Flashback A Crimson Lesson [Tinnok]

[Razkar]

Battle turned to massacre with reassuring and brutal speed. Well, reassuring for Razkar, anyway. Taken completely by surprise and decimated within the first chime, the human resistance cracked and crumbled within another few. The vast majority died where they stood, trying to flee or trying to beg.

The Myrians slashe down at their kneeling, bleeding, begging forms without a shred of mercy.

You should not have come here.

He halted his dash when he heard the insane barking and tussling to his right, saw with a twinge of shock that Tinnok was grappling with one of the huge hounds the humans had bought with them. Without a thought he changed his course, heading to her rescue.

Not that she needed it. An arrow sent the dog yipping off her and within a moment he was there, lips curled back from his teeth and his ax raised, fully intending to send this beast to join its masters-

But her raised hand stopped him. He glared at her with almost as much fury as he did the dog, blood still up and pumping. But her eyes stalled him, some plan, some intelligence finding an anchor that was mushrooming steadily into a plan. He lowered his ax, and watched his disbelief.

Tin threw herself back into the fray, and her movements were more animal than Myrian. Zuran and Oxil watched with him, faces mingling shock with disgust and curiosity. And disbelief.

Especially when Tinnok put the dog's muzzle into her mouth and bit it.

Razkar felt something on his face, but was not sure what. Erama would later tell him his jaw dropped.

But it did the trick. Cowed and beaten, bested and knowing it, the dog became a puppy within the space of a breath. Tail between its legs it just sat there, eyes watery and subdued, waiting for orders...

Razkar shifted his gaze, jaw still hanging, a strange figure wearing such incredulity along with blood and brain matter.

"This... That... Why?"

"We can use her to find the others."

Razkar's mind took a moment, but soon found the... very Myrian genius in her idea. Using their enemy's weapons against them was one thing, but being able to use the gifts of... well, he assumed it was Caiyha (who else would be able to imbue one with the power to tame and subject such a fearsome beast but the Goddess of Nature itself?) to do so? It was a stroke of genius, and their best bet.

"You think you earned a break, soldiers? Strip the camp and see if you can find anything useful, we move on in half a bell."

Rehkuna's barked commands broke whatever spell they were under, lost in a rare and reluctant admiration for the half-breed. Ioxera lent her voice to the commands, and the Myrians moves like ants over their slain enemies, looting and searching and exploring.

But not Razkar. He still had work to do.

"Zuran, Oxil," he said, not quite snapping with an authority of command, but with enough iron to have their heads turn to him, "We are to pursue the survivors."

He looked at the two of Ioxera's clan who were behind Tinnok, waiting with her for what looked like the same reason. Six would be more than enough. Faster, stronger and more enduring than humans, the Myrians would run them down in short order.

"How many got away?"

"Four, we think. One is wounded."

Razkar looked down at Tinnok and actually smiled. He sheathed his weapons and drew his bow, already notching an arrow.

"Put your new friend to work, Tinnok."

Tinnok could see a red hunger behind his smile that made it something else. He paused, and decided that... yes... she had earned the next words. Rehkuna and Ioxera were in command, but right now, in their little half-dozen, authority was defined by asset and ability.

Which she had shown in spades.

"We follow your lead." There was a brief, querying whine and he added: "Both of you."

[Tinnok]

She walked out far ahead, so that she couldn't even see the scouts behind her as she circled the traveling party, moving in lines that intersected over each other to get the lay of the land. She moved silently across the ground, toes sinking into damp earth and feeling its life through her Gnosis. It was always so strange, hearing the disjointed thoughts of the plant life. She had learned when she was young that the soil of the jungle was no good for crops, had very little nutrients in it: one of the many reasons Myrians were no farmers, she supposed. All the food that trees needed they received from the air, from Syna's light, it was why they pushed so hard int heir race skyward. They calmed her now as she walked. She brushed her fingertips against bark and moss and felt their unity. So many entities growing upon one surface. Some plants strangled and killed, but most created that symbiosis, that partnership with one another for mutual benefit, so unlike her and her fang. Was she the strangler fig, wrapping around the old tree and slowly leeching the life out of it with her very presence, or was that what they were all doing to her?

She spat upon the ground and kept moving.

