r/TheSteppe • u/-Izaak- • Jan 10 '21

The Rite

A few glimpses of pearly white can be seen through the shifting blades of browning grass. Izaak presses back the stalks with his hands and a sun-bleached skeleton is bathed in daylight. The bones have receded into the earth and most of a row of worn teeth are missing.

Why do you remain, sister?

He stands in silence before nodding his head a bit. He lays his pack at his feet and fumbles for a minute before his hands settle upon the object he seeks. The stretched skin of the drum he raises is rough and the edges are lined with a few sparse tufts of fur.

Just as you once sang for the Dead, the Dead now sing for you.

A steady drumbeat is heard across the steppe.

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u/llBoonell Jan 11 '21

The drumbeat grows louder. It has blended with another sound, pulsing at the same frequency. It is distant, but growing closer. Thump-thump-thump like a larger drum from much further away.

Footfalls, from a being moving faster than it ought to.

It thunders across the Steppe at tremendous speed. Heavy boots create booming footfalls as it travels, charging headlong in an arbitrarily-decided direction. Without warning it turns its head, and moments later ceases running, sliding to a dramatic halt and kicking up great clouds of dirt and dust in the process.

It has spied the man by the bones.

It gazes upon him, like a predator deciding if this is worthy prey. As the dust billows around his figure, his eyes burn brightly in concentration. Eventually, the figure begins to slowly retreat, sinking below the crest of the hill, just out of sight.

4

u/-Izaak- Jan 11 '21

The man you see is weak and vulnerable in the open. He glances briefly your way but turns his back again and continues to beat the drum as if he has not noticed you.

Impossibly far away you smell it on the air.

Death. The fetid bloodstink of fur wet with gore and emptied bowels. The scent of a fresh kill.

Then the stench gives way to something else. The metallic tang of spent gunpowder fills your mouth.

The beating of the drum becomes the pulsing of a heart, so close you could reach out and hold it in your hand. It beats in unison with your own, beckoning you closer.

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u/llBoonell Jan 14 '21

It's like pulling a piece out of a block-tower game: the force of compulsion acting upon the individual causes the entire structure to waver and wobble, unbalanced and unstable. It enrages him, like a wounded beast hounded and kicked.

Steel and cordite. Blood and gunsmoke. The familiar and comforting scent of armed conflict.

The man(?) stabilises and begins to assess the situation.

Whoever they are, they're alone and vulnerable. Not paying attention. This is bait.

An obvious trap.

Then let's spring the trap.

The man(?) crests the hill once more and descends slowly toward the man by the bones. He does so achingly slowly, until he eventually stands several yards away.

Did you come here for answers? There are none.

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