The Domino Effect

[Cyian]

Owl's Flight, shaman of the Annahaka strode to the summit of a high crest overlooking the great valley and entrance to Ah-ulu Gahdon-ee (sleeping mountain), and exhaled a plume of frozen breath.

"The mornings grow colder now each day, and each year the winter spirit comes sooner and is more angry then before". He quietly thought to himself.

Owl's Flight stood rigid in the brisk air atop the summit. The early morning sun basked down upon his face warming him. His eyes closed, face peering toward the heavens, and with out stretched hands to the sky, he silently mouthed his prayer to Rawruun, God of Strength and War.

Times on the great plains have been difficult. Our women and children starve. They perish from plague and pestilence. Our minds and spirits are consumed by grief and madness. Worst of all, we make war with our brothers, stealing each others women and children for survival, and spilling each others blood in your name.

Oh Great Lord of Battle let us harness our strength so that we may see our way through these difficult times. So that we may once again prosper, and make war fitting that of a people who honor and worship you. Oh Great Rager hear my prayer so that....

A sudden exclamation broke him from his meditations. "Owl's Flight! Help! Something is wrong! She is bleeding!" , the man called frantically, tears rimming in his face. Owl's Flight rushed down the summit into the camp of the Annahaka, following the man who was nearly out of his mind with grief. The man barreled his way through the camp knocking over anything or anyone in his way. Drawing concerned looks from the people trying to discern the nature of the alarm.

One man who casually leaned against a large pole of the communal dining tent, rolling a coin in between each one of his fingers, quietly regarded the domicile they rushed for, and slowly shook his head as he knew that by now the sickness had again taken another one from the Annahaka.

---

As, Shadowed Wolf rolled his lucky coin through his fingers he reflected on his past. He had been a small sickly infant, and lost his mother during his birth. If it had not been for the intervention of his uncle, he would had been killed. Deemed unfit to live by the elders. He often wished his uncle,had made no such intervention.

Sense then, he had been ostracized by his family and community as the living embodiment of a bad omen of weakness, a future to come. Life was difficult business for Shadowed Wolf. He spent a large portion of his early childhood on the precipice of starvation and sickness. The people regarded him last in all matters.

Being all but despised, and left to fend for himself at such an early age had led Shadowed Wolf to master other skills his people had not. To ensure his survival, he had no choice but to steal food and supplies. He had to lie and obfuscate truths. With this, a burning secret hatred of Rawruun solidified with in him. Fore in his mind it was Rawruun's teachings and traditions that fueled the people's disdain toward him. Rawruun stood for strength and honor, and that was above all else was in short supply to Shadowed Wolf.

This would eventually lead him to seek comfort, and as many do, to the divine. Writings he stole from the shamanic tomes told of a god who embraced the very nature of the person he had become. His name was Zivix, god of thieves.

When that evening came to pass, a dark being wrapped in the very shadows of the night, appeared before him. His image wavering, illuminated only by the moonlights and spoke. "Shadowed Wolf, take solace in your actions, as I approve." "I shall see you prosper under my guidance.""Soon I shall give you what you desire most, the love and approval of your family and peers." "The only tribute that I require is your willingness to take my words and make them action when I call upon you." Shadowed Wolf nodded, and as quickly as the shadowy figure appeared, was gone. Dissolved by the very darkness that enveloped it.

Sense that fateful night many many moons ago, his quality of life has risen tenfold. Inspiration and confidence flowed in him. The selling of vice like alcohols and mind effecting plants, gambling and money lending, all of this propelled him to considerable wealth among his people.

Still, Shadowed Wolf pines for the love and acceptance of his people, which was promised to him by his shadowy patron, and often contemplates the price he must render for it.

---

Owl's Flight worked frantically at the hemorrhage, blood fountaining from her body like some angry geyser. He wiped at the sweat from his brow with a forearm, drawing large black viscous blood smears across his forehead. In his mind he screamed a curse too Sardinal for not allowing him the time to replenish himself with the blessings of Rawruun, before he came for her.