Rigel walked calmly beside the half-breed, quiet and vigilant, her paws nearly as quiet as the strange footfalls the woman made upon the ground. Tinnok's eyes surveyed the landscape, glancing to trees and ground alike for signs of anything amiss, but the trail was just as easy to follow as before. The ground was muddy where so many human and canine feet crossed, mucking up any other animals trails there might have been and scaring away wildlife. She caught the trail of a group of thicket tinamou, those strange looking fat little birds that scurried across the forest floor, and took note of their tiny foot prints before continuing. There were old tracks of deer, many days gone, but no large predators, no strange human markings.

The eyes upon her as she marched back, she simply couldn't ignore, despite the fact she made sure to keep her gaze forward. She approached Ioxera, who ignored her for two chimes before she spoke. "So?"

"The human trail is just as before, blatant and easy to follow. No one has left it from where I have gone yet, and the only tracks I've seen of animals are a few days old or too small to warrant." Ioxera merely grunted, and shooed Tinnok back. The half-breed was surprised no jabs were thrown away, but it seemed Ioxera did not care for in-fighting any more than she did. She fell back, letting the group past her and circled round the outside of them, disappearing into the forest and making her way ahead of the group unseen. She preferred this tactic to walking amidst them...her stealthy nature revealing itself unconsciously once more. Her stomach grumbled and a quiet whine emanated from the dog. She was not the only one hungry then. She tapped the canine upon the head, sending an image of ground birds or small game, pressing forth the notion that the next time they saw something, they would take it. Rigel was content with this. She liked hunting birds, even funny ones like the one's the woman showed her.

Her mood gradually calmed as she drew ahead of the group once more. It was fine out here, alone in her element. It would not be fine once they settled in for the evening, when Ioxera finally gave her leave to sleep. The half-breed glanced wistfully into the woodlands, dreaming of the day when she could sit up in the trees and pay no heed to the armies of Taloba. Today, however, was not that day. So she kept walking, kept searching, and let her mind drift to more pleasant thoughts, letting the forest fill her with it's calm.

[Razkar]

He ran and ran and ran until his bones hurt and his lungs threatened to vacate his body through bowels, and only then did he seek cover. His mind in pieces, his body bleeding, wounded, the human crouched down behind a fallen tree and cast his eyes upward.

"Gods..." he breathed in horror "... please... please let me... escape this..."

He dared not close his eyes for what he might see again. The savages that streamed from the foliage were more like beasts than men. Barely-clothed, screaming, shrieking, faces tattooed and contorted into demonic visages. Where had they come from?! The jungle was still, it had been still for days, and then... a nightmare.

Max felt up to the wound in his arm where an arrow had nicked him. It bled, but not profusely. He ripped his shirt and began to bind it, trying to get his bearings. The border was north, he knew that much, so if he kept running that way, eventually he would be in civilization and away from this evil place. And as far as-

Barking. He heard it once and discounted it... then heard it again. And again. Finally he looked around and saw Rigel bounding through the foliage, rough brown fur clear against the green. A half-crazy smile burst across Max's face. Another survivor! He could...

The smile died when he saw what was sprinting after the dog.

"Gods, no!"

He turned and began to run again, but the clutch of running Myrians had already spotted him. All of them with bows in their hands, Max heard arrows whistling and spinning past him. He tried to zig zag but in doing so he allowed them to gain slightly, and they were fast, so fast and relentless-

He screamed as an arrow caught him in his lower leg, burst through his thigh and out the front of it. He crashed forwards and rolled through the jungle debris, screaming again as the arrow broke in half and ground against his bones.

He tried to haul himself up, and Rigel crashed into him like a tidal wave.

Razkar smiled grimly as he watched former slave turn on former master, and well. Blood and bone was shed and crunched until Tinnok gave a barked command - no, literally, it was a bark - at at once the huge hound stopped its attack and bounded off again towards its next target.

Razkar did not slow his run for a second, merely pointed to the writhing, crippled human and barked an order.

"Zuran?! Finish him!"

He did not see the killing blow, only that Zuran peeled off from behind him, unlimbering his ax. Though his ears were filled with the sound of his own panting breath, the rush of blood to his ears, he did hear the animal whimpering, garbled pleading and begging, a single savage scream-

And the wet impact of steel on flesh and bone. Once. Twice. And then Zuran rejoined the chase.

