Outbreak (Closed)

by **Sashisaxani** on May 31st, 2012, 12:35 am

Outbreak (Open)
Location: Zinrah tunnels and ruins, although a majority of the thread will take the plot into the Wilds
TS: 1 Spring 512 A.V.; Some hours after the djed storm subsides, twilight

Would you believe it, the Myrians vanished?

Two hundred years… Saxani thought to herself, still unable to properly give meaning to the idea. Most of her life had been spent in the caverns of Zinrah. It was a part of her life, hiding in a hole and snatching up food when she could, living in fear of the day light. The cloak of night had been her friends for many years, and the darkness her keeper in and out of Zinrah.

She was at the tunnel amongst the others peering out into the ruins as Syna gracefully descended below the horizon. The wave of the djed storm had long passed over the Falyndar wild lands, only now leaving the deceptively calm sky. It was too good to be true, but it was so good now, wasn’t it? Saxani held herself tight to the east tunnel wall, her mind in disarray. It can’t be… But it was, at least for now. There was a sensation of peace and freedom that spread over all Zinrah. The jungle didn’t seem to be staring back at them when they peeked their heads from the ruins. The Myrians were gone, the blockade an extension of Zinrah’s ruins, and the remnant forces without formal order. It was safe, for once in two-hundred years it was – relatively – safe. So many Dhani were blind to the power and change the djed energies had brought to Falyndar, awe struck by the stillness of the surrounding wild lands.

A young Dhani slithered from the tunnel and out to the ruins, his tones a worthy disguise in the dying bells when the light was low, and the shadows stretched long. Further and further he went, until that moment when he slipped away into the brush. The Dhani were still. A rustle in the brush… The young Dhani had returned. A most vicious and gleeful grin ripped across his face, and fangs bared he plunged back into the wilds. Their suspicions had been confirmed, the Myrians were missing; no, they were gone, gone forever? Unlikely… Years under the oppression of the Myrian had taught her a number of things, one of them being quite clear and obvious, even now: the Myrians were relentless. The apparent cease fire was either a trick or omen to the ever faithful Saxani. There was no way the Myrians would leave their posts unless something much larger than them had actually moved inward towards Taloba, much, much larger… Against her skepticism, the large number of her fleeting brothers bad stirred doubt in her. She had to see this for herself. She had her short bow, quiver, and twenty arrows ready. She had planned on hunting this evening, but the storm had changed her plans, and this news could change everything.

Saxani had decided to approach in the greatest caution, although her brothers rushed past her and sisters possibly as well. For some it might have been their first look at the wilds. Saxani knew something wasn’t right though. In all the stillness, it was too calm. The birds were not singing, she observed, and peered up to the canopy for the nightmare that had driven the Myrians away. She found nothing. Saxani heard the tiger roar in the distance, somewhere further to the south and the coos of other animals in the wilds. As she suspected, they were not alone, but this was still strange and dangerous. Perhaps a few of her siblings would find reason in her caution and join her. They could rush to their deaths for all she cared, although they were definitely of greater use to her alive. Tigers fall swiftly on their prey, and with unstoppable force, especially the Myrian breed. Saxani drew an arrow from her quiver and hung it loosely on her bow string. Her finger was ready to point and shoot at anything that moved the wrong way. Ironic, I feel like a Myrian. Perhaps after those two hundred years the tides had turned?

Saxani began a steady morph on the move, pausing as her legs needed the time to properly divide. She pulled a band from her wrist and tied her hair back up. Given the necklace and look, she just needed some mud and extreme conscious focus to fight her inborn accent. To run into a Myrian in the wilds this time was still dangerous. She just needed the second of doubt in the savage heart to plunge the arrow in one of their hearts. It was a misfortune her harness did so little to cover her appropriately. Saxani knelt down and scrapped what she thought was clay or mud. Its thin consistency proved otherwise, and she rubbed the dark substance between her fingers. She lifted it to her nose and took a whiff. It smelled of bile. Something had been sick. Saxani wiped her fingers and reached back down for some real ud and marked her face, crude war paint for disguise.

She caught sight of light prints. It was headed away from the bile in an apparent hurry. Saxani turned back toward the bile and peered through the brush where her prey once stood. It was a clear sight of the ruins, cast in shadow and hidden away in the thickening brush. A break in the ruins gave the viewer sight from the east tunnel exit, and beyond Zinrah a view of the northern stars forming overhead. Saxani looks back at the bile spilled over the tree. It was projected over the branches facing this direction. Something was amiss. One doesn’t run toward Zinrah to be sick. It had an empty scent, the bile, thus it wasn’t something the prey had eaten. The thought of chucks coming up her own throat from fever gave her lip a twist. Where are you…Myrian? The prints had been deciphered, along with some logic of the blockade.

Saxani, loosely joined by her brothers and sisters spread across the wilds as the Myrians did in their hunts, pressed forward into the jungle. Saxani stopped as the tigers roared again, louder. They might have been…one, maybe two. The pitch seemed different to her now human ears. Saxani saw the tracks growing heavier. She knelt down and measured with her hand, the arrow snug between her finger and bow. They were coming closer together. Wounded? Where did you bleed…? There was none, but it was slowing down, whatever it was or had been. Saxani pressed onward.

The staggered steps began to sink heavily into the earth uncaring of what saw or followed its tracks. Saxani read it as scholars read their books and scrolls, clear and fluently with the distinction of the marks. The foliage itself was being broken all along the way now. You could not have gone much further… Saxani picked up her pace. The storm had struck hours ago. Deeper into the untamed wilds she went, finding herself caught in a hunt she had longed for.

