Flashback Heaven Hath No Rage...

[Razkar]

30th Day of Summer, 512AV
Taloba Garrison
14th Bell

There were no temples to ancestors among the Myrians. But that was not because they were not respected or remembered; it was because they did not need any. For every Myrian, regardless of age or gender, knew to honor those of their clan and blood who had walked the worl before them. In every lodge, every house, every place where they laid their heads and weapons, there was a shrine.

Razkar remembered the one in his family's longhouse. It was really more of a table, covered in a rough burgundy cloth and countless offerings and precious things. And they were precious, by the standards of his kin. Just because they would be worth only coppers to a market vendor, did not mean they did not have worth.

A tiger tooth, from the first one his mother had killed.

The jawbone of a Yukman, a massive abomination his father had throttled to death.

A wooden tiger, carved by his father, placed reverently by his younger brother.

Beads and dried fruit from his sisters, so they dead would eat well in limbo.

Precious things. All offered with whispered prayers and burning herbs in a blackened offering bowl, with the names of the dead scratched in runes on a board behind the table. By the time he had left, it was well over half-covered, and the runes were small.

Centuries worth. He had seen fresh runes added in his lifetime. Mother. Sister. Cousins. Strange, that even that dull grief from seeing those names would be something he wished for, because it would mean he was back there, with his family.

And he had heard nothing from them since the Storm. A whole season, and nothing but deathly silence had emanated from much of the Jungle. Including the clan lands of the Shorn Skulls...

The male forced the thought from his mind, concentrating it and his gaze on the burning stalk before his eyes. Beyond it was his own shrine... or his attempt at one. All the recruits had their own, beside their beds. No two were alike, but all were for the same purpose.

Veneration.

"Myri Above All," Razkar whispered, dropping the stalk into the offering bowl that sat in front of the parchment with his family's name scrawled on it, "Hear my words, I beseech thee. Watch over my father, my brothers, my sisters, all those in my blood and clan. I know the seasons have been trying. I know... so much has been lost..."

He bowed his head, sudden rush making his eyes close against his will. He had seen so much pain and devastation caused by the Storm, and a furious rage flooded through him every time he thought of its sheer scale. Razkar knew, in the pit of his soul, that some intelligence was behind it. Some god or demon or mortal set the wheels in motion.

He cared not for their (or it's reason). He cared only they suffer as his people had suffered. But, as of yet, there was no target. No-one to blame. Just endless damage to be repaired, and blindness from Taloba.

"... I ask naught for myself." He continued, voice even more hushed before raising his eyes. Grey smork curled in thin tendrils, obscuring runes and revealing them, dancing upwards only to scatter to the ceiling. "Please..."

As prayers went, it was not his best, but it came from his soul and his heart. That was what mattered. As he got up from his knees he heard footsteps approaching. He ignored them... until they passed the fang room next to theirs. That meant...

Razkar turned just as a runner bearing the mark of The Roost appeared in the doorway, panting and breathless. As one those seated in the fang room rose to their feet. A messenger from the epicenter of all Myrian communications arriving at the Garrison meant only one thing: something worthy of their attention, meaning deployment.

He stepped forward, face cold and intent, as the messenger got her breath back. Finally she stood straight and held out a scroll, wrapped tight and marked with the seal of The Roost.

"You are... Razkar of the Shorn Skulls?"

"Yes."

"Temporary Fang Leader?"

Razkar's lips pursed slightly. Could a male not ever get that title without females insisting that they put that first word before it? But he just nodded sharply a second time, already ripping open the scroll.

The messenger was smart enough to stay quiet and let Razkar read the information. What was the point of her speaking further, after all? She watched the male's cold eyes start to read... then frown... and then his eyes snapped into perfect circles and whatever reserve he had crumbled.

"We march!" He barked to his man, walking swiftly to his bunk and strapping on or packing his equipment, snapping orders even as he spoke. "Oxil, Zuran, get the rest in line! Ten chimes before we move! Anyone without rations, grab a day's, we'll hunt for the rest! You all petching deaf?! Move!"

