The Lost Bow of the Drykas (Sea of Grass) 16.W.509

[Kayiri]

Kayiri's cry of pain filled the night as his arm was gorged into by the claws of the Zith. He snarled like a caged, feral beast, his eyes filled with a blood rages thought unobtainable by a Drykas. He stumbled backwards, his foot landing near the warmth of the torch. The rational side of him, you know, that side drowned out in rage, kicked into action. In a single swift movement, the longsword was in his right hand, and the torch was in his now scarred left arm, held as high as he could manage with the injuries.

His eyes watched the inky dark, his heart ringing in his ears. He knew, in that corner of his mind, that his survival was out of the question. He was a lone man against a tide of enemies cloaked in the impenetrable dark of the night, a lone man holding the line against the evils of the world...

The least he could do was make the job easier for those who still had a chance of survival. "Hex, Vanator!" he screamed, voice hoarse. "Tell my clan, tell them I died valiantly, for the honor of my name, my clan, my family, and the entirety of the Drykas!" with that, he moved, a cry of blood-curdling rage leaving his lips as he moved forward to where he had stood moments before.

"COME OUT, COWARDS!" he screamed, making a blind slash behind himself, as if there might have been something there. "FACE KAYIRI OF THE DRYKAS ON A LEVEL FIELD, OR ARE YOU TOO PATHETIC TO DO SO!?" His eyes continued to scan the area around him wildly as he gritted his teeth to deal with the pain. As if he had hit some sort of mental cue, he began hacking and slashing every which way, planning to do this action for as long as he could, or until one of his companions manned up enough to emerge from the safety of their cave and help him.

A slash to the left, a quick pivot, the sword brought down in a wild arc overhead to his right, a torch swing from left to right, a wild thrust into the darkness arranged before him. This flurry of random blows, ranging from brute and improvised to graceful training moves continued for as long as he could manage. And believe me, with death as the result of failure, he would do it until the last of his energy left his body.

[Vanator]

Movement transcended time for Vanator, as if Tanroa had stepped in and slowed the progression of the events playing out before him. He heard Hex's warning ring out as Kayiri's blade bit into the offending Zith's torso. Then the remaining creatures descended onto the young Drykas, ignoring his own cries of distraction and tearing into Kayiri with ferocious vigor. The brave man's words rose above the shrieks of the Zith, declaring sentiments intended for his legacy. Kayiri's voice caused Vanator's blood to boil, his heart pounded against the hardened leather pressed against his chest, the charge of adrenaline surged through his body and stirred the savage spirit of the Drykas warrior. Of course he would not leave Kayiri to die, could not tolerate seeing the corpse of another Drykas torn by Zith claws. This was for Tamar, or rather for her honor, and for his own need to sate a desire for Zth blood that had rent his soul for five years. His breathes became sharp, deeper as they filled his chest with foul air. Vanator glanced over his shoulder at Hex, the beautiful half-blood healer illuminated in orange firelight and sharp shadows. She clutched a torch and the oil, her slight form poised for a confrontation he prayed would not come. A pang of contention seized his heart. If he engaged the Zith, he would have to abandon his position at the cave entrance, leaving Hex to fend for herself. He had little hope that she could repel one of the rapacious beasts. For a breath Tamar's face flashed before his eyes, even as Hex's gaze met his. A pain gripped his gut as he turned back to the battle outside. The entire sequence of events had passed in only a few breaths. Vanator could hesitate no longer. If there was any hope of saving either of his companions, he would have to turn the tide. If the Drykas men could keep the Zith engaged outside, perhaps they will never make it to the cave, or ignore it. Gripping the battle ax in both hands, he shot one more glance at Hex, she would not mistake the intentions written in his dark eyes. A peculiar thought crossed his mind in that instant, wondering if she would be the last woman he ever laid eyes on. Pushing the foolish idea from his mind, he turned back towards the torchlit combatants, sucked in a deep breath and charged out of the cave without a sound, taking an oblique approach to the melee, raising the great ax and hoping to bring the weapon to bear against an open flank or the exposed back of one of the ambushing Zith.

