Day 000: First Meeting - Flashback
Summary: This log is a flashback from before Day 01 and takes place back in the early spring when Khesu was searching for his missing Houmon. He meets Sage for the first time.
Date: 18/07/2016
Related: TBA
Sage Khesu 


Mountain Foothills, NW of Coesbur

The forest glistens after a heavy rain the night before. Last night was a bad storm, something rough up here north and west of Coesbur where the land begins to rise up towards the mountains. It's about as far west as Trikru hunting parties will usually go without getting too high up where the Mountain Men and even Reapers might roam. It's rugged country, rolling with steep slopes, gullies and thick forest. It's also great land for hunting of upland herbs, or larger game like elk that eventually migrated into these mountains from herds re-established in what had once been the Great Smokey Mountains National Park to the south. Or the bold hunter that seeks to bring back a bear or mountain cat. It is not a landscape without risks. Such foothills that skirt the very feet of the mountains is this with rushing, tumbling, ice cold creeks and lush vegetation.

Somewhere near by water cascades down a slope. You can hear it through the trees, tall hemlocks towering high mixed with other timber. A wild turkey cries, it's call ecoing in the hollow. Amid this all, a man breathes hard, trying to free himself from the tree that pins him. A hemlock, it's roothold weakened on the slope after the storm, has fallen and in crashing down to the earth, it has felled a man.

Early Spring before Day 01, same year.

The forest glistens after a heavy rain the night before. Last night was a bad storm, something rough up here north and west of Coesbur where the land begins to rise up towards the mountains. It's about as far west as Trikru hunting parties will usually go without getting too high up where the Mountain Men and even Reapers might roam. It's rugged country, rolling with steep slopes, gullies and thick forest. It's also great land for hunting of upland herbs, or larger game like elk that eventually migrated into these mountains from herds re-established in what had once been the Great Smokey Mountains National Park to the south. Or the bold hunter that seeks to bring back a bear or mountain cat. It is not a landscape without risks. Such foothills that skirt the very feet of the mountains is this with rushing, tumbling, ice cold creeks and lush vegetation.

Somewhere near by water cascades down a slope. You can hear it through the trees, tall hemlocks towering high mixed with other timber. A wild turkey cries, it's call ecoing in the hollow. Amid this all, a man breathes hard, trying to free himself from the tree that pins him. A hemlock, it's roothold weakened on the slope after the storm, has fallen and in crashing down to the earth, it has felled a man.

Khesu has managed to free up his axe and using it, he tries to leverage himself clear. He is muddy, a quick dash to try and skirt the slope when the tree went ended with him slipping and falling, now pinned by boulders and branches. Scraped and bloody, he wields the axe at a difficult angle. He stubbornly cuts at the trunk to in an effort to free himself. The sound of the axe striking the wood echos through the forest, almost drown out by the sound of rushing water below.

For some the hill country is where their father would travel to hunt, teaching the skills of the warrior and provider to their youngest child. Years spent learning what could be taken home to trade and what could be used to by different makers and healers. So this land has become in a part a home away from home, away from home for a few warriors who are traveling between posts.

One such woman is making her way silently down a trail, a small buck being carried on a staff that is held over her shoulders as she moves. There does not seem alot of issue with th trail till Sage comes to where the mountain has slide and the rushing water breaks over the normal path. With her pause, for clearly she is pondering the best way to continue to her camp, she picks up the sounds of the axe hitting wood. A little frown touches lips and then she heaves the buck up onto a tree branch and uses her staff to slip as carefully down the hill that she can.

When Sage comes to the down trees, she pauses again. Listening then seeing the axe flash up in a very odd position. That axe, she lets out a warning whistle of friends near. With a voice that is rough; like a crackling fire in the wind, calls out. "<In Trigedasleng> Hold with the blade, incoming!"

Aye, it is a very awkward position to use the axe, but Khesu's been at it a while and already hacked through a thick branch that had gouged his ribs. The trunk though still pins his hips and the branches on the other side dig into his legs, twisting as much as he can to the side to reach. It is painful, exhausting work but a determined man is not daunted.

The whistle pauses him. Khesu turns his sweaty, damp head around to look, trying to see. So much foliage and branches but Khesu hears the voice. The axe he shifts, but the call was in Trikru. "<In Trigedasleng> Down here! I am down!" A few seconds are taken to wait and rest, dark eyes watchful up slope until he can see who comes.

The form that comes into view is striking in such a way that her eyes stand out a very pale grey, almost silver as the face peers down into the foliage. There is a blink and Sage shakes her head slowly before placing one foot to the side and peering down over the part of the tree that is not holding him in place. There is frown that touches her lips, but it's clear she is pondering as she slips her water bottle off her side and hands it down to him. "<In Trigedasleng> Anything broken? Or just pinned?" Her voice is as if she doesn't use it to much, but still needs to ask.