Female though she was, the messenger felt almost cowed by the sudden fury of activity... but it was not hard to understand. She knew not the content of the message, but she knew where the information had come from. The western of Taloba. The lands of the Shorn Skulls. And since one of their males was leading this fang...

Razkar snapped his eyes back to her, packing finished in moments. She stood silent and erect, waiting further instructions. He had but one.

"Tell your mistresses that the message was received, and we shall respond immediately." His eyes softened for just a fraction, and he nodded. "And thank them, too."

Over the fury and chaos of the mobilizing fang, the female nodded back and turned on her heel. Razkar tracked her exit and then forgot her almost immediately. He had far more important things to worry about. Chimes went by. Dragged by. He read the scroll again. Then a third time.

It had not changed. Not by one word.

Taloba, Clan lands are in chaos, but village is intact. Tigers and snakes are more aggressive and more poisonous. Water source is thus far stable. Unknown menace in the jungle. Responsible for five deaths. Hunts and tracking unsuccessful. Assistance may be necessary. Message sent to both to alert and reassure. The Shorn Skulls still control their clan lands. We will stand. We will protect Taloba's western flank, and the banks of the Kanduktu. Glory to Myri. Lowax, Matriarch, Shorn Skulls

Razkar knew his matriarch, the venerable leader of his clan. But he would know his father's handwriting anywhere.

Before the next bell had rung out across Taloba, thirteen Myrians of the (temporary) Fang Razkar were marching swiftly out of the gates, and heading west into the dark jungle.

[Razkar]

6th Day of Summer, 512AV
The Jungle West of Taloba
16th Bell

"How're the fish?"

"Bad tempered." Razkar snorted softly, speaking without turning around. "Adds to the flavor."

Kexal turned from the back of his Fang Leader with a knowing smile, returning to the business of frying the fresh, yellow-skinned fish. He knew that tone. He used the same one when he described the Red Finches of his own clan lands. Vicious little buggers, true, but good eating.

And they were his vicious little buggers. Him and his clan's. They were a source of pride, just as these little fish were to Razkar.

Oxil grunted with a scowl, still bandaging his swollen and bloody forearm. "You don't petching say?"

Razkar smiled, but still he did not turn from his vigil. He stood straight and alert, head moving left and right with his gaze, sweeping his eyes slowly and steadily across the jungle floor. The lake (well, more of a pond, really, but his clan always called it a lake) shimmered quietly to side, undisturbed save for the occasional bubble as one of those fish came up for air.

"You complain too much," Zuran said, beheading and scaling one of them, "And your bravery secured your comrades a fine meal. Shouldn't you be proud?"

Oxil grunted again and just glared at the offending fish, now dead and still on a palm leave with the rest of them. He jabbed a finger towards it.

"That little bastard's mine. Y'hear me, boy? Gonna be bloody satisfying, too..."

"Yes, sir."

Razkar's teeth actually showed at that. The boy, a recruit barely six months with the army, showed a great deal of promise. Not many could make "yes, sir" sound like "go petch yourself" so clearly.

But the boy had aged quickly in the last season. He'd marched with them to the Blockade... or what was the Blockade, more accurately. He'd seen hundreds stagger blindly around Taloba after the Storm, survived rampaging Tskanna's within its walls and hunts after renegade Dhani. Years of combat and horror packed into a few score days.

The thoughts drove his smile away, and his eyes flicked up briefly, checking the sun. Their arrival at the "lake" told him that they were close to the village, but they'd probably not get their by nightfall. It galled him, having to camp out in the Jungle again when they were so close to home. But the Jungle was not to be traversed at night. Not anymore, after...

"Fang Leader?" He glanced sideways and saw a female standing there, another recruit... Xarel, that was it, offering him a steaming fillet. "You should eat."