"Bandages and fresh water now!" he barked. The man wide eyed with terror barely heard Owl's Flight dire request. " Now!" he howled in a flash of anger. The man suddenly realizing, burst into action and exploded through the tent into the mornings chill.

Bandages and fresh water would do nothing for Bountiful Valley, but at least her husband wouldn't have to witness what had to happen next to save the life of his son.

He leaned over her, desperation leaking from his eyes and quietly whispered "Soon child you will be with Rawruun in the Halls of Victory, I can save your childs life, at the cost of yours."

Bountiful Valley's emerald eyes gazed upon him with a look of serenity he had not witnessed before. She managed a smile, teeth wrought with blood. Tears welling in her eyes, and in a great display of strength and fortitude she spoke softly "Shaman do what you must to usher my child's life to fruition, and mine to Rawruun. She winced, coughed, and spat blood that filled her mouth.

Owl's Flight clenched his jaw in grim determination as he produced a long slender obsidian knife. Just as he was about to bring the knife to bear upon Bountiful Valley. She grabbed him and said "Tell my husband I love him, and to think of me when he looks upon our child." "Tell my child that i would give my life a thousand times to ensure its, tell it i died with great love for it." She sunk back into her blood soaked hides and nodded at the shaman that she was ready.

Owl's Flight went to work.

---

Storming Mountain raced to the edge of the camp toward the stream near by. With little effort, and amazing agility he jumped over the pickets used to bind the horses and sped down the gentle slope. He was a blur of motion as he took long powerful strides bringing him ever closer to the fresh water he had set off to get. He was there in an instant, filling two gourds with crisp mountain water in the next. Again, he exploded into motion deftly maneuvering around, over, and through obstacles.

His mind blank with fear, he had not noticed the absolute stillness of the camp as he ran fervently toward his tent. If he had noticed this, he would have not been able to understand the somber expressions on the faces of the tribe who had all come out of there homes to investigate the commotion.

Seeing his home now and people silently congregated around it, snapped him back into reality allowing him to process his surroundings, unconsciously slowing his pace from a sprint, to a jog, to a slow haphazard walk. He looked around meeting the gaze of his people frantically, as if to try discern what had just taken place with no words spoken.

Out of absolute silence there was a cry, an infant. His head snapping instantly toward his home. As Owl's Flight carefully exited the tent using his blood soaked head to push the flap out, using his shoulder to open and slide out from it. There he cradled the newest member of the Annahaka. Owl's Flight still shocked from what he had to do, looked at Storming Mountain with great sympathy as he mouthed a plea for forgiveness.

The man known as Storming Mountain let out a thunderous roar that echoed through the valley. Falling to his knees his fists slamming out toward the heavens, then slowly down to his head. His hands covered his head and face as if to protect himself from the mighty blow of an ogre. Slumping forward, softly weeping.

---

High atop Ah-ulu Gadon-ee, a dark being curiously watched the series of tragic events come to pass, all according to his design. "This time there would be no room for failure", the dark being thought to his companion and himself, as he inspected the large ruby gem slightly warmed with its recent acquisition.

He smiled widely as he bent a knee, to comfort his companion with a hand, who was still unsure of his masters plot. Our work is far from over old friend, this is just the beginning.

[Cyian]

Storming Mountain carefully picked his way through a wiry thatch of thorns at the base of his peoples ancestral home. He had set off on a quest to find specific ingredients for Owl's Flight. His child only weeks old already showed signs of the sickness that preyed upon the Annahaka.

The shaman had told him of an obscure remedy that might help the infant ward off further progression of the illness. At this point he was willing to try anything, he had only lost his wife two weeks ago and the thought of losing his son was to much to bare.

A thorn drawing a razor thin line of blood on his cheek broke him from his contemplations. He reached up a finger to probe at the newly opened wound. He wiped the blood with a finger, and studied it for a long moment.