That was what it was, and none of the Myrians faltered in their pursuit. If even one human managed to escape, their victory today would be but a bitter defeat. Their jungles would have been exposed, information passed from barbarian to barbarian to be spread throughout a world that had no business knowing it.

Razkar was not about to let that happen. One was dead. Three more would follow.

Rushing through the jungle floor in silence, arrows notched and eyes focused on the barking mongrel bounding ahead of them, the Myrians pursued. The humans ran, and prayed to their gods for salvation from a relentless enemy.

But they were in Falyndar. There was only one true goddess there...

[Tinnok]

One down. Tinnok had to sprint to catch up with the canine, a gentle hand coming down on her rump to get to the connection that Nura required to communicate with flora and fauna. She pushed forward the idea that the dog needn’t attack her former colleagues, she wasn’t going to be so callous as to force the beast to maul. She wasn’t sure if it was the arrow in her side, or just a simple lust for blood shared by the Myrians surrounding her, but the dog sent back images of eviscerated and bloody corpses, the scent of blood and the overall color red, so the half-breed pushed no further.

Tinnok wasn’t sure if that one had been the injured one, but regardless they needed to keep moving. She had attempted to keep her breathing even, in through the nose and out the mouth, but the need for oxygen force air simply through the mouth, panting as they surged forward.

The next two were lying in wait. A woman and a man, both having shed their armor in order to keep their speed up, they heard the screams of their companion, however, knew what awaited them, so they sent the final survivor on, hoping he would make it back to camp in time, that their sacrifice wouldn’t have been made in vain. Carefully positioned behind two trees, as the party approached, sweat dripped down their faces, gaunt looks shared between two people already dead. There were no words to say, no final goodbyes.

Tinnok’s eyes widened as two crossbow bolts simultaneously sunk into Grist’s chest. He stopped midflight, all rage burned out like a flickering candle. One step forward, then another, then he fell face first to the ground. Tinnok howled with rage. She sprinted forward, and saw that both man and woman had dropped the crossbows, knowing there wouldn’t be time for a second shot. Tin had already lost one dagge, but dragged out the second one and hurled it full force at the female’s chest. She ducked and rolled, the weapon sinking heavily into the bark of the tree. Vaguely Tinnok remembered advice given to her long ago on the topic of thrown weapons. Only an idiot willingly gets rid of a potential advantage they have in battle. She grimaced and just leapt on the woman, sinking a fist into her gut. She was a Myrian, she was a weapon. The woman beneath her was strong, a heck of a lot stronger than the wiry half-breed, and with a grunt Tinnok found herself straddled by the woman who wasted no time in executing a move that struck Tinnok three times in the neck with the tips of her finger. The half-breed choked and spluttered, air caught in her esophagus, unable to aptly respond.

That was when the hound lunged from the air to tackle the woman, who screamed like a suckling pig about to be roasted. Tinnok rose slowly, trying to gain a level of even breathing, prostrated on the ground. Bracing herself on the tree she casually removed her dagger and half limped over to the scrambling figure, landing a solid kick to the ribs as she looked over at the male corpse decimated by the others. Three down.

[Razkar]

Razkar went through a whole gamut of emotions when the crossbows twanged from behind cover. Sprinting on with the others, he let out a howl of anger and loss as one of his comrades was cut down, the one called Grist not seeming to realize he was dead. Then he looked down and saw the bolts sticking out of his ribcage, and his mind caught up with his body.

He fell, and Razkar rushed onward, looking for targets.

There were two of them, and they had laid an ambush for him. They did not run, this male and female, just drew their weapons and met the Myrians head on. A flash of disbelief shuddered through Razkar, that they would be so stupid as to mount a last stand against half-a-dozen Myrians on their own ground.

Then the warrior in him overrode that rational voice. Three survivors. Two were here. They were buying him time with their own lives. They were sacrificing themselves to ensure that all their losses were not for nothing, that some memory and intelligence was gained from the rout.

Razkar almost felt sorry for them, for even their own lives would be needlessly lost.

Everything happened in a blur, for they were all still running, peeling off to find targets and still keep up their pursuit. He wanted to meet arms with their two attackers, but knew they were not the real target. Even they knew that, else they would not have left themselves here.

