The Habits and Hazards of the Mighty Rowax Ape - The Journal of Anther Strein
The Journal of Anther Strein
Observations from a Travelling Naturalist in a Fantasy World
Written by Lachlan Marnoch
with Illustrations by Nayoung Lee
22nd of Lodda, 787 AoC
Erefal Wood
The Habits and Hazards of the Mighty Rowax Ape
My fears concerning the rowax turn out to have been well-placed. A fire would do well now, as the two of us are soaked through, and at an uncomfortable climatic in-between – the air is both too moist and too cool for us to dry efficiently. However, to avoid re-attracting our unwanted companion we have decided to forego flames again. Although a rowax might fear fire, and by waving a torch in its face one might drive it away, this is not to be relied upon. Rowaxes vary a great deal in individual temperament - a burning brand is almost as likely to inflame the rowax’s inquisitive spirit as it is to drive it away.
We had, over the past days, been making directly for the nearest river – an unnamed course marked on our map of the area1. We took this action in response to the droppings mentioned in the previous entry, to minimise our chance of encountering the animal that produced them. An encounter yesterday with a fresh pile of excrement increased our urgency significantly.
We reached the river today, a good broad thing, and walked upstream, nerves frayed in the knowledge that we might need to take the plunge at any time. This tension was resolved - to our great dissatisfaction - a couple of hours later. A thunderous clamour of branches alerted us to the approach of something enormous, moving from tree to tree. It could only be the rowax. Needing no further encouragement than the impending cacophony, the two of us plunged into the river. The water was cool but tolerable, although I think neither of us had this at the front of our minds. I had hoped to avoid such a situation if possible, as the rivers in the Wood are clogged with fallen branches. Although little hazard to me, for Prentis a snagged limb in a decent current could easily come an untimely death2. I guided us to the centre of the river, where the risk of such a fate is minimised. There was little point struggling against the current, though it was sure to carry us out of our way. We could only hope that it would also carry us out of the way of the beast dogging our tracks. Reaching the currents at the centre, we turned to look at the bank, perhaps to check whether our urgency was justified. It was, for there the rowax stood, shockingly broad and tall even from such a distance, its head cocked to the side, inquisitive black eyes tracking us from a dark face in a frame of red hair.
Our fear of the rowax, Insolitus ingens, might here brook some explanation, for although an impressive creature, it is found only in Erefal and is hence not widely known. It belongs to an obscure family of mammals known as the apes. Muscle-bound, with greyish skin and a coating of red hair, the rowax may stand as tall as three heightsA. In general, however, it does not stand upright, preferring to walk on the knuckles of its colossal fists. These fists are carried on thickly muscled arms, and its shortish legs appear almost underfed by comparison – but are still of great strength. Although not, generally speaking, carnivorous, a rowax will certainly eat meat when the opportunity arises. The rest of its diet is not well-known, consisting of plantlife found in the canopy, but must include leaves and fruit if its droppings are any clue.
The rowax is possibly the only remaining species of ape. It is certainly the last known in Proesus, and indeed the only primate found here. The primates, which include the apes, are an order of mammals that once swung from trees across the world - if the fossil record is to be believed, which I should say it is3. They share, or shared, many characteristics with lacertasimians - the arboreal reptiles, maimou and pithikos, which remain abundant both in Proeus and elsewhere. Apes are broadly equivalent to pithikos, while their tailled cousins, the monkeys, are more akin in appearance and niche to the maimou. Although no monkeys live now in Proesus, they still thrive in certain parts of the Old World, where they compete directly with maimou. Except for the rowax, apes seem to have disappeared completely. The convergence in appearance and habit of these two groups, so distant from each other in their positions among the mammals and the reptiles, is a remarkable fact - one, I am sure, which is related to their similarities in habitat, in the pressures which they live under, and, dare I open a window into my current thinking, shaped them. But there is no time to enter into that now. I return to the murderous ape in our pursuit.
The rowax, you see, is unable to swim. After examining us, our ape gave a deafening hoot from deep in her throat and leapt back up the nearest tree. It was impossible, even in fear for our lives, not to marvel4 at how she propelled her enormous body upwards, as though weight were of no consequence. She made excellent use of feet5, hands, and the elastic properties of erefal branches.
She crashed into the canopy, and we traced her path by the disturbed leaves and branches falling from above. Some minutes later, she came smashing down on the opposite bank, perhaps hoping to intercept us. We disappointed her by keeping to the centre of the river as best we could. However, we had captured her interest now, and I knew that we were unlikely to see the back of her unless we could permanently give her the slip. This is one of the attributes characteristic to the rowax – a fierce and burning curiosity, allied to an apparent intelligence that ranks very highly among the beasts of Proesus. When considered alongside its enormous strength, and its lack of inhibition in using it, one begins to see how this poses a serious danger.