Once he has the water, she shifts again, sliding down to see what is holding the trees in place and peeking under, as braids swing around her hips.

"Mochof." The water accepted, Khesu lays his axe down over his chest to use both hands to open the water and drink of it. That first. A few good swallows before he wipes his mouth. "<In Trigedasleng> I don't know. I think I am only bruised." He is muddy but pours some of the water around where he's pinned to make it slicker. "If you can brace enough to lift, I may be able to pull myself out from under." It's no small thing to ask. It's a hefty tree but it is the upper third of the trunk that has Khesu held down, the angle awkard. A few breathes ere he adds, "If not, if I can cut it through it more - it should give when lifted."

Sage glances up from where she was looking to see the lay of the land, those eyes peer at him for a long moment and then she turns her focus back to the tree, "<In Trigedasleng> The angle you were striking will soon cause damage and while my battle axe can get through it quick, again. Possible break in the wrong spot. I should be able to give you the room you need. But you must move fast.." She is blunt and to the point, but she offers something that mind be an understanding look before she stands again and pulls a staff from where she sat it moments before. "The pressure will cause the blood to rush back, I suggest using those upper muscles of yours.." With that, she slides the staff into place where she thinks it will work, and then starts to use what she knows of balances and weigh to slowly force the tree up.

<FS3> Starling rolls 6: Good Success. (7 7 1 6 2 8)

<FS3> Khesu rolls Brawn+brawn-2: Success. (5 3 8 1)

Khesu listens to her observations, then gives a nod, "Aye, do my best." He's tired but we did mention that determined part, right? He waits for her to get into position and judge where best to try to apply the leverage. If she can manage to put her back into it and get it to budge even a little … As soon as the tree shudders with her effort, trying to lift, Khesu has set his hands and heaves as hard as he can to try and slip his hips out from beneath the weight of the trunk and the sharp, broken branches. He grits his teeth, twisting his body, then shifting his hands to grab anything he possibly can to haul himself even a few more inches. A knee bends and with a foot getting leverage, he is able to pull himself out just barely. He looks to be free of the worst of it before she must give it up.

"Sha, sha." a few quick breathes, "Mochof." He turns himself over onto his back and pushes his bow and quiver out of the way. His ribs are scored, his thigh is cut, and he's going to have a lot of nasty bruises, but his movements suggest he may not have suffered anything worse than cracked ribs at most. If even that. A hand moves to reach for the tip of his axe handle and drag it up out of the mud before his gaze seeks her again. "You are of Polis?"

Where most would be grunting and muttering at the power needed to move a tree even a few inches, Sage is oddly silent. The strain though shows on her face, on the cords of her neck, on the red flush that moves over her skin. She gives him as time as she can and then carefully lowers the weigh. It takes patience and her body is screaming at her, but to drop it could cause even more damage if he's not far enough away. Or even if he is.

Once the tree is down, she pants once and then slides the staff out, coming around the other side to check on Khesu. Sage tilts her head and then doesn't seem to be happy where he is, and comes to stand behind him. She slowly pulls him from the mud and on to more dry land. Again, no sound but he can feel her straining before he is where she wants him. At his words, she nods slowly as she kneels next to him and let's those silvery-grey eyes run over this body, looking for what can be seen. "<In Trigedasleng> Now, yes. Returning after a visit with my family.." she offers up as that face finally turns to him. "<In Trigedasleng> My camp is not to far, if you can walk?"

Oh, he's going to be sore and is already. Khesu grunts and grits his teeth when she pulls him higher, up out of the mudslip and into the foliage. His bow, quiver and axe are left below, all of his things scattered. Khesu pushes with his legs until she stops pulling on him. "<In Trigedasleng> Aye, see if I can. Not leaving my weapons." He will wait for her to get them and then, if she'll lend him a hand to see if he can stand, he does so with help. "So much rain. Trecherous footing." The Trikru warrior will be slow, stiff and hurting, but he can walk. Or crawl where the slope is concerned, using his hands to help pull him up and back to the trail. From there it is easier going but he's still slow, if she will show him the way to her camp.

Sage gives him a look, clearly saying without words: of course your not going to leave your weapons! She had already started back down the slope to get his weapons, sliding them into place behind her back, as she gathers whatever else can be found. Her staff is used to pull her back up the slope and then her shoulder goes under his arm and let's pull him to standing, a hand holds him as he gets his legs and then she hands over her staff. Instead of telling him out to use it, she waits to see if he knows and then will help haul them both back up and on the trail.