The tracks said it all, the coming to an end. There was no blood though, and this perplexed Saxani excessively. What can kill a man so slowly without making him bleed? She expected even drops of the heart water near the bile but had found none. An entry wound for poison even. It might have been something eaten poisonous, although Saxani knew Myrians were generally smarter than that, or were immune. Saxani knew only vaguely the power of such immunity. Siku’s mark began to twitch in excitement, as if it knew the kill were coming and its hunger would be sated. Her whole body truly quivered with excitement as she came closer yet to the kill.

The footsteps stopped at last further ahead, and Saxani stopped moving forward. She crouched down at once and began to carefully scan the infinite jungle around her. It had been hours, the whole place could be trapped. Maybe that was the goal of the Myrians, and now the Dhani had been foolishly pulled from their nest. Right now, they descended from the trees and flanked them all. The Tigers would tear away the front lines, and the Myrians would catch anything that ran back toward Zinrah. Impossible, there was nothing there. The blockade had dissolved, for now.

Sxani looked down and took a closer look at the nearest print. It was fairly deep. The mud that slid away meant he was dragging his feet, tired, sick or wounded. It must have been crippling based on the spacing. It was too good to be faked, to her knowledge. It was definitely a human though, and no human formed Dhani would flee from Zinrah. Southbound, it must have been a Myrian.

Saxani cleared her throat and whispered gently into the silent jungle in Myrian tongue, “Brother? Brother…? Where are you?” It was risky. She played on the strength of her voice, and avoided her S’s. The Dhani, in their small and well known community, knew Saxani’s voice in any language and wouldn’t dare strike against her. In fact, they might have smirked and fought back laughter knowing well the façade she had put on. Saxani’s unknowing of the war calls could break her disguise if the prey was not desperate enough. She assumed anything in such a condition would be ready for any assistance.

She tried louder, “Brother,” and hoped for the best. The cover of twilight allowed a seemingly believable disguise at glance. Her pale skin glowed in this light and looked darker, and her hair was worn as the Myrians did. The humanoid Dhani also shared the shape of ribs adorning her neck. Saxani kept her bow low, but ready to be drawn and shot at the next clear shot at a Myrian. “Brother?” There was a shift in the canopy. Of course, he’d gone upward. Saxani looked around her for her own brothers and sisters, her true siblings for backup, just in case the Myrians had hoodwinked them all. Power and numbers could permit some of them to make it back to Zinrah alive, at least, and that was hoping for the best of that scenario. Saxani checked back over her shoulders into the jungle for her brothers to give her a nod of affirmation, but to come no further. This one was hers. Saxani licked her lips and tried all her will to still her excitement and keep up her false guise.

by **Kara Sunderwater** on May 31st, 2012, 2:31 am

Salar had trouble believing it. Even with what his senses told him. The smell, the sounds, the sight or lack of it. No Myrians. Zinrah was actually freed from its siege. It might only be a momentary reprieve but even that was welcome. Once more, the Dhani had proven their resilience and strength.

In his Dhani form, with the vibrant reds and oranges, Salar was hardly easy to miss in the daylight. He was cast in the image of a warrior, one of the larger Constrictor males and well known for his physical prowess. But for once, even he was stunned by what nature had brought about. He was emerging in broad daylight, unafraid of a Myrian ambush. It was unheard of. Dusk was his time. Those scant few hours when the sun cast its reddish orange glow over the jungles and made him all but invisible to the naked eye.

He clutched the long halberd that was his preferred weapon and checked to make sure that his battle axe was tied to his waist. Part of his brain screamed at how obvious of a trap this was. But nothing gave him evidence of it.

Then he heard a Dhani nearby call out in Myrian. His own command of the language was poor and halting. "They are dead. This is our chance to strike at them!" he hissed in snake-tongue as he joined Sashisaxani.

by **Sashisaxani** on June 2nd, 2012, 8:30 pm

Saxani carefully crouched down to make sure she might be out of view of anything overhead. She turned back to Noravennsalar and glared, quite simply so. The message should have been clear. His loose tongue would get them killed if he kept it up. His judgment call screamed of haste and inexperience in the hunt. Patience was a virtue in more ways than one, and as of this critical moment, if might very well mean life or death. A deep, calming breath… Saxani recovered her poker face and put her finger up to her lips. Be quiet, Sal, be very quiet.

Saxani turned back up toward the tree, her head nearly bent back as if to lie down. It had been hours. He might have scaled the tree with relative ease at that time. She looked at the climb ahead of her. Part of her said to get it over with as a naga or snake, but she wanted to keep her disguise, as poor as it was. It would work in her mind. The sound of snake skin coils against the bark would give her away. She wasn’t entirely sure of her grip on the other hand. Sal would catch her, right? That or another Dhani brother, she hoped and prayed to Siku. What an end it would be, to fall from a tree!

In a shouting whisper, a tone loud enough to reach up the tree, she hoped, Saxani called to the Myrian in its native tongue, “I’m coming up.” Saxani sheathed her arrow in the quiver, and strung the bow over her back. The others would have to wait for her, or so she hoped. Clearing the whole area might not have been a bad idea. Saxani had actually passed over many of the Myrian belongings in her rush to find the Myrians themselves. Dust in the wind, their belongings were hidden in the places where their bodies once stood in wait, eager for Dhani blood. Surely nothing of great value was brought to the blockade, but there might be some things the Dhani could use.

