Go Into The Water

Your loathing of spiders wins out in this instance against the wisdom of avoiding the water. The great river itself and any branches of it were never traversed lightly or frequently, the unseen creatures of its murky waters could hardly be contended with by even your kind, as having lungs proved to be a most insurmountable handicap. Perhaps you were not acting in everyone's best interest but you couldn't stand the thought of being followed by them for the rest of the journey. "I'm going first." You proclaimed, stepping down the bank. "We should go around!" Stated Rigga only to be ignored by you as you set foot into the chilled waters. The ground beneath your feet was rocky and provided good support as you waded deeper and deeper into the swollen stream. It's only a few good strides before your step lands upon bedrock, about four feet down. You look back but can see nothing. Rigga calls to you, "Ogma? Is everything alright?"

Despite the fact that you were wading through chilling water and stranded in an impenetrable haze, everything seemed to be alright. "It's not deep. Carry on, but stick together!" You say. Before you take another step a large slick form bumps into your backside. It was big to be sure but that didn't intimidate you, you merely found it unnerving that you couldn't tell what it was. That bump was immediately followed by a much more solid push from what you guessed was the tail of the beast. The push would not have moved you in the slightest if it had not been for the slickness of the bedrock beneath your feet. You draw a blade and prepare yourself as you are certain it will not be a galancing blow this time.

"There is no satisfaction in being right about things like this." You say to yourself when a massive jaw clamps down like a vise on your leg. The teeth cannot pierce the power of your markings but this does not stop its incredible **** from pressing down painfully on your thigh. Just as you are about to bring your blade down upon it, it manages to throw off your balance, causing you to slip under the water. Immediately the creature releases your leg and swims directly for your newly submerged head. You shoot your free hand forward to stop it but it is too late, your head is already clenched in its wide toothy maw. Although it's teeth can do you no real harm, the pressure makes it feel as though a Moruga is sitting on your head which is more than a little uncomfortable. You reach your free hand up to its skull and attempt to squeeze it but your hands merely slip off of the surface of its slimy skin, it shakes you powerfully as if trying to fling your body apart. Your lungs slowly begin to ache with fatigue as you slice at your unseen assailant, that is until you remember your second tusk. You pull the blade in between you and the beast, effortlessly slicing it nearly in half. You begin to contemplate your next attack as you surge to the surface gasping for air. Finding your feet you manage to stand up with the beast still clamped around your face. Slipping one hand into the side of the creatures broad, crescent-shaped mouth you then tear it off of you, holding it up by its jaw. The barbels on its cheeks and the bright orange and yellow patches on its belly are unmistakable. It is a Mud-Jaw.

You were astonished to say the least to see a Mud-Jaw in these waters, these amphibious ambush predators were not known to wander outside of the bogs to your recollection. This was an unusual find indeed and in your mind almost certainly a rarity. Tossing it’s bloodied corpse off into the water you continue walking toward the opposite shore and it only takes several steps for you to arrive on the bank. "I'm on the other side!" You say to the mist, "Can't be more than two dozen steps."

"What happened? Are you alright? We're almost there no problems so fa--" Riggas sentence was ended succinctly by a howl of agony that sounded like it came from nearby her. The voice was clearly not hers but the rushed movements that followed that howl suggested that whomever uttered it was no longer above water and the rest of the party was hastening their crossing. Another yelp of pain came, this time closer and much shorter than the first. When Rigga burst into sight you were breathed a bit more easily, the view of her soaked, heaving bosoms was the ultimate relief. Others arrive a few strides behind her, practically leaping out of the water. The last one had only barely stepped out of the water when a nearly two foot long pincer sweeps out of the water and snaps shut just above his ankle, almost cutting his foot entirely off. A powerful tug was all it took to pull the man back into the water as a second claw clamped down on his skull with a wet crunch, easily crushing it into a bloody pulp. There was nothing you could do for him now. The bright reddish orange tips of the claw had indicated that it belonged to a sartan, and more specifically a male. Likely it was drawn to the scent of Mud-Jaw blood in the water as the Sartan were primarily scavengers.

Your situation was worse than ever. Your group was now separated from the others, while the rest of your horde continued to be harassed by arachnid assailants.