"Poison", he thought as he recognized the dark green substance mixed with his blood. He immediately reached into his satchel producing a white milky salve, which he used to treat the wound in an attempt to reduce the effects of the thistledeath poison.

Storming Mountain knew now what would be in store for him tonight and he did not relish the thought of being alone in these scrub woods on the best of circumstances, let alone under the effects of a potent hallucinogenic, likely sending him into a madness that would call every predator on the mountain. So distracted with recent events that he didn't manage to recognize the dangerous plant before he found himself wading through it. "It wont be long now. I must make shelter." He thought to himself.

Hours later the effects began to set in, Storming Mountain was priming himself to deliver a blow to his own head to try and knock himself unconscious. He grasped the chunk of granite he unearthed from his campsite. He grimaced at the stone, arms practicing the crushing blow to his skull. When he finally mustered the courage to render his solution, he thought better of it. At least conscious he would have a fighting chance. He dropped the granite with a thud, sighing heavily.

---

It was Owl's Flight, who asked Shadowed Wolf to trail Storming Mountain into the scrub woods after he refused to have anyone accompany him to fetch ingredients he needed for his sons medicine. Owl's Flight lobbied Shadow Wolfs help by the premise of good karma and an opportunity to show the tribe how valuable he really was. But it wasn't karma or opportunity that made him comply with Owl's Flight request, it was the will of his shadowy patron.

Shadowed Wolf cursed to himself "Mad fool!", as he carefully picked his way through a patch of thistledeath his fellow tribesman had just traversed just hours ago. Shadowed Wolf had tried to circumnavigate the thatch for over an hour, realizing only then it was futile. Never had he seen such an overgrowth of the plant.

Out of the corner of his eye he caught a glint of light. Instinctively he froze, his eyes traced the ground for the curiosity. A medicine bag he realized. He carefully knelt down and inspected the bag and its contents. He dipped the end of his pinkie finger into the bag, then pressed it to his tongue. "Delay poison salve.", he thought as his heart sunk into his stomach. "Storming Mountain must have been fouled by the thistledeath". He knew then Storming Mountain must already be under its effects.

Shadowed Wolf cleared his mind and focused, as he knew a single prick of the thistledeath would send him reeling into madness. Praying to Zivix, that they would not both suffer the same fate. He continued on through the maze of thorns.

---

As the moons came to their crescendo,visions of pure chaos and madness had infected the mind of Storming Mountain. Every sense was amplified a thousand fold, only twisted by the fears that lay with in him. Unnaturally thick mist and fog swirled around him sending him into a dizzying cyclone of movement. The angry and stern faces of his ancestors coalesced in the mists around him, some howling and others darting all around him in an attempt to devour him. The bright orange blaze of the campfire threw long shadows of his chaotic movements on the stone reliefs of his sanctuary, and they too took shape against Storming Mountain.

Storming Mountain flung his massive maul around him trying to ward of his attackers but his weapon only met the crisp mountain air and swirls of fleeting mist. He let out a war cry and charged again at his intangible assailants, this time he felt unimaginable cold penetrate his body and soul, as the faces of the damned buried themselves deep into his chest.

This sent Storming Mountain reeling back dropping his giant weapon to the ground. He winced and braced himself for the inevitable onslaught of the angry spirits of his ancestors.

Suddenly the campfire exploded into a scintillating shower of sparks and tinder. Before him in the blaze of fire stood some monstrous kind of dire wolf, seeming from the fiery pits of hell it self.

The large black beast was engulfed with flames that seemed to flow and surge upon its will. It stood there towering over him, its head wide and snout short growling deeply, its lips curled up exposing a row of perfectly white teeth, culminating in giant silvery blue canine incisors, bands of muscles rippled down his haunches, as it flexed in anticipation for attack. The beast snorted a plume of smoke that smelled of sulfur and brimstone. It turned its head toward Storming Mountains would be assassins and let loose a deafening roar that ended with a huge cone of fire exploding from its maw. The ghostly spirits cried out in abject agony.