Saxani found the lowest branches she could and backed off a bit. It took a running start, but with a sprint, jump, and quick grip she snagged the leaves on the branch. They broke and she dropped a few feet, on her knees thankfully. She felt arrows come loose over the ground, her load lightened. Saxani’s eyes darted back at them and she saw fear. Impalement, another self inflicted death. Had she not disgraced Siku enough in her behavior already? Saxani gathered her arrows, her siblings growing fat in their impatience. With the last arrow, Saxani had a thought. She drew her bow, and readied the arrow. She was close enough to get through the bark, she figured, even if it was just an inch, it would help.

Saxani lined up the show, her finger out, Siku guide me. She secured her grasp on the feathered end of the shot, feeling the smooth shaft rub over her finger. On a knee, she prepared herself, her breaths oh so calm.

Saxani closed her eyes, looked down, her grasp holding, and mumbled under her breath, something her siblings could not discern from a distance. “Siku, mother to us all, many graces upon you for this gift; such a gift it is to breath the air of day, even for just a little while. Guide me now, this arrow through the bark, and carry me, lift me up high that I might taste savage blood once more. Hail Siku, long live the Dhani… Show me the straight path.” Saxani’s breathing had ceased.

In a quick draw, her arm was back and her chest full of air. She tensed her whole body and lined up her perfect shot with the wood. Two feet from the ground, it would be the ideal stepping stone to grab hold of the lowest branch and begin her ascension. As she had drawn it back so swiftly, so did it leave her with equal speed. The arrow shot forward with the full strength of the bow string, and lodged itself into the woody tree. A shot at such a distance was child’s play to Saxani, although the strength of her bow impressed her. She felt herself becoming faster with each passing day. Saxani sheathed her bow and started again. She felt her feet grind with the covered earth, her toes slipping over the dirt and compost before her feet left the ground. With a short hop she was up on the arrow, and jumped onto the branch. She felt the strain in her arms already, something her tail and abdomen usually compensated for. This would be a tough climb. Her mind was clear though.

She grabbed her branch overhead with her hands, and scaled herself back a bit. It took some kicking, but she got her feet over the branch after “running” up the tree. With her legs locked at the ankles, she secured her grasp and pulled her arms closer. Her inner elbows hooked over the tree. She wasn’t falling anytime soon. She wasn’t moving up either.

She pulled her chest close to the tree, the rough bark kissing her bosom. She could see the detailed texture of the branch, feeling its roughness. Its sides were blackened by the glimmering twilight glow. Dusk was coming fast. Saxani kicked her leg up and over more, her inner thigh rubbing against the tree. With a bit of torque and brute strength, she pulled herself on top the branch. She was breathing heavily. She certainly sounded like a gasping Myrian right now. The human mouth was foreign to her, even after years of use. Saxani rested her back on the tree’s main stem, and brought her legs up. Once her heels were fastened on the branch, she felt the back of the tree with her palms, and began the gentle scale up the tree.

“Brother,” she called out again in savage tongue. There was a shuffling overhead once more, but she heard nothing more. She looked for her brothers, but they were clear of sight, hidden by the lowest branches of all floras around them. Saxani reached over to the next branch carefully, and grasped with her strong hands, hands secured by strong, fine muscles over years of use and abuse. She had another branch or two to go. Higher up was a wide branch hidden by the leaves below it. This was a tall tree, and they had hardly scaled much of it. A sick Myrian could do this, so could she! Saxani reached with her other hand and secured what grasp she could. She let go of the other branch with her toes and felt herself swinging. Like a pull up, she shot energy through her arms for the strength to move up and up. She got an arm over the branch and held on tight. She was swinging her legs and running on the bark again to get over. Her posture was the greatest inconvenience as Saxani was fighting the pull of the world on her, and her arrows. The quiver was not that of a climber, and she almost let her whole bundle fall below her. She went through much to get these, and didn’t wish to lose them, or the time to pick them back up.

Saxani heard him, or maybe it was a her, breathing. The Myrian was breathing shallowly, and sounded as if in pain. The shivering breaths outward suggested agony, in fact, as if fighting a mortal wound. “I’m here for you, brother,” Saxani said in Myrian tongue once more, careful to fight her snake tongue accent.

“Shhh… Come, quick.” The Myrian woman called back to Saxani in her most calm and quiet voice. Saxani felt she had more to say, and knew well of her silence. The tiger roars in the distance had grown more frequent. Saxani saw the branch more she had to scale before she was in reach of the Myrian. The curvature of the tree did not permit her to shoot, unless she went further out on the limb. That wasn’t happening!

The Dhani latched onto the final branch and pulled her body a bit closer, her arms well over as to not fall. The branches were strong on the well lived trees of Falyndar. Saxani felt them bend under her, but they would hold. She had the close place between this branch and the last to actually jump up and swing her leg over. The night was coming, and this face of the tree was covered in shadow.

I see you, sister almost slipped through her lips. Her apparent gasping was hidden by her climb and heavy breathing. “I’m here,” Saxani told the Myrian.

“They’ve surrounded us. Zinrah is broken loose. I don’t feel well at all. There’s something inside of me. Cut it out, please just cut it out!/[color]”

“Ssshhh, ssshhh, you are well. Tell me what happened here. We come from Taloba. We are here,” Saxani lied to the Myrian.

