"Finally Trickster tried to take back his feathers, but Raven liked being real and flew away. The sheep and tiger went West, the deer leapt over the mountains to the north, the winged horse flew north, the osprey and chicken stayed in Prax.

And so it goes....."
This message was last edited by the player at 07:09, Fri 23 Aug 2013.

"Ah....Story time....."

From out of the bushes clomps Cloud Walker, his stout near naked form in sharp contrast to that of the thin Feather Wait.

The Shaman's Cloud tattoos have bunched about his shoulders, black and moody, filled with Sea Season rain, an indication of what was in store for the next day.

He comes to a halt next to Amara and drops like a rock to the ground.

"Pass me the skin....Thirsty work living... eh Lass?"

He glugs deep , wobbles himself into the sand and once comfortable, begins....

"When the world was dark, after the two great spirits had fought and brought god things to an end, the forest of Prax stood firm. It reached from the Earth to the Sky. Among its branches sat four nests. The lowest was hidden in the darkness of the forest, away from the canopy, the next was in the windy branches, the next was in the Lower Sky and the highest was near to where the Sun used to live.

In those nest lived Raven, Thunderbird, Condor and Sun Hawk. Condor was a son of Vrimak, son of the Sun Spirit and had fought in the Gods' War until his rider fell and was consumed by Chaos. He saw the power of the Three Rivals and challenged each in turn. First he challenged Sun Hawk who was the Highest, but Sun Hawk was a Son of the Sun Spirit and Condor was only a grandson so was forced into retreat.

Next he challenged Thunderbird who deafened him with a Thunderclap and chased him away. Finally, he faced Raven who had been defeated by Sun Hawk, but Condor had no Clearsight and was tricked by his opponent's illusions. Defeated, Condor retreated to his nest high above the land where he sat and brooded.

And broods still.

And so it goes...."

The Shaman nods sagely and then laughs out loud.

"And they've chosen you mob....What a hoot...."
This message was last edited by the player at 08:22, Fri 23 Aug 2013.

The crowd of older men murmur amongst themselves and clap their thighs in respect to the stories.

Some of them can be seen looking about as if expecting someone else.

And as if on cue the Fire flares upwards....

As the flames die down it reveals the Shaman Smokey Jojo, sitting next to Fireborn and Sitting Deer

Smoke rises from his unruly patch of hair and the beads about his neck burn as if red hot.

"Ha....A party is it? Truth be told I'd thought there'd be one tonight....Time to set things straight for these young braves, for there's a testing coming ... For each and every one of you feather grabbers.

Do I'd best give you a story then....."

His fixes his gaze on the dung fuelled fire and just when folk begin to fidget he starts

"A mighty and wild deity came to Prax in the Darkness and was welcomed by the frightened people.

He was the son of Lodril and was called Oakfed. A spirit of fire, he was not lofty and aloof like Sun Hawk and gave his help freely. The people gave him food and he tore through the forests of Prax.

 First he reached the tree which held Raven's nest and was attacked by that demigod. Raven swooped down and was scorched black by the Wild Fire. He fled to his nest and hid it from view so that Oakfed could not find it.

Next was Thunderbird who flew to Zola Fel who was his friend and took water into his wings, dropping it onto Oakfed's head. However, this was not enough and Thunderbird had to take his nest and carry it through the Air where it can still be seen.

Next was Sun Hawk who saw Oakfed coming and knew that he could not defeat his cousin, so he took his nest and carried it to the Sky where it became a Star.

Finally, Oakfed reached Condor's Nest where the bird sulked and brooded, not caring what was happening. The fires brought down Condor's tree and his Nest was shattered, becoming a pile of rocks, now known as Condor's Crags where Condor is still known to live.

And so it goes...."

The Shaman pats the braves to either side of him with hands that burn to the touch, and produces another skin from within his hide cloak.

"Firewater. Drink boys and girl..... Feathered Rivals you are.....But why so many I have no idea? We shall have to find out what they have in store for you...."

The drums grow louder as the Shamans finish their three tales, enabling those present to socialise for a while, ask questions, smoke, drink or sing....