Conceptions (Bloodfight)

[Razkar]

8th Day of Winter, 512AV

One thing Razkar had learned since his arrival in Cyphrus was that the Sea of Grass was monumentally deceptive to look at from the walls of Riverfall. From those heights it looks the very picture of vast, unchanging tranquility. An endless field of swaying, dancing grass, split only by the wide caravan trail snaking towards the city. The wind blew intricate patterns in it hundreds of feet across, stretching outwards the the horizon. It looked peaceful, sedate and beautiful...

It was the last one. But not the first two.

Like any ocean, Razkar had learned, under the placid surface were monsters and beasts that could bring down Myrian Tigers. Patches of the world that mocked reality. Bands of raiders that even Myrians would call savages. Winged men, abominations that boiled from the very earth...

No. Very deceptive, and he remembered that every time he went hunting.

Oh, and he smelled like deer, too.

The vial of scent in his trapper kit had been pungent and perfect, just what he'd needed. He couldn't believe he'd been rubbing deer droppings on himself the whole time, when he had that stuff right there! Well... probably because he couldn't read Common that well back then. But that had changed, too.

Now he squatted under the camouflage tarp that covered his body and matched almost perfectly with the yellow and brown grass surrounding him. Maybe fifty yards away the grass was bent to the sides, as if animals had shouldered their way through. Upon closer inspection, he'd found that they had.

Just like when he was out with Saib: deer tracks. Back and forth, probably to a pond or stream and then back again to where they bedded down. Too long had he gone without fresh deer meat, and a good-sized buck or doe would give him food enough for weeks. So he had found his spot, set apart from the trail, and waited...

... and listened.

Things moved and slithered around him. His ax and gladius were stuck into the ground on either side of him, ready for use. An arrow was already notched in the bow resting in his still hands. He had barely moved, and now Razkar felt his breathing slow... his heartbeat slow... and steady...

Something moved along the path. Unseen but approaching under the waning sun. Something... large...

Slowly, moving as best he could as the grass did with every passing gust, he raised his bow... and aimed...

[Bloodfight]

The halfling had been travelling many a mile in search of prey, through the grasses he was crouched and on all fours. Stepping lightly and sniffing much like a dog to the trail of another animals scent, listening for the heart beat of creatures nearby. Bloodfight peeked his head out of the grasses once or twice, to skim the horizon of the grasses around him, he did not have to worry about losing his way this time. His stench was strong enough to leave remnants the way he had came, and he was on a roll now, he was certain he was on the trail of an on the move food animal. Though where was it? Bloodfight didn't know- there was one which bled into the ground and went in direct pathes and then one from much farther away. Sifting through the grasses, he listened to the rustles that were made, the light noises he caused as he moved through them. For such a big halfling, Bloodfight was beginning to lose most of his cover as the grasses would become shorter, forcing him to lower himself more. It was a degrading way to hunt, he was sure that those with wings had a much easier time just being in the sky and dropping down onto their prey from above, he swore he could imagine him doing it too- if only he had his superiour brother and sisters wings of flight. Alas he did not, and he had to make do with legs, and traps, yet what his snares provided, and his mulch grew- was not going to be enough. Pausing, Bloodfight took a moment to look around, the scent was getting stronger- he was sure it was deer. But it was everywheres, going in zig zags, circles, and whirls around the grass, he could see where the deer had walked so he got closer to the small pathes made. He looked to the ground and could not tell which way the animals had went, their scent was intoxicating though, it made his stomach growl almost violently outloud. It was beginning to become dark, the animals would have to sleep, so if necessary he could just back track his way to them and then take them while they slept. He took in how the stalks of the grass were bent, how some looked to be snapped in one seeming direction.. Perhaps the way the stalk had bent, was the way they had gone? Perking up, he looked around himself, feeling watched; much like an animal of prey- Bloodfight regarded the landscape with suspicion. The air around him was too quiet, barring the light whistles of the wind, and the rustles of grass caressed by said wind, everything was stand still. Bloodfights body was very tense, his ears strained, he could hear a heart beat- very faint, very far away until finally it was drowned out by his surroundings. The halflings eyes began to scan from afar until finally they picked up a glint of light, the suns rays had reflected off something metal, or at least something shiny. It was small, and alluring to him. He found himself mesmerized by the shinyness of the metal, and began to make his way towards it to investigate it slowly. Getting closer, he saw the silhouette of a man holding a wood-string weapon that shot sharp objects. Bloodfight for the life of him couldn't remember what the weapon was called, but he didn't care- it was aimed at him by a mean looking, piece of life. Bloodfights heart seemed to come to a dead stop, as he stood up from his crouched figure to his two legs, knees only slightly bent, hands and arms slightly spaced from his body as he got ready to dodge. Holding his hands up lightly, he would throw himself to the side the moment the man would make any sudden movements- or if he heard that twang the wood-string weapon made. It was his only hope if he were going to make a sprint for safety and back where he came from... But maybe the oncoming darkness would make the human reconsider? Bloodfight doubted he could see very well in the dark, and his darkly furred body would be hard to pinpoint exactly, only his oddly colored red hair, with the plain white streak would stand out from his body in the dying light. Amongst gold eyes that studied his... Probable opponent with the dreaded wood-string weapon. "Zithanese" "Common" "Pavi" Thoughts

