Mission: Ajax and Laz's Bogus Journey (closed)

[Gus]

Ooatu H. Godot
​

Listen.

Ooatu has something to tell you, mammalian bio-entity. Count yourself lucky. For out of all of time and space, in all the awesome splendor of the multiverse, Ooatu has never revealed before now any of the stories to which Ooatu is witness. Not to anyone. Only to you.

Why you?

Faugh. Why anybody?

Now, if that is all, for foolish questions, perhaps Ooatu can continue?

All this happened, more or less. And it also did not happen, which you probably think makes it particularly interesting, but you are wrong. Paradoxes are a lot more common than most entities realize. At any rate, this one lasted for more than twenty thousand orbits of your dust speck about the slightly larger dust speck your Romans called Sol. (Ooatu is endlessly amused that they thought of your primary as 'alone.' If only they knew her as Ooatu did, in her youth. Promiscuous doesn't even begin to describe it. Even panspermia falls short of the truth.)

But that is not this story.

No.

This story begins with a boy who wished to prove himself a man. Two of the elders of his tribe were gone, one tunneled away into the depths of the sky and one taken by a hostile tribe into the depths of the woods. This left him the eldest male in the tribe, and he believed this meant he must go and face the hostile tribe and retrieve his mentor.

You primates have strange customs, even for mammals. You think you have shed them, now that the ice sheets have retreated. They will retreat further still, before the end, but your kind will always find the old ways were never so very far away after all.

The two older females attempted to reason with him, but he would not be dissuaded from his path, folly though it was. Within less than a week, the weakened tribe he had left behind had disappeared as if they had never been.

This is not their story, however. This is the story of the old man, and his young protector, and their long, tedious journey through time. The young one's given name was Hadrian, but his chosen name was Ajax. Ooatu presents now Ajax's story, through his own eyes. Ooatu reveals him to you as he begins his descent into the next valley over from his doomed tribe's territory, trying to follow any hint of a sign as to which way his teacher's captors had gone.

He is now utterly alone in the forest primeval, and far too late begins to realize how little city life has taught him about woodcraft...

 

[The J]

In the stories, tracking is always seen as an extremely difficult art, used solely by master hunters and experienced woodsmen. They're always followed by amazed companions who have no idea how the master is performing his wondrous art.
In reality, it's really not very hard to follow the trail of a large band of frenzied prehistoric men carrying a degenerate old super. One can generally tell from where the long grass is stamped down and the branches are all shoved aside, even if you're as uneducated and careless as Hadrian.
Soon enough, he started to see a few smoke trails leading into the sky. Smoke meant fire, fire meant people, and people meant Mr McNabb. If he could just bust in, grab the old man and run, he could probably outrun the men and lose them in the forest. Hopefully, he could also make it back to camp... eh, he came roughly east, if he remembered where the sun showed it was correctly. Rises in the... west... south... no, east. Definitely not east, it was west of course. But also maybe north. No, it was cold up north... so it must have been south, where it's hot. Right? He was sure he could just retrace his steps either way - well, 60% sure that there was a good chance that he could probably find his way back eventually with Mr McNabb's help. So basically, certain.
As he came up near to the camp, the gradient rose in a gentle slope, eventually becoming steep enough that Hadrian could only see the entirety of it when he was less than fifty metres away. He surveyed the place from that distance for a minute, not bothering with any more stealth than a low crouch. Hopefully, they wouldn't see him. Hopefully.