"Zuran, with me!" He roared, not slowing as he notched another arrow and dashed between the humans on either side of him, fortunately each too far away to swing at him. "Leave them to the rest!"

Zuran, young, lean, new to the fang and bubbling with plenty piss and vinegar, grunted at being denied such spot, but obeyed his elder and nominal superior. Besides, the humans weren't going anywhere.

Ever.

Tinnok took down the female... after a fashion. Razkar saw her, ahem, "keep her occupied" while the dog got its chance, lunging at the woman and ripping off chunks of shrieking flesh. The male roared his defiance and swung a bastard sword, keeping Oxil and the other of Tinnok's fang at bay for all of three swings. They circled and danced around him like rabid dogs, his face alive and shining with sweat and blood and fear-

They took him down with a flurry of blows, and he just... dissolved into the jungle floor.

Razkar and Zuran did not slow, already notching arrows in their tau bowstrings, bobbing and jumping and running across the foliage-covered floor. The hound was running ahead of them again, joyous and more free than it had been for a long time. Years it had hunted for the humans, and always been denied the meat it had chased down and killed for them. Now he seemed to be with beings who took the same pleasure he did in death.

Razkar did not dwell on this idea: he had work to do. They ran and ran and finally a tiny weaving figure emerged ahead of them from the treeline. Its clothes were shredded and its face was red - flushed or bloodied Razkar could not tell - and it dashed with a speed born of terror... and hope.

The Myrians could smell the air thinning. They could glimpse, through gaps in the trees, hills breaking beyond the jungle as that damned border got closer and closer.

He ran faster. They all did.

The human's feet pounded the ground madly as he ran, taking cover wherever he could find it. Razkar loosed arrow after arrow, cursing after each shot, for his was tired and his hands shook, and the human was not a fool. He ran behind trees, through shrubs, anything that could break up his figure and deny the Myrians a target. Zuran spat out a savage curse but they kep running, pausing only to aim.

The border was gaining on them. They had to end this quickly.

"Dog!" Razkar finally barked at the beast bounding ahead of them, using Common words that he had been taught with an accent that mangled them horribly. "Take man!"

As if it needed to be told that in the first place, the hound barked and sprang onwards, closing the distance to the human fast...

Commotion behind them. Running feet and fierce panting. The rest were catching up with them.

[Tinnok]

Whoever had named her Rigel had been a complete idiot, and hadn’t taken a second thought to check between her legs. Good thing the Inganu Deepwoods dog didn’t care much for titles.

She raced through the foliage. If the canine took a moment to think about it, it had been a long day. Humans never seemed to tire of giving her orders, kicking her if she moved too slow, and generally treating her like a mongrel. She had been born and bred from a fine siring of Inganu Deepwoods dogs, top of their class, and had been paid for as such. Of course as the humans explored the outskirts of Falyndar her ownership had changed hands again and again, and the kind hands of the man that had bought her seemed to disappear into angry faces and words laced with disgust and frustration. She did her job perfectly, did she not? She tracked down their prey, small deer, strange birds she had never seen before, and even made sure the humans avoided the tigers and panthers when she could help it, not that they ever thanked her. But Rigel was a simple creature, she had her purpose and she would fulfill it regardless of how kind the hands that stroked her at the end of the day.

And then there was the fight, the smells of blood, the sounds of death. Most of the dogs had gone into frenzy, and Rigel was no craven, but she was a tracker. That was what she was born and bred to do, not fight. That being said these were her humans and she didn’t want to change hands again, not to harsher…stranger beings. Then the woman…no she wasn’t that, for the dog knew her for what she was; A creature who understood her. There were no kind hands or words, but something separate from that, a connection she had only shared with the first man who had bought her as a young pup. And now this other one, the ugly thing with many marks and sticks like the one coming out of her leg protruding from nose, ears and face was yelling her in words that sounded vaguely familiar. “Dog….Take Man!” They weren’t quite: “Rigel, take the scent!” or “Dog, hunt that varmint down!” But Rigel was clever enough to get the gist of it. Plus she was familiar with this scent. Unlucky for the strange dark humans running with her, their prey was one of the fastest humans she knew. He was a wiry man who mostly ignored the canines of their camp. Rigel knew him as the man that ran back and forth between the camps, sometimes with birds to send the other camp to save running, sometimes not. Rigel didn’t care for birds.