It was clear that the others could not cross the stream now without suffering greater losses. "Don't cross!" You roar, as loud as you can, "Sartan!" You are answered through the haze by the Chime-like voice of Zeitsya. "Perish the thought! I will take my chances!" She shouts back, her voice is immediately followed by the sloshing of bodies entering the water. The movements you hear are not as frantic as those of your group. "For the love of our ancestors, make haste!" You shout, only slightly worried that those Bog-Clan fools will get themselves killed. You receive no answer, only the swishing of bodies moving in the water. When Zeitsya emerges from the mist you feel slightly relieved, more of them continue to exit the waters entirely unscathed which baffles you. Not a single scratch was to be found upon any of them.

"There are many kinds of strength Ogma." She says with a satisfied almost sexy smile. "Those who forget that are bound to remember it the hard way. We should find another way through that stream before the rest get here though, it's much too dangerous. Hjalund shouldn't be but a moment away." Almost without warning the noise of many people wading through the waters reaches your ears, and immediately the cries of pain ring out from a number of invisible sources. 'Hjalunds group! They must already be in the water!' You think. You can hear the sounds advancing toward you even as the shouts grow more frequent, causing you to wonder why they didn't just stop marching into the water like fools so that they could stop and communicate for a moment. Hjalund was the first to exit the embrace of the misty waters, cutting a somewhat intimidating silhouette against the silvery fog. Several large Sartan hang impaled from his spear, each one on top of another. The largest is nearly five feet in length having a deep brown carapace flecked with black. With a blank and almost disinterested expression he continued past you. Those who followed behind him looked mostly alright save for gashes here and there, but the sounds of **** had made it very clear that this was a costly crossing. Just how costly was difficult to say, for who can measure the worth of a life?

You were still trying to figure out how the bog clans crossing had gone so well when you hear Inslod's voice through the brume calling, "Hello! Can anyone hear me?" You practically jump at the opportunity to hopefully prevent this most important group from leaping willingly into the jaws of **** like you and the Hjalund had,"I am here! It is not safe! The Sartan are in a frenzy, we must figure out a way around!" When you finished there was a pause before two voices began to speak to one another in normal tones. You quickly adjusted to hear them better and with little difficulty you could hear every word. It was Garran and Inslod hatching a plan.

"I suppose we'll have ta go around then. We canna hope ta make it through there without losing any more lives."

"If we go around we will only isolate ourselves further from the other groups, and we have no way of telling just how far off the path that would take us. I’m entirely unfamiliar with the area as are you I assume. Delaying our reunion with the others could easily prove more costly than the crossing itself.”

"Well I've got no problem with staying here and killing spiders fer the next week and a half, but I'm not so certain that the rest of ye would last as long."

"As such we must cross then, one way or another. If we can't go through it or around it we will have to go over it. I think I--"

"OVER it ye say! Now thats an idea! I happen ta have a braid of spider silk in my bundle, it's plenty strong and plenty long fer things such as this. If we can get it across there, we could all climb to the other side!"

"It’s not a bad try Garran but one rope isn't going to hold all of us. Besides if we all use that same rope it will take much too long for us to all cross, we need more."

"Ye leave that ta me flatfoot! You just get this first one up and get things moving! Leave me the rest."

After that all you can hear is the quieted whimpering and sobbing of a few children while voices speak in hushed tones. Before you can focus in on those voices however, Inslod calls to you,"Ogma I need you to clap your hands for me, if you would be so kind." You don't understand the purpose of that request exactly but decide to humor him. *CLAP!* "Once more!" He shouts, you clap once again. "I've got it. Alright be ready, I'm throwing something to you!" He exclaims. You hear a slight whistling that is rapidly increasing in volume though it is a quiet noise, you recognize it to be the sound of a spear in flight. The spear head bursts out of the vapor hurtling straight for your hands. You catch it with ease, your honed reflexes make it a simple task indeed. The sight of a thick strand of silk attached to the front of the spear shaft clarifies the meaning of what had just happened. Inslod had used your claps to gauge your distance and location while using a thrown spear to carry the silk to your side. The most impressive part of that for you however, was the accuracy with which he pinpointed the location of your hands themselves.

