LostPrimarch
Member
By the time the sun reached its apex in the sky the canyon camp of the Nogha was alive with movement and chatter, more so than usual. Young men and women would sit and stand around the narrow stream chatting as they did their chores like tanning leathers, washing out pelts, and cleaning clothes. Meanwhile the children would scurry up the winding paths climbing sheer walls here and there as they made their way to the top of the ravine and the plains above, the occasional rope hanging from the edge would make their climb all the more safe. In the yellow grass of the upper plains the elders were gathered. The seven of them sat in a circle, each wrinkled with age with skin darkened by decades of sun. Yet this day their wrinkled leathery faces were adorned with smiles as they made their ceremonial garb. The three men whittled away at bone, bound sinew into cords, and squeezed wild flower dye into bowl of blood. Meanwhile the four women would take the cords and whittled bone using them to weave together ornate vestments and headdresses. They each spoke but only when the bone pipe made it to them as had been their way for generations now. “The last pathfinders leaving today bodes well, the skies are cleared and the sun merciful.” Said the first woman accompanied by an exhale of smoke. “Yes though the pathfinders themselves may be less eager to welcome this journey than the weather is…do we know how they feel about this? Said the man with his blood bowl adding to the smoke above the elders. “A good question. Gilliam does not speak on his feelings. Yuel seems eager but her family has yet to speak on it. Ki’ashya seems to be excited and her family fully supports her.” The second man set his crafts down for his counterpart to take and let out a huge cloud before passing the tobacco to the fourth elder. “We are ready, go ahead and paint the garb.” The woman would say before letting out a loud whoop. A nearby scout would rise from the tall grass nearly imperceptible before due to wearing many leaves of grass to camouflage himself. “Go and tell the pathfinders the time is now.” She would tell the man who would nod before letting out his own his own whooping call as he sprinted towards the canyons edge. Other scouts in the canyon below would look up to see their leader sail off of the edge of the canyon for a brief moment of time appearing to fly before plummeting downwards. As he got closer one would see the rope in his right hand. As the rope reached its maximum length the scout would let go transitioning to a horizontal rope a mere 20 or 25 feet from the ground which would catch the rest of his momentum before he dismounted landing before the other scouts and giving their orders to pass on to the pathfinders. Nodding the scouts would scatter heading for the homes of each of the selected pathfinders.
BuggaBoo Spoiled Bread