He turned fully to face her. His lips twitched. He caught the inflection in her words, the concern that he saw was not faked in her piercing, mismatched brown and green eyes. She'd caught hells for that, he guessed. Her clan probably thought it was a bad omen. But she was a smart girl and a budding warrior.

Razkar sighed. He missed Erama.

"I thought it was my job to take care of you lot?"

"We take care of each other, Fang Leader."

Razkar smiled, and it was one bright with favor. He clapped her shoulder and nodded to the chirping, growling Jungle. "Well spoken, female. Keep watch. I will not be long."

She just nodded, not bothering to give him some puffed-up "I will not fail you, sir!" nonsense. She knew how to do her duty. Razkar hoped she survived for long enough to become truly valuable to the Goddess-Queen.

We certainly need the replacements...

[Razkar]

7th Day of Spring, 512AV
Jungle Wilds, Shorn Skull Clanlands
11th Bell

He knew he was home. The trees became more familiar, despite the fresh sprouts and new ravages of vegetation the Storm had spurred. The bird calls that he'd grown up with... the herbs and flowers he had seen a thousand thousand times before when he was hunting or patrolling or merely aimlessly exploring as a boy... the dips and raises in the land that felt as natural to his feet as the soles of his bare feet...

All spoke to Razkar of home. Of belonging.

Then the elation was crushed back by undeniable reality, evoked through his matriarch's words in his father's hand. Menace. Chaos. Death.

"You need to be more quiet."

He whirled to the voice next to him, surprised to see Oxil walking steadily next to him. The rest of the clan were behind them, single file, the two of them serving as forward scouts. Who knew his lands better than he, after all? He frowned at his friend's worked, then cocked a quizzical eyebrow.

"Me? With your big feet, you should heed those words."

"Oh, your feet are fine," Oxil said easily, smirking even as his head turned to survey the endless green they marched through, "But the sound of your worrying is deafening."

Razkar paused in his pace, but only for a second. He grimaced, wanted to glare and snap and tell his friend that he should... no... he sighed. With Erama gone, Oxil was the only one left of the group he'd trained with. Zuran was close, but they'd never quite clicked. Oxil knew him. His moods, his tempers, his concerns. He knew that was why he felt he spoke as he did.

Because he felt he had to. That's what friends do.

"It's not your clan, Ox." He said as they continued, perhaps a little harsher than he intended. "I showed you the message. Everything Lowax was talking about. Deaths? Who? People I grew up with? Cousins? My father? My sisters? Brothers?"

He stopped again, voice filling with an emotion repressed for three days. Oxil almost quailed under it, but it took much to make the big male shirk away from his duty.

"And where am I? Three days away and useless to them!" His march increased as his anger did, twigs cracked and crushed mercilessly as his feet stomped down on them. "Half my family could be dead and-"

"You were doing your duty, Raz." Oxil said quietly, trying to stop his friend from alerting the rest of them. An unfocused leader was not what they needed. "Just as you should be doing. We're not barbarians that have only a select handful to protect their villages. All of Myri's Children can defend themselves. Yes, there have been deaths. Yes, there is darkness in your lands. But you should not worry until you need to."

Razkar knew he was right. The logic was undeniable. But it did not matter.

"You don't understand."

Oxil opened his mouth again, but it snapped shut. His nostrils tingled. So did Razkar's and he stopped, one hand up, made into a fist. As one, the rest of the fang stalled, weapons in hand. It was the signal for halt and ready. A few others could feel a coppery tang on the air...

Blood. Myrian blood.

"Shit-Raz?!"

Too late. The Fang Leader went from statue to sprinter in an eye blink, ax and gladius filling his hands and pumping up and down as he ran towards where the smell was emanating from. Stronger and more pungent with every crashing leap through the undergrowth. Goddess... please don't let it be my family.

But it is someone, he realized with crushing inevitability, no matter whom, it is one of your clan.