[Razkar]

It was on two legs. That was what Razkar quickly realized as the shape loomed larger and closer and clearer from the grass. But it only changed his plan marginally.

A Drykas? Unlikely. They were rarely if ever off their mounts in the Sea. Travellers? Even less likely. Travelling into the Sea, off the caravan route, was practically suicide? Another hunter? More likely, but...

Fur. Not skin. It shone in waves across the figure's body, the only gasps being a darker maw of a mouth ringed with teeth and dark, almost animal eyes...

Everything snapped to focus as the two beings finally made eye contact, the Myrian and the...

Zith, Razkar realized, memories of winged monster he'd fought and killed last season rushing before his eyes, it's a Zith.

He fired.

The arrow was rocketed from the compound bow with incredible speed, just as it darted to the side. He'd never be able to notch another in time, so before the arrow had even struck its target he flung the bow to one side, hands jerking downwards to fill his hands-

With gladius and hand ax gripped tight, Razkar burst up and forwards from his crouch and raced towards the creature. His eyes shone with perverse lust, battle and hunt joined and moulded and made into one glorious event by the grace of Myri, it seemed.

An enemy to be slain, and a meal to be had, all at once.

Perfect.

[Bloodfight]

The halfling heard the twang of the wood-string weapon, but the shaft which shot at him was faster than he could react and ended up lodged into his shoulder, between his chest, and the beginning of the joint and close to the collar bone. It plunged into his skin, pierced his flesh, and burned worse than the sun to his eyes did. Bloodfight had gone to the side, but now he was trying to run, obviously trying to 'seem' human hadn't worked and now he was paying the price for it. He had tried to turn and begin running, slipping on his heel in the grass to awkwardly land on his side, arm up to shield himself, turned just as the myrian would come at him. Bloodfight held onto the shaft of the arrow between where it was lodged and where it protruded, he turned, and saw the myrian on him with weapons ready he screamed in his common speech, animalistic screeches "NO! ME KNOW DEER WHERE ARE!" He tried to form into a sentence, he tried to break the arrow where it was but found the shaft to be extremely hard to bend when in pain, so he tried to roll away, trying to keep distance away from the myrians strikes, it was of futile attempts "CAN LEAD THEM YOU TO!" He got ready for the finishing blow, this would be it for the halfling, for all the days he had survived on his own- he would be dead within a matter of seconds. Curling, he tried to become a ball, he regressed into a childish state of mind, the only action he knew when he felt helpless. He waited, and waited, but... When nothing happened, he peeked from his balled up body, adrenaline and fear more than less proving to be a great anti-pain combination. How pitiful was it that a half zith, a zith, with human blood, was now reduced to a ball of fur and fear; only his human blood screamed out it's instinct to be afraid of this... this creature... "Bloodfight know where deer are, can smell them- not smelly creature you that smell like them.." He peeped out from his limbs, the 'human' smelled different, now up close, he had deer mixed on him and human flesh, hair, other such creatures flesh and hair, he could smell it, he smelled of death yet was not undeath, he was a hunter- that much was for certain, but he didn't smell human...he smelled... more fiercer than those silly humans "there lots of them, nearby." "Zithanese" "Common" "Pavi" Thoughts

[Razkar]

He'd aimed for the heart but, alas, he was not quite the Drykas yet. The arrow took the furry Zith high and to the side, slamming through its shoulder and bearing it to the ground. Not a clean kill, but...

