Huacamon Axayotl vs. Green is the New Black: The New Meaning of 'Hell'

[Huacamon Axayotl]

To most, the place was inhospitable, even hellish. Bugs of all sizes filled the air with a cacophony of chirps and buzzes sure to cut into nearly anybody’s hope of a peaceful night of rest. Birds of brilliant, vibrant colors shrieked over top of them, competing for the attention of the jungle’s inhabitants. Every so often, a resident jaguar even pitched in with his vicious growl. The air was hot, sticky, and inundated with impossible numbers of mosquitoes and other annoying insects. Tall, thick, strong trees rose high above the ground, their widespread canopies ensuring that few underneath their branches would ever get a good look at the sun. At their bases, innumerable vines, roots, shrubs, mushrooms and ferns littered the ground, turning a traveler’s stroll into a difficult ordeal. And this was just the part of the jungle that was visible. Snakes, rodents and various other creatures lurked, making a living out of invisibility. That was all they could do; to be discovered usually meant death at the hands – or rather, at the jaws – of any of the rainforest’s many predators. No sane being would call this place ‘home.’

Yet Huacamon Axayotl, warrior of the Axetec tribe and Dajas Pagoda alike, was one that did.

If asked why he lived in such a place, he would respond that it was the only home he knew. This was his world, his life. Where others saw thick, syrupy air and pesky insects, he saw simple trivialities that only attempted to mask the pleasures of the rest of the jungle. Where others saw sharp, pointed fangs, he saw the unrivaled beauty of the jaguar's coat, the unparalleled grace. Where others heard ceaseless, screeching calls and cheeps, he heard a variety of sound that covered up one worse: silence.

To a man of the jungle, silence was unbearable. Silence brought anxiety, which in turn brought worry and panic. Predators stalked beneath the canopy, killing and eating the unwary and the foolish. They smelled fear. It was a sauce to go along with a good meal. The knowledge that the prey spent its last seconds in utter, blind dread made the meal that much more satisfying. The sounds of the rainforest prevented this fear. It kept one’s mind occupied, free of the anxiety that so frequently led to death. It kept one relaxed.

At that moment, Huac was about as relaxed as possible. He lounged in the boughs of a large tree, his jaguar-hide mantle draped over his broad back. The head of the animal rested atop his own, large fangs hanging an inch or so from his forehead. In his right hand rested his large spear. The warrior leaned contently back against the strong tree’s trunk.

The Axetec had a challenge to answer on that day, but truth be told, it wasn’t foremost in his mind at that moment. He was comfortable. If his challenger arrived, then he could wait. Or he could explore, for all Huacamon cared. The jaguar warrior wasn’t likely to be spotted. There were snakes, stinging insects, and various animals lurking on the ground. Who was dumb enough to gaze in the trees?

Even if his opponent did know where to look, Huac would be able to hear him first. Stealth wasn’t a common trait among those unfamiliar with the jungle.

The warrior’s eyes closed, secure in that knowledge. This was his home, his jungle. He had nothing to worry about.

[Green is the new black.]

The red sun glared down hungrily upon the teeming jungle that smothered the landscape like a choking mask of leaf and branch. The great orb’s gaze pierced the thick, humid mist with the malevolent anticipation of a demon’s eye. It knew that somewhere in the hellish maze crafted by the cruel genius of nature herself, a fight was destined to begin. Deep within the obscuring arms of a ruthless rainforest where unimaginable creatures spent every waking moment struggling for survival, two hardy souls were poised to engage in struggle that transcended the cycle of nature. So rare were such spectacles that the ominous eye could not help but watch with sinister hunger.

The half-Orc trudged through the fetid jungle, his muscular green arm gripping his heavy ax, cleaving a path through the strangling sea of vines that impeded every step like a thousand grappling arms. It would more than suffice to say that the green-skin was out of his element. Having grown up in the rugged mountains of Northern Salvar, Orun was accustomed to the biting winds and the stinging colds of a sub-arctic wilderness.