Green turned to scarlet faster than he'd feared. A swath of undergrowth was stained and marred with thick, stinking crimson. A fist clenched and twisted in his guts and a sharp thrill of anguish tore through him. Razkar felt his hands shake as he stopped on the edge of the atrocity.

It was a body. As in, it used to be. But when his eyes fell on the mess that was left, it was just a bunch of limbs and a torso ripped to shreds and hurled around in destructive fury. Blood pooled and congealed everywhere. The ground... the leaves... the tree trunks... it even dripped from the vines above them...

Razkar heard a frenzied, panicked sound... and realized it was his own breathing. He stared down where the head was, and couldn't even recognize the face. The eyes, though... they stared clear and familiar.

"Azken..."

Once Oxil had the bile pushed back down his throat, he turned to his friend and leader. "You... You knew-"

"A friend." Rakar said quickly, needing to talk fast and get as much air in his lungs as he could. The rest of the fang arrived, fanning out in a broad circle, true to their training. "I... I grew up with him."

He frowned, and something in him snapped. Or clicked, more accurately. The horror and disgust and cold grief was still there, but some part of his mind pushed through it. He saw the whole bloody picture... and it didn't make sense.

"This is..." he said quietly, circling the scene of carnage "... wrong."

"I know, and I'm sorry-"

"No, not that." Razkar shook his head and Oxil cocked his head in confusion. He knew that tone. It was more like someone trying to solve a puzzle that conquer grief. "Look at this. Nothing has been consumed. There are... bite marks, scratches, broken bones. But why would an animal kill something and not eat it? And what animal kills like this, ripping apart a body with such... anger?"

Razkar crouched down, some distant part of him still mourning the cheerful male who wanted to be a fisherman some day. Arken always said he preferred it to hunting: fish were harder to spear, apparently. But the foremost part of his mind was observing, analyzing... leaning over to sift body parts with his gladius, frowning and unsatisfied with what he was seeing.

"You see the... fear, in his eyes? The agony? He was still alive when..." Bile surged forth again, and Oxil was partially relieved when Razkar choked. Goddess, it was unsettling when he got so focused. "... when it pulled his limbs out. This wasn't a predator hunting. This was rage. This was..."

Something clicked again. At any other time, Razkar would have smiled.

"... punishment."

A bird call that they all knew was not shattered the silent, grisly mood. Instantly the dozen-and-one Myrians crouched defensively, spinning towards the sound, eyes quick. Razkar felt a surge of quick pride even now as he scanned the featureless greenery. Shrubs swayed in the light breeze, animals cackled and cawed and chirped, but there were no bodies.

Nor would they be. We know how to hide in our own lands.

The "bird" call sounded again. Three sounds. Deep, then steady, then harsh and loud. It was one of the standard calls for patrols: friend or foe. Razkar wet his lips, breathed deep and gave out the practiced reply. It was deep and sonorous, and was four syllables long.

Friend. Ta-Lo-Ba.

Long moments passed. Only a handful, but the wait for the reply seemed endless. All the clans were edgy and even more aggressive than usual now. There had even been reports of patrols from neighboring clans attacking each other, desperation and fear birthing blind violence at perceived slights. If the lands of the SHorn Skulls truly were in "chaos", that may happen-

In one slow, smooth movement, fifteen figures detached themselves from the green. From the ground, mostly, but four lowered themselves down from the trees, agile as apes and nearly as quick. Every figure held a weapon, and as one the patrol started towards them.

Grim faces. Set expressions. Not the welcome Razkar was expecting.

He stepped forward between the two groups and let them see him. That changed things. At once he was recognized, younger faces splitting open into smiles of relief and reunion. He embraced with his kin a half-dozen times before words were even shared, one of his cousins, Mopiwx, clasping his shoulder.

"Goddess, cousin... it's been too long."

"I came as soon as I got the message, sister," Razkar replied with a relieved smile, using their own peculiar word for "sister" that literally meant "one of my clan". "I seek to know what has befallen you and my clan."

