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April 9th, 3051
02:21 Hours
Unknown Location
The dark night enveloped his figure. The soft, mossy ground muffling the noise he made as he tore through the forest as fast as his feet could carry him. The air was bitter and cold, branches whipped his exposed skin leaving gashes that seeped crimson blood. He could barely see where he was going but he knew what he was running from. That – for him – was enough. He didn't spare a thought about what he would face next. The unknown wilderness and environment he now found himself in. He could feel his warm breath roar up and over his face as he ran. He dodged in and out of the trees, only barely making it past them in time due to the visibility. The vines that draped from the canopy didn't help, especially in the dark, when he was being pursued. He could see the remnants of some faint light emitting from the compound. However, he couldn't hear his enemy. All he could hear was the eerie tones of the forest night life, forest night life that he had no knowledge of. Anything could be out here, or anyone.
As he dodged round a large bulk of a tree his foot snagged on a rotting log. This sent him hurtling to the ground at speed, to clash into the ground with a greater force. His face bounced off what seemed to be a rock and he lay there for some time, dazed. He could feel that his nose was broken, the unmistakeable smell of blood was overpowering and the pain pulsated through his face. He could taste blood also and he spat out some chipped teeth. He didn't have a luxury of lounging about in the middle of a forest, at night, with enemies on his tail. He felt around for something to lean on, finding a root of the large tree he had tried, but failed to dodge around. He pushed up, back onto his feet. Taking off in a more steady paced run, than a sprint. He didn't want to come face to face with a rock again.
It didn't take him long to start getting tired. Running in a jungle, at night, was tiring work. He probably could run for longer but didn't want to exhaust himself. His sweat was starting to turn against him, cooling him down too much. He was now starting to get too cold. He paused by a tree for a brief moment, looking back down the trial he had left. All he could see was the bustling darkness of the jungle now. No lights, no shouts. Just him and the wilderness. He glanced around, straining his eyes to see in the dark. He was still bare foot and could hardly feel his feet from all the moisture gathered on them, from the moss and jungle floor below. He reached up, pulling down a length of vine. He wrapped the vine around both hands, pulling it both ways to test its strength. For a vine, it was pretty tough. It took him quite some effort to snap it. It wasn't perfect but for what he needed it would do. He tossed the broken vine aside, reaching up to pull down some more. One by one the vines can loose, however not without a mighty haul. He slowly began to gather the vines up, as he walked through the gloomy jungle, the moonlight only casting small beams of light. The forest canopy swallowing up most of its light. He continued collecting these vines till he felt he had enough, then strolled over to a jutting out log that lay freshly fallen. He took a seat on this log and began the process of making some basic foot wraps. He had no idea how long he was going to spend in this wilderness, he wanted to get the basics sorted first. He lifted his foot up, using the little clothing he did have to dry his foot before application of his makeshift foot wrap. He sat the spare vines to one side and begun wrapping his foot with the vines he did not put aside. He started off by scrunching his toes together and tightly packing them into a vine, wrapped round several times. He then slowly made his way up his foot, to just about where his ankle would be found – to finish the first layer. He added a few more layers to his right foot, tying it all up to finish. After he had completed his wrap of his right foot and knew what to do – it didn't take him as long to finish wrapping his left foot. Now, at least, he had something to walk on – besides his bare feet.
He did have some vines left over however, and he did plan to use them. It took him a while of walking cautiously through the jungle, aware of the wildlife that may view him as food could be lurking nearby, to find what it was he was looking for. He found a nice sharp stone and a good, sturdy stick. The stick for the mount, the stone for the head. Carefully he wrapped a few layers of vines around the stick and stone in a figure of eight, to make a joint between the two. Now all he had to do was add extra layers to strengthen the joint, which he did. It wasn't much but a sharp stone club was better than his fists. He gave a spare thought to his company commander, whom had trained him up. Without him, Tren would most likely be dead by now.