But this running man, he had the significant disadvantage of having two legs instead of four, and seemed to be scared out of his mind by the way his eyes looked when he snapped his head back and ran full long into a tree. Rigel barked in triumph. Any loyalties she may have had to this man had vanished with the dark humans who smelled of blood and soil, and the full weight of the dog leapt upon the man, knocking him down as he struggled to rise again, then leaping off. The one who had spoken before barked in his own way and swung his steel, already soaked in the blood of her former fellows.

Tinnok was more than out of breath by the time she reached Razkar and his partner. The runner was already dead, blood soaking the dark earth, and the bright gleaming eyes of the Deepwood’s dog shone as they looked up at her. They spoke of deeds done well and Tinnok stroked her head, feeling the warmth of happiness that surged through the canine at the sign of affection. The half breed nodded to the two of them. “Well done.” The dog gave a soft whine. “And you as well, friend.” Regardless that the words were said in Myrian, the dog understood the tone, and sat with a bit of a pained whimper, tail beating against the ground, still revved up from the chase.

Tinnok glanced back into the forest where surely their troops would have already begun moving forward. Their trail would be easy to track, the way they had crushed the forest floor like rampaging Tskanna, and the dog could lead them even further, perhaps.

Now Tinnok bent and looked at the canine’s wound, gingerly touching the site of the wound. Another pained whimper and a faint growl emanated from the beast, and Tinnok shushed her like a child. There was nothing she could do, at least not now, but the way the dogs breaths rattled meant that her wound was starting to affect her. The half-breed drew her remaining dagger and worked to saw off the shaft of the arrow, leaving about 4 inches of the arrow peeking out from her wound. The bleeding that would result from digging out the barbed arrowhead would be too much of a problem currently, but at least this would stop any unnecessary pain from whacking it off branches and such. Tinnok rose and glanced at their band, having gained a dog and lost a member. Gazes were trained into the thinning woodland, and Tinnok felt a chill breeze she didn’t care for. “We will be at a disadvantage if we are forced to leave the forest.” This short break they had allotted wasn’t precisely open for small talk, and it was the main thought running through the half-breeds mind, aside from the dog who might so greatly aid them, and die in the attempt with her wound.

[Razkar]

There was a wet tearing as the scalp came away, a shuddering rip that traveled up the length of his arm. Zuran watched with a light smirk as Razkar took his trophy, as was the style of his clan. By the time he had tucked the dripping scalp into his belt - and Zuran wa indulging his on hobby of looting the cooling corpse - Tinnok and her new partner were alongside them.

“Well done. And you as well, friend.”

The male turned at the first words, but only in time to see the last directed to the dog. But her could bear the creature no ill will today. Without it, they would probably not have chased down the escaping humans so quickly, and judging by how close they were to the rock plains...

They would have got away. Escaped with all that knowledge, directions, terrain, stories of our people, how we fought, what we used. Disaster upon disaster.

"I merely struck the blows, Tinnok." Oxil and the other face from Tinnok's fang caught up with them, sprint morphing into a walk as they realized that the chase was over, panting and winded. "But you and your friend put them into play."

He watched dispassionately as Tinnok attended to her animal. Already he had decided it was her animal, not just another weapon to be used against an enemy. Razkar cocked his head to one side as he watched her soothe the animal with low growls he could not hear, then shave the arrow shaft so it would cause minimal pain.

She was a kinder soul than him, if she'd but known it. To him, the dog was a useful trick of battle, an asset. He would have just killed it the moment it had served its purpose, negated now it was wounded. But her?

She saw purpose and advantage and more. He had to respect that.

“We will be at a disadvantage if we are forced to leave the forest.”

Razkar blinked and followed her gaze beyond the treeline. The plains of rock. Beyond the northern reaches of Falyndar where plains, vast fields, but they were only of dead stone and loose shale. They sloped upwards gently, and the mountains they eventually formed were visible in the very distance, rising higher and bolder from the clouds. Razkar squinted at them. The barbarian lands. Without real Jungle, without swamps or canopies.

Without the light of the Goddess-Queen. Gods, what a barren place it must be...

"We need not fear that disadvantage," he said, already turning from the distant scenery, pausing to wipe his hand ax clean on the final runner's shirt. "We have achieved out objectives. The survivors are all dead. No word shall be spread, no alert carried, no intelligence passed on."