He’d learned to take the cool, crisp air and clear, solid ground for granted. Struggling through a sweltering, tropical forest while breathing in air that would have been better suited to a creature with gills was unpleasant beyond imagining. Pollen and the smell of freshly smashed vines assaulted his nostrils like acid. Had he known what a miserable place he was to be sent to, he might have reconsidered his decision to fight in the Dajas Pagoda. He wasn’t fighting for any noble cause or ideal and he hardly expecting any real good to come from it. He wasn’t even fighting for glory; the green-skinned warrior had been bored.

His particularly attractive business partner, the half-Mer Siren, was in one of the local taverns recruiting some qualified individuals for their “legitimate” enterprise. Naturally, by “legitimate,” they meant entirely criminal, and the only qualifications required of potential recruits was that they be strong or crafty and feel little reluctance toward breaking the law. Orun, lacking the nearly supernatural allure of his cohort, didn’t see much use in trying to help. It wouldn’t have done any good. Siren was sure to draw in an entire room full of men who would follow her into any life-risking mission on the off chance that one of them could flirt their way into her bed. Of course, as Orun well knew from his acquaintance with Siren, that was probably much more than an off chance. Besides, the half-Orc had never been comfortable with crowds.

Left with nothing else to do, Orun decided to visit the famed Dajas Pagoda. Of course, its fame hardly meant anything to him; he’d never even heard about it before arriving on the small island kingdom. Being as bored as he was, the half-Orc didn’t see any reason not to give it a shot. In hindsight, he realized that it had probably been one of the stupidest notions ever to occur to him. After spending almost an hour slashing his way through the undergrowth, sweating profusely, and being eaten alive by insects larger than they had any business being, he concluded that he would have rather spent the remainder of his day being bored. Even though such an uneventful day would have made watching politicians spend hours “negotiating” seem like an invigorating spectacle in comparison, it still seemed preferable to trudging through the foul jungle hell.

Orun could only guess at what ferocious demons and beasts lurked within its depths. Such things did not daunt him, though. His life in the wilds had taught him that predators could always smell another predator; he had nothing to fear from the hunters of the jungle. He hoped. Fortunately, his life of fighting for survival combined with his Orcish blood had made him resilient enough to endure such harsh conditions. Of course, he was still just about as wretchedly miserable as possible. He’d gotten used to the quiet serenity of his frigid homeland. The cumulated squawking, chirping, scurrying, and buzzing might as well have been white noise.

By the time he cut his way to a small clearing in the brush, he was a repulsive form to behold. Every inch of exposed green skin was covered in swollen bumps from where the mosquitoes had made him a part of their diets. It was all he could do to stop himself from itching his skin raw. His neck-length white hair was matted to his skull, soaked with grime and sweat. The heat, humidity, and his own sweat had made his patches of leather armor unbearably uncomfortable. What was worse was that there had still been no sign of his opponent. His growing frustration was quickly turning into rage as the possibility that he’d been wasting his time entered his mind. His foe had better show up soon or there would be hell to pay.

[Huacamon Axayotl]

Bzzzzzzzzz…

A fly buzzed too close to the jaguar warrior’s ear, disturbing his doze. Eyes opening in irritation, Huac waved carelessly at the pesky insect. They definitely were a nuisance, whether the burly man had labeled them a simple triviality or not. Balancing his spear in his lap, the warrior rubbed the weariness from his eyes and looked to the ground underneath him.

It looked the same as it had ten minutes ago. The soft ground was mostly obscured by short, broad plants. The only difference was the arrival of a small mouse, searching underneath the flora for seeds.

Bzzzzzzzzz…

The fly returned Huacamon brushed it away again, paying little attention to it this time. The Axetec was beginning to get bored. Now that the bothersome fly had awakened him, he had no further urge to rest. All that really remained was to sit in the tree, accompanied by nothing but his thoughts.

Well, there was the fly…

Bzzzzzzzzz…

As if on cue, the buzzing came back. This time, the jaguar warrior saw the mosquito. He grabbed at it with his left hand but came up empty. The fly, sensing the danger, moved away again.

Suddenly, Huacamon heard a noise. He looked down just in time to see the mouse scampering away, darting agilely over roots and under brush in its haste to escape. But what was it escaping, exactly?

It was then that the Axetec heard it. Crashes sounded from below, faint but growing steadily louder as their source hacked its way through the jungle. The warrior stiffened suddenly. No creature native to the jungle would make that sort of racket. It could only be one thing: his challenger.