“[color=yellow]It was the storm. They were swept away with the wind. Nothing but their weapons and armor remained. Sister, help me, cut this out from my chest. I cannot breathe with it. I know not why I still suffer. How long has it been? I feel I’ve been here for days. The Dhani are all around us. We are surrounded, sister, we must go. Come closer, please help me…”

Saxani knew she had earned the Myrian’s trust and ventured closer. Her mask had worked. Saxani went to move closer and grab hold of the Myrian. She swung out a knife aimed for Saxani’s skull, the Dhani ducking, then laying back on her branch. The knife was driven deep into the bark. The Myrian cursed her, “So clever, Dhani, but only so clever. ‘Shhh, shhh,’ that is how we say. You are all dead! Myri will come for you, Taloba will come for you! Die Dhani!” The Myrian cried to her last. Saxani drew her bow and an arrow, and shot it through the Myrian’s chest. The snake-lady was breathing more than before. At least it got her close. Saxani reached for the dead corpse and pulled her over the branch, letting her fall to the jungle floor. Saxani saw nothing else in the tree for looting.

Saxani dug out the knife and began to shift forms. Taking out her tie, and then holding tight to the branch still unsure of how her shifting might doom here now, Saxani transformed her tail. Her skin became scaled again and she could see clearly in the coming darkness. With her tail able to coil the branches and stem of the tree, Saxani found greater ease in slipping down to the ground.

Saxani was unable to retrieve her arrow. It snapped in the impact, under the Myrian’s weight, ripping through her chest. The bloodied feathers were dripping. “Let’ss ssee what we have here…” Saxani stripped the Myrian of anything she saw worth in. The savage women had traveled light from her post, sickened by the storm. Saxani wondered why this one was spared the fate of nonexistence, being swept away in the wind, as she took away the garments of the Myrian, her headpiece, bones, and clothing. These would make for a much more convincing disguise than her harness. Other than the knife, she had been unarmed. She slipped it on her harness and left the corpse for the jungle. This one did not deserve to join those worn by Saxani around her neck.

Saxani retreated back to Salar, and the other few Dhani that accompanied her. Saxani confirmed the situation to them all, “The Myrians are dead…or ill. I do not know why this is, but the storm had swept them away with its divine winds. Others have been spared. I hear the tigers roaring still, and fear the worst for Zinrah with such beasts running about. The Myrians hide well in these wilds, but so do we, my siblings. Think like a savage, this time, in where you would hide your cowardice. Take what we can for Zinrah, and only what we need. We shall send you back with what excess we find, Salar and I will press forward with the rest. I need a vanguard.

“The Myrians might be dead, my siblings, but the wilds are still very much alive. Keep your wits about you, and have no folly. Siku is watching us…” Saxani dug out her arrow from the tree. The tip would need to be sharpened. She began to carve out her own path around Zinrah next, actively searching for any straggling or ill Myrians like the one she had just dispatched. She knew her siblings, if wise, would obey her word. This was not her first season in the wilds. The tiger roars filling the air when birds would not. The blockade was in chaos, and ripe with loot for Zinrah.

OOCFeel free to give me a little more, Sal. We're just going to sweep out as much as the ruins as we can, even into the night if we are permitted. Who knows what the wilds have in store for us? Just don't hijack and lead us totally off track, ye'?

by **Kara Sunderwater** on June 18th, 2012, 9:02 am

In the back of his mind, Salar recoiled at the unspoken rebuke. Now was the time for a swift strike, charged with the might of Zinrah, before the Myrians could reinforce their broken blockade! Not to play with meaningless, dead Myrians.

If she wanted to treat this like a hunt, fine. But when Saxani then switched to a message of haste and speed, the affront became greater. What he had urged, moments ago and been chastised for, was unacceptable but the same message now from her own lips was? After playing with a dying Myrian?

Salar kept his tongue and anger in check. Publicly arguing would do none of them any good. Not when time was of the essence.

He followed Saxani, angered by the wound to his pride. And he would have challenged her plan if not for the scent of blood on the air. None of the others gave a hint of it so Salar paused, glancing around for the direction. It was unmistakeably blood that he smelled and tasted in the air. But where? Where were you?

Salar examined the jungle floor around him. It had to be near, if no one else could sense it. "Blood trail," he spoke to the others in their tongue. He pointed his halberd at the faint trail of dark red leading into the bushes. "Saxani, with me. You lot, continue onwards." Salar spoke with an aggressive manner. He needed to kill something, violently. And soon. The Myrian on the other end of this had better be alive for him to hack to pieces.

He slithered forwards, lowering his height as a Dhani but still clasping his halberd in his right hand. With his strength, the weapon was not very heavy but it was difficult to wield without a second hand. Single-handedly, the halberd served as a spear of sorts but that limited its use. With both hands, Salar could hack, thrust or pull the enemy towards him. Salar paused for a moment to see Saxani was following or if she had decided to override him.

by **Sashisaxani** on July 8th, 2012, 6:27 am

Now, in a perfect world, there is a plan, a design if you will. Within that design there are parts big and small that come together for a grand design indeed, no doubt. Part of that design is typically a hierarchy, oh in this case let’s say a matriarch society. Now, when the female in charge lays down the plan for those below her, whether she be barking or reaching for her followers’ interests, there’s still a plan to be followed. More often than not, Saxani would bet, that plan wasn’t born from that individual, but somewhere higher up. This was not one of those instances, thankfully, otherwise Saxani’s every action would be later scrutinized and reprimanded for failure. Rather, now she had free reign to apply her creative leadership skills. Doesn’t have any? Well isn’t that just too bad… A half witted sadist can get someone below him to follow orders; she would be able to manage herself.

