Introduction

The evening fires of Hatun’s capital poached at the dark of a busy night, casting long shadows from the narrow streets packed with establishments that seemed to stay open perpetually. In the heart of Kalam, four travelers gathered in akin goals. The promise of discipline and knowledge honed by the relatively young and novel Kalam in the world stage allured curious fighters.

It was in a bar filled with the scent of tobacco smoke and the breath of chatty drinkers, beneath a tall roof that endured more winters than most of its residents, it was there that the four strangers first met around a circular counter where several employees were hogged with orders. One with olive skin, combed hair, the serious but drowsy looking man sat and drank a simple beer. He whispers to himself in contemplation. Adjacent to him was a rosy man in military attire. He drank the strongest liquor the patrons had to offer and barely winced as he gulped it down and asked for another. "Uchek!" He wasted another cup. The third contemplated a half empty glass of cannabis tea before his crossed hands. His robes would make him fit in if they weren't so flashy, but they were his own sense of casualness. And the last, a scholar of distant lands, spoke softly and asked for warm water, "to keep my cognitivity intact", he pronounced in a delicate tone. The bartender overcharges him.

Though mentally, they were worlds apart, they all followed the same lead. There were tales of an elder on the slopes of Mount Pacha, in a village where the clouds meet the mountains before daring to reach their peaks, lived Master Kohu. He was said to follow the traditions of a long, long bloodline of martial artists, to have tamed armies, and to have passed beyond the limits of flesh itself. These are exaggerations, but he was certainly very talented. They say few ever found him; they say fewer ever returned.

The Rossan thought maybe this foreign culture could offer him new insights, with their ancient wisdoms or whatever jibber-jabber he heard around town. The Utlian thought if he crossed old man Kohu off his list of achievements he could gain more fame at home.

The Deysachni thought if he could speak fist-to-fist to the leader of Kohu's disciple village he would have a good chance to enlighten the more rural areas of Kalam.

The T'vaqi was determined to document foreign traditions and make a name for himself as an anthropological intellectual, one of the first T'vaqi to do so.

Maybe 10 minutes or so come to pass and the four notice the other foreigners hithering next to them. The Utlian speaks up. "You three have been stuck like a claw on my ass all night, what's up!?" He slurs half-intelligebly, leaning to the people at his sides and scaring them away with his disgusting breath. "Nobody's following you, snowtop. Back off." The Rossan assures him. The T'vaqi shrinks into his shoulders. "Why do you think the Lord brought us together?" The Deysachni makes a point with an authoritative voice. "We're the only non-Kalami in this coastal town heading for Pacha, we're clearly looking for the same thing, so I suggest we acquaint ourselves soon." The Utlian nearly stumbles and falls backwards before realizing how silly he seems. He returns to his seat quietly. The T'vaqi was about to introduce himself but the patron interrupted by pointing a sword at the three men next to him. “Leave, you're banned.” The group of now self-aware barflies stumbles out of the bar and onto the dirt street outside. The T'vaqi clears his throat and creates plumes of vapor as he speaks into the cold dark air. “Excuse me, I'm Viso Vanaq. I too am interested in studying this Kohu, may I tag along?” The Deysachni is the one to reassure him. “It would be satisfactory. I am known as Hebr Wastitli Sjanw. Just Hebr will suffice.” The Utlian won't let himself be left behind, so he speaks unnecessarily loudly. “I am Temor Ostromet, big leagues’ Utlian boxing semi-finalist, I don't take autographs so keep the requests to yourself.” The group stands around in awkward silence again. The Rossan perks up. “You're bragging about almost winning a boxing league?” Temor almost lunges at him. “You—”, but the Rossan doesn't wait. “I am Elio Giordani. It's a pleasure to meet you, I'm a professional wrestler back home.” Temor decides to save the fighting for later, but he'll forget about his grudge overnight. Elio continues after a beat. “I suppose we should return to the ship before it leaves. We ought to meet at the deck in the morning.”