 

[Gus]

Spoiler: ProtoAmerind

tsu-ku ‘old man,’ Allen’s new name.
tsu-ku nak t’ina ‘old man’s son’ Hadrian’s new name
Kisosu ‘sun’
Kishi ‘fire’
Ke-tatehamena ‘we’ll extinguish it’
Na ‘you’
Nak ‘yours’
Ne ‘I’
Nek ‘mine’
-o’w ‘he’
-o’s ‘she’
-en ‘we’
-ena ‘we, or we all, or you all’
-o’wena “they”
Nepe ‘sleeping’
Nepeo’wena ‘they are asleep’
Ato-ns ‘spear/arrow’
Mi’h ‘stone’
T’mi’hkun ‘axe’
T’ana ‘Siblings, Blood, People’
Atomi’t’ana ‘warriors’
Metemakate ‘magic, god, shaman, spirit’
Ey interjection seeking agreement
Aa interjection expressing assent
Damo interjection expressing contrary
Damoass challenge to individual
Damoamok challenge to group
Se 'then, next, and then'
Mehekwins ‘little stick’
Kinkapin ‘dwarf chesnut’

Atos Arehkan
​

Arehkan was patient and meticulous by nature. He had watched the strange gods going about their business for five cycles of the sun before he had gone back to tell the clan of his find. Their own god had passed away a full twenty moons ago, and so their magic was weak, but their arms had grown strong. The clan had 25 warriors of manly age now, nearly enough for any two clans, and enough to spare five for a raiding party. With the healing magic of the tsu-ku they would be invincible again. Their sky god, who Arehkan had named “tree-feller” had disappeared on the third day, seemingly returned to the shimmering sky from which he had fallen.

This was a stroke of luck, for, save one only, none of the others presented any real threat. Just one of their young men had a warlike demeanor and a magic axe that glinted in the sunlight. He was foolish though, and did not take proper care of his weapon, lending it to the hearth goddess who used it to make their fire. His inexperience would be the undoing of his clan. If fortune smiled like the sun, Arehkan would have the boy’s axe as well.

Arehkan had returned with his four companions on the sixth evening. They gathered silently on the hill to the southeast of the gods’ camp. They watched, and they waited. Only Kinkapin spoke. He was the youngest of their band, and green as a new sapling. The others had no need of speech; they had raided many times, and each knew exactly what he would do when the sun had set. But Kinkapin was not so sure of his role. Arehkan knew that he should not have brought so young a warrior along, but ‘Mehekwins’ was his favorite. He was tough and fierce as any of the T'ana, and had been since he could walk. His wits though, were dull, and needed words to sharpen them, as the flint needs the blows of a stronger stone.

“Tsu-ku nenamen! Petana, ey Arehkan?”
“Damo-damo, mehekwins. Kisosu tatenepeta, nepeo'wena, kishi ke-tatehamena.”
“Aa. Se-petana?”
“Aa.”

In the deep of the night, after the old sun was long gone and before the new sun was lightening the sky over the eastern ocean, they struck swiftly, kicking out the embers of the gods’ fire, and hauling the Tsu-ku out of their hut before anyone was even aware of them. The young warrior with the magic axe gave chase, but was called back by the hearth goddess, giving them a comfortable head start. That there would be pursuit, Arehkan did not doubt, but by the break of morning they would be ready. Hi-dzina, A-cin and Tono he sent ahead with the tsu-ku to the village, covering their tracks as they went, while he and Kinkapin had all the fun of leaving a clear trail to the clearing where they would lie in wait with twenty others to teach any pursuing gods the error of chasing after Atomi't'ana whether under moonlight or sunshine.

Father sun had nearly reached the summit of his height when the young warrior finally crested the ridgetop and looked down on their hastily constructed ‘village’ of lean-tos. As they had tracked him through the woods (which was even easier than tracking a giant sloth) they were amazed how poorly the boy could follow a plain trail. Eventually, they sent Tono ahead to light fires with green sticks, and finally the boy began crashing through the underbrush in the generally correct direction. Never once did he see the least sign of the T’ana in his shadow, for they were crafty, and like most gods, he was careless. The boy crouched on the ridge line, silhouetted against the sky and upwind of his intended targets, and for a moment, Arehkan doubted himself. Could even a young god be so foolish? Perhaps he was toying with them… But then he stepped forward onto the net, and the trap sprang, snapping the net upward. Arehkan laughed and gave the call to attack. Five Atomt’t’ana stepped out of hiding. Five throwing sticks delivered five hunting spears in perfect unison, two from behind, three from in front. If he was a strong god, perhaps he would survive, and then they would have two!
None would stand before the T’ana now!