[Hex]

Fear gripped Hex's insides as she exchanged looks with Vanator, who then charged towards the chaos of claws and teeth. The moment was there to be ceased, and without any further hesitation, Hex tore off through the sand across the cave towards one of the zith that foolishly ignored all but its target. Its wings flapped senselessly in the night air, sending gusts of sand towards Hex's face as she neared him. Within reasonable range, Hex stopped just short of the zith and raised the oil filled bottle in her hand behind her and then propelled it forward, sending it coursing through the air as fast as she could muster. Her aim wasn't perfect but the delicate glass bottle shattered against the back of the zith, spilling the oil down its legs and splattering its wings. By the time the bottle had hit, Hex broke out into a full run and then thrust her legs forward, sliding down to the ground by the zith's feet. The torch she held her in hands danced with fiery opposition and Hex gripped the solid wood stick and swung it towards the oil slick skin of the zith. She had one chance to light the demon on fire, and hoped she didn't burn herself in the process...

[Tarot]

Only a few more seconds. That was how long Kayiri could have lasted against three raging Zith if his companions had not come to his rescue. Not that his (or their) survival was guaranteed at this point, but at least there were now other targets for the animalistic brutes. Kayiri's flurry of blows was more of a defensive mechanism than an actual attacking strategy. One thing he quickly found out was that the Zith disliked the torch in his left hand. They were more likely to attack his sword side even though it offered a greater threat from a rational standpoint. From a Zith's point of view, the torch in the darkness was a bit like staring at the sun without a smoked screen of some kind - unpleasant at first, painful after a while.

Indeed, the torch smashed into the face of an approaching Zith, causing it to spit a couple pointy teeth. The sword slashed out again and again, until it finally struck home, severing a clawed hand amidst a warm shower of blood. The Zith screamed, and swung wildly at Kayiri with the other claw. The Drykas almost dodged in time, but the nails still clawed diagonally across his right cheek, leaving three marks there - one moment of hesitation and that would have been his eye.

That was when Vanator barged in, heaving his battle ax and letting it fall upon an enemy facing the other way. This was the Zith previously slashed by Kayiri across the chest; it turned sharply as Vanator's foot kicked a small rock by accident and alerted it to his presence. It still wasn't enough to avoid the attack, which cleaved off the Zith's right wing, leaving only a pathetic stub. The creature staggered, and abandoned Kayiri in favor of just throwing itself at Vanator like a pure killing machine.

Hex's bottle had caught the Zith with the missing hand. As the girl's torch made contact with the wet creature, a bright flame burst out and the sickening smell of charred flesh filled her nostrils. The piercing shrills of the Zith-torch on fire were almost deafening. Well done.

Except it wasn't dead yet. It would soon be, probably, but that would be little consolation if Hex died first, right? The beast sprang forth, its one claw aiming at her throat to quickly tear it open. And Kayiri… he still had to deal with the leader of the three. Which was unharmed. And which drew a rusty longsword of obvious Drykas craftsmanship.

[Kayiri]

Kayiri grinned from ear to ear as the situation manipulated itself into his favor. he had these bastards. The cavalry had arrived. Still holding the sword one-handed with the torch in the other, he eyed the Zith, supposedly the leader, whom had drawn the longsword. "So you decide to fight on equal terms!?" Kayiri demanded, his voice full of pride. "Come, then! Throw yourself into the fray, prepare to meet you death! You shall know my name is Kayiri when I smite the upon this cold ground!" His ego was quite obviously getting to his head. he ignored the feeling of the warm blood running down his face. Only one thing mattered now.

The survival of himself and his companions. With a cry of rage, Kayiri charged at the Zith, skimming his sword's blade across the ground, finally arcing it up and to the right, hopefully to connect with a thigh, and cut up past the pelvis to the wait, effectively cutting the Zith in half. He could only hope that Hex would be capable of handling her attacker for just long enough, to allow him or Vanator to finish the melee they were locked in to help her. As far as he knew, her sole weapon was a dagger, and that was not much use against the predatory instincts of a Zith.

[Vanator]

Vanator cursed, having foiled his own attack, one that he had hoped would kill or cripple the Zith. He shifted back, opening the space between himself and his vile opponent. His pulse pounded in his ears, his system flush with adrenaline. In an instant the Drykas gauged his enemy. This was the moment he had hungered for for five years, the chance to spill Zith blood. Pent up rage boiled at his core. The death of his wife was now pinned on this one Zith... it would bear the husband's wrath. Maybe it would kill the Drykas, but Vanator was bound to make the creature pay in blood. The axeman seethed at the memory, his fervor pitched, with a roar he raised the battle ax again, hoping to catch the wounded Zith before he recovered from the severing of his wing. But his fury was not to the point of blindness. Van had a tactic, swinging the weapon downward, Vanantor changed course as his momentum built, crouching and lowering the ax then swinging it up in an attempt to drive the blade across the beasts abdomen, under its reaching grasp. As he swung his weapon in both hands, Vanator first saw, then felt, the flames Hex had ignited on another Zith. In a flash of thought, he was proud of her. That is exactly why he gave her the torches and oil.

