Day of Distruction.

WalksFar:
 
 Truth dawned slowly over the lake.  The world had changed over night.  In 
the far flats below the steep mountains and their rough country, rivers and 
lakes, the grass gave way to geometric patterns and winding bare lines that 
went from one place to another.  Sim and his Kind watched from the safety of 
the cliffs.
 
 They could not fathom what took place.  The few who chose to descend to the 
flats to investigate the abrupt changes quietly . . . disappeared never to be 
seen again.  The wind no longer bore their scent nor the air their thoughts.  
It was if they had never been.  The Elders pondered the sudden emptiness in 
their minds.  What had happened?
 
 Sim sat in council with others.  Their alarm was his alarm.  In other 
places, strange things had been seen.  Trees older than all their Kind had 
fallen prey to something which sheered them off and carried them away.  
Rumors of a new Kind had circulated.  The World had changed and not even the 
three moons and their influence on the land and water could alter the new 
presence.
 
Tarka:
 
The council sat in silance and listened with more tehn ears or whiskers could 
convay. Their muzzles were very still in the silance all around them far up 
on the rocks. Finally, one of the eldest finally spoke. "I can not sense 
anyone in the oak tribe at all. Even my long time friend Tomon."
 
There was a quiet murrmer amoung the tribe, this was the third tribe that was 
no longer on the wind and the closest by far to them. The news simply didn't 
sound good.
 
Sim stood up finally, Kind following suit behind him. "We must find out what 
is happening again. We must go to the forest and find its pain."
 
The elders shook their head. "Scouts have already been sent... and none 
returned." The aged whiskers drooped downwards.
 
Kind cleared his voice. "You have never sent mystics though."
 
Vassily:
 
"To be swiftly and silently lifted away?" murmured the Elders. "It's too 
dangerous."
 
"You can't stop us from going. We must find the source of the forest's pain 
before we are all a memory of the next Tribe to go." Sin fidgetted with the 
feathers hanging from his headpiece. We will go to the flats and maybe be 
destroyed there. If not, then we will be destroyed staying here." 
 
The chief of the Elders stood and leaned back on his tail for support. "You 
are too much like your Father. You are determined to go. Like him, nothing we 
can say will stop you. Wait at least until the second sunrise so we can 
gather some things that may help you on this foolish journey."
 
Terry:
 
Unfortunately, it was only midday after the first sunrise when Sim's tribe 
vanished off the face of the woodlands. Sim saw their doom approaching, as it 
passed overhead on dark wings, blotting out the sun -- dozens of bat-winged 
creatures, like something out of myth. Sim and Kind watched the terrors pass 
overhead, and turned back to race the doom homewards, sending out signals of 
alarm and warning as loudly as they could...
 
But they knew their scent wouldn't outrace the creatures, and when they 
arrived to find no sign that their tribe had ever existed... no scent, no 
tracks, no... bodies... Sim screeched in anguish. "We should have stayed! If 
we hadn't been so impatient to find out what was happening that we disobeyed 
the elders, we'd know by now!"
 
Kind remained impassive, as always, but looked thoughtful. Eventually, he 
spoke. "We may have passed through their net. Perhaps we can reach the 
geometric lands, and seek the source of this plague."
 
WalksFar:
 
Sim and his companions sought the river, a moving highway that would allow 
them to remain conceal and travel to the flats far below.  Once there it 
would hide their observations.  Whatever was there . . . whatever had caused 
the geometric patterns where grass once grew, they would see.  
 
However, it was a one way journey.  They could never go back.  The mountains 
could never be home again.  Clear lakes and abundant food were gone.  It 
would be small consolation to them . . . orphaned by the blight.  If they 
found out . . . if they could record in their sight . . . they could warn 
those who still lived along the rivers and lakes.  They had a chance to save 
all who remained.
 
Tarka:
 
There were rememberances of the river from other tribes that once inhabited 
the shores of the river they moved down. Very slowly they went... probing 
every bend and falls carefully as they went. Never seeing the black flying 
beasts again. Just that the quite stelthy memmors of other tribes were called 
up now and then. Of secret ways around bends. Of paths that hard started to 
be overgrown. Still, Sim and Kind pressed on to the flats and to their fate.
 
"Sim, there is a smell here." Kind was stoped by the holdings of a tribe that 
left several months before. It had been the first and was the closest to the 
flats and the shapes that had formed there. 
 
Sim slips up out of the water to stand next to Kind and held his nose to the 
air... scenting the strange smell of the rocks that had been Skyfall Tribes 
elder gathering place. "Lets rest tonight and on the morrow... when both 
moons are up. Let us go the the shapes on the flat."
 
Kinds tummy rummbled hungerally... it had been a couple of days sense he had 
hunted. "Yes."
 
