--- (Tall Lance, King of the Long Grass Pride)

Troubling times. I ponder long as I wait in the odd clearing, an almost perfect circle, absent of tree and brush within an otherwise dense forest. The game trail leading to the site is perhaps more than a game trail. My nerve holds as I embrace the middle of the day sunlight blazing down upon the meeting circle. In truth, I yearn for the open grasslands, where your enemies are visible, and your prey perceptible from a distance. My two bodyguards stand behind me, a wall of flesh protecting my imagination from what may or may not be lurking within the dark eaves of the forest, so I am not distracted while appraising my fellow Kings.

I cease my pacing as He Has Large Fangs, King of the Slow River Pride enters the clearing, his two bodyguards following close behind. A self-centred late arrival to Quest Town and one King eager to return to the Pride Lands to claim large tracks of hunting grounds are now in dispute given the numerous deaths from disease and hasty inquisitiveness to explore the Quest Dungeon. While I don’t like his kingship, I nevertheless greet and welcome him, our arms bind, his paw on my shoulder and my paw on his.

There is a single path leading to the clearing and the seven other Pride Kings form a procession of sorts and shortly join He Has Large Fangs and I completing the crescent-shaped greeting Council, a burnt down bonfire resting before us.

Looking deep into the charcoal black logs I declare the fifth Council meeting open, the main item of business; each King to declare their position, stay in Quest Town or return to their Pride Lands.

Fights Now Bitter, King of the Grass Top Pride speaks first. The pain of Pride loss was etched in every spoken word and his moist red eyes were full of sorrow. “We of the Grass Top will leave, our numbers are too few.” Staring at He Has Large Fangs, he continues, “We must ensure our lands remain ours to feed our cubs who will once again hunt our land.”

Growls of agreement as two other Pride Kings pledge to follow Fights Now Bitter back to their traditional lands to regain their strength and I cannot fault their wisdom. The paws of He Has Large Fangs tightly grasp his folded legs at the knees. The sitting position is a pearl of ancient wisdom, crossing our legs prevents unwise and rash acts of aggression, allowing bodyguards time to restrain the attacker or protect the target preventing bloodletting and the inevitable vendettas.

I pause to ensure a rising breeze catches my black mane expanding an already potent display of power and virility a symbol of my superiority. I then draw their eyes to my necklace of life-lived by adjusting the jewellery of conquest bone carvings and stones of battle challenges, wives acquired, and progeny now mature and skilful hunters. Yes, my fellow Kings, I am what you only wish to aspire to, I muse. They shift slightly in their seated positions and cow their heads ever so minutely. Now I can dictate my own course, which is to leave me a choice after all others have declared theirs.

“We await the return of our hunters called by Son of Swift Spear and the promise of Questing. While I am King my Pride begged me to wait for this last chance, even though, like Fights Now Bitter I crave to return to the plains.”

He Who Wrestles, King of the Rolling Hills speaks next. “We stay, the words of our Panther Kin and Tiger Kin beguile us, their display of strong arms and full bellies draw us to them. I have sent for the rest of the Pride, the old, women, youths and cubs and propose our Pride Land is exchanged for the Forest which surrounds us since the Taboo has been revoked.”

“No!” several of those about me shout in alarm, raising their clenched paws.

I wave my arms down to calm and settle the Council and motion He Who Wrestles to continue, who eyes each of the other Kings before speaking.

“I have exchanged Pride Land, I don’t covert another’s and I don’t try to claim both. We will struggle to hunt in the Forest and perhaps this is folly, yet I feel if not now the Quest Town will change all our futures and I would rather my tribe be close than far away. I have spoken and my Tribe will fight to defend our new Pride Land.”

While I detest the forest, a few in my Pride don’t and perhaps my support now will be rewarded in the future with an invitation to hunt their new Pride Land. “I support He Who Wrestles’ proposal, the land is unclaimed by any Kin and all Tribes which share a boundary with the former Rolling Hills Pride Land will need to agree to share their gain.”

“Perhaps the Land is best left unclaimed. A reserve happy hunting ground when the game is scarce elsewhere,” says Growling Mountain, King of the Grass Valley Tribe, the youngest King, his mane established yet golden in colour. His rise to Kingship was unusual as his younger brother sported a dark mane and yet abdicated in his favour.

He Has Large Fangs struggles to gain his feet the bubbling fury erupting within him interfering. Falling back his paw arrow points at the young King. “You have no right to speak on this matter, your Pride Lands do not border Rolling Hills.”

