[Story] Bamboo

[Okiba]

Bamboo

”Listen, but not with your ears. See, but not with your eyes. Know, not in your mind, but in your spirit. This is the way of the monk.” – Fhu Redstaff

The winds caress could not reach him here. No longer did that gentle touch of air soothe the skin, instead it harassed the leafy tops of the vast, impenetrable bamboo forest with utter impotence. No, down here he would have to be neglected and warm, stifled by humidity among the creaking greenery. He had long left behind the safety of open sky the roads hours ago, to stalk through this maze of jade and vermillion thicket, avoiding the rare beams and in streams of light that pierced the canopy. No, here he needed to move carefully and with purpose, preferably unseen.


Gripping his heavy polearm tight in his right hand, he was forced to duck, pivot and turn constantly so as to avoid clipping or rustling the bamboo with either blade or shaft as he navigated onward. One slow, carefully placed foot at a time. Unseen was one thing, unheard upon a forest floor covered in dry fallen foliage? It was near impossible. Each foot wrapped in cloth up to the knee had to roll the dice every time it descend back to the ground, what may have looked like a safe spot could easily have a hidden twig or dry leaf bound to make that one awkward noise. Even drawing a breath felt like a measured exercise, having to repress the urge for desperate gasps of air.


Okiba paused, and rolled his left shoulder. It had healed, or was healing, depending on your view of old wounds. The twin scars, still fresh from the work of a skilled surgeons blade, had recently had stitches removed. One sat over his collar bone and the other by his left shoulder blade, both horizontal and Orcs finger in length. It ached, a little, somewhere deep within the fleshy muscle between collar bone and back, but it had healed and was well on its way to being fully recovered.


Thank the spirits for that…


The Orc monk mused, uncorking his water skin to sate his light thirst and wet his sweaty brow. The heat within the Bamboo woods of the jade forest could be stifling, even so early in spring. But it was what he wanted. The rocky, inclined terrain, the challenge of moving unseen, It required effort to move through. An ideal activity, it demanded he be mindful and consider every movement of his hands as he hauled his weighted weapon, and to be careful of each step lest it alert his prey.


One foot, one breath, one thought at a time. Technique over haste.


He considered. Caution would be his ally. Or a lack of mindfulness within his surroundings? Very possibly his death. He was hunting a Tiger; an impressive specimen the local brewers had spotted some days before. It hadn’t taken long for news to reach the temple of the jade serpent, inspiring any would be skilled hunters to seek it out. Fortunately no hunters were available, and Okiba was never one to miss a chance at repaying the kindness of his hosts, especially if it meant exercise.


Hunting is a form of rehabilitation, no?


He smirked to himself, lapping the last drops of water from the edge of his mouth. His eyes slowly scanned the area. He knew the way back to the road; it was south and behind him, while he faced north. All clues to the tiger and its den led north. Thus that remained his path, despite the thicket becoming increasingly intent on slowing his pace.


And thus I must press on, keep momentum, but not over exert or lose awareness.


Re-attaching the water skin to his belt, he rolled his right shoulder then tightened his grip on his weapon before pressing on. He must have stalked two miles, maybe three now? He was by no means a wilds Orc, or hunter, but it didn’t take a master to acknowledge he needed to improve his stamina. The tell tale signs of too much bed rest after his surgery manifested in great beads of sweat running down his bare back.


Damnable heat.


He furrowed his brow, trying to push through the self annoyance that he hadn’t brought more water or failed to find a better way into the forest. He’d much rather of been back with the clan, by the campfire eating freshly butchered boar or Zhevra. It had been near four months now though since he had to depart to see to his wound, would they even remember him? He remembered them…


He froze. His foot had landed in something soft, and warm. He cursed, aloud. The only thing in the forest you stood in that could be described like that was what came out the wrong end of an animal. Lifting his foot to gaze on the mess at the bottom of his cloth-wrapped sandal, he found no surprise that he had indeed stood in a giant lump of still steaming excrement.


”For the love of—“ He began to exclaim before his body froze. Intuition and sensory awareness took control as the need to bemoan his lot in life fell away. He didn’t know much about tracking, but he knew that when animal mess had ‘fur’ in it, he knew it had come from a predator. Narrowing his eyes, this ‘specimen’ was packed full of stag fur… it was close. Hee should have been more alert, mindful and with his eyes on his task instead of day dreaming about the clan. Because no sooner had he realized the proximity of his target, did he hear a solitary twig snap under paw behind him.


”Fu—“

[Kozgugore]

Good stuff! Great to see some of Okiba's little adventures far away in Pandaria. We desire moar!