The rowax kept pace with ease as we drifted further from our path – at times knuckling across the ground alongside the river, at times crashing through the canopy far above, and sometimes propelling herself from tree to tree at moderate height. The ape had no trouble in tossing her immense bulk across the great spans between branches, and did so with superb grace and skill – her grip never seemed to slip by so much as a finger. She was astonishing to watch. Occasionally she would pause ahead and watch us while the current caught us up. Once, she obtained a long branch, with which she seemed intent on fishing us out. We managed to evade her prods by moving closer to the other bank. She soon tossed the branch aside with a deep grunt that sent vibrations through our bones.
Had we been in less danger, we might have felt greater dismay – first at the loss of our day’s progress to the river’s flow6 and then at being sent gradually even further afield. Closer to the top of our minds was how long we could endure this game: if we could evade the great ape - whether by her becoming bored with us or by us crossing outside of her territory - before we became too exhausted to remain afloat. I was in little danger of this myself, Paluchard being universally powerful swimmers; Austia, however, are less so, and I feared for Prentis’ endurance. The cold was also beginning to leach into both of us, the water rendered less tolerable by length of exposure.
This was not our first encounter with a rowax, although it has certainly thus far been our nearest. Although the few rowaxes local7 to Leafshrine seem to know to keep their distance (the villagers are quite capable of defending themselves and consider rowax-meat a grand treat) an individual did threaten the village on one occasion during our stay. Most probably it was a newcomer, roaming in search of a territory to call its own. Happening across the village, it could not contain its curiosity at this strange gathering of odd creatures.
The Leafshriners, and rightfully so, treated the curiosity of a rowax with the same urgency as a military incursion. When the alarm was raised, the villagers took up an immediate defence, taking bows to hand and scattering to strategic positions. We of the mission simply sheltered with the children. A great clamour rose outside, as the ape commenced its examinations and was met by the defenders. We caught a glimpse of the beast flashing past, at a great distance from our hollow; but not so great as to fail to extract from us any desire to see one any closer. The thunderous racket produced by its conflict with the villagers was also less than encouraging.
Stung by the villagers’ blackweed-poison, and perhaps realising that something was amiss, the rowax crashed away once again – but not before three of the villagers had been killed and several more injured, crushed by the ape’s fists or flung to the floor below. It had also torn one of the village’s gathering places to pieces. This it accomplished incidentally, with the simple act of climbing on, and by its great weight and force of landing bending, the branches on which the structure was founded.
A party of the villagers set off in pursuit, knowing that at least some of their poison arrows had found their mark, and that the great ape was thus doomed. They feasted that night. I was unable to bring myself to eat any part of such a fine animal, although I was glad that its death was put to good use.
We had been in the river for hours, and sunlight was beginning to fade, when a new complication announced itself. As we rounded a curve in the river, a great erefal trunk, freshly fallen from the look of it and thus unmarked on the Austia’s maps, came into view resting in our path. In falling it had carved a furrow into both banks, and some fraction of the colossal log was submerged. The currents were pushing us swiftly towards it.
This was no small obstacle in itself, but the rowax had also noticed our predicament. She overtook us, loping toward the trunk in bounds of as ten heights at a time. We watched in horror as she scaled the trunk's girth – the full forty heights - with barely a pause, and made for the centre of the river. Now directly above the point toward which the currents were pushing us, she descended again, clinging to the knobs and whorls of the bark with a dexterity I found hard to credit even as I witnessed it. It was clear that she intended to intercept us.
There was only one course of action available to us, at least that I could concoct in the limited time remaining. I announced this plan to Prentis. I confess I did not fully understand his response, too much of my brain occupied with fear to translate properly, but he followed my instructions, taking a hold of my body with all six of his legs. The rowax had adopted a position just above the water, feet against the trunk, one hand gripping a branch from which she hung, the other extended toward us as though beckoning. Both hands were near as wide as Prentis’ body is long. Her lips were pulled back as though in concentration, baring a set of tombstone-like incisors flanked by two horrifying pairs of canines. I couldn’t help considering the connection between those teeth and her omnivorous diet, even as my becoming a component of said diet increased in probability.
After checking Prentis’ grip, there was nothing left for it but to dive. The rowax plunged her hand in after me as I submerged – her fingers, I would swear it before the Tribunal, brushed over my tail. I followed the downward curve of the trunk for ten seconds or so, then ascended again as it swept back up. With the fading daylight overhead, I swam parallel to the surface for some seconds to get us clear of the tree. We came up a couple dozen heights from the colossal log. Although I had feared for Prentis’ ability to hold his breath for any prolonged period8, he fared most admirably.
The rowax had taken a seat atop the trunk, and now watched us float downstream. She made no further attempt to follow us. Perhaps she had finally grown bored, or acknowledged defeat. Or we may simply have reached the limits of her territory. We lost sight of the fantastic ape as we swept around a bend in the river. Despite a deep relief at our escape, part of me wanted to swim back and take further notes.
