Anthropology

The anxiousness and indecision was becoming intolerable, up until just a few minutes back I was just a consultant, another worker in the endless concrete jungle slaving away to make myself known in the corporate world. Now? I was even more clueless, wading through an actual jungle.

The forest had been deceptively thick, rows of ancient bark crowded close, sunlight touching the forest floor in scarce rays, where the smallest of shrubs struggled to sustain themselves in the shadow of the great ancient trees that dotted the landscape. Treading through this terrain had rendered me rife with new tears and cuts on my shirt. The skin underneath my sleeves reddening from being on the receiving end of abuse from splinters, poison ivy and my steadily betrayed balance as I tripped over the third branch within the hour. 

For any long-lived resident of the concrete jungle, a real jungle became almost an unfathomably more hostile environment to traverse, one which the survival shows did not do justice in portraying. Every step landed on uneven ground, sometimes stepping on the scant shrubbery that struggled to grow in the shadows of the great ancient trees that dotted the treeline. Scant rays of sunlight dimly illuminated my path forward, and I tried to keep close to the path for the most part, even as it cut corners in seemingly the most inconvenient ways.

Each new step felt laboured, and if not for the surge of energy I felt crawling across my frame, then I might have collapsed from exhaustion. An hour or two had already passed and the scathing heat of the sun warming my back was getting intolerable, there were many times I found my teeth gritting against my jaw out of frustration. A degree of irate being that I had seldom contended with in my old life, then again, this was not my old life.

The walk had given me time to think and calibrate, the fear and angst of the initial moments were swept aside by a sort of renewed composure, one I was oddly perplexed at myself. All I knew was that this 'Voice' knew more than it let on, it's purpose regarding me was unclear, and so was whether I could trust it. 

I traced my hand across the bulk of my arm, pressing along muscle and form that I'd never possessed before. These powers were definitely changing me, however, I could not concretely pin down just how much I was influenced by the aspect I animated within myself. 

A world of swords and sorcery, the Voice-who I'll now elect to call Koe-san, as had mentioned, meant that I needed to know more about it.

My first clue was the Cathedral, the figures of the four on the mosaics; king, warrior, hearth-keeper and crone. Two male deities and female deities respectively. Having spent much of my early career in comparative anthropology, there were some basic conclusions that I could draw over here.

Roles are gendered, but there seems to be an equal temperance of respect. The warrior indicated a militaristic enforcement of the law, with the Crone's scales tempering justice with wisdom of the ages. Not to mention that the King and Crone being distinct deities of worship might indicate a duality of societal reverence, ruled by a noble class, guided by a centralised priestly class. With a warrior class revered in the warrior, and domestic class, traders, artisans and the like, revered within the Hearth-Keeper. Not too dissimilar from the ancient Egyptians; with Horus, Monthu, Hathor and Ma'at who could be drawn as contemporaries.

This meant I'd inevitably have to deal with the troubles of monarchial society, although that would be the easy part. One can easily look at the smiling Sun plastered over all the banners and draw one more conclusion. If similar ideographies applied to the denizens of these lands, solar worship meant a placed belief in a higher cosmic covenant; like the Incan Intli cult, Egypt's Ra or our own Amaterasu, and historically such cultures have often had a sense of manifest destiny; as the American colonists so eloquently put it in the 19th century.

A class or caste based society with divisions by role, a social pyramid, non-separation of religion and state, given the grandeur of a supposedly abandoned cathedral and a sun-revering culture that is most likely hyper militaristic. Given all this it would be wise to not be too flashy with my powers, for all I know they might persecute magic users as some sort of dark arts practitioners... and a witch hunt will end a lot more painfully than a heart attack.

As I immersed myself in the conclusions I drew, I heard a ruffle in the bushes, something was there. Thrown from my musings, I immediately sought shelter behind a tree as the sounds of footsteps heading in my direction began to get louder.

As ecstatic and hopeful I was that I might find help, the woods would seldom be a good idea to risk it. If I got cornered by unscrupulous persons here in the boonies in this relative isolation; it could end very badly for me. The tree I hid behind had a thick and ancient bark, allowing me to conceal all of my body behind it. Waiting patiently as the sounds drew ever closer, then I saw him.

Who I saw seemed to be a man, far beyond me in years, a rough look at his grays made me guess that he must be in his mid-fifties. His pace was brisk only briefly as he collapsed onto the floor; the cause being evident. Something had bitten his leg, having bit a substantial chunk of his calf off, how he even persevered in walking this far was a miracle. 

Then came the snarls, and the distinctly feline creature came into my sight. It looked like a leopard at first sight, with it's spotted skin, structure and slow circling about it's fallen target; that old man. What was distinct was the rows of shrubs growing on it's back, greenish fur and glowing yellow eyes, like the sparse flowers that bloomed upon it's back. 

It was bizarre, but it appeared just as lethal, and looked in my direction with an intent. My skin crawled as I could almost feel its gaze linger upon me through the bark. 

One fact remained, once it was done with the old man... I was next.