Storming Mountain flat on his back reached to his side, hands probing for the handle of his maul, his eyes never leaving the terrifying scene before him. His fingers found it and he was on his feet in an instant waving the giant wooden mallet before him. He felt the maul ebbing with magical energy, bestowed on it by some unknown source. He let loose his own roar, face twisted and distorted in rage when he charged into the mass of screeching spirits.

Storming Mountain pumped his powerful muscled legs sending him careening toward his target. His maul now perched over his head, the muscles in his chest and arms snapping taut as he levied his enormous wooden gavel to render his own judgment on these pitiful souls.

He crashed down on the first one in his path, feeling the satisfying resistance he craved from the previous attempts. The spirit merely dissipated into a moan of defeat. Using his momentum from the down force of the hammer, his waist and legs remaining upright, he lurched his back and twisted his hips, sending the hammer up and around in a whirlwind of motion. His attack smashed into the face of the next phantom. He continued his charge, this time lurching forward, letting go of his maul with his right hand and letting the momentum of the hammer continue around him with his left arm, until he reached back with his right hand to greet the revolution of the maul.

The giant black beast continued its assault methodically on the spirits, it snapped at them with its powerful jaws, and raked razored silvery blue claws of hellish agony across the offending ghostly faces. The spirits exploded into bursts of cold mist and howls of sorrow.

Storming Mountain closed on the phantoms before him. He swung the maul up and over his head, and in an explosion of speed and strength soared high over the blazing fire at the center of the encampment. Still in flight, Storming Mountain came down on the offender with a devastating over hand blow detonating it into oblivion.

Again using the downward motion of the maul, he twisted his wrist, while letting go with his right hand, and swung the hammer around his head. Leaning back and grasping the handle again with two hands, keeping his knees locked while he pivoted back on his heels against the force of the maul until his left leg struck out toward the next offender and planted firmly on the ground.

The force and speed of the maul accelerated exponentially as the twisting motion of Storming Mountains powerful core brought the maul to bare on his final target obliterating it completely.

His chest heaved with labored breath as he appraised his surroundings. Still under the terrible throws of the thistledeath poison, he shook his head violently to ward off the effects. All manners of fire blazed at took shape around him. Their intense heat bringing a wince of anticipatory pain that never manifested. His hands protected his eyes from the heat as he searched for the beast that was there an instant ago.

Storming Mountain seen a flash of movement from the strange looking canine in the darkness of the distant trees beyond.

---

It had turned dark several hours ago making the difficulty of traversing the maze even more difficult, but Shadowed Wolf pressed on guided only by the moonlights.

Just as he was entering the last portion of the thicket, there was a low rumbling roar that culminated in a thunderous sonic boom, and flash of orange light that exploded through the scrub forest. An instant later there was a towering mushroom shaped pillar of flame rising high above the tree line. He stared at the rising flames that had ignited several large trees in their entirety, half in awe, the other in terror.

Shadowed Wolf was finally through the thicket. He double checked himself quickly for scratches on his exposed flesh, satisfied he that he did not take any wayward injury from the thatch, he began to run through the forest at the source of flame and light.

Shadowed Wolf sprinted through the forest. Storming Mountain must be in trouble or worse." He thought to himself, as he deftly navigated to the source of the blaze now extinguished in night sky. Using his two short obsidian swords to skillfully slash his way through the worst of the branches and other low hanging obstacles, aloud him to take the straightest possible route. He drew near the source now, light pollution from the blaze now illuminating his way.

Shadowed Wolf cried out "Storming Mountain!" "Where are you?!" He was now at the encampment, everything burned around him with the crackling of burning pine releasing there boiling saps. Raising a back turned hand to his face, he to protected his eyes from the bright heat of the blaze.

He searched for a long moment that seemed to be an eternity within the inferno, and spotted tracks. He quickly knelt an inspected them. "Human. Large with a deep instep. These were Storming Mountain's marks." He thought to himself. The tracks were everywhere among the camp, he followed the markings with his eyes. Storming Mountain must have been in some sort of crazed rampage. "thistledeath" He blanched with the thought of it.