Moor

A raggedy horn wakes the ship's tenants up a little under an hour before it docks. Our group meets up at the deck, where most folks are gathered conversing and looking out for the coast. Hebr barely stands on the shaky floorboards and tries to avoid tripping on his robes. Elio holds his hand over his brow to look out into the horizon while Viso flips through the pages of a tourism guide. A hungover Temor trips into Viso and knocks the booklet off his hands, letting it fly into the windy sea breeze. Viso tries to jump to catch it but once he realizes he's way too close to the edge of the ship he settles down and lets it fly away into the sea. Viso seems mad for a moment when he turns to Temor but quickly gives up the act out of fear. "Diavoli, what the fuck are you doing? You're gonna knock yourself overboard and no one's gonna miss ya, bastard." Elio scowls at the drunken man. Temor vaguely grumbles an insult before falling over to sit against the railing. "This heat is killin' me." He says with a long sigh. "The alcohol probably isn't helping." "Fuck off Heder..." He retorts immediately. "Please stop arguing..." Viso makes the closest thing to a demand he can muster. They stop themselves from continuing the bickering when they see the coast come into view. A huge mountain sits in the middle of the island. Elio laughs. "That's gotta be it. Finally."

When the crew finally steps on land again they feel a weight be lifted from their aching backs. Viso leads the group to the center of the city and stops there. "Uhm..." Hebr turns his head. "Yes?" Viso turns to them with a disappointed expression. "I don't really know where to go from here. Maybe we should ask the locals?" Temor scoffs like he knows any better. Hebr and Viso do most of the talking, being the only ones with extensive knowledge of the local language "Kohu? Well, I've never met him, but his disciples usually come down every once in a while. They always come and go without doing much, it's kinda creepy but they're not bad folk. Viso nods as the local explains. "Do you know where they might show up, then?" The local shakes his head. "I'm not sure. Sometimes they'll just lurk around stores, or buy food, or just sit around. There's not exactly a rhyme or reason as far as I'm concerned." Viso bows so the local man bows back awkwardly.

The group meets up at a restaurant and shares what they've learned. So far it seems everyone's gotten the same sentiment; the disciples show up often but nobody's sure where to look. "What a waste of goddamn time." Viso wants to argue, but he deeply agrees. It doesn't seem like they've learned anything new or helpful the entire morning they spent asking around. A young man in yellow robes interrupts their brooding by sitting next to them. "Hello. May I ask what brings you folks here? You don't seem local." Viso sighs and responds politely. "Ah, we're travelers. We were looking for someone but... He's hard to reach." The young man nods. "And what are you looking to get from finding this man?" Elio responds for Viso, this time in an uncharacteristically negative light. "Strength, I suppose. Maybe it's a foolish pursuit." The young man smiles. "I happen to be searching for the very same thing." He stands up briskly and stands ready for a fight. "Sparr me." The group is too exasperated to respond with anything besides annoyance and confusion. Temor gets up and saunters toward him. He leans back and jabs at him. The man pushes his fist aside in a quick parry, smiling brightly. He gets jabbed again and stumbles backwards at the punch. Temor is about to strike him hard next but the young man stops him. "Wonderful!" Blood runs down his nose. "I am Arunya, very nice to meet such a good fighter. If you have the time I'd love to meet you all, in exchange for the information you're looking for of course." Arunya spends the evening getting bashed in by the fighters while Viso takes notes and interviews him between breaks. He falls back into his seat, his yellow robes having orange stains on them after the sparring. "Heh... Well, as promised." "Finally..." Temor not-so-quietly whispers to himself. "The man you're looking for is Kohu, yes? If you have what it takes— and I really believe you do— I can take you to meet him. Everything after that is up to his judgement. I suggest you rest up before our trip there, the housing is my treat." He holds one of his nostrils closed and exhales out some blood from the other. Viso shivers in disgust unlike the others.