Razkar sheathed his ax and started walking, his fang members falling in at his flanks, the one from Tinnok's waiting grudgingly with her. Then Razkar stopped and regarded the panting, wounded dog, tongue lolling out and twitches of pain making it spasm now and again.

"Your friend can walk?" A brief, wary nod. "Good. Then it can go with us, if you wish."

Then he looked back at the human's body, the sword in its belt, and realized there was one more thing he needed to do.

Get proof.

The amount of ground they had covered was impressive, but without the rampant, frantic adrenaline of sprinting pursuit, their return was uneventful and bland. Razkar was quietly proud, though. Two miles over broken, uneven ground? Maybe closer to three? The troops with him had been winded, but not exhausted. Their hands did not tremble and it had taken them only chimes to be ready to move out again.

He was proud as he could reasonably be when they returned to the clearing, where all the usual ceremonies were being carried out.

The carrion stink of aftermath was trapped by the humidity and the canopy, but not a Myrian there was disgusted by it as a human would be. To them, it was victory and incense at the same time. Triumph and offering.

A dozen Myrians prowled around the sight of the skirmish, stripping corpses of useful trinkets or weapons. Once they were done with each bloody body, they hacked off the heads and tied them to a pole, to be carried back to Taloba as an offering. The rest of the corpses were left to rot, the Myrians uncaring of their fate. The Jungle and Caiyha both would devour all traces of them.

Many eyes turned to them, including those of Rehkuna and Ioxera. Before the question could be asked, Razkar held up the contents of his hands. Two heads dangled from each, and there was a slow, satisfied smile from each of the fang leaders. He tied the heads onto the pole and their little raiding party broke apart pretty quickly, scattering in its own way to other duties.

Such as seeing to Grist. Tinnok and her comrade had paused and retrieved their fallen battle brother, both faces hard but Tinnok's... it was less so. Razkar felt a moment of pity for her. His own fang were often pains in his fundament, but he cared for them, respected them and knew they felt the same for him.

To be missing a warrior's connection to the kin she fought with... he thought that must be hard.

Grist was laid with the other three who had fallen, neatly lined up under the canopy and ready to be carried back to Taloba. No victory without loss, Razkar reminded himself. But it never made it easier. He distracted himself by finding the enemies he had slain that day. He knew several had been felled by his blades, and his cloak and Goddess would need a proper accounting...

[Tinnok]

Hiteo and Tinnok deposited Grist's body next to the others, and the half-breed inclined her head respectfully to the corpse, backing slowly away. Hers eyes roved over the crowd of people ransacking the bodies. Much like carrion, the Myrian people were, not wasting a single part of the kill. Tinnok herself had no need for bones or scalps, and she bade the dog sit at the edge of the clearing as she paced through the corpses, looking for a familiar glint of steel to replace the dagger she had lost.

She found a machete and a long hilted dagger and slid them into her belt after biting the steel. They were of a good make, and the tang of blood felt good upon her tongue. As she slid the weapons back into her belt and headed for the canine she saw Hiteo and a couple others from her fang around it. The poor thing had ears back, body prostrated just as it had before. Tinnok hissed, making sure to get the attention of the three. "Leave her, alone."

Hiteo spat. "It did it's task, kill it and be done, it smells of human filth and disgraces Myri and Caiyha with its presence in our forest."

It was Tinnok's turn to spit upon the ground as she stepped forward, and as her finger touched the top of the dog's head, it stood and snarled, making her comrades take a pace back. "Do not tell me the wishes of either of my Goddesses. This beast may still be of use, and I will not waste her life because of your sensitive nose."

The burly man grimaced. "You care for that mutt more than you did our fallen brethren, snake witch." Tinnok shrugged. "She has done more for me in her short time with our fang than you ever have, Hiteo, and without her those milk drinkers would have reported back to the larger party, so for now, you will leave. her. be." The aggressive stance of canine and half-breed spoke of no other option, and her comrades backed off. Tinnok glanced towards the still-roving warriors and noticed Chinra eyeing her, an expression wrought with great and malign intent. Tinnok's shoulders fell and she scratched the dog's ears. "I am sorry sister, that you have gained such a poor friend as I. The life I granted you might be short indeed."