Razkar grinned as he closed the gap, ax and sword singing in his hands.

A nice wet one. Wonderful.

He towered over the prostrate, bleeding creature, raised his ax and-

"NO! ME KNOW DEER WHERE ARE! CAN LEAD THEM YOU TO!"

Red mist was descending over Razkar's eyes, but it did not blind him. The sweet, wet joy of an imminent death and collected scalp pulled him, sang through him, but he did not strike. He was not a Yukman or a glassbeak: he was a warrior, and warrior's thought. So when he heard words, actual real Common words babbled forth from the terrified creature, he stayed his hand... and listened.

"Bloodfight know where deer are, can smell them- not smelly creature you that smell like them... there lots of them, nearby."

The words tumbled out and through the mist and into Razkar's mind. And as he listened, he looked closer. The Zith he had slaughtered before had merely been shaped like men. Their wings and fangs and thick fur and animal eyes betrayed them for what they were. But this creature... it did not have the long fangs. It's eyes were full of... mind, was the only word he had. Not just low cunning or animal rage. A real... human intelligence. The words were evidence of it.

And there were no wings. No wings and hort fur that looked more like full-body stubble than the coat of a monster. It wore clothing, too...

Slowly, almost painfully, he lowered his ax, but kept both weapons close. Razkar was no stranger to trickery on the battlefield, and while he would give this unusual... thing a chance, he would not lower his guard entirely.

"You..." he said slowly, enunciating his Common as well as he could through his guttural, grating Myrian accent, "... not... not... all Zith? Speak. Have clothes..."

He frowned, drawing his brows together and trying to work this out. The babble of talk about deer would be addressed soon, but here was a much more interesting conundrum. A new species, perhaps? Well, new to Razkar, and that was enough.

The fact this creature had an arrow through it hardly crossed his mind. He would get to that when it suited him.

"What are you?"

[Bloodfight]

Now, Bloodfight couldn't tell how many there were, he had been spitting words out in hopes that would catch the smelly creatures attention and not kill him. They would have to actually track them down, to see if there was 'a lot' of deer. Though, with the scent of deer mixed in with death on this smelly creature, Bloodfight was becoming more uncertain by the chime that there were any deer nearby in the dirst place. It could have all been a ruse on the smelly creatures part, to lure other creatures in. He had his hand raised slightly up, shielding his upper body and head as best as he could, the claws which were dirty, were also long and sharp looking. With the smelly creature being closer, he noticed the tattoos, and the odd piercings in his face. Its facial expressions were thoughtful, as if he were considering Bloodfights words. Its words were deep, they were hard to understand, even for Bloodfight but he caught most of it. Zith being the most prominent word that he understood coming from the smelly creature, the halfling nodded very slowly, as if to convey that what the man was saying was correct. Hissing in pain, he attempted to pull the arrow out again, his body tensed up at the pain, until finally he managed to get the bloody thing out with a sharp jerk that made his sharp teeth grit together. Throwing the arrow to the side, he grunted his words out "dunno, Bloodfight is Bloodfight, just.. Zith.. Look like.. But not" he covered the wound where the arrow had once been, attempting to put pressure on it to keep it from bleeding, smelling his own blood in the air always made him nervous, "what you, smelly creature? Man? Human flesh bag? Something else?" His nose scrunched up, he wasn't sure if he could stand up so near to this... this creature that looked like man, but didn't smell like a normal human. So he began to scoot in the grass, away from the myrian slowly "don't smell human." "Zithanese" "Common" "Pavi" Thoughts

[Razkar]

Even Razkar winced as the creature grunted and gritted its teeth and jerked the arrow out of its shoulder. He had to admire the thing's guts... but pitied its brains.

Now the broad-headed arrow had ripped an even larger hole on the way out, the Zith-thing's claws doing an ineffectual job keeping the oozing red leaking out of him.

Razkar sighed as if put upon. Whatever... "Bloodfight" was, he'd be useless injured. The Myrian started rifling through his sack as he listened, sheathing his gladius.