A when at which time is limited, certainly action is necessarily, and swift action at that. This Salar, however, was ignoring a key point in Saxani’s actions. These were wild jungles not to be trifled with. They didn’t know what to expect, and frankly, he was out of place to question her many seasons more in the wilds. But hey, speak as you wish, she wouldn’t bite anyone’s tongue. They could expect the proper punishment for it in due time, say that same tongue being cut out. Salar didn’t need that tongue of his to hunt, and he certainly wasn’t making good use of it now.

The blood trail had been over looked. The words that came from Salar were noted. He kept talking though, and starting to dig what might be his grave. Now, it was pretty clear she had just ordered her siblings to fan out and check for more feeble Myrian half-breeds who might be lurking the wilds yet. It was also crystal clear she told Salar to go with her…no? Let’s take a second look at those grand designs. Saxani was all over this now: There is Zinrah, her home and keeper, rules by Snhamtanabis her Queen, and then Queens under her, and then all other females, and then males and snakelings, at a glance. A lot had seemed to suddenly change with the storm, the sky its vibrant hues, and the jungle is overgrowth, but…but this hierarchy was not among those changes. Zinrah might have broken from its chains, but there was still order amongst the Dhani, a precious thing Saxani kept an eye on. And, let her tell you herself, no half-witted male with his arms swinging wildly through the jungles was going to tell her what to do, let alone her troop. Disruption of the chain of command spelled out thousands of problems she didn’t need to deal with. Overly cautious or not, Salar was stepping out of his bounds and she was intent on setting him straight.

Saxani looked at her siblings and firmly nodded. She gave her orders; they could choose who to follow and who to ignore. The choice was obvious, no? She then gave Salar her fullest attention, as it seemed he wanted it so bad as to tell her to come along. If he was leading the charge as she asked, very well. They needed to keep to the perimeter inevitably though. They would follow the trail, check it out, come back and be on their way as a whole group. Somewhere in there, she’d restore order as necessary.

Saxani held back her malice all she could. The smirk on her face could be mistaken for any sickly intent. The height of her chest spoke much more of her piping anger. Look big, look fierce, shred faces. It worked… Patience, Saxani knew patience in the fight was very important. Lacking of such cost her fertility and she dared not chance what was next on her list of self sacrifices. Saxani drew an arrow and readied herself. With a firm nod toward Sal, she signaled her approval (as if it meant anything to this bone head) and let him take the lead momentarily.

The blood trail was very obvious now that Salar had given attention to it. From the looks of it, the source at the end of the trail was just about as ready for death as the last one. Hopefully, and we stress the hope in such a scenario, there was something of value at the end too. Time, precious time, so demanding of patience, was dwindling. The tigers were roaring, and roaming rampant by now, for sure. Saxani was observing and checking her sides with the back secured. Salar took the vanguard as ordered. Oh look, he did something right? Hot flippin’ joy. Saxani’s blood was boiling. Patience, patience my sweet… All in due time. She rubbed her finger down the arrow shaft, ready to pluck her string for the heart of her enemy.

by **Kara Sunderwater** on July 10th, 2012, 12:36 am

Salar would have to remember this. The shoddy failure of a female attempting to lead them. This went beyond caution. Fear held her back. Fear of the unknown. Of the wilds that was their home. There were always wild tigers, even without the Myrians. What was there that was so out of the ordinary? If the Dhani could not overcome it, they deserved to be devoured by it. If they grew afraid of it, like Saxani seemed to be, the Dhani had no claim to the land. This was their land, their birthright. A tiger was deadly. So was a Constrictor. Neither was invincible. The prospect of such a contest suited Salar to a tee. Strength and animal cunning matched against each other. No fancy schemes or hidden meanings like what Saxani and some of the other females enjoyed.

Strength determined worth and as experienced as Saxani was, she was still very young. The only respect she commanded from Salar was by dint of her gender. As far as he was concerned, there were other females he would prefer to work with. Ones who knew how to command the strong and lead them into battle. Ones who knew to work with their strengths and weaknesses. Not skulk and talk about opportunities while holding them back. Salar admitted openly that he was not a great thinker by far, that his gifts were physical and not mental. But he knew the difference between a good leader and a bad one, like Saxani. Not that Salar considered himself a good leader; only a follower.

The trail they followed wound through the jungle floor for a short distance. Salar moved deliberately, not slowly, but paid careful mind to his path as well as the direction he was headed. Moving in daylight still made him edgy, despite everything he had seen. The air seemed thicker than usual, heavy with anticipation. The heat was hardly noticeable but the smells were most intriguing. With each change in the wind, Salar caught whiffs of bile, blood and death. The other denizens of the jungle wilds were probably beginning their own hunts.

He held up a hand to stop Saxani and pointed ahead. All that they could see was more thick jungle. Salar had heard labored breathing ahead. Not just one. There sounded like there were more. Now that they found something, it was Saxani's turn. She, after all, was the head of their little group. Salar would not steal that from her.

by **Sashisaxani** on July 17th, 2012, 5:58 am

Her tongue flickered. The source of the blood was undeniable at such close proximity. The blood that littered the jungle floor was not quite so fresh, though it had led them to something very much alive. The cells of the soon-to-be-dead Myrians began to dry and die.