At once the female's face fell, grief and pain crushing all of her joy at her cousin's return. Her eyes fell to the ground and she shook her head, as if unwilling to speak. But she did. She had to.

"After the sky turned to flame... the Jungle turned upside down, Raz. The trails were overgrown in a day. The game became... peculiar. Always afraid, sometimes fleeing at the merest approach, sometimes staying stock still even as she shot them full of arrows. The predators, the snakes... they attacked us, brother! They hunted us!"

Razkar could feel her fear and horror reaching a crescendo, and knew he had to stop it. He did not want her to relive the pain, firstly, and secondly, she was no use to him hysterical.

"Please, sister... peace. I know it is hard." He swallowed heavily, flicking a glance behind him. "I... We found a body. Arken."

The girl dipped her head low so they would not see her tears. She nodded, voice cracking as she spoke.

"He... He never came back from a hunting party earlier. We went looking for him."

"We found what was left." Razkar said, but quickly, eyes taking on that cold, relentless, inquisitive edge again. "Sister, tell me: what other than tiger and snake and lynx hunts us now? What is slaughtering with such rage?"

"A fucking monster, what else?"

A harsh, gruff male bark answered the question. Even after years, Razkar felt a grimace mar his face as he looked up and saw a cyclopean male thudding towards him, spear stabbing into the fungus underfoot with each stride. His face was a wrinkled and weathered mask of contempt for all, a bitterness at his own gender that had been there since Razkar was knee high.

"Draksyl." Razkar said as evenly as he could. "Good to see the clan has some competent warriors to defend it."

Draksyl spat to his side. Razkar wondered if he'd understood that the statement was not even close to "good to see you". He had a furtive, animal cunning about him which was very useful. Not to mention dangerously perceptive. It had nearly cost Razkar his life years ago, when Draksyl had come close to killing him after he lost a Charoda prisoner while on patrol.

The fact a tiger slaughtered three of his comrades, nearly crippled him and covered the Fish People female's escape apparently did not matter. That summed Draksyl up nicely.

"Where's Arken?"

"Behind us. It's a mess."

Draksyl's ire faded for the briefest moment. Bastard though he was, he was still of the Shorn Skulls, and he keenly felt the death of his kin.

"Gather him up and follow us."

His patrol did the first, and Fang Razkar did the second without a word.

[Tinnok]

5th Day of Summer, 512 A.V.

She was standing in a river cool and clear, garments shed in favor of the bandages that kept her breasts tight to her chest and some loose cloth...somewhat covering parts that mattered. Her face was red with frustration and anger, voice a heated mutter filled with the ire of the Gods.

"Cmon you little petchers."

The Summer rains had begun, a natural cycle to enhance the effects of the tumultuous spring. Currently she was in a stream made from run off outside the Kandukta Basin, catching the excited fish that wove their way down the currents. No not catching per se....attempting to catch.

It just wasn't working out though.

She was trying to do it with her hands, which was the main problem. The fish swam right around or through her legs, juicy and fat from a good amount of bugs and smaller fish to feed them, a good sign of how the life around the basin was faring, yet they were so slick and fast her hands could find no purchase.

In order to remedy that she had attempted tying strips of coarse cloth to her hands, but even if she managed to catch one of the trout the second it began flapping and arcing in her grasp she lost her tenuous hold and it splashed effortlessly back into the water. She had managed to throw two upon the bank only for them to slide easily back into the water.

Needless to say the abomination was livid by this point.

So when sharp needle like teeth fastened into her leg as a piranha happily grabbed her leg....let us just say the half breed was more relieved than angry. Her extreme fishing began and she merely took one of her thin daggers and stabbed her prey repeatedly before prying the lifeless thing from her leg and throwing it a ways onto the embankment.

But what was one became a dozen. Tinnok bit back screams as she leapt out of the water, ripping, stabbing, and cutting the bastards off of her legs, watching as rivers of blood aided by the water flowed down her legs.

What a wonderful fucking idea this had been.