The young King flashes his teeth, I believe to conceal his mirth, as I catch a twinkle in his eyes and yet his fur bristles when he speaks.

“No, they don’t and yet when my cubs are starving, and their mothers wail at me I would gladly trade goods for food from those tribes which do.”

The afternoon breeze picks up and rustling tree foliage punctures the silence as each King comprehends his words, eventually recognising the wisdom depending upon their view of the world. Each in turn, including myself shouts ‘agreed’ and the proposal becomes Law amongst the Prides.

I nod to He Who Wrestles. He waves to the forest edge signalling ‘come forward' to the first waiting for an audience with the Council. I notice his eyes sharpen; he recognises the petitioner. Paws clench and extend on an otherwise rigid body. He takes a deep breath before making the announcement according to protocol.

“Welcome to the Council of Kings, Pleasant Voice Matriarch of the Long Grass Pride.”

She understands our tolerance for her and the religion she espouses is low and addresses us quickly without ceremony, still gracious though, bobbing her head. “Many Lion Kin enjoy the worship of Zeus and some the worship of Hera his God Queen wife. Both Gods replicate our traditions, a King and a Matriarch Queen and I would request Priests preach to the uninitiated within the Lion Kin Quarter of the Quest Town, great Kings.”

A deep rumbling growl, not quite a roar issues from the throat of Rippling Water, King of the Flat Plains. “This is not Council business. Priests are not permitted within the Quarter so more Kin can be lured to their deaths, we suffered enough after the plague and then those strong enough to survive were seduced by your Greek Religion and slaughtered in the Quest Dungeon. No, I say. No!” Spittle escapes his maw, whiskers bristling.

Pleasant Voice to her credit briefly closes sympathetic eyes and then faces Rippling Water. “Worship will strengthen those who are faithful, granting them powers unheard of. There will be no pressure on any of the faithful to enter the Quest Dungeon, those who did previously believed in their faith before they could grow fully into their power sufficiently.”

Windswept silence returns to the clearing.

“None speak in favour of your request Pleasant Voice, so the existing Law stands. No Priests will be permitted to enter the Lion Kin Quarter,” says He Who Wrestles with an undercurrent of triumph in his voice.

While my place to state the outcome, I defer to He Who Wrestles his Pride suffering many losses. I am also at a loss, a sense of comradery and … sympathy washes over me, my eyes are drawn to the Priestess, and I need to exert a great deal of will, not to countermand him.

“I acknowledge the great wisdom of the Council of Kings on this matter,” replies Pleasant Voice.

I notice the Priestess amble, although straighten her shoulders as our next petitioner approaches. Her eyes track him in fact. Did she recognise him or is his appearance before the Kings a mystery to her?

“Welcome to the Council of Kings, Broken Lance Hunter of the Long Grass Pride,” I announce.

“As requested, I report to the Council. After days our group, Bear Kin, Badger Kin, Dog Kin and … Snake Kin formed, and we entered the Quest Dungeon. Although purported to be a Questor Group the Dungeon didn’t recognise us as such and a huge wave of bipedal savages rushed towards us. Thankfully, Son of Swift Spear held the way open and we retreated without loss as the Council ordered.”

He Who Wrestles spoke first. “The Questor Group is the key and yet we fail to find it. I acknowledge your obedience, although I must ask, purely out of curiosity … the Snake Kin, your opinion?”

His teeth showed white. “They have been taught to behave in a helpful way. I only know this due to the surprise the Dog Kin openly displayed and his mumbled doubts, the war still a fresh memory.” Finishing he scratches his formative mane and then nods to himself as if making a final decision. “The food of the Dog Kin is particularly good.”

After the jovial laughter of us Kings settle, He Has Large Fangs asks, “Were you made to eat this food?”

Broken Lance shuffles his pawed feet. Again, he questions himself. “There is a single Snake Kin, Alasse, Daughter of House Burning Fang. She instructed all the Kin to bring their food together and be shared. Most avoided the nuts and berries of the Badger Kin, yet the white meat of the Dog Kin was particularly sort after, especially by the Snake Kin. Until then the Dog Kin refused to eat with others. When Snake Kin started devouring their food the Dog Kin leapt in and tried to reclaim their offering, needing to mingle.”

“What is this meat? Perhaps trading with Dog Kin is of benefit,” says Growling Mountain.