Spoiler: Translation

I see the old man! We’ll go get him, right Arehkan?
Patience, little stick. After the sun is abed, when they are sleeping, we will put out their fire.
Oh. And then get him?
Yes.

 

[The J]

As he crested the hill, something felt wrong to Hadrian. He couldn't place it, but something untoward was going on. He had no idea if it was something in the corner of his eye moving, or a feature of the small village ahead of him that his subconscious decided was wrong.
It did look kind of weird, that village. All lean-tos, no teepees like he'd have expected. Not to mention, the fires were... really, really smoky. Smokier than the garbage fires he'd lit to stay warm not even a year ago. The hell was in th-
A loud thwack resounded as he was caught up in a large net, pulled up into the air in an awkward position. His instincts kicked in and he did little more than thrash about, and his axe, being long and rigid, didn't exactly help.
Sharp javelins speared into him with quite some force, stopping his thrashing and knocking the air out of his lungs. Five in all, and as he looked at the damage, he saw that they'd all penetrated, save for one which had caused a deep gouge but was a glancing blow nonetheless.
Hadrian 's lungs eventually kicked back into gear, morphing to patch up the areas damaged by the two spears which had hit his chest as well as to allow more air in. The boy gasped, drawing in deep lungfuls of air as he began to grasp at the net. He strained for a moment to break it, but couldn't get it to with just his two hands, and the spears prevented him from shuffling around for a better position.
The boy was forced the yank them out, one by one... not an easy task when they're buried deep into your own body. One by one, he forced them out of his body, letting them drop to the ground. Finally, he was free enough to change position. He was able to hook one foot into a hole in the net and grab the other side of it with both hands. He pulled as hard as he could, using his arms, legs and back all in unison.... until it gave way, tearing open violently. He could swear he'd felt something tear as he did it, not that it mattered too much. Probably a back muscle he could live without for now.
The ground rushed up to meet him, and since he put out an arm to brace the fall, his collarbone snapped when he hit the ground, crunching as he moved with a sound not dissimilar to crushing Rice Krispies. Hadrian stumbled to his feet, unsteady from the damage his body had sustained then patched up. Blood covered him, but far less than would have seemed realistic were it not for his power.
"You, you guys... are assholes..." he said, panting and holding his hands up in front of his head, looking at as many of them at once as he could.
"Where the hell is... wait, you guys don't speak English, do you? Fuck." Hadrian realised belatedly, looking around at the hunter-gatherers who had gathered to hunt him.
"Fine, Charades it is. You...", Hadrian gestured to them, "take...", he gestured for movement, swinging his hands away from his body, "me...", he pointed to himself, "to Mr. McNabb". This last one required a special effort. Hadrian started moving around like the janky old man, or trying to. He mimicked the man's way of shambling about, trying to give the men at least the idea of his teacher. He hoped it worked.

 

[Gus]

Atos Arehkan
​

Arehkan watched the young god’s performance with amusement. His mimic of the T’su ku was unmistakable in spite of his injuries. It was also deeply entertaining. The inexpertly patched wounds merely added to the effect, as if the old god had skinned the young one for his insolence and was tottering about wearing him as a hide. The idea of it was irrepressibly funny, and as the other Atomi’t’ana emerged from hiding and gathered round, his antics set them roaring with laughter. Arehkan smiled, but when he held up a hand and the whole war party fell silent. Twenty faces went from animated to chiseled granite, and their weapons, which had never lowered, became poised again, ready to attack. Only one of them, Kinkapin, continued to smile.

“Okekuttan damo nemikakunero, Arehkan! Kimika, ey?”

“Metemakate, Kinkapin. Se kimika, ey?”

“Aa. Nemikakuna.”

Arehkan ruffled the boy’s hair affectionately, then turned to address the captured god. He tapped him smartly on the breastbone with one solid finger.