Saxani blinked, the twilight lighting starting to fail at the coming hour. Through the canopy, the final rays of daylight were reaching. Within minutes, Syna would set over the horizon. Leth was already taking his place among the stars as the eastern sky began to blanket the world in darkness. It was at this point Saxani decided to rely on her alternative vision. The once crystal clear visions of her eyes began to change and the thermal images took over. The jungle was alive in more ways than she had seen before. Further ahead, there was a stream of blood, something fresh, something warm. The Myrians seemed to think getting off the jungle floor they could defend themselves a bit more. The Dhani duo would put that to the test.

Following behind Salar was a relief. It was one less side to look out for in the jungle. She was overly concerned with her rear though, rightfully. Dhani as ambush predators were just another group of followers to the trend. With tigers running around, she was overly sensitive to the noises around her, else she get caught in the tiger’s maw. What Saxani didn’t know was Salar’s thoughts of her. It was for their mutual benefit, for the moment. For as young as she was, she was doing a fine job compared to any other. She was in this business to save lives, not lose them recklessly.

Salar’s hand came up to signal. Saxani almost laughed aloud. She came up beside him, looking forward as he pointed. Saxani was not deaf, she heard the sounds. She too smelled the fluids in the air, and saw the heat of them in the jungle night. More importantly yet, she knew the danger ahead, and had her bow at the ready. Salar had brought them this far, and the blood thirst was practically screaming out of his every pore. She considered the moment at hand, and how she wanted to handle it, being the terrible leader she was. The Dhani’s barking for her to follow had not slipped her mind, even along their path.

She didn’t give it too much thought actually. With a nudge of her head, and a grin, she cut Salar loose. The Myrian she encountered in the tree had been pathetic. As much as she wanted to gather information on what had happened, Salar needed to be sated before they could continue along as she intended. She dreaded a fang’s tiger coming upon them. The roars were getting louder still. With her, er, “order” given, Saxani fell back to reposition herself for a clear shot. With archery, positioning was key. Learning how to shoot had always been the first challenge in her novice days. She was expanding her horizons now… though not too much.

Saxani considered the place the Myrians were hung out, their fluids freshly marking the jungle floor. She was sure that by now they were armed and dangerous. There might have even been a trap or two if they mustered the strength. The thick foliage of the jungle kept her options for disguise open, but she needed a clear shot as well, just in case things became bitter for Salar. To her right was her original planned course. It was a large tree which she could scale with ease, and clear from the Myrians’ vision. Its branches extended far and wide the further up it went. It was a large, old tree. With that note, it had seemed to dwarf everything around it, sapping the nutrients for itself. Even among flora, only the fittest seemed to survive. She hoped there would be a branch overhanging to the next tree she wanted to get to. From there she could move across the whole line and find a place to stick a Myrian with her arrows. She just hoped she’d have a thing of stealth in the process…

She started on the tree. It was far too wide for her to scale with weapon in hand. Her arrow was sheathed, and her bow slung over herself. It was a crude process as her scales grabbed hold and rubbed again the bark. She started by coming close to the tree, her coils bunched together. She had clear sights on a branch much further up. While her body seemed frozen in time, her mind was racing over the thought. She snapped, her body lunging upward and her claws latching onto the tree as she grabbed hold of the branch. She pulled herself up, her coil gripping across the tree wide, expanding and contracting as she slid up and got her tail and body over the branch. Her whole torso swirled over the branch as she grabbed hold. It waved in the air, her heavy body testing its strength. She needed to go up again before she could cross over. From there onward, it was simple. She could scale the trees like she contracted around her prey.

The branch was within reach. Her muscular body grabbed hold of the inner branch, rolling over and under itself as she hung her upper body over the open air and reached for the branch. Something moved in the brush below her unnoticed. The sound of the brush sent her on high alert, though she did not call to Salar. Her bow was drawn from her back, her arrow in the string. She was ready to tug back and send the arrow forth. Her body hung lower to reach out from the base of the tree and look below, although she struggled to keep her quiver upright. It was nothing… and she resumed her climb. Taking her time to sheath her weapon yet again, she grabbed hold of the branch and pulled herself in closer, her coils twisting around as she moved over the limb. It was a test of dexterity worth noting as she fought the creaking branches and rushing leaves that might tip off the Myrians.

Saxani reached with her claws for the branch of the neighboring tree, her middle body making an odd “S” shape as she adjusted and moved forward and back around the branch to secure herself. Her scales rubbed over the branch the wrong way, the leaves rustling. She stopped dead; her eyes closed as she looked back for the leaves and adjusted her course accordingly. Saxani was in the other tree half way as she began scaling over to the next for optimal positioning. She drew her bow and arrow as she settled in the last tree. She found the branch that hung out towards the Myrians. It reached out to the left a bit, and a branch stretched out to block her view in some places, but it would do. Considering she wasn’t up close and personal with the Myrians, it would work. The blood was dripping down the tree, and she saw them clearly, huddled somewhat. She couldn’t make out exactly what was up there from her position, only she knew with a good tug she could deliver a kill blow if needed. The Dhani needed to make a sacrifice to see what was happening.

Moving out from the main trunk, Saxani reached out from the branch and let her body uses its incredible strength to suspend herself outward. She wasn’t more than a few feet from the branch, but she felt the strain in her muscles, and it felt so good. The Dhani prepared to draw and shoot as needed to cover Salar. He had yet to engage the Dhani from her point of view, but she was ready. Her extension shifted the branches, not making much more noise than a monkey would have. Still, she knew the mentality the Myrians had. Her previous encounter made it thoroughly obvious that they were on the brink of death, and would fight for their lives till the end. From here she could provide a distraction if needed, be it a hiss to draw off attention, a stray arrow, or even some malevolent impersonation of a dying comrade. Her Myrian was passable, but she had work to do. Practice made the difference, surely.

