Author Topic: Trahma's Story - by Trahma  (Read 3968 times)

Offline mac173

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Trahma's Story - by Trahma
« on: January 02, 2004, 02:44:53 AM »

‘I want to play!’ mewled the young kitten. The old matriarch looked at the tiger striped child with a mixture of fondness and annoyance. This one always seemed to have boundless energy matched by a lack of attention span. The little one was called Trahma, apt enough as she always seemed to find trouble and then escalate it. As one of the many strays after the great upheval, this kitten had no known parents, but the Vah Shir would never abandon one of their own. Besides, little Trahma was of the tiger genesis, not one of the rare whites, but still of the same stock that made the nobility of the city.

Unfortunately, Now was not the time for play, it was the time for language lessons. The trade tongue of the Loda Kai was apparently common to almost all sentient beings, and the king had decreed that all should learn it.

Later though – later, then little Trahma slipped away from the rapidly growing town hidden in the pit. One day this hamlet would grow into the city of Shar Vahl, with beautiful stone work and stout walls, but for the moment it was a village of wood protected by a palisade. No obstacle at all to a cat and her curiosity.

In the thicket known as shade weavers, Trahma crept quietly through the brush and foliage until she reached her favorite place. The Thicket was something of a closed valley, walled on all sides by high hills, although Trahma had heard rumour of a pass over them and into another valley beyond. She had looked for this, but curiosity was quelled by unease at being so far from her city.

Not so far out though, was her favorite place. It was like a natural cave, except it wasn’t a cave, it was a collection of boulders and stones that had once fallen together to create a sheltered space, and here lived tigers! These were the lesser felines, not intelligent tool users like the Vah Shir, but still proud and noble animals which fascinated little Trahma. And there he was! A tiger cub, and her play mate – she liked to call him ‘Socks’. The adult tigers never seemed to question the little Vah Shir’s presence at their den, and the young of two different but related species played at hunting and stalking.


Years later now, and Shr Vahl had grown into the city of stone that all know. The Loda Kai had betrayed the trust of the Vah Shir, and now the Grimlings had appeared and moved into Holloshade Moore while the alien Gor Taku and Shak Dratha had appeared in the great tunnels bored through the hills that walled Shadeweaver Thicket.

Trahma had grown from cub to young adult, and while never too big on the academics of life, had a wisdom of the way of life and the spirits that exceeded her age. She was too impatient to learn the ways of the shaman despite her affinity for the work. Likewise drill and exercise bored her and the way of the warrior did not suit despite her aggressiveness and energy. She was too bold to consider the ways of the rogue despite her knack for stealth. And she did not really like crowds or social action, despite her enjoyment of music, so the thought of being a bard was certainly out. But she could feel that change was in the air. Something big had happened, something that would fundamentally change, well, everything. She felt the need to serve her people.

And so she approached the guild master of the Khati Sha – the beastlord. This was the newest of the five noble paths, and yet, it followed the oldest precepts. Few really knew much about it, although they would in time.

Trahma was accepted into the ranks of the Khati Sha, and given tasks. ‘But I want to play!’ she thought to her self. But the tasks had a purpose, they would provide her weapons with which to fight. Hmm, maybe not such a waste of time after all, might even be fun.

Shadeweaver thicket had changed so much since her time as a kitten. The great tunnels bored through the hills had allowed hoppers to migrate into the valley. The expanding city of the Vah Shir had consumed much of the wood. And now the strange alien Gor Taku and Shak Dratha, as well as the Loda Kai and their dark magics made the thicket a much more – interesting place.

Chance brought her back to the standing cave that was once a tiger den. Trahma didn’t get too close, she could see the Gor Taku sentries there now, they had made the place their own.

A noise behind her made her start, fearing a hopper or perhaps one of those hideous skeletal things had spotted her, but she found herself confronted by a tiger. The Loda Kai had taken to hunting the tigers, and their numbers were rapidly thinning now – an action that filled Trahma with anger. The tiger was Socks! Old now, as tigers go, Socks tried to swipe at Trahma in the way they had when both were young, but the noble feline sagged instead with the effort. A terrible wound revealed itself on the animal’s flank. Trahma knew instinctively that the wound would be the death of Socks, and suddenly wished she had taken the time to learn some of the simple prayers, specifically the entreat to the spirits that might have healed the wounded tiger ahead of her.

Socks turned to go, but waited, looking at Trahma. She recognised this action too, as plain as the Loda Kai ‘common’ language she had learned so long ago, it meant ‘come’.

Trahma followed Socks into some of the remaining scrub, there to find the mauled remains of two Loda Kai poachers. Trahma was impressed, the Loda Kai were usually well equipped and trained as well as any young warrior from Shar Vahl, but were clearly no match for Socks. Or perhaps they were, she mused, as the mortally injured tiger struggled to drag another shape into view.

It was another tiger, a female, and dead. The story of what happened here seemed to quickly play in front of Trahma’s eyes, and she felt a tear form. But the ending of the story had one last twist. Nestled against the dead female was a tiny shape. Gently Socks lifted a tiger kitten by its scruff and turned towards Trahma. The Vah Shir girl sank to her knees, and numbly accepted as Socks dropped the kitten into her arms. “I will look after your daughter OK Socks?” The tiger limped back to his dead mate, and lay down, closing his eyes to rest the long rest.

Trahma stood again, cradling the little tiger cub. “Say good bye Kitten. Socks’ spirit lives through you and I, we must honour that.” And those Loda Kai will pay, she thought. She started walking back to Shar Vahl – there was study to be done, skills to learn, spells to master, and debts to collect.