“Pig they call it King. They grow them and harvest them in great numbers requiring few farmers, which explains their great army and their love of metal armour and weapons, which many of their Kin can craft. Each Dog Kin works together, dog, wolf and fox and they live together and are the stronger it would seem as they not only repelled the Snake Kin attack, they claimed the captured land won during the war.”

--- (Red Thunder, Quest Town)

I convince the Kin of our Group to stay together, even though Keenor Snake Kin needed to ask permission, a surprise to us all. We ate together, and revealed our lives and in some cases our loved ones to each other forming an unusual bond between Kin never seen near each other, let alone together. Our first task, mead.

“Mead is crafted from honey is it not?” asks Rosethorn Badger Kin.

A belly laugh erupts from Eboric the Tall. “Yes lass, so you need not fear straying from your diet.”

“Wine is more profitable …”

“I don’t doubt you would know,” snaps Aubrey, who immediately holds up his paws defensively.

Keenor halts her slithering, and we all notice and face her. “We are who we are, I make no apology. I am trying to understand why other Kin do not value coins because they offer freedom, power, and a measure of worth … I also won’t apologise for the war Aubrey. I didn’t soldier, but many I knew did and were slain. Many Houses rose on the demise of those who sort war with the Dog Kin and there lies the problem, the Empire of the Snake Kin isn’t united, and I say this to you because I am trying to be … a … friend. Tell your Dog Kin brothers and sisters to prepare for the day the Empire of the Snake Kin is once again ruled by a Grand Queen. Sadly, much Kin blood will flow soon after.”

She pushes her way past and yet moisture glistens under her eyes.

Being swiftest I hurry after her and wrap a furred arm around her shoulders. Her body freezes. I know from the shudder I feel she wants to throw my arm off her and yet she wills differently.

“You must appreciate living beyond coin. Lion Kin enjoy the hunt. Bear Kin strive to earn their name. Dog Kin yearn for fireside tales and stories told of their exploits, best when defeating foes against the odds, while Badger Kin thirst for knowledge and study others to distraction and of course, they are always cleaning themselves.”

Her head lifts and turns to face me, the forked tongue tasting my scent perhaps, I don’t know for certain. “You know your mother and your father and honour them.”

I nod.

“Snake Kin hatch from an egg, we suspect and hope from the strongest female and fertilised by the strongest male, although no one will confirm because we belong to our House. We hatch and from that moment strive to remain alive. Snake Kin don’t imprison, there isn’t any profit, better to enslave or if a great crime, be eaten. If weak you are banished to the hatchery to incubate the eggs, to lose an egg is a great crime. I hope to remain part of our Group but know Red Thunder, Hunter of the Long Grass Pride if my House calls me to another duty I will obey or be eaten.”

My arm fell from her shoulder. I half caught myself and yet too late.

“Eaten?” My jaw falls and moments pass before I close my maw.

“Eggs allow the Snake Kin female to rule supreme. Once laid, perhaps half a day of recovery and then no childcaring. Then there is of course our affinity for magic …”

Keenor talked previously about her study of magic, classmates … no family. This made sense now, I somehow thought the eggs would be cared for by the ‘parents’ until hatching and then by at least one parent after.

“Well, you are our Snake Kin now,” bellows Eboric. Unknown to Keenor and myself our group surrounded us and eavesdropped.

Albury remains silent, his forehead folds gather, while Rosethorn’s mouth works until moisture returns, her mouth open during Keenor’s entire revelation.

“I would like to believe so and perhaps there is a faint hope. There is talk about Alasse, she preaches about religion.”

I spit towards the side of the path. “Religion slew many a Lion Kin. Their faith is a false shield against death. Why do you think a young hunter such as me is here and not one of many more hunts?”

A black and white, furred arm reaches around my waist and a long snout head leans against the side of my chest. “You are our Lion Kin.”

“Enough of this sentiment, we need to return to the Dungeon and become a Questor Group, there is one, there must be a way to make a second,” growled Albury.

Eboric shuffles awkwardly. “I would gladly, and yet only death awaits us there.”

“What of the Quest Plinth? It must serve a purpose, there is writing upon it.” Rosethorn releases me and her eyes flutter towards Eboric. “If I could climb upon someone tall, perhaps there are more words to be discovered?”

“You wouldn’t be embarrassed to climb upon the shoulders of an unkempt Bear Kin?”