He stood up from the sitting position he was in, sliding the stone club into the waistline of his tatty trousers to hold it in place. He had a feeling it would be a long night. As he went to casually stroll off, deeper into the forest he heard branches snap. He spun around, grasping his stone club to bring it to bare. Surely they hadn't caught up to him? He scanned the darkness, with no result. He didn't want to turn his back on the location where the branches snapped. It had sounded really close, too close for comfort. He could feel it. Someone or something was stalking him. As he glanced around to his right, then left. Nothing moved. Nothing made a sound. With a sudden movement, from right in front of him, a shadow leapt at him – screeching. It clawed him to the ground, gashing wounds open across Tren's chest. He glanced back over his shoulder - as he was face down in the dirt – to see the figure now advancing on him, as if it were victorious. He wasn't going to die today. As the figure came closer Tren lashed out, kicked at what seemed to be its face. His foot slammed into tissue and bone as the figure yelped, rearing back. Without wasting a moment of precious time, Tren pushed up of the ground to spin round, brining his club smashing down on the figure. He performed this action in one definitive swoop, the blow directly aimed at what he had deemed the figure's head. The blow connected with the spurt of blood and the breaking on bone. The dead weight of the figure slumped down to the jungle floor below as Tren wrenched his stone club from its skull. He heard more footsteps around him, more of the enemy. He didn't know what they were but the certainly were not human. He barely survived one, never mind several. Yet again, Tren found himself turning to run. Whatever these things were, they were much faster than his previous pursuer. The hopped from tree to tree, swinging, leaping, screeching for his blood. His feet thumped off the soft jungle floor as he ducked and weaved round, under and through thick vines and branches. No matter how far he ran, they were always right behind him. Howling and grunting as they charged through the jungle vegetation after him. He couldn't even see what they were, he could just see their figures moving in the shadows behind him, as he glanced over his shoulder every now and again. It didn't take long for him to grow tired, whatever was chasing him – strangely – didn't take advantage of this. As if it was waiting for him to tire himself out. He could feel the cold blood of one of the figures drip down from the tip of his club onto his hand. Suddenly, out of the shadows, one of the figures decided to pounce.
It leapt at him from the shadows, screeching some form of war cry, as it clawed Tren to the ground. Tren was tossed to the side by the blow, slamming off the thick trunk of a massive jungle tree. His head bounced off the bark, disorientating him and he could taste the warm blood accumulating in his mouth from a bitten tongue. Before he had a chance to straighten up, the figure was on him again. It towered at least a foot or two above his head as it stood over him. It produced a low pitched growl, as it coiled back for yet another pounce. This time Tren struck first. He was still dizzy, stumbling all over the place but he found some footing. He then used this footing and swung the club with all his might. With the satisfying noise of slicing flesh and squealing pain, the club made contact with the figure. Blood gushed from its wound, splashing on Tren's exposed arms and vine foot wraps. Due to the momentum Tren has made use of for his strike, he stumbling uncontrollably to the ground. The figure reared back also, falling down into the dirt and foliage of the jungle floor. Tren fell at the feet of another figure. This one stood confident, producing the same low growl. Without hesitation Tren struck first again, this time less effectively. He lashed out at what he had deemed its leg. His club sliced into its shin bone and it yelled out it pain. In response it brought its foot crunching down on Tren's hand, most certainly breaking his club in the process. Now – Tren knew – he was in trouble. The figure had backing off ever so slightly from the blow to its shin bone. Tren abused this chance and sprung at the creature with all his might. His shoulder connected with its waist as he pile drove the figure into the nearby tree. From this action, Tren got a clear view of what these figures were. They were unique to only one planet.
Unity. Unity always had a rich abundance of mammals, this specific mammal only known to be found on Unity. He was fighting Unitian Baboons and quite obviously, not very well.
The baboon that he had pile driven into the tree almost shrugged off the attempt as if it were nothing. With use of its arms, it simply cast Tren aside with a powerful blow – like he was nothing. Tren tumbled and fell down a small slope into some form of cave that jutted out behind where he had been not a few seconds prior. With horror, he realised were he was. He was in their cave. As the baboons blocked the entrance he knew that this was most likely his end. Or, at least he thought it was going to be his end, until the gunfire started.
There were squeals as bullets tore through flesh and the baboons starting sentry at the entrance turned to face their slayers. Both baboons were riddled with bullets as their lifeless bodies slumped down into the dirt below. As the dead bodies slid down past Tren, he glanced up into the strong beam of torchlight. As Tren ducked down to shield his eyes, he heard shouts and calls, as the Clan's ground troops circled the cave entrance...
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End of Part Four! Part Five will be next Sunday, be sure to check back.
Written By: IGravemind
Edited by IGravemind, 19 October 2014 - 05:36 AM.