“Metemakate! Nekekuttan, kemeka!” He gestured around the ring of warriors, and to Kinkapin and himself. “Atomi’t’ana.” He hung his arms down and aped the unsteady gate of the old god. “T’su ku.” He straightened and gathered his hands together in an aggressive gesture of taking. “Atomi’t’ana petana-ena.” He tapped their prisoner again. “Metemakate mika-ena. Petana-ena.” He pointed in the general direction of the village. “T’su ku, t’ana, t’su ku nak t’ina.” He brought his hands together and grasps them, as if with affection. Then he turns and starts walking. He does not look back.

Spoiler: translation and linguistic notes

Namen see
Nenamen I see
Kenamen You see
Onamen He sees
Namena They see/you all see

Mera smell
Mira taste
Meka hear
Mika grasp, hold

Mikakuna undersand

Kekuttan speak

Mekunak words

Kimika strange, paradoxical

-ero negation of verb

He is speaking and yet I can't understand, Arehkan! Strange, yeah?

Spoiler: translation and linguistic notes

He is a god little chestnut. So isn't strange to be expected?
Ok, Now I understand.

God, I speak. You listen. [We are] warriors of the people. [Your] old man, [the wobbly one]? We have taken him. Gods [are ours to] take, and we will take you [to him]. Old man, warriors of the people and old man's child, [all together.]

 

[The J]

Hadrian backed away instinctively as the man walked towards him, but he realised he meant no harm when he raised just one arm, finger pointed. He could feel his collarbone crunching again when he poked him hard on the sternum as he spoke. It wasn't exactly appreciated, but he could deal without whinging.
When it came to the native's reply, he did his best to understand, but most of it just did not compute. Something about the forest around them, maybe... he recognised an impression of Mr. McNabb... maybe he was trying to show him throwing something... he tapped Hadrian again to the sound of more rice krispies crushing... and something in the distance? He was even more confused now. Was Mr. McNabb in the distance? Did they throw him there? He could definitely see him surviving such a thing, but wondered how just a couple of strong men could throw him so far...
The only thing he could do would be to follow them as they walked off. He hoped they were actually taking him to Allen, rather than yet another trap - if they would work out that they should go for his head to kill him, that had yet to be seen.

 

[Gus]

Lazarus, while taking care of Allen’s necessary motor functions as he slept, took note of a bit of unusual activity in his nervous system. For a few seconds, they brushed it off as the glitch they had tagged, which occasionally produced imaginary itches or sensations, but as it progressed and intensified, they decided it would be best to pull open his eyelids to make sure.


This is certainly not where we put him to bed… For one thing, the trees there didn’t move.

A face hovered over his. A rather misshapen hairy face. It peered at him then looked toward something else nearby and made a noise like “T’su ku kamdupaan, damo kekepemgwah.”

Allen’s body was dumped unceremoniously by the embers of a campfire, punctuated by an “Oh dear!” A rough rope was tightened about his neck and staked deep into the ground.

T’su ku! Dabos n’qui”

“We- er, I beg your pardon?”

“Keismeku!” came a voice from the dark, accompanied by a chunk of wood that bounced off Allen’s head, causing a minor skull fracture.

“My g-goodness!” he remarked as his head re-wove itself. “Er… I-I’m afraid I sstill didn’t… quite catch that?”

A very large and well muscled body attached to a blunt face with a broad chin loomed out of the darkness and hovered threateningly over him.

“KEIS- ME- KU!”

With each syllable the brute emphasized the point by stomping hard on the loose rope, cutting off Allen’s air, and incidentally crushing his windpipe completely by the third stomp.

“Ehrlehlkhlk” he assented. Lazarus laced his fingers across his midsection and waited patiently for something to happen.

Where could Hadrian and the others be? Hopefully, he isn’t getting himself into too much trouble… although that would be just like him.

Tono glowered at the god as he went back to knapping a new spear point. A-cin and Hi-dzina smiled behind their hands at his fit of temper, then busied themselves with salting meat from the last hunt. The crackle of underbrush in the distance told them the war party was returning, and that the young god was with them.