Huacamon peered between the great branches of his tree, trying to catch sight of his adversary. Whether he was aware of it or not, his enemy was in a bad position. He had no idea of his the jaguar warrior’s location – at least, Huac assumed he didn’t – and he had just managed to give himself away. The burly man snorted disapprovingly. What a foolish way to enter foreign territory.

It was possible that the lumbering enemy would pass within the warrior’s line of sight. Huacamon hefted his spear. It was balanced enough to throw. The man’s face, glistening with sweat, broke into a smile.

It was possible that he would never even have to leave his tree.

Bzzzzzzzzz…

The buzzing ended abruptly. Huacamon didn’t miss this time.

Wiping the remnants of the dead bug on the rough tree bark, the Axetec went back to watching and waiting.


Don't worry, I won't cheap-shot you.

[Green is the new black.]

It was intriguing, Orun thought, that fate would punish his restlessness so severely. Intriguing in an irritating sort of way, to be exact. He’d always believed in taking fate into his own hands. Unfortunately, the only way he way he could take control of his own destiny at that point was to leave. Doing just that was rather tempting, though.

Once he’d stopped in the small clearing in the undergrowth, the half-Orc had an exceedingly difficult time convincing himself to start moving again. Justifying his inaction without fully admitting his laziness was remarkably simple. First, he reached for his water flask to take a drink, only to realize that it was empty. The green-skin grumbled, realizing that he definitely hadn’t thought this venture through beforehand. Next, he took a moment to examine his ax’s edge. It was only made of iron, as opposed to a more durable material. Because of this, it had a tendency to dull rapidly. Its edge was still holding up, though, which was fortunate since Orun had left his whetstone behind as well – probably next to the stream that he’d meant to fill his flask from. He might as well check the blade one more time…

A sharp hissing sound cut through the ambient noise of the jungle, interrupted the half-Orc’s noble attempt at wasting time. Orun’s sharp red eyes darted to his left. The source of the disturbance was a particularly large grey snake with red spots. The creature was as thick was Orun’s thigh and longer than he could accurately guess. It slithered menacingly around the green intruder. The half-Orc met the massive reptile’s gaze and growled with a bestial ferocity. The snake backed down first, sinking back toward the base of the tree that it had appeared from. There it sat at a safe distance, hissing angrily and glowering at Orun. The green-skinned trespasser merely gave a satisfied smile. At least the scaly beast knew who the better predator was.

Perhaps it was this fleeting moment of playing the part of a predator that brought his dormant wilderness instincts back to the surface. No sooner had he frightened off one rival predator than did his sixth sense warn him of another. Due to his years in the mountainous Salvic frontier, Orun could often sense when he was being watched or stalked. There was something odd about it, though. A wolf would follow him with a distinct hunger, seeing the half-Orc as its next meal. This feeling was different. He sensed no predatory hunger. His conclusion was not an obvious connection to make, but Orun was smart – far smarter than most would give a half-Orc credit for being. His opponent was near.

Unfortunately, all this realization did was make him paranoid. Unable to suppress the urge, Orun tightened his grip on his ax and shield and glanced around for the source of his unease. This was probably the worst thing that he could have done, save for throwing up his arms and paining a bull’s-eye on his back. If his instincts were correct, which they often were, his watchful stalker would be able to tell that the half-Orc was aware of his presence. His crouched slightly, keeping his lean body ready to strike or evade at a moment’s notice.

At first, he saw no sign of his elusive enemy. Then the torch finally ignited. The half-Orc’s gaze darted upward into the confusing mess of branches above him – perhaps too late.

[Huacamon Axayotl]

Since I no longer have the desire to be a Warrior in the Dajas Pagoda, I concede this battle to GitNB. Green, please PM Atzar Kellon with your decision to either take my position or challenge a master of the Pagoda. Thank you, and sorry for the disappointment.

We could finish this battle at our own leisure, if you'd like. I'm just cutting back on things that are time-sensitive for a little while - I don't have the energy or the desire to deal with it.

[Karuka]

Green is the new black. is the winner by default, and gains 150 GP.