The Day of the Jac

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The Day of the Jac

**Jac Cotelin

Day 4

Solus V

Somewhere East of Camp**

As I gaze into the steel-grey sky, coated from horizon to zenith in a single layer of thick clouds, a cold wind dances through my beard. The rest of the party is back at camp, content with the day’s hunt, but I alone remain alert. I alone continue to gaze into the nothingness, the dull yellow plain grass my only companion. The breeze takes the stalks of the dry brush and sways it back and fro as it ebbs and flows.

Two fawns and their mother had found themselves in our sights this morning, and the others seem content with this catch. There is something left however, in my heart, that nags at my patience. I won’t be content until I find it. It won’t let me go until I take it back with me. I seek that Buffalo; the one that got away.

A short jaunt down memory lane leads me back to that day, not so dissimilar to today. Cloudy, cold, and breezy. Returning to camp after a day’s hunt with a Grouse in one hand and my weapon over my shoulder, it appeared, seemingly out of no where. There it stood grazing peacefully, serenely, mocking me with its very presence. I decided then and there I had to have it on my wall, above my fireplace. Its head would adorn my parlor, its hide my bare floor.

The beautiful brown coat of ruffled hair was rich and I drank its sight in for a moment before taking and knee and raising my rifle. The beast lifted its head and turned to look at me. Its large dark eyes gazed into my soul, spoke to me. The barrel drooped as I lost my strength, allowing the beast to saunter away.

A chill runs down my spine, bringing me back to the present. I look about my surroundings. The faint smell of our camp’s fire drifts over me, the ash of the wood mingling with the searing fat of the night’s meal. My mouth begins to water and my will to remain here waivers slightly. My good behavior however is rewarded as I catch sight of a dark shape in the distance. I grasp my rifle tightly and begin slowly jogging closer to what I can only hope is my White Whale, my Unicorn, my elusive prey.

I close to within a quarter-mile, close enough to identify the dark mound as a Plains Buffalo. He is at least fifteen hands high, a noble creature. Unsure if he is the one though, I wait. The beast grazes idly, nipping at the dry grass around it. The wind shifts, carrying my scent to the beast’s nose. The buffalo lifts its head and looks into my eyes. That same gaze, the same penetrating look. Another chill runs down my spine. I know this is the one.

I raise my rifle, centering the sights on the creature. Do it! I scream silently to myself. I will my finger to pull the trigger. Nothing happens. I cannot do it. My barrel drops as the beast turns and walks away. He will live another night. I return to camp, empty handed.

“We were beginning to worry about you, Jac”, A warm bowl is placed in my hands, it smells of cooked stew.

“I saw him again…”

“The one you call Ziggy?”

I nod. The stew is good.


Jac was made Grand Master for the first time this day thirteen years ago. That's older than most of you are. Think about that for a minute.

Also, JacPwnz.

~CON Vodo Biask Taldrya

That... Was awesome. Jac is Awesome. We love Jac.

How can "JacPwn," if he can't even shoot one stupid buffalo? :P I'd say, if he's been hunting it for thirteen damn years, and he can't shoot it, he has a cream-filled center and is made by Hostess.

Just kidding. I love Jac.

Well at least that's older than most of us act :P

So...much...unnecessary spacing....hate....Vodo....

I've been here a little over 12 Years and 10 Months - I remember Jac as GM (the first time) :)

Who's Jack?

I'm 12 and I find this racist! Jac is awesome though.

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