“If a Snake Kin can see us as friends then I should be capable of no less and anyway I can wash afterwards …”

“Right, let’s see if the Plinth will share any wisdom,” I say, breaking into a jog and celebrating as each Kin follows, slithering, clanking, shuffling, and stomping.

After many deaths from the disease, most turned their efforts to survival and the Plinth was forgotten. The survivors turned to religion and the Plinth was banished from memory.

“I didn’t realise,” I said, as we stood before the Plinth. Only a few clear patches of stone are still visible, the rest under a shroud of green slime or mould in dark patches or smudges of clinging dirt.

Rosethorn pulls up her run to embrace the Plinth before actual contact, looking over her shoulder in askance.

“Stand back dear, perhaps I can assist.” Keenor stood still, a murmuring, possibly mumbling emanating from between her thin lips. Water droplets soon form, floating before her like rain, shortly joining into a bubble, expanding, and growing until the size of Eboric’s head … maybe larger. I notice the Snake Kin’s tail writhing, could this be a sign of joy?

The water in the bubble began tumbling reaching a violent crescendo and I stand spellbound as she commands the bubble forward, crashing into the Plinth. The water blasting away the neglect and revealing the Plinth, the rays of sunlight reflecting upon the stone and refracting on the few water droplets, the Snake Kin allowing very few to escape her control. The display is stupendous.

Then out of the blue, a paw slapped my shoulder.

“Food,” said Albury, handing out meat on flatbread.

Eboric, Rosethorn and I paying attention to the wonder of water magic and the ever-revealing Plinth while oblivious to the call of our stomachs welcome his offering.

Finally, the water bubble bursts into a fine mist forming a rainbow for the audience. Keenor takes a bow with Rosethorn cheering and clapping her paws in response.

“Come on lass,” says Eboric while crouching and holding a massive paw out, inviting the Badger Kin to climb upon his shoulders.

I hold one of her paws and surprising me at least, Albury holds her other one as she walk-climbs up Eboric’s back, until standing upon his shoulders. He raises an arm of his own, which Rosethorn clings to while he stands and then shuffles towards the Plinth.

“Fascinating …”

I glance at Albury who returns a shrug. We overhear Rosethorn whisper to Eboric and he shifts further around the Plinth.

“Fascinating …”

I find myself standing between Albury and Keenor as we gaze up, both shuffling while holding their position. Two Kin with every reason to hate each other and yet tolerant instead.

“What have you discovered dear?” calls Keenor.

“The runes say many things, some of which I can’t read, although ‘joining hands’ is clearly mentioned. I will keep reading.”

I point to ridges evenly placed around the base of the Plinth. “Lion Kin would grasp one of the ridges in both paws, perhaps something different.” I hesitate uncertain of their reaction and yet this is clearly a test. “Albury and Keenor, can you hold hands over one of the ridges?” I stare at the Plinth, refusing to provide either with the option to address me with a stare, a glance, or a look of disgust.

Snake Kin fingers entwine with Dog Kin claws, the ridge a perfect hold.

They pull away as if stung and stare at me.

“A message!” they say together. Their heads pull away from each other slightly, the surprise mutual. Then they laugh. An odd mix of barking and hissing.

“Message?” I enquire.

Keenor waves a hand toward Albury, who nods.

“The Plinth told us we aren’t ‘a suitable group’ or words like that.”

“Rosethorn and Eboric, join us, I think we found a solution.”

“There is more to read,” squeals Rosethorn to no avail as her Bear Kin platform leaves the Plinth.

“If our Lion Kin is mistaken, I will hoist you up again lass, never fear.”

We stand evenly around the Plinth and approach as one, hands and paws binding upon the ridges.

{Conditions met; Group suitable to form a Questor Group.}

“Don’t release,” I shout. “We are suitable so what are we missing? Any clues Rosethorn?”

Silence passes slowly.

“Son of Swift Spear was named when his group were offered to form a Questor Group, so one of us needs to declare themselves leader maybe?” says Rosethorn piercing the quiet.

“I will!”

“No, I should be the leader.”

Both Albury and Eboric shout to claim the honour. I choose not to voice my desire as I have a suspicion about the choosing. The Plinth determines if a group is suitable, why wouldn’t the same apply to leadership.

“Albury ask first.” I allow Eboric to protest under his breath. “I suspect the leadership is conditional like the group, the Plinth is trying to influence the formation of the Questor Group to ensure success.”

“Albury as leader wishes to form a Questor Group.”