Rigel did not understand the Myrian's words, but she whimpered nevertheless. Tinnok looked out over the amassed body of people, and sighed softly. To be utterly alone in such a large group, sometimes she wondered how she bore such a burden, then would get upset at herself for the self-pity. Her energy was better spent doing other deeds, and she tested her new machete by slicing into the head of a particularly ugly brute upon the ground, taking pleasure in rendering the spine in two sections and clinging to the thick hair upon his already paling scalp. Blood repaid in blood. She used the new knife to whittle a sharp point at the end of a long branch, slicing off the smaller branches and cutting out some of the bone and muscle in the neck in order for the head to fit better upon the shaft. She offered a bit of the meat to the dog, who licked the blood off of her fingers. Tinnok smiled, one of the first times in a long time that the expression could come genuinely to her features. "Dine with us like that, dog, and you'll truly be a Myrian."

She smirked with satisfaction and thrust the severed head onto the stick, using the pointed end to lodge it into the ground, where it could be retrieved later. A master piece.

[Razkar]

"How many?"

"Two."

Razkar looked beyond Erama and saw the two still forms laying side by side. Tuvok and Wamxi. Newer recruits, greener than the rest of them, the idea being they would hone their skills in the presence of warriors. Crouching next to them now, face like stone but eyes saddened, Razkar realized the hubris of that theory.

"Not the way it should be," he found himself muttering, reaching down to fold their hands over their chests, "The young learn and take the place of the old. We don't hang around forever."

Erama just grunted, already cleaning her blades over him. She never was one for sentiment.

"Petch're you calling 'old', male? That goes for you, too."

Razkar thought before he responded, as Erama knew he would. She had grown fond of the studious but deadly little male during their time as fang-mates. He always thought ahead, at least in conversations. In battle he was a thinker, too, but faster, more like his mind reacted a little slower because he saw the angles.

She grinned as she finished with her blade. Let him. She had all the thought she needed when she swung her sword.

"A shame they were found wanting, is all." Razkar finally spoke and straightened up, a tiny shrug shifting his shoulders. "And we'll under under-strength until we get home. But they served their purpose, I suppose..."

"We gained victory," Erama said simply, nodding to the log laden with open-mouthed, staring, dripping skulls. "And we bear plenty to offer at the Temple for our deeds. You should be happy."

Razkar was about to answer when he heard the low, dangerous tones of argument further away. He turned and saw Tinnok squaring off with a couple of her own fang-mates, planting herself defiantly between them and her whimpering dog. Well, "defiantly" is probably a strong word, he thought with a slight grin. That implied she was the underdog.

He had seen her fight. Physically, at least, she was anything but.

She was not cowed, however, and her "comrades" backed off. Razkar shook his head in disgust. Did not the Jungle provide enough predators, without your own people preying on you?

"I am satisfied. That will be enough."

"You should be."

That came from Rehkuna, who'd moved with her usual cat-like silence and was now standing behind them both. Ioxera was close behind, berating a couple of her people for some infraction or another. Aas was her clan's custom, Rehkuna had a fresh skull hanging from her belt, the worthiest duel she had fought in that battle. Sightless, agonized eyes stared out at nothing, head swinging gently as she spoke.

"You closed the back door perfectly for us, Razkar. Now the humans will be blind as well as griefstricken." A sadistic smile crossed her face. An old campaigner, this one, Razkar thought, all fury and hatred. You could learn much from her... good and bad. "And Ioxera's people helped, I assume?"

Razkar paused before he answered, though it was difficult. As a male, any accomplishment, praise or accolade he gained was jealously guarded by him. Males had to strive all the harder for attention in the fierce matriarchy of Falyndar, and they knew it. To have one's fang leader acknowledge him was gratifying.

But...

Finally, he gritted his teeth and spoke. The truth, no matter what. He would not have his success marred in his own soul by taking credit for another.

"Your praise is gracious, Rehkuna, but more goes to the halfbreed, Tinnok of the Tempered Steel." He noticed a jerky movement to his side as the woman in question looked up at hearing her name. "Her idea of using the humans' dog to chase down the survivors was a masterstroke."

