Fatigue

Fatigue

Postby Chris » Fri Sep 07, 2018 10:29 am

(Aaron, lit xp for length)

Early November, 2016
Somewhere in the far far North of the North American Content


Polar bears are many wonderful things.
But polar bears are not long distance runners.

Polar bears are enormous, with adult males often weighing over half a ton.
But polar bears are not long distance runners.

Polar bears are fierce, nothing willingly tangles with a polar bear.
But polar bears are not long distance runners.

Polar bears can lift and drag prey nearly as big as themselves.
But polar bears are not long distance runners.

Polar bears are long distance swimmers, able to travel hundreds of miles at stretch.
But polar bears are not long distance runners.

Polar bears are long distance walkers, often able to walk for nearly two days at a go.
But polar bears are not long distance runners.

Polar bears can sprint as fast as a galloping horse.
But polar bears are not long distance runners.

Aaron was well aware that he was a rather magnificent bear, nearly double the size of an average adult male. And being Gurahl rather than just a bear, he had the extra speed, and thank Gaia, the extra endurance that went with it. On top of that, he was forever Uzmati as he cycled the auspices. Forever in the auspice suited to direct confrontation. He even had a rather hearty dose of rage constantly stoking the fire in his chest, though he had rarely felt the need to use it. Aaron had an excellent tolerance for the pain of wounds.

That was all wonderful, but it still did little to offset one very simple fact.

Polar.
Bears.
Are.
Not.
Long.
Distance.
Runners.

And Aaron had been running for days, and days, and days.

He was carefully rationing his rage to give himself tiny bursts of recovery as he ran, staying at a run for just that little bit longer. He had not stopped to eat or sleep since he started, and that fatigue added up too. Aside from occasional stops for water, he rested twice a day. Once at night to stare at the moon and recover his rage, and once in the day for a blessed two minutes of rest as he performed the rite of recovery. Except of course on the days when he couldn’t find a node to use, those days he just ran.

At a certain point, fatigue becomes a pain all it’s own. That point was days ago, back in that last set of mountains he had crossed, and every part of Aaron ached to lie down and just rest.

Aaron had to appreciate one thing though. His bear spirit guide was as clever as a fox. At first, Aaron had been following a massive bear even bigger than himself, but as Aaron began to stumble and slow his pace, his guide had slowly shifted into a form favored by his totem, Ursa Minor. Before he had noticed, Aaron was desperately trying to keep up with a baby bear gamboling along ahead of him in the forest.

A few days ago, or was it weeks? Aaron shook his head to clear it, he was just so bloody tired. Anyway. A while ago, who could track time when all they wanted to do was sleep. A while ago they had left the cover of mountain and trees, and started running across the frozen icy tundra of the far north. The effort involved in tracking a tiny white translucent baby polar bear spirit was the only thing keeping Aaron focused and awake enough to keep running. Or was it stumbling? Constantly falling forward and just trying to keep falling instead of landing? Anyway, it was enough to keep him moving. He just had to keep track of the….

Shit.

Where was the baby bear?

For however long it had been that Aaron was following this scamp of a bear cub spirit it had been the perfect Arcas. The little trickster had been just clever enough to constantly challenge him. Just sneaky enough to keep him awake and distract him from the utter and complete exhaustion that this journey had become.

But this time the cub was simply gone without a trace.

Just as Aaron stumbled to a stop, he heard a voice in his mind, and not the one he expected. It was a voice he had heard rarely. The death bear was not exactly prone to unnecessary communication.

“Patchwork, Talchwi of the Ice Stalkers. It is time for you to work. Use that Kojubat tongue of yours. You are needed here, but they probably don't think so.”

And that was when Aaron noticed the pack of snow white Crinos garou rising from the snow in a circle around him, snarling with claws raised.

Aaron’s usually reaction would have been to rise up, stand his ground, and show the wolves what Gurahl were made of. Especially to Wendigo, they were always so angry and sure that the lands of ice belonged to them and them alone.

But Aaron was so tired that he just fell, or maybe flopped, down on his stomach and rolled his bear eyes at them with a sigh before speaking.

“Younger brothers, hello. I ran here without stopping since I was in lands where it never freezes, at the urgings of Ursa. I left without speaking to my mate. If we have to fight, can I at least have a nap and send a wind spirit to her before we have our own stupid personal re-creation of the war of rage?”

Much to Aaron’s relief, the Wendigo stopped moving forward. But then the leader spoke.

“Why are you here then. This caern has been besieged for generations, and no help has come. Why now? Why the rush?”

Aaron sighed. The death bear hadn’t been kidding, his work really was just getting started.
Chris
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Re: Fatigue

Postby Keyara » Fri Sep 07, 2018 10:57 am

Beautiful
User avatar
Keyara
Prospector
 
Posts: 140
Joined: Thu Dec 25, 2014 11:10 am
Location: Across the river
Character of: Lindsay


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