{Conditions not met.}

Short and sweet, although Albury simply shrugs. “Eboric please ask.”

“Eboric as leader wishes to form a Questor Group.”

{Conditions not met.}

Eboric’s paw grasps mine and I momentarily feel a stronger grip, although I suffer in silence as does Rosethorn.

“Keenor please ask.”

“Why can’t you or Rosethorn ask next?”

She worries about acceptance as a leader, so I need to assure her. “If the Plinth accepts you, then of the five of us the Plinth believes you provide the Questor Group with the greatest chance of success and we must accept that as well.”

“Rosethorn as leader wishes to form a Quester Group.”

{Conditions not met.}

“Why do you offer yourself Rosethorn?” asks Keenor.

“To test Red Thunder’s truth and show you the leader isn’t chosen on a whim.”

--- (Tall Lance, King of the Long Grass Pride)

He Who Wrestles points and all the Council, including the petitioner cast their eyes in the direction indicated. A young Lion Kin sprints towards the Council and noting our gaze, throws his spear from him and hurries onwards.

“Red Thunder,” said Broken Lance, agog.

Red Thunder, upon reaching the Council falls to his knees, taking in deep breaths. “I apologise to the Council for my rudeness.” He gulps for breath. “I am of a Questor Group.”

Broken Lance advances upon the kneeling Lion Kin. “No, lies, your group failed like mine.”

Red Thunder looks up at his accuser and flashes pointed teeth. “We stayed as a group, even the Snake Kin agreed, yet she needed to leave to seek permission. Not sure about you of my Kin, but that Alasse is frightening as any Snake Kin to us, while she intimidates Snake Kin, and I don’t think they take a crap without her permission.”

Broken Lance drops to his haunches, both youths oblivious as several of us Pride Kings hang upon every word of their impromptu discussion.

“Yes, several Dog Kin, who know freedom more than slavery accredited their new behaviour to Alasse. Explain how though?”

“Fate. We decided to share a middle of the day meal and talk, each Kin comfortable and not really wanting to part ways but not really knowing what next. Rosethorn suggested we pay homage at the Quest Beacon first, perhaps the plinth would impart some wisdom, or the inscriptions somehow unravel and become clear.”

“And,” encourages Broken Lance as Red Thunder pauses for a breath.

“Nothing … at first."

I marvel at the retelling, the secret of Questor Group formation revealed. I return from my thoughts as Broken Lance leaps upon Red Thunder in a joyful hug, both rolling around in the clearing until several Kings, including myself clear our throats.

“Do you realise you named the Kin in your group Red Thunder …”

Both Broken Lance and Red Thunder answer He Who Wrestles, eyes shining, each completing sentences for the other. “The bonding as a group is strengthened once a Questor Group, which is why Son of Swift Spear encouraged us because it explains our real purpose for gathering in the Quest Town, even though the lore is lost. Yet the bonding before revealing of itself. We are meant, as one Kin to complete the Quest Dungeon.”

Growling Mountain glances at each King before speaking. “One wonders if any five different Kin would be able to form a Questor Group, what of Lizard and Dragon?”

“You miss the more important question my fellow Kings,” says He Has Large Fangs, pausing for effect. “Is this our secret or should the knowledge be shared? There is a great advantage to be had in this discovery.”

Red Thunder climbs to his feet. “My Kings, I would suggest secret for now. Alasse and the Snake Kin are at the centre of this whirlwind and there is a feeling, even among Snake Kin more is to be revealed.” Broken Lance nods in agreement as does Red Thunder.

--- (3rd Person POV Panther Kin Quarter)

“Report Juanma.”

The tall well-muscled Panther Kin bowed his head, his fisted paw glancing off his black-furred forehead.

“Commander the expedition an abject failure. Two Groups entered the Quest Dungeon and were soon chased out. They stated to save their lives from overwhelming attackers and yet the original Questor Group, while they suffered losses didn’t report multitudes.”

Bruno paced, hand on the sheathed dagger at his waist. The High Command backed the investigation due to the energetic and favourable reports of Son of Swift Spear. By all accounts a reliable Lion Kin, even if a primitive hunter-gatherer. His father would have been even more dependable, his wide travels exposing him to more of the real world. There is a mystery here; Quest Town, Quest Plinth and Quest Dungeon and while galling, the Snake Kin bitch Alasse of House Burning Fang seemed to sit in the middle like a spider in a web. A typical web of Snake Kin lies and deceit or possibly more this time. Each Panther Kin sent reported the same or near enough as Juanma, some mentioned the shared food, the team building, bah.