"What you, smelly creature? Man? Human flesh bag? Something else? Don't smell human."

Razkar's gaze shot up in something between anger and amusement when Bloodfight compared him to a human. But it was a matter of smell, wasn't it? If nothing else, it further educated him that this creature was an anomaly. Human's didn't even have close to that kind of nose. But a Zith...

"Not human." He said, finally finding his healing kit and tossing a roll of bandages to the Zith. "Myrian. From jungle. Not human." He permitted himself a tiny, proud smile. "No... not human. And you? Not all Zith. Only part. That good."

He grinned wider, rows of sharp, yellowed teeth glittering between eyes that reflected nothing but the bleeding Zith in front of them. He hefted his hand ax, almost playfully. Better the boy (he assumed it was a youth) knew the truth. It would make things easier.

"If were Zith, would be dead. Not care what I eat. Zith is good. But you find deer? I not kill you. But you run?"

His wrist flicked out and in a blur the head of the hand ax buried in the dirt between Bloodfight's legs. A moment later, Razkar reached down and yanked it clear again, left hand snaking behind his back and wrapping around the handle of his kukri, just in case this young man decided to be stupid.

"Not good. You understand?"

[Bloodfight]

Bloodfight pressed harder on the now gaping wound with his palm, feeling his face muscles twitch from the strain he was putting on himself to not scream like a little girl. What stick had the smelly creature used to shoot him with? His eyes followed to the arrow which now lay bloodied on the ground, bits of flesh on it, it looked to be rather wide at the tip which had pierced him. He once had an arrow lodged in his body, long before this moment possibly many years ago, but the tip had been small and sharply carved to a thin point. It was easier to pull out, and it didn't cause as much blood letting as the wider one had now done. Such power there was in those stick-string weapons, he didn't understand how it was possible to use them, why not just throw something instead? Nodding slowly to the Myrian who was talking, his gaze now refocusing on the smelly creature in front of him, to only fumble as a roll of cloth was tossed to him. Barely managing to catch it, he brought it close to his face and inspected it- blinking, smelling it, of course it was cloth but it was a special kind of cloth used explicitely for medical purposes. Though how Blood would get that around his shoulder was utterly beyond him, doing simple limbs such as an arm, leg, foot, or hand, or even his mid section, chest, and stomach he could understand how to do- after a moment of thought of course. But how would he do the area around his collar bone, and towards his shoulder? He was lucky he could still feel his arm attached there, albeitly, he felt mostly the pain that rivetted around the area whenever he moved. Spazzing as an axe came down between his legs, he had been listening rather lightly, too preoccupyed with how to get the bandages around the wound, to actually be listening seriously. So the axe had come as a sort of surprise that made him nod his head quickly in understanding, looking back to the Myrian with his full attention. "Bloodfight find deer," he hissed to the Myrian, feeling his own pride being hammered down with each word he spoke "after make this better." Prying the red sticky jacket away from the area and slid it off, he began to fiddle with the roll of bandages. It had been awhile since he saw, or used something specifically like this, there was always the make shift bits of cloth one could use if need be, but now he had the real deal. It was hard to use, and complicated, but he pressed the starting bit of the bandage roll just under where the wound was, leaned down to hold it in place with his chin and then worked slowly to wrap it around the shoulder, and back again, behind his shoulder, around, and then back up again, he repeated this until the wound would be completely covered, bleeding through a tad, but was stopped seemingly. He ripped the ending bit off with his teeth and then threw the used roll back to the Myrian and attempted to tie the last bit of the bandage into the dressing. Settling with just sliding it under another bit of the wrap; and proceeded to shrug his jacket back onto him. Grumping up as he realized the bloody thing was now stained for good with his blood, there wasn't any way he could wash that out, even if he tried to. "Okay, Bloodfight lead Myrian to deer," the halfling hefted himself up, standing at a wobble and holding his shoulder by the bandaged wound "Myrian good at stalking prey?" He inquired, growling out lightly as he stepped around the axe and hunched over with a bend to his knees, going to a path which was not marred by their presence and looked close to the ground, kneeling a bit to do so, he blinked as he tried to discern all the details, the grass went one way, or a seeming way, and there seemed to be marks in the dirt, they dipped inwards and flattened up and out as they widened. Following that direction where the prints dipped inwards, he sniffed at regular intervals to make sure the scent was true, and not garbled by the many drifting and floating around themselves. The strongest scents being the Myrian, Bloodfights blood, and the deer which they were following. "Zithanese" "Common" "Pavi" Thoughts

[Razkar]

"Okay, Bloodfight lead Myrian to deer. Myrian good at stalking prey?"