Vassily:
 
Dark shadows flitted across the moon and the travelers looked up at them, 
trying to determine if they were merely clouds or a return of the creatures. 
The rocks were cold at night and the moons were only half full, making the 
shadows deeper than they would have liked. It had been days since they had 
heard normal night sounds. Only the wind pushing a few dead leaves and their 
own breathing broke the silence.
 
"We need something to eat, And I don't think we're going to come across 
anything heading deeper into the flats." Sim said softly.
 
"There's nothing between us and The Spiral Tribe either. We won't make it 
going back. Even if the Spiral Tribe is still there. We need to keep going 
across the flats."
 
Terry:
 
"The scent might be edible?" suggested Etch. The two stared at the young 
warrior, who was not old enough to speak to his elders, even those not quite 
so elder as the true elders had been. They had brought him so that they'd 
have someone to send back with a message, but of course there was no one to 
message now. "I will hunt it!" he declared, and proudly stalked the scent.
 
Sim and Kind stood up on their hindlegs with their noses in the air, 
following his hunt by his scent. They smelled him poking around between the 
rocks, smelled a sudden burst of surprise, and... joy? And then nothing, he 
was gone.
 
Sim raced after him, knowing the path to take as intimately as if he'd walked 
it himself. Around the rock, past the shattered tree stumps, up the hill. 
"Stop!" Kind shouted behind him, just before he reached the crest.
 
WalksFar:
 
 Sim ignored the frantic shout from behind.  Etch had been his charge.  He 
had to know.  Why had his presence been abruptly severed from their minds and 
senses leaving a dark blank in its place.  He dropped over the crest and 
stopped. 
 
 Nothing . . . waving grass, geometric patterns which stretched across the 
flats, lines of torn ground, sod wrenched up, turned upside down.  But . . . 
no sign of what Etch nad found . . . the sudden change in his demeanor . . . 
the intense hunt, then surprise followed by profound euphoria then . . . 
absence.  He stood as tall as he cool, peering beyond the patterns to the 
remaining grass waving in the wind.  Then he dropped down and turned his 
attention to his lone companion.  This was a bad place he had decided.  
Something had to be done.  If he could find others . . . Elders, they could 
sing it down . . . it only took the right ones.  A sing could be held and 
they could sing the blight away.
 
Tarka:
 
Etch fell, or found himself falling, falling and endless fall, so that his 
fear slowly slipped away into the distance... he couldn't hear Sim and Kind 
anymore... but... there was something he could hear. someething nagging at 
the back of his mind, then he woke to a familure face. "Oh."
 
Sim decided to sing... starvation having driven him half mad enough to try 
what had never worked before. He sat there and sang to the moons tht night. 
Kind finally joinned him, deciding that the black direhawks wouldn't return 
for them cause of their voice... and sang loudly as well.
 
Both songs intermingled tell the mornning and the sun rose over the flats 
again... and the shapes were still there. There singing was not answered and 
their voices fell again and they looked on with dispair.
 
"Yooohhheee... you critters have a might fine singin voice."
 
Terry:
 
Sim and Kind looked up in surprise, to see a shining creature hovering above 
them, all gold and pink in the reflected light of the sunrise. It was 
obviously not real, for it had no scent, and its wings didn't move as it hung 
there in the air. It had a face, and whiskers, and even a tail of sorts, 
though, and it spoke to them strangely, with sound alone.
 
"I can see why the Borzhov wanted you all to themselves. Didn't think there 
were any of you all left! Well, you're mine now."
 
Sim glanced at Kind, hoping that the mystic would have more insight into this 
strange hallucination. He could feel no fear, since the vision was obviously 
not real.
 
"Well, come here, li'l ones. Daddy's got some food for ya! You look starved...-
" and though it was surrounded by a web of blinding lights, Sim could smell 
the food -- that at least was real. His spirits lifted at the thought of 
eating again, and he took a step towards the light... but Kind didn't *ask* 
him to stop, this time.
 
The mystic tossed a powder in his face, and suddenly Sim was nose-blind -- 
the world was gone! Only shadows remained! Confused, he had no choice but to 
follow as Kind dragged him by the ear away from the hallucination.
 
WalksFar:
 
Sim sagged as Kind slipped into the river and pulled him in behind.  They 
drifted for a while before he chose to speak.  "What . . . what was it?  
Terrible scent . . . but not real?  Where . . . what was it?"
 
 "You were in danger.  It lured you with food.  It was there.  You sensed it. 
 It called to  you and you went.  Even I was tempted, but . . . I saw behind 
the veil.  They have Etch.  I am sure of it.  They have all of them.  I saw . 
. . I saw in its mind . . . vague images . . . but understood."  Kind swirled 
and vanished beneath the current.  When he reappeared he carried shellfish 
which he shared with his companion.  
 