Good news was...she had more than enough fish to start cooking that evening, so she decided the river was out and began gathering tinder to start a small fire for the fish before night fell.

At first, she did not stop to wonder why precisely the piranha's had come out of the mouth of the river, where there was more than enough prey to sustain themselves.

So as she when she returned and saw that the water currents had turned red with blood that was not her own, Tinnok's brow furrowed and her demeanor serious. Jogging up the bank she stopped to find a hunk of flesh stoppering up a section of the river, dozens and dozen's of the little meat eating fish tearing and broiling at the meat. She continued walking and there was more and more and more flesh. Some of it belonged to birds, others to mammals...she even saw a spider monkey ripped asunder. With every sight Tinnok's eyes hardened a little further.

"Mother of the life in this jungle, I offer up a prayer for those who have bee felled by wanton hands. This is not the end befitting a creature of your domain, and as their guardian, I promise I will discover what creature has done this, be it Myrian, Dhani, or other...they will pay."

And so it was that bare feet sprinted back to her small camp, stringing the fish hastily upon a fishing line that probably should have been used. The black eyed beasts stared lifelessly out at the foliage as Tinnok found a trail of broken and mangled foliage from what she could only hope was the perpetrator....and set off.

-------

7th Day of Summer, 512 AV

Two days of tracking and the half breed had found dozens of bodies, Myrian and other within the woodland pointing to some strange and heartless monster that had torn them asunder and taken little to nothing from them for itself.

She had slept no more than a few bells every evening before continuing at night...she was no master tracker, but the trail was not hard to follow, blood and entrails made a practically drawn line from kill to kill, and they were getting fresher. Tinnok was completely unsure of the potential danger she would face in catching up to such a creature, but she put these warriors aside in the name of sweet vengeance and upholding Caiyha's domain.

Feet moved like a deer's over the ground. She was favoring speed over quiet, but she knew that she was an unwelcome sight in these lands, and many of the riled clans if they found her, would be happy to blame the half-breed no matter what defense she could conjure for herself. Silence was simply a necessity of her travel. So she leapt from root to root, patches of moss to soft earth, keeping to the balls of her feet and centering her weight. The fish were more secure around her waist and made only the subtlest of thumps upon her body at the movements. Not perfect...but some sort of silence emanated from the determined hunter as she made her way across the jungle towards the unknown.

It was not quiet enough, however.

She heard a shrill whistle not far from her location, and instantly her ears pricked, recognizing it as a Myrian call. She knew the birds of her jungle and that sound did not come from them, no matter how good the impersonator behind it was.

Her body froze, but as two more answering calls met the first, she didn't need to translate the sounds to know what they meant: She was surrounded and they knew precisely where she was.

She was horrendously torn. On the one hand she should lower her weapon, but the action stood against every fiber of her being.

Her hands quivered somewhere in between, the massive longbow partially drawn as 5 forms seeped out of the jungle growth, all with a ranged weapon pointed at the vicinity of her head.

There were no words from them, and as Tinnok wondered where the sixth member of the party was, she felt a form come up directly behind her, a blunt object striking her upon the head...hard. Blackness invaded her vision and as a muffled curse escaped her lips, a satisfied snarl emenated from who ever had snuck up on her.

"Gotcha, snake."

oocHave fun!

[Razkar]

Razkar had dreamed about returning home. Dreamed about passing those familiar sights in the jungle of his clan lands, breaking the treeline and then seeing the longhouses and huts, the positions so clear to him he could have navigated the village without eyes in his head. Smelled fish and deer and boar being cooked. Heard voices from his earliest childhood raised in boasting, debating, scolding, arguing, teaching.

Reality, he learned quickly, is very rarely so picturesque. Especially today.

There was a pall over the village of the Shorn Skulls that he felt in his bones the moment it came into view. Every face that saw his, recognized him and split into a smile... every one was first glazed with suspicious, sullen... grief.

It touched them all. It marred them in a way Razkar could not identify... no... he did not want to. Because