Saxani looked at Salar for his affirmation of position. When he was ready, she’d give the signal to begin. She just wanted to be efficient in what she did. Big snakes in the jungle were dangerous. They lurk the shadows until they can move no more, then wait as the prey comes near, then once they’re close enough, they strike. The bite hurts, but is but a distraction as the coils gather round and crush the breath from the prey. Slowly, surely, the prey is caught and undone. Add that mentality to a sentient Dhani. Killing has never been more meticulous. Saxani grinned knowing Siku’s bidding was being done.

Praise to Siku for this opportunity. Sashisaxani bowed her head to Salar knowing well he was ready then. She watched from above as she orchestrated the Myrians’ demise, and planned to catch any straggler.

OOC :

by **Kara Sunderwater** on July 21st, 2012, 2:14 am

Salar looked to Saxani and watched as she climbed to her vantage point. It would be a lie if Salar said that he was not momentarily distracted by the female above him. A pain in the tail she may be, but he had to admit that she was a pretty pain. It was almost a pity that she was infertile. Almost. Salar still rankled at his treatment but that was the way of life. Fairness was for the weak. Fairness was a luxury.

But the business at hand was deadly serious and Sal could ill afford to turn his attention away from the Myrians and the Wilds. He returned his attention to their prey and slowed his breathing. Salar licked the air to get a sense of direction. Which way was the wind blowing from? A couple more licks gave him the answer. He was slightly downwind, which masked his scent to those wretched Myrians, and he hoped that they were more concerned with their own sufferings than to keep an eye out for danger.

Salar bent himself low, slithering across the jungle floor carefully to reposition himself. He made sure to follow the floor where there were no twigs, no leaves, nothing which would give away his own silent slithering. If the Myrians knew how close he was, the hunter would turn into the hunted. So that required stealth and precision.

Even now, he could hear the Myrians bemoaning their lot. That was what they got for being Myrians. Not the Chosen of Siku. This was their land and Salar was not going to surrender it to them tamely. With that said, Salar decided he was in a good position. From where he was, the opportunity to strike was ideal, in his reckoning.

After a final check to ensure that Saxani, that vile vixen, was in position, Salar raised himself to his full height. The female Dhani was above him and if her bow was as sharp as she claimed it to be, then these Myrians were next to join the long line to the realm of the dead.

At his full height, Salar towered over a trio of moaning Myrians sitting around in a circle with herbs scattered between them. His arrival was announced by the sudden crashing through the jungle and the swing of his halberd. To their credit, or perhaps Salar's poor handling, the halberd's axe-head missed. But the force of the swing had separated the Myrian trio and Salar's charge had brought him into the center of their group so that they now circled him. Two of them, male warriors, were armed with knives. The third, a female and probably their leader, was holding a spear at him. From the pained expressions on their faces and the shaky way they held their weapons, the Myrians were not at their best. They were weakened. Salar was not going to let this opportunity pass. He made a grin, mimicking their human features. He was still in control here, despite being outnumbered. If he could not best three weak, wounded Myrians, then he deserved to die right here.

He thrust the halberd's spear point at the Myrian female. If Saxani was watching him, he trusted her enough to watch the two males. Where he lacked in skill or accuracy with the weapon, he made up for it with sheer brute force. The spear point missed but the axe-head came dangerously close to cutting into the female. Salar pulled the halberd back, again narrowly missing the Myrian female. She thrust at his head, he simply bent his body. A second thrust, he parried with sturdy halberd.

Behind him, one of the knife-wielding males attempted to stab Salar in the back. As he got close, Salar's tailed slid along the jungle floor and knocked the man onto his hands and knees. Normally, such a maneuver wouldn't have even bothered a Myrian warrior. But these were sick and dying warriors, sapped of their strength. And if they were weak, then they would be conquered by the strong!

OOC :

by **Sashisaxani** on August 7th, 2012, 12:48 am

OOCThat’s more like it. Don’t sell yourself so short. Make the story your own, be GM and PC together, a healthy balance.

Saxani tugged on her string lightly as Salar engaged, feeling the tension build to a firm hold. She was confident in the ability of any Dhani, and truly disappointed to have seen Salar miss. The fight began, the Dhani taking the front of the damage with the Myrians encircling him, their fevered grunts and calls making a scene in the jungle. Saxani wanted to put them down soon. Their position was already given away.

Time was so important in these moments. Saxani calmed herself, steadied her breathing, and took firm hold of her weapon. In a breath she puff her chest and held still, the string being pulled back its fullest length in a single stroke, the Dhani’s eyes set for the chest of a male Myrian behind Salar. The man had some other intent than stabbing him in the back, and Saxani knew she could not wait to discover what – no matter how much she’d like to see Salar suffer for his arrogance. The pause…the arrow tip directed for his heart… and release. The tip when spiraling for the Myrian; falling, falling, it stabbed into his gut and twisting around, a critical shot yet. Saxani hissed from the trees while drawing another arrow – time, so precious - giving herself away in the darkness. The hit man looked up, though be began to stagger from the shot. The grounded Myrian was next, alas Salar got in her way.