“Thank you, you are dismissed, return to barracks and not a word for now.”

Juanma repeated the salute, pivoted, and left.

Commander Bruno took several steps and found himself seated at his desk, blank parchment staring back at him. Huffing he picked up the sharpened feather from the inkpot and began scrawling out his report.

… the investigation proved fruitless. Given the losses from disease and thankfully, due in part to military training, only a few followers of this new calling called worship, died in the Dungeon. I recommend no troopers are stationed in the Quest Town except for a token observer force who will spy upon Lorena, High Priestess of Zeus who for some unknown reason became enthralled by this worship at the highest level. I recommend no civilians be permitted travel passes to Quest Town in case they fall prey to worshipping from one of our own …

--- (3rd Person POV Tiger Kin Quarter)

“Master?” Not for the first time did Vinicius try to break his Master from his trance.

The ancient white-black striped Tiger Kin, meditated upon a sacred rug, legs impossibly crossed over, fingers steepled, breathing barely perceptible and eyes closed.

“You return prematurely therefore I must conclude the adventure of discovery cut short unexpectantly.”

Vinicius gave up trying to understand his Master and simply excepted his truths as the deep rumble of his voice declared them.

“Yes, Master. I hung back to observe as instructed while Felipe and Vitor more actively participated, neither though able to build enough rapport with the four different Kin as required and so failed to join a group of more than two other Kin. The Snake Kin and Bear Kin are particularly wary. One of the Badger Kin followed Felipe around enthralled.”

Opening his eyes, ensuring they held Vinicius captive the Master said, “Important facts disciple, your role to observe and accurately report crucial.”

“Sorry Master, many distractions, perhaps deliberate. Two groups formed and were firmly ejected after entering. The enemies inside the Quest Dungeon massing to repel them if they are to be believed.” He scoffed for effect.

“Why do you doubt their story?”

Vinicius relaxed as his Master closed his eyes after asking the question. “The original Questor Group didn’t encounter such numbers and in fact formed from survivors of three other groups … I am certain.”

“What of our Panther Kin warrior-soldiers? What of the other Kin?”

The disciple bared fangs. “The Panther Kin disgusted with the retreat, although each group was anchored by a Dog Kin so you would have to say if they agreed then the decision was a correct one. The Bear Kin and Badger Kin as you would expect. The Lion Kin of course keen to emulate Son of Swift Spear, in brave deeds as well as leadership and yet not able to do either given the brief stay. The Snake Kin though Master acted cooperatively and not like Snake Kin at all. Seriously attempting to form a group, at least in the beginning, trying to hide their true feelings regarding lessor Kin.”

“Thank-you. Ask the other Masters to join me please.”

---

Four Masters positioned themselves at exact North, South, East, and West in a perfected, well-practised body position to enter into a serene meditation state. By the afternoon they mind linked to their Grand Master to exchange thoughts.

“… while failure is there, the House Burning Fang plays a high stakes game enticing several lessor Houses to abandon their holdings and re-establish in Quest Town, although their strongest Fire Mages protect their Citadel, only the weakest and non-fire Element Mages have been sent …”

“… should we abandon Quest Town, our losses in disciples and masters will take tens of years to recover from and any venture into the Quest Dungeon at risk of further loss as proven by the Zeus and to a lesser extent the Hera worshippers …”

“… has there been any demonstration of their great power, from this worship?”

The four Masters concluded between them, worship a folly. Their Grand Master entered a contemplative state, trying to follow multiple lines of possible future based upon his knowledge of the present and recollection of the past. His biggest challenge, accounting for the behavioural change in House Burning Fang, in a word, unprecedented.

“… my Masters we must stay, I have concluded there is an unknown factor or element, which we must discover and only then can we determine our true path. Send our disciples back, they must endure all hardships until they return with the knowledge, we require …”

The mind link dropped and the four Masters slumped back, bodies jelly-like and half-lidded eyes listless. The female Tiger Kin monitoring the four rushed in to drip feed them water after dragging their slumped bodies into a more comfortable and relaxing position. They needed to recover quickly to ensure the wisdom gained from the Grand Master could be acted upon.

---

By dusk, the four Masters recovered. After consulting with each other to confirm they all shared the same wisdom, the four summoned their disciples and instructed them to begin their character-building hardship sooner rather than later and not return until the mystery was uncovered.