RosevilleCAguy
Unsane
- Joined
- Aug 5, 2002
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OC This takes place on a small isolated island in the South Pacific. The sole occupants of the island refer to themselves as the people. The people subsist primarily by fishing and gathering. The people’s daily routine is occasionally broken by conflict with residents of other islands and the need to placate Muata, the smoking mountain at one end of their island. Lately strange things have been happening which has brought concern to this idyllic island. The year is 1943.
IC Vanu'ttu walked casually along the along the path skirting the sacred ground of Muata, fiery mountain home of the ancestors. Like most in the village, he had been forbidden to enter under penalty of death for fear of waking those who resided there. Only the most holy ones, trained from birth in the arcane arts necessary to appease the Gods themselves, were allowed to tread even the lowest slopes of Muata. It was no matter, although Vanu'ttu sometimes wished he could scale Muata in order to better search the seas for cotangential threats.
Vanu'ttu was the chief scout for his people. Like his father, and his father's father, he could move without being seen. He could fight as well, using his wooden club with sharks teeth, or his knife, which was a black glass gift from Muata, however, fighting was a last resort. Fighting interfered with his primary function of observing and reporting his observations to the elders of the people who would decide what to do.
Lately, there had been much to report. The strange happenings started two moons ago. The fishermen who traveled far from the shores of the island seeking food for the people had reported strange objects in the sky, accompanied by a sound similar to the buzzing of insect’s wings. Vanu’ttu was skeptical at first. It was not uncommon for the fishermen to relate strange stories after long days in the sun, especially when they had consumed some of the people’s potent beer before beginning their day’s work. His skepticism quickly evaporated when he saw one of the strange objects himself. They were like the ocean birds, but moved very quickly. Unlike the birds, they made a droning sound. One had even flown low over the island, apparently without seeing the village of the people.
Other wonders soon followed. After the last moon, Vanu’ttu had seen islands where non had existed before. Unlike the island of the people, the strange islands were gray and moved. Sometimes these strange islands left trails of smoke behind them. Vanu’ttu wondered if they had sacred ground like Muata on them causing this smoke. After reporting this to the elders, the fishermen were ordered not to go into the area where the strange islands were seen.
Yesterday, many more of the objects in the sky had been seen in the same area as the mysterious moving islands. Thunder had rolled in from beyond the horizon, even though the sky was cloudless. That night, a glow had spread in the night sky. The elders of the people were worried. The elders always worried. Perhaps the strange events of the last two weeks gave justification to those worries.
Vanu’ttu continued his comfortable lope along the path towards the cove on the other side of Muata . He would find out. After all, wasn’t that the job of the head scout?
IC Vanu'ttu walked casually along the along the path skirting the sacred ground of Muata, fiery mountain home of the ancestors. Like most in the village, he had been forbidden to enter under penalty of death for fear of waking those who resided there. Only the most holy ones, trained from birth in the arcane arts necessary to appease the Gods themselves, were allowed to tread even the lowest slopes of Muata. It was no matter, although Vanu'ttu sometimes wished he could scale Muata in order to better search the seas for cotangential threats.
Vanu'ttu was the chief scout for his people. Like his father, and his father's father, he could move without being seen. He could fight as well, using his wooden club with sharks teeth, or his knife, which was a black glass gift from Muata, however, fighting was a last resort. Fighting interfered with his primary function of observing and reporting his observations to the elders of the people who would decide what to do.
Lately, there had been much to report. The strange happenings started two moons ago. The fishermen who traveled far from the shores of the island seeking food for the people had reported strange objects in the sky, accompanied by a sound similar to the buzzing of insect’s wings. Vanu’ttu was skeptical at first. It was not uncommon for the fishermen to relate strange stories after long days in the sun, especially when they had consumed some of the people’s potent beer before beginning their day’s work. His skepticism quickly evaporated when he saw one of the strange objects himself. They were like the ocean birds, but moved very quickly. Unlike the birds, they made a droning sound. One had even flown low over the island, apparently without seeing the village of the people.
Other wonders soon followed. After the last moon, Vanu’ttu had seen islands where non had existed before. Unlike the island of the people, the strange islands were gray and moved. Sometimes these strange islands left trails of smoke behind them. Vanu’ttu wondered if they had sacred ground like Muata on them causing this smoke. After reporting this to the elders, the fishermen were ordered not to go into the area where the strange islands were seen.
Yesterday, many more of the objects in the sky had been seen in the same area as the mysterious moving islands. Thunder had rolled in from beyond the horizon, even though the sky was cloudless. That night, a glow had spread in the night sky. The elders of the people were worried. The elders always worried. Perhaps the strange events of the last two weeks gave justification to those worries.
Vanu’ttu continued his comfortable lope along the path towards the cove on the other side of Muata . He would find out. After all, wasn’t that the job of the head scout?