The bloodied Myrian trying to escape her was not unnoticed. Saxani repeated, drawing the string back more if she could without snapping it, and tilting the bow up just a smidge. The arrow released and pegged him in the chest. Blood, air, and screams escaped from his lungs. The man didn’t have much longer. Now, for that other male…

Saxani lacked the angle to shoot. She let her body hang out more, and though she hugged the tree’s base, left herself fairly insecure in the limbs of the tree. She got around facing the man who not forced himself to his feet, drawing her own arrow in preparation. Saxani was drawing back when something nipped her in the butt, a sharp sting that made her lose all focus, and fall from the tree. Before totally crashing to the ground, her body was slowed in its descent as a counter weight held her back. There was something on her tail, driving its teeth and claws into her – yet unaware of just what it had caught.

Saxani let out a terrifying howl, some screeching of pain the snake body felt the need to let out. So much for stealth, though she had been dethroned from her branch as it was… The Dhani’s massive form slithered across the floor back to her rear end, leaving her bow out in the open back where she landed, along with a misplaced arrow. Saxani found a large feline grabbing hold of her. Needless to say, Saxani was now preoccupied with more immediate threats while Salar dueled the remaining Myrians. Her mind left him, and refocused what it could on the three inches of teeth digging into her from all angles.

While Salar dealt with the Myrians as he could, Saxani was occupied with the predator, a big cat, possibly a jaguar. The monstrous bite was threatening to leave her short a chunk of her tail, blood left then to rush out into the jungle for more prey to come after. Saxani knew the danger of this beast outweighed that of a Myrian’s in direct combat, though she had no time to outthink the beast. She moved swiftly with her own bite and claw. The Dhani were strong, constrictors of all them, and Saxani showed the cat why.

It took effort, but the snake circled around her own back end quicker than the jaguar could react. It dug in more, but Saxani had other plans as it was. Her arms weaved over the beast, through its front end and over its snout. She pressed down to bring the beasts mouth shot and closed, as well as to put its head to the chest. She’d break the top jaw if that’s what it took. She began to gently secure her grip, pulling the cat off as it let go. Its own claws were soon digging for her arms and side to get out of her serpent grasp, in vain alas. Now that she was tended to, the pain still throbbing, she would enact her fit of spite.

Her coils took to the beast and ceased its futile clawing. Even so close to her skin, the flexing of the claws were nothing compared to her coiling hold. She enveloped the cat, took hold at every point she could grab the cat, and began to pull. The neck and head were extended upward, the torso held still, and the bottom end pulled down. The whining of the helpless cat echoed behind the brush where the Myrians – and Salar – could not see. Saxani held on and pulled; her eyes were wide with the craving of blood and possibly a meal. The faint popping of joints, and the cracking of bones, were soon emitted from the scuffle, and the whines were no more. The cat was dead.

After a brief recovery, Saxani went to retrieve her bow and quiver, and clean up after Salar if he was unfit to handle a few Myrians. The corpse of the cat was being dragged in her left claw as she approached the previous conflict.

by **Kara Sunderwater** on August 15th, 2012, 8:32 pm

Salar heard the impact of Saxani's arrow as it flew true to strike the Myrian behind him. The spear to his front was shaking as the strength of its wielder was sapped with each moment. Myrian females may be the deadlier of the genders in their society but this one was anything but terrifying. Then again, if Salar's siblings were correct in their judgment of him, he was too dumb to be scared. Regardless, though, this female was weakening just trying to hold the spear in a proper fighting position.

With a provocative hiss, Salar drove the axe-head of his halberd into the back of the Myrian male whom he had tripped. Warm blood flowed freely as the Myrian screamed his death throes. Salar hissed again, provoking the female to strike at him while he toyed with her male companion. The female Myrian thrust at Salar's chest. He easily swatted the shaft of the weapon away. This time, the strike lacked speed or power. Salar noted how it lacked any of the deadliness from earlier. He concluded that it meant that the woman was on her last legs. But, the female was clearing running on desperation. Her sense of self-preservation was fully functioning. She could not run, so like a cornered tiger cub, she was going to fight to the end.

As she pulled the spear back, Salar swung the halberd in a wide arc and downwards onto the female. Without the energy to dodge, she simply held the shaft above her head to block the strike. The axe-head buried itself into the shaft and Salar knew better than to try to wrest it out. Now, his predatory instincts cried out and the large Dhani launched himself at the weak female.

The shock on her face was quickly replaced by more of her scowling, desperate hate and anger. Salar easily outweighed her by a large margin and the mass of muscle slammed her into the ground. Out of nowhere, the Myrian held a dagger up, trying to stab Salar while he tried to twist her arm and gain control of the blade. Or break her hands. He would settle for either.

"Fun fun! Die die!" Salar taunted in his poor Myrian tongue. If anything, that added a final bit of resolve into the Myrian to take the Constrictor with her. And for a moment, their strength was equal and Salar found himself, begrudgingly, acknowledging that she was doing very well despite her illness. But then, without warning, the Myrian's strength began to fade and went limp.

Her eyes rolled up into their sockets and as if straining for a last gasp of air, her mouth moved soundlessly. The dagger clattered to the jungle floor unceremoniously as the Myrian warrior died. It was so anti-climatic, she died before he could deal the final blow. And not from any injury he had given her, but from whatever disease was afflicting them. Salar wanted to smash the Myrian's face in, her rolled eyes and gaping mouth seemed to be taunting, daring him to do it. This wasn't his kill and for a moment, they had been equally matched so Salar wouldn't destroy the body. He'd let the jungle have it.

Slowly, he got off and was about to begin looting it when Saxani came back with her own prize. He bowed his head to acknowledge her presence and asked, "You are unhurt?"