Arunya leads the group into a dingy building on the outskirts of town. Inside are a few beds. They're unlike any the group as seen before. It seems to simply be a roll of woven material (perhaps tree bark?) with a thick blanket over it and a skinnier cover to the side, likely as a duvet. There's someone sitting with their legs crossed on the old house's porchette with a creepy mask on the back of their head. Arunya points to them before anyone (especially Temor) takes preventive actions. "That's Wira, she's also a disciple of master Kohu and she is also my scouting companion." She stands up and turns to give a bow. “Adorable.” Temor comments before pushing past them and falling onto the bed he presumes is the coziest, even though they're all virtually identical. Hebr vows apologetically at Wira. “Please excuse our company madam.” Wira looks a bit confused and simply leaves to her bed in the corner of the room. “Thank you very much for a shelter.” Viso pronounces in awkward Maichun, Arunya gives him a Kalami symbol for “Good” and Viso can only hope it was a good thing judging by the man’s ever-present smile. Elio lays down and decides to swap out the lower blanket for the upper one to use it as a duvet instead. Viso is too polite to comment on the peculiar bedding while Temor seems to do nothing but complain about it. Hebr rests on his bed like he's been using one since he was a baby.

Half an hour passes of the group getting accustomed and stashing their luggage while Aru fixes up some tea before the group starts prodding him with questions while sitting in a semicircle before him. Elio takes a cup and uses his duvet as a cape, this time of year was rather cold for the typically tropical island.

Temor speaks, “You said we'd reach something by nightfall. I doubt this is it, so will you just cough it up already?” Aru doesn't seem offended which is typical of him by now. “This is just a rest stop for now.” Wira continues, “Besides, you'll need to leave your luggage here.” Temor responds, offended, “Why in the Deep would I do that? So you can steal it?” Wira put down her cup and said, “The path ahead is steep, narrow, and more tiring than it looks. If you bring your luggage, you will not make it beyond the halfway point. This house is secure and discreet, no one will rob us while we're not here.” Temor clutches his bag childishly. “You can bring it if you're ready to drop it down a ravine at night.” Wira said to the befuddled Temor. “If my bag is gone by the time we come back I'll burn your little inn of love down.” Both disciples keep their default expressions, Aru smiles like every comment is a joke and Wira stares at him from the side like she's at a funeral.

The group spends the evening emptying the tea kettle.

Record 1

That woman came back from teatime and went back to writing by herself outside. I take my time to scout the building in the cloak of nighttime now. I stepped on a bug barefoot but besides that the area seems clear. I'll make sure to set up camp nearby while staying hidden and make sure to survey them until there's movement, staying up another moon shouldn't be an issue.

...

While Temor makes a big fuss about his bag in the morning everyone knows his complaints are vain. The compromise between the group ends up being Temor taking only his favorite silver chain with himself.

Then it's time to hike. The robed pair seems to severely outpace the foreigners even though they are scaling Alpine territory in wooden sandals. Arunya lags behind for the group while Wira only lags behind for Arunya. By the time it's sunset again the group is barely starting to see lights in the horizon. Viso’s shins shiver, “Uhhh…”. The last stretch is the steepest, up a moist dirt hill with only dry trees and some kinds of animal burrows to hold onto, which even collapsing Viso wouldn't dare dig into. By the time the land is flat and the wooden entrance is in view the group is basically crawling behind Wira, including Arunya who slightly limps. Hebr says a prayer of gratefulness while Wira gracefully greets the folk inside what seems to be a town sparse of people and buildings. Aru turns to the pile of sweaty flesh limping on her trail. “Allow me to take you to the living quarters, you may meet the others in the morning. Master prefers to spend his moons in solitude.” Wira leaves the group while Aru sneaks the group into what seems to be a hut, among many other huts, sitting atop a few stone steps, he helps the men not hit their feet on the steps in the dark of night. “This is one of our free living quarters, we will be living together here.” Elio seems confused, “We?” Aru nods. “Me, You, Temor, Viso and Hebr can all fit here I promise you. It's larger than it seems.” Temor sighs, as he knows it's no use to argue, but at least he can steal the better bed. He jumps and climbs onto the open attic section, “This is mine.” Elio groans, “If you fall in the middle of the night you're going to sleep outside.” Then he stores his clothes in the first wooden container he can find. The group finds several beds to occupy, Aru seems to have disappeared and everyone is too tired to ask about it.