The rowax is rare, and becoming rarer. It was either great fortune or terrible misfortune to encounter one so directly. Our apparent flaunting of probability in this instance can be given to the vigilance with which they patrol their territories, which are often very large, and the enthusiasm with which they investigate unknown arrivals. Unlike much of the wildlife based in the Erefal canopy, where the rowax is believed to establish its nest, the ape makes regular visitations to the forest floor to forage and patrol. Likely, our undesirable companion happened to cross our trail, and followed with the pertinacious curiosity native to her species. Rowaxes, male and female alike, protect their fiefdoms from others of the same species with ardent ferocity. Although usually respecting boundaries, one will on occasion attempt to gain advantage by seizing the province of another. I have not witnessed such a display up close, but the distant echoes of one – hoots, roars, and crashes - reached our ears one night in Leafshrine. Although I do not have the observations to confirm this, I suspect the females, in selecting a mate, might favour males with larger territories, and so the males would sometimes be willing to risk injury in the interest of securing a legacy.
From fossils, thus far found cloistered together in communities of nests, it seems that most apes were highly social, and reports on monkeys from the Old World indicate the same. The rowax, on the other hand, is not. Why this should be is unclear. They live solitary lives, with females sharing only the company of their own children until they are mature enough to survive alone. This takes an unusually long time for the animal world, the young apes not reaching maturity for several years. Rowax mothers have been observed teaching their children how best to forage, and appear to share a close bond. This bond does not outlast childhood, however, and upon adolescence the young ape is driven from the mother’s territory with the same ferocity as a rival.
The primates are placental mammals, which are distinct from the marsupials common to Proesus in that they lack a pouch. The young emerge from the womb in a far more advanced state of development, allowing them to skip the initial vulnerable stage we marsupials spend in the pouch. This appears to offer a good many advantages, and I am surprised upon pondering this that placental species, over my marsupial kin, have not been more successful in colonising Proesus. However, they also seem to expend a great deal more energy in childbirth, and are rendered quite defenceless for its duration9, which may provide a partial explanation.
Few placental mammals - so-named for the placenta, an apparently temporary organ that is expelled along with newborns and is thought to support the overgrown infant in the wombii - have taken root in Proesus. However, I am informed they are far more common in Toradus, where no marsupial has yet been found, and in Praelius, where only a handful of marsupial species are known.
To be safe, we waited for another hour before climbing out of the river. My journal and pens obviously survived the ordeal, as they were wrapped in a waterproof skin and sheltered in my pouch. The same cannot be said for our bags, including our food and our local maps. It has thus been a miserable, waterlogged dinner. Our clothes are soaked, but they will survive. This episode has carried us substantially out of our way – I hope that we can make it up. We are settling in for our most wretched night so far. As spellbinding as the rowax was to observe in close quarters, I do hope we can avoid further encounters of the sort.
1 Generously provided by the Leafshriners, it was exceptionally detailed. Oh well. Spilt milk isn't refilled by tears.
2 Fortunately, few of the living hazards endemic to the rivers of Veduka are found this far south – we were unlikely to run afoul of a grændal, an intrusive shark or a marsh serpent. I have heard of essichard catfish (Megi adaelyugi) growing to frightful sizes, but they do not usually pose a hazard to sapientsi.
3 This superficially uncontroversial statement has its detractors in my organisation, to be sure. I shall not enter into details here.
4 Prentis did not entirely share my enthusiasm. In fact, the fervent observations I related to him throughout this encounter were met mainly with silence.
5 Both feet and hands of the rowax possess opposable digits, analogous to those in the lacertasimians – very useful for the navigation of tree branches.
6 As we passed the point at which we had first met the river hours prior, the rowax paused to sniff our trail and then disappeared along it for several minutes. I allowed myself to hope that she had lost interest, but we found her waiting loyally about the next bend.
7 A relative term, for although their territories sometimes border that of the Austia, these territories are broad indeed.
8 Not that Austia can be said to hold their breath, not having true lungs in which to hold it. I’m not even sure to what extent their breathing is voluntary - I shall have to ask Prentis. They can survive some amount of time in submergence, so there must be some mechanism for preventing the unwanted entrance of water into the vascular system; I wonder how that might be.
9 This contrasts quite sharply with marsupials - the joeys of some species can emerge without the mother even taking notice. While not quite true of Paluchard – we do have to participate actively in the birth – the relative painlessness of the process affords us quite some jealousy from Essilor mothers, whose very large eggs take quite some effort to expel.
i The essichard catfish has since been linked to several sapient deaths, particularly of Austia and Essilor, and particularly where river funerals are held - the fish have thus acquired a taste for the meat of the deceased, and have not always remained satisfied with the trickle provided by such wakes. This behaviour was unknown in Anther's time.
ii Although quite different from those of eutherians (as the placental mammals are now more properly called), marsupials are now considered to develop placentas as well.
A Approximately 6.39 metres.