Rehkuna blinked, probably the closest Razkar had seen her come to surprise. Her eyes flickered to Erama, who just shrugged in complete incomprehension, too. Razkar didn't have to ask to know that she wouldn't have had a problem with taking all the glory. But he wasn't her.

"You speak for the halfbreed?"

"Her actions speak, mistress. I merely draw the proper attention to them."

"Then let her worry about recognition for them," Rehkuna said, words slightly harsher now, as if upset her praise was being directed towards an abomination, "You are a pureblood, and thus more worthy-"

"And why should she not gain praise?" Ioxera said suddenly, battering into the conversation with her chin up and chest out. "She performed ably, and she deserves recognition for that. Or are we not in the habit of ignoring those of merit, Rehkuna?"

Razkar wanted to like the smug female, and to thank her for her assistance, but he knew the reasons for her sudden intervention. They were more to do with covering herself with Tinnok's reflected glory that any affection for the halfbreed. Even her others of her fang were glancing and at Tinnok resentfully.

The male found himself grinding his teeth at that, and the cold outrage worked his tongue more than his mind did.

"We are a meritocracy, are we not?" He said, drawing the attention of the two arguing women. "A matriarchy first, but a meritocracy second. Acts and deeds form our successes and status, not who our parents were. That has been our way because we need it to be. Because the Jungle scoffs at anything that does not prove itself, and destroys it. The halfbreed is cursed with the Ancient Enemy in her veins... but she performed well today. I only want that noticed. She may fail tomorrow. But today, she did not."

It was the longest speech he had made in a long time, and by the time he finished, he saw more faces looking his way than intended. Black eyes flickered around, unused to the attention, but he did not back down.

He waited for their answer.

[Tinnok]

"If I didn't know better male, I would think you were taken with the scaled wench." Chinra stalked over, dark eyes beady and filled with an alarmingly feral glance. "Of course, the only love the abomination gets are from the beasts she consorts with as a witch does." Chuckles from both fangs echoed at the strong female's words as the circle of individuals came ever closer to Razkar, Ioxera, and Rekhkuna. At Razkar's glare the woman only fastened her hand upon the handle of that deadly looking sword, a challenging glare that only pompous females like her could truly master.

Rehkuna snorted. "Glad to see at least, some of your fang has some sense, Ioxera."

Ioxera merely grunted. "Her identity is not in question, her deeds are. It was a clever trick."

"Calling a snake clever, is like calling a fish wet. She has their strange minds, it just happened to be of benefit to us this time."

"Are you saying it was a fluke, Chinra?" The female shrugged. "I am saying that she is like the rest of them, just with a bit of Myrian in her. We will see her true colors yet."

"Glad to see that our troops would rather gossip like fish wives than actually work." A few heads snapped to like getting caught stealing, but Chinra and the fang leaders merely addressed the half-breed with cool calculating stares. "I did my job, nothing more. Now can we dispense with the niceties, Ioxera?" She glanced at Rehkuna. "Excuse her rudeness, Tigress, she merely has to find someway to deal with the blow to her pride of having a snake within her fang, so when in competition she jumps on my successes like a starving howler monkey." She expected the slap to her face, but did not foresee it sending her to the ground.

Ioxera's teeth were bared in a snarl as she stood over the half-breed, eyes alight with fire. "You will not disrespect me, snake bitch. If you wish to go work, then go. I want a full report of our surroundings every other bell. You will not dine with us, you will not rest in between. If you miss even the smallest detail, you will not sleep."

Tinnok rose, and inclined her head. Chinra smiled. "That's worth fifteen points right there."

Ioxera whirled to face the woman, fury in every step. "If I hear one more breath about your game, you will join her. Understood?" The female nodded furiously and backed away, leaving only Rehkuna with a satisfied expression upon her features, even if she would not speak of it aloud in this moment of triumph.

Tinnok began the slow march away from camp, beckoning the canine to follow, only if to avoid the torment the dog would undergo if she were to stay. Anger hung in her every step. She should not have disrespected her leader, but sometimes she simply couldn't fall in line, couldn't sit back and take it. And Razkar...his speech. The words had been nearly heart warming up until she truly realized his defense. Didn't he realize it would be worse for him, didn't he see that no help was needed. She was almost as furious at him as she was the others. She didn't require his aid, his help. A pure blood sticking up for a half-breed? It made her feel all the more pitiful.