Razkar was still rolling up the used bandage, grimacing in disgust at how much of it had been wasted. Well... not "wasted". The bleeding on the youth had been stemmed and that meant that, hopefully, every predator for a mile wouldn't be descending on them right now.

The Sea of Grass had sharks like any other, and sharks loved blood.

"Know some," he said simply, pocketing the soiled roll, "Not as good as you."

Something akin to surprise bloomed on the Zith-thing's face and Razkar let it pass without comment. He could track, true, but if the Zith could find him here, and knew where deer were nesting, he was by far his superior in that ability. And if he had been tracking out here, alone, in the turbulent Sea of Grass...

He gestured to the deer trail with his hand ax. The grasses had been well-trod and the dirt churned up by countless hooves, going in both directions. That was where they would start.

"Trail is here. One way food or water, the other... nest. You say can find deer at night? We go to nest. By time sun sets, we find them. Take one." He grimaced head bobbing to the side once or twice. "Maybe two. You lead."

He waited for the youth to begin. Razkar preferred it when the future was so simple in his mind, that it would end in one of two ways. The boy could be telling the truth; they would both feast on venison tonight, and he would keep his word.

Or the boy was lying. In which case, Razkar had no problem dining on roasted Zith. You just had to season it right.

[Bloodfight]

Well this is swell.. Bloodfight thought sarcastically, eyes narrowing as he watched the Myrian creature. He rolled his shoulder slowly, holding the bandaged wound with his other hand. How was he suppose to track down the deer if the Myrian creature didn't know how to sneak through the grass? He would draw the attention of both prey and predator, and hopefully- it was just the former that would notice. Either way, whichever path they took it would lead them somewheres- if it became dark, well Bloodfight didn't have to worry about the deer moving farther away from them. Though the possibility of meeting some unwelcome creatures would most likely happen if they took too long, predators were everywheres. No wheres was safe, you could run but hiding would be a problem unless you managed to find a rare tree, cave, tall rock, or other such path blockers one could traverse. Even then those chances were slim in the wide expanse of plainsland. "Can see in night, if night then deer sleep" the halfling kept his eyes well on the Myrian creature "ambush deer- easier." It seemed like a logical plan, though how many times had Bloodfight ambushed someone or something and failed? The halfling didn't want to think on that, with his rotten luck in the stealth department. Perhaps he was still far too nosy, or he had a human stench on his person that alerted the other creatures of him being nearby? Pointing one way and following the path, he was in no mood to be dinner then, or at all for that matter. The Myrian had a human look to him, but much fiercer, and apparently it had no qualms with eating other sentient life. Just like himself! When night would fall, perhaps he would have a better chance at taking this so called Myrian down with darkness on his side? After all, he wasn't like inferior humans with their fumbling sense of direction at night, always needing those torches and the light to keep them 'safe' hah! Bloodfight needed no torch to see in the dark, actually, he felt alot more comfortable in it, and his eyes didn't sting at night like they did during the middle of the day (if he happened to be awake at that time.. him.. and his wonky sleep schedual that fails to follow either Zith or Human patterns.) If Bloodfight was given the chance, he would attempt to attack the Myrian. Following the path, Bloods eyes would occasionally glance around and then back to the path, seemingly there was no trouble being able to tell they had either come from, or went the the other way down this path. Just like a guide dog, Blood sniffing the air at regular intervals, sometimes getting closer to the ground, and sometimes looking back, trying to tell if the scent was going weak or not. With the petching Myrian shrouded in a deers aroma wasn't helping in the slightest, if anything, it started to make Blood feel uneasy over the whole thing happening. Confusion began to eat away at him, every time he looked back the strong was always stronger that way but only because of the Myrian behind him and the path in front of them was getting weaker. If this continued, they'd have to double back. "Zithanese" "Common" "Pavi" Thoughts