They ate noisily as the drift carried them inot the middle of the widening 
river.  "It will take more than we have.  Our song was wrong.  Tis to the 
Mother we should sing . . . but we need more . . . we must find others.  It 
must be the biggest sing . . . far ranging and the right song.  The thing you 
saw . . . the thing whose strange voice we heard . . . it is the blight."  
the mystic tossed the last bit of shellfish back into the river.  "Sim, clear 
your thoughts.  Think only of Etch.  We must find more!"
 
Tarka:
 
Kind followed Sim fora  while... but he knew of only one way to find the 
others. There were no others... and even to reach the spiral would take too 
mcuh out of them. There was only one way. He had sensed etch. He had sensed 
more. So their only chance might be to let themselves be captured by the 
things.
 
"Sim. There is only one way to find the others. Only one way to make a new 
sing."
 
Terry:
 
"We think the same thought, perhaps," Sim replied, "To let them catch us? But 
that won't work. They've caught the others, and you don't hear them singing."
 
Kind pondered. "We can prepare. If we knew what they did to us, we could 
prepare better, but we know more than anyone else. We know they have no 
scent. We know they float like the moons themselves. We know they can talk... 
and I felt their mind. I think I could change their mind, if I faced them 
again."
 
Sim pondered. "I have faith in your powers," he said. "Should we sing to them 
again?"
 
"There's no need," Kind said, "They never left us." Then, louder, he called 
to the blight, a short song, and it unfolded from the air, above them, 
appearing in all its brilliant unreality.
 
WalksFar:
 
 "Wall yer back!  Y'all decide to stay?"  The blight moved away and they 
followed.  They were allowed to enter a tall structure, one they had seen 
from afar, deciding it to be a rock if anything.  There, food waited and they 
ate.  Kind focused on Sim as he buried his muzzle into the food.
 
 "They are here . . . some of us . . . I sense them and they know we are 
without.  Etch is here.  They play with one of the youngers of the blight."  
Kind nodded, took another bit of food and a smile spread across his muzzle.  
"And I know the songs we must sing to wake the Mother.  She will bring order 
again and the blight will know its place. . . ."
 
 Sim stopped, lifted his head and stood tall, nose high in the air.  The 
scent was there, stronger now.  His people, some, were here.  He glanced down 
at the Mystic and felt the thought.  His mouth dropped open.  "Th-those 
songs?  YES!"
 
Tarka:
 
An openning slipped open in the wall behind Sim and Kind and they could hear 
others in teh distance. The floating thing chirped at them. "Now... you'll 
can go join the others. Tiss a good old hodown back there."
 
They moved closer to the thoughts that they could hear... they seemed happy 
enough... and then the room oppened out and all around them was another 
world... and all the peoples that disapperared where there. The elders 
awaited them. "Sim! Kind! I'm so glad that you could make it! This is the 
world... a better place then our former home."
 
Sim tried to message the elders about the song... but he waved it away. "No 
boy. No... we shouldn't sing that song. The blight helped to tell us why."
 
Kind was confused... "they are distroying the tribes!"
 
The elder looked sad. "no... they are saving us. For our world is doomed."
 
Terry:
 
Sim snarled, and snapped. "Our world is doomed because of them! We need to 
sing to the mother... to the moons... to the sun and the stars and the wind 
and the water, and put things back the way they were!"
 
The elder smiled, and shook his head. "Our world is doomed because of the 
Progress, not because of the Blight. We stood still too long, and it passed 
us by, but its wake is inescapable. The lines of Progress pass by our world 
every day, from star to star, and now even the moons belong to its web. But 
the blight can save us. Our song can touch the hearts of the stars, and they 
will carry us in their web to a new world."
 
The elder shrugged, "Or not, if we'd rather, we can stay and sing for the 
blight... the joy it brings them to hear our songs is wondrous... come, join 
the circle, we sing for the children..."
 
"Let me choose the song then," Kind said to the elder, and the elder smiled. 
"Of course! In honor of your return to our tribe, you can choose the song we 
sing. We will follow your lead."
 
Kind glanced at Sim, as they followed the elder towards the chorus. Sim 
sighed, and nodded. The elders had been enchanted by the blight, but once 
Kind's song was started, they would be unable to do anything to stop its 
power.
 
"Here's a surprise, little ones!" said one of the blight, as they gathered, 
"This time we'll be broadcasting you live across the net! *All* the children 
will hear you sing, isn't that exciting? Start when you're ready..."
 
And Kind rose, and with the full force of his people behind him, his voice 
began the song of destruction...