He continued to follow the erratic tracks of Storming Mountain. "There!" he exclaimed audibly. Maneuvering around the blazes that ignited the area, he spotted tracks exiting the encampment. He knelt quickly and inspected, "Fresh" he thought, the blazes haven't had a chance to deposit there glowing tinder and ash inside the deep marks. He was skeptical, the evidence meager, but its all he had.

Shadowed Wolf dashed into the darkness of the forest affording himself as much speed as possible with out losing sight of the tracks.

---

Storming Mountain sprinted toward the flashes of movement, the creature bounded almost effortlessly before him, the creatures size seemed as if it were no liability in its deftness. It sprang and lept from tree to tree. Using its hind legs like launchpads against the ancient growths of the scrub forest. Its claws ripping chunks and splinters from the black barked trunks of the hardwoods exposing their tender yellow wooden flesh. With each movement he sheer size and weight of the beast made for a thunderous cacophony of sounds that echoed through the forest.

A moment later, he stood in absolute silence. The creature sat firmly on its hind, no longer engulfed in flames. A tentative moment passed as each of them appraised one another. The beast towering over him broke the silence with a powerful snort that jetted twin plumes of frozen breath into the cold mountain air. Storming Mountain now began to contemplate the wisdom of following this giant canine into the forest.

Storming Mountain regarded the beast. Nearly all black, save for a rust colored smattering over the bottom jaw, each massive paw and foreleg, and two distinct spots over his eyes that seemed to serve as brows. Its head was massive with a broad and well defined jaw. Its muzzle was short and wide, with a slight tapper to the flat snout. Its eyes almond shaped with well fitting lids, moderately deep-set, neither protruding nor receding. The visage of the beast was attached to a powerful muscled neck, short and broad. Its giant barreled chest heaved with a steady pace, with no indication of its recent sprint through the forest.
At that moment it slightly cocked its head to one side, its cropped ear lazily draped over the beasts skull. The beast licked its chops instinctively. Unknown to Storming Mountain human was a favorite treat of the canine companion of Cyian, known as Me'at.
Me'at quietly appraised Storming Mountain with a devilishly clever intellect only few mortals could ever come to understand.
"This human is abnormally big for human standards", it thought. Standing a full six foot five inches, and weighing in at close to 280 pounds. Storming Mountain only wore only fur loin cloth, thick banded leather belt, and a pair of fur boots that reached to his calves bound by braided hemp rope.
His head was shapely and well proportioned to his size, his jaw chiseled and squarely locked. His eyes brown and flared with cunning. It seemed as if the humans shoulders and neck nearly reached to its ears, every muscle in his chest, torso and flank were well defined and exaggerated. He stood on massive legs equally muscled and seemed to have rooted him in an immense center of gravity despite his height. His hands attached to taut muscle and sinew spun arms which comfortably held a giant wooden maul of 50 pounds effortlessly. Storming Mountain was a truly impressive physical specimen of his race.

Me'at was the first to break the locked gaze of the pair. Me'at peered up at the moon. "Anytime now, the moons are at their apex", he thought. Me'at pondered on having a few tests of his own levied on Storming Mountain before it was time for what his Master had in store for the human, but thought better of it. His Master would be irate if any nonsense jeopardized his goals.
At times his Masters patience was remarkable, but has been witness on a handful of occasions the utter avalanche of anger and retribution when his patience has been tried.
Me'at cleared his head of thought with a shake, he growled then roared at Storming Mountain then turning his head to the dark cave next to them.
Me'at looked back to Storming Mountain and made a more poignant motion toward the direction of the cave entrance. Storming Mountain stood there finally realizing this infernal beast had no intention of a fight. He was guiding him to this place, "but where is here?, he pondered to himself. With a heavy sigh of determination and purposeful movement Storming Mountain approached the absolute darkness of the cave...

[Kas'ryn Doth'Dakar]

More please.

[Cyian]

Bump for Gary

[Zivix]

Must........have........more.........