Not once does she let him fall nor crawl, she is strong enough to carry much of his weight for the short trip, but man she is going to be sore in the morning. As they arrive at her camp, it's neatly set up against the mouth of cave that has little depth. A fire is laid but not lit where it can be covered from any incoming rain and her back would be covered on three sides, allowing only a very skilled warrior to come from above, or they would have to head straight towards her. "<In Trigedasleng> Rest, Drink in the skin by the cave wall, I'll return with my kill and then try and see what can be done for you wounds.." She is not a medic, but does carry a good pack of items that the healers force her to have around.

Aye, he knows how to use a staff to help get himself up the hillside. Nothing wrong with his arms. Nonetheless Khesu rumbles his thanks and stays focused on crossing whatever distance it proves to be to get to her camp, trying not to put his weight on her more than he must. He looks over her camp, it's positioning with protection from the worst of rain and wind, or attack by water run off or enemy. Khesu settles where he bids him to sit and hands the staff back to her. "<In Trigedasleng> The mud will keep the flies off." One may hope she has something better than water in this other skin, but water would do. He has some water of his own now she's helped to regather his things.

While she is gone, the bruised hunter does as she has bid him. Khesu rests and exhausted, dozes when she comes back. If she makes noise, he's likely to rouse, axe once more back in hand.

<FS3> Starling rolls 8: Failure. (1 3 5 6 4 1 4 3)

Noise is maked as Sage comes back into her camp, mostly because the damn young buck is sliding off the staff and is dropped by the fire instead of being sat down. There is a grunt that is more sigh than anything else as she moves past where where Khesu has taken up a resting spot, and she gathers the things she promised before. If he has gotten the skin it is full of a very tart mead, there was another of water as well, plus other things that one would expect a warrior to have.

She had left his weapons before, and now she takes her own off, Staff set to the side, axe unhooked and place within reason, sword slide to be able to be picked up on the other side and then she stretches slowly and moves to kneel next to him, "<In Trigedasleng> Let's see what we are looking at, if it's not to bad, then you need the spring after food.." Those eyes meet his again and she does touch him but simply watches.

Hmm, mead. Aye, that is good and Khesu'll have had a few good drinks of that. All the better if it's a touch dry and not too sweet. Surely it helps him relax enough to doze that short time she's absent - until she returns and drops the mountain stag with a thump. Khesu about jumps out of his skin, <T> What?!" The axe is raised, ready to block or strike until he sees it's her. A blink or two, some quick breathes and he gives her a nod before he pushes himself to sit up.

No objection. He hasn't entirely taken stock of his injuries himself. If he could walk with some assistance, then chances are he can walk on his own within a day or two. "<In Trigedasleng> Are you a healer? I thought you warrior." Aside from the cut in his leg and the gouged muscle in his ribs, everything else is only scrapes and bruises. Lots of bruises to darken over the next few days. "<In Trigedasleng> I can wash, after rest."

Sage smirks once and shakes her head, "No, my hands are made for killing or so they tell me. But, I carry the pack from those who have skill, I know how to bandage and clear.." She shakes her head at that but does what she needs to, she uses the water to slowly clean the leg, eyeing it to see if the blood weeps out dark or bright. Whatever she sees, she nods to herself and wraps it carefully but not with the touch of a healer, with the touch of a warrior being careful with her strength. She cleans the things that need a paste and spreads some but doesn't bandage it. "<In Trigedasleng> We can cover them after the wash.."

With that does she pulls herself up again, the muscles of her stomach and arms can be noted as she moves and digs around for something in her bag, coming up with a piece of fruit, then another and brings it over and hands him one. "<In Trigedasleng> Should hold you while I get the meat done.."

It's only then that her eyes meet his once more and she gives a smile, "<In Trigedasleng> Sage kom Trikru, of Tondc, now in Polis.."

It's not a very deep cut an the blood that seeps from it is dark, not arterial bright, nor does it bleed profusely. Khesu eyes it, "<In Trigedasleng> I'll be fine. I've had worse." Judging by some of the scars he has about his person, aye, he has. He accepts the fruit and quietly thanks her, following her movements. Another drink of the mead first before he'll start on anything else. He pauses, watching her and inclines his head unto her, "Khesu kom Trikru of Coesbur. I have seen you before in Tondc, I think." All warriors go there sooner or later.

The woman dips her chin in return at the introduction. "<In Trigedasleng> I don't forget faces. I knew yours, but we kept passing without words. I remember the axe.." Of course she would remember the weapon over the man, or maybe not, she simply didn't have a name. A knife is pulled from a place at her back and she starts to cut out meat. The deer is already gut, and now it's about getting the skin off and by the setup he might have noticed, much of it smoked before she moves camp. The cooking will take awhile, so she let's him rest as she works.

Unless otherwise stated, the content of this page is licensed under Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 3.0 License