"You've got it haven't you?" He asks. "Yes." You reply, slightly impressed. "Good. Fasten that to a tree, and let me know when it's secured" Says Inslod. You expected the silk to be sticky and indeed it was, but not nearly as sticky as you remembered it. This was just adhesive enough to enhance your grip on it, you carefully tighten it around a nearby Ash tree and give it a gentle tug. It seems to be fine but you don't want to pull too hard and damage it with your strength. "It's done Inslod. Send someone over to test it, one at a time for now!" You say. "Alright," you hear him say, "Who wants to go first?" The silence that followed that morbid question was not half as long as you had expected it to be. "I'll do it." Says a feminine voice, deeper in tone than most female voices you've heard. "Good. You have always been our bravest haven't you." He says to her, it almost sounded like a eulogy. You noted the increase in tension on the strand as you hear the pressure of her weight distribute itself between the fibers of the silk and the wood of the tree. The line showed no real signs of stress however as she made her way across the rope. After what felt like forever, a feminine form swung into view. Out of the mist she came hand by hand like some fearless lemur, her legs dangling just above the water.

When her feet finally hit the ground she breathed a great sigh of relief, you felt relieved yourself on her behalf as she was welcomed into the group. One by one people climbed across the line. Within an hour or so you had nearly a hundred Group Four heads counted on your side, but it was not nearly enough. The fog had thinned a bit now, allowing you to see an additional few feet although it was only a small improvement. Finally Garran's voice made its way through the sea of voices on either side of the water. You could just barely make it out across the water.

"Aye here it is. I've got three good long strands of it, but it's not quite as strong as that Cave Spider silk I gave ya earlier. I would only use it for the wee ones, just ta be safe." He says. You hear Inslod agree with him briskly and prepare the lines. Just like before he has you clap a time or two and then throws another spear, this time with three thinner strands tied to it. Like before you select a few sturdy trees and let him know they are secure. Soon enough all four lines are in use and the crossings begin to speed up. Almost two hours later the fog has nearly lifted, the other bank is almost completely visible about 80 feet away. The youngest children have already been carried across in slings, now only the older children remain. All of them should be capable of the task at hand and the situation seems all but remedied. There had been no further mention of the spiders and so you reasoned that perhaps they were retreating with the fog to wait for nightfall. As the last child began to cross you felt a sense of accomplishment, this ordeal was almost over you thought. In the blink of an eye, a the massive beaked jaws and greenish-grey armored head of an Ironback Turtle shot out of the water and up into the air, engulfing the lower half of the child above it. It's powerful jaws clapped shut, shearing the body in two with no more effort than you would need to bite through a plum. What remained of the body fell down lifeless onto the bank, where the turtle now attempted to finish it. Garran who had remained on the other side until the last, belted our a roar so menacing that it shocked even you before he charged the beast with **** in his eyes. Garran fell upon the creature with savage fury, bashing it violently about its beaked skull with his stone club. After such a salvo not even an Ironback could survive, its head utterly pulverized by the weight of his blows. The poor beasts **** didn't seem to sate Garran's bloodlust in least, as he continued to hammer away at the mighty, scale encrusted shell of the turtle to no avail. Again and again he brought it down upon the creatures plastron only to have it bounce off harmlessly. By now the Sartan had begun to close in and pick apart the carcasses, forcing Garran to abandon his mutilation of the Ironback corpse. All at once he seemed to come to his senses and hurried to the thick line to cross. He did this quietly and steadily, a blank look across his face. When he was at my side I knew better than to speak, Garran was not a quiet man in the least but for now his silence seemed appropriate.

The groups quietly reformed and you resumed your travel for about an hour or so. When night fell and the groups settled you looked to accompany Garran. When you found him at length he was huddled under a gnarled oak tree, humming lowly to himself. Of course he blamed himself (although you doubted he would ever say as much) but he wasn't alone in that, so did Inslod. The horrible truth was that it was your fault. You had misled them, nobody else saw it that way but you were sure of it all the same. When you killed the Mud-Jaw you attracted the Sartan to feed, when the Sartan gathered the Ironback simply followed them for a meal. You walked away quietly and decided to leave him alone to his thoughts. When you reached Rigga you embraced her tightly and settled to rest. Though the warmth of her soft supple flesh was comforting, it didn't bring you much solace from the guilt of the days events. Her tender kisses soothed your worries gently and you both slipped gently off to sleep. The next few days were largely uneventful and the time passed quickly. Your kind tended to shrug off hardship and trauma with natural ease, as far as you could tell everyone else had all but forgotten about the losses incurred only a few days ago and you decided it was best to move on as well. It was time to look forward once again.