Tribe of One
The woman strained, pulling on the rope as though she meant to tear the tent down around herself. Her blue skin shone with sweat, and the dark tendrils of her hair quaked as she fought for breath against the strain. With a final cry of pain, she pushed out the child she had carried for three seasons, pushed it out into the waiting arms of the midwife.

She slumped back, exhausted, but heartened at the sound of the primal scream that erupted from her child. Her child was healthy and strong, she knew that scream was telling her. She smiled and rested while the Oneiromancer took him to the Tent of the Spirits. She would see her baby come morning, and know what the future held for him or her. The Oneiromancer would dream it for her.

All night, the shamans and oneiromancers of the tribe prayed and chanted over this warrior-child, this lump of spirit given the shape. They prayed and begged the spirits for insight, one even going so far as to ingest the powerful trip'tuk*, which made him weak, but gave him visions more powerful than any native herb. When they awoke from their dreaming, they discussed the meanings they saw under the watchful gaze of the child's deep black eyes. When they had reached a conclusion, the one who had borne the child to the Tent of the Spirits took him out, to be given to the mother.

She rested in the tent of her husband, her women's work taken by others until three days had passed. The Oneiromancer approached, handing her the strong son she had borne the tribe, and pronouncing the name that she must tell no one but her son.

"He is called Ekensha."

This simple pronunciation drew a gasp from the mother, her eyes torn from the child at the mention of that most holy of names.

"He will be a great leader for this tribe, and lead us into a new era. Already, the powers of his mind reach out, and the power of his spirit calls out for teaching. The tribe will guide him well, so he may guide the tribe well. The spirits heed this one, like they have no other in recent times... he will succeed me as Shaman, and his close-cousin's second brother-in-law as chief. It is through him, that the war with the Gosai will be ended, with much blood and death. He will be great."

The mother looked down at the young Quorian in her arms, his hands pawing at her breast, seeking milk. "He will be great..." she whispered it so softly that the Oneiromancer wasn't sure he heard it. Tears now ran down the mother's face, dripping onto the face of her son, his mouth full of her, sucking as though he would take her blood, as well as her milk.

"He will be great."

Ekensha was a great disappointment.

He knew that. His tribe never said it, but he knew they thought it. When would he become the leader they dreamed of? When would he turn from this obsession with the spirits of animals and turn into the warrior the spirits had promised him to be on the day of his birth? Ekensha himself didn't know. He just knew that he felt more at home amidst the herds of Silonar and Draybacks than he did with the people, and that none of the tribe's shaman's questions had engaged him like that which he heard rumbled back and forth between the great reptiles. Why couldn't his people see that the spirits of these beasts were as complex and beautiful as their own?

He laughed as Stupid butted up against him, hard enough to slam him to the ground. He stood up and punched Stupid a couple times to let him know that he was ok, then removed his friend's blinking pain with a gentle touch of his hand, his will and love for the animal flowing down his arm. He yanked hard on the reins to test them, to make sure they were tight, and then swung up onto Stupid's back. He had a long patrol to ride today, and had to get going, so he could find a campsite before dusk. With a kick to the flanks he started Stupid off, rushing through camp in the pre-dawn light as others crawled from beneath blankets. He roared with the sheer pleasure of being free, likely waking those in the camp that weren't up yet, then was gone over the dune.

A long ride on a dusty silonar isn't pleasant for anyone, but Ekensha figured he was far enough ahead of the tribe that he could afford a bit of a rest. Slipping down into a shaded place between two dunes, he slept for a bit, until the grunting nudges of Stupid woke him up. Someone was coming. Ekensha scrambled to his feet and spotted the newcomer, a gosai by the looks of him. Was this the one? Was this the gosai he had dreamed of years before? He did not know. But, as he rode towards the loping figure, his palm sweaty on the bone shaft of his javelin, he hoped it was... and equally hoped it wasn't. He didn't want to meet his destiny today.

*Trip'tuk is a powerful hallucinogenic herb, apparently native to Quoria. It completely overwhelms a Quorian's healing factor for 5d2 hours, and reduces all of the Quorian's physical attributes by 6, which are restored at a rate of 1 point per hour after the healing factor returns. However, the dreams induced in the Quorian are especially vivid, and are seen as having prophetic meanings. It is nearly fatal to other races, requiring a save vs. toxins at -6 in order to avoid death. Those that survive the experience slip into a shallow coma for 1d4 days and awake reporting terrible nightmares.

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