[Hex]

Hex had pulled her body up enough to swing at the zith with both hands, desperate to just hit him even just once. A gust of air was consumed in flame and swelled around the zith's body, boiling the oil against its skin and searing the flesh of its back and legs. A frightened scream from Hex accompanied the way she scrambled backwards, beating the ground with her heels to distance herself from the zith as fast as possible. She only managed to get to 20 feet while it stood in shock and screamed in agony before turning towards her. In this time she had instinctively yanked her small hunting knife out of its holding (the torch abandoned in her fright of the fire) and held it firmly by its blade in her left hand. Once before she had thrown her knife at a zith, it was her desperate move to hurt the beast that had put Kayiri into such an agonized state over his bow. Without much else but hope, she could only try again. There was no time to hesitate - the length of 20 feet was being closed quickly by the enraged zith on fire that advanced on her. In an effort filled with determination and vigor, Hex whipped her arm in as much of a controlled motion as she could generate, based on her experience. If the knife missed at all she would be in trouble, but she willed herself to keep breathing through the process and not lose circulation in her limbs; her life depended on her ability to stay flexible. Even as the knife left her hands, she began pulling herself flat onto her back to scurry down past the zith as it propelled forward. The movements to throw herself out of the way were already in effect but it all happened so fast, such events were vulnerable to variance.

[Tarot]

It was all over in a matter of seconds, though they felt like an eternity. Hex's dagger flying - Vanator's ax swinging - Kayiri's sword tracing a deadly arc.

In the end, when they could use their minds again, there were three dead Zith. One of them still gripping Hex's throat, lying upon her fallen body and trying to crush her life till the very last moment, despite the knife embedded in its skull. Another slumping down Vanator's body and leaving claw marks down his leather armor mixed with the beast's foul blood. And a third one, lying in a large pool of its blood mingling with Kayiri's own. The man had paid the highest price for his victory; both combatants attacking each other with no regard for personal safety, they had struck each other. Kayiri had been sliced in the left flank, his clothing warm with the juice of life. He was feeling dizzy from the combined bloodloss, though he had apparently survived the battle.

The bow was his once more.

But there was no time to waste. More winged figures crossed the disc of the moon, probably attracted to the sounds of battle. The trio had to gather the horses and flee if they wanted to stand a chance of surviving the night and living to tell the tale of their expedition near Din.

[Kayiri]

A cry of victory broke the night, originating from none other than Kayiri. "IS THAT ALL YOU FILTHY CURS HAVE!? I HAVE SLAIN TOUGHER FOES IN MY SLEEP!" he screamed, turning left and right as if searching for more challengers.They were alive. Kayiri fell to his knees, panting, sweat running in rivers across his body, intermingling with the spattered blood of his foes and the flowing blood of his own. His sword dropped by his side, he could feel the strength leaving his body. He remembered his lessons, vague. A voice in the distance. Even if the battle was over, the threat was not gone. Blood was life, and life was spilled every day.

He had lost too much blood. He could see the blackness at the corners of his vision, feel the weakness overcoming his body. Sleep, it told him, sleep and be done with it all...

No, he couldn't die. Not after what he had gone through. He had gone through wore, this would not be his end. Kayiri picked up his bloody sword, sheathing it across his back, stumbling across the blood-stained ground to his bow. Gingerly, he picked it up by the end, a smile crossing his exhausted face.

"We... We need to go," he choked out. "Vanator, can Hex ride with you? I'm not sure if I can ride myself, at this point,"he then added weakly, strapping his bow onto Serenity's side. He struggled to get on top of her back, slouching on her neck, hoping she didn't mind the blood that was flowing from him onto her. He would have to treat the wound later. They had no time to waste.

[Vanator]

Vanator grunted with satisfaction as the Zith slid down to the ground, lifeless. His nostils were filled with the reek of the creatures and their spilt blood. As the fog of battle cleared and Kayiri bellowed his taunting, Van ran past him, cuffing him in the head and grumbled. "Quiet!" He found Hex, heaving the large Drykas carcass from on top of her and helping her up. A quick glance indicated that she had no serious injuries. Backalash appeared, as if by some unspoken summons, and as Kayiri struggled to mount his Srider, Van looked at the healer. "Hex can ride with me, but she needs to look at your wounds quickly, or you won't get far." Van scanned the deep night sky, the hints of other Zith making him irritated and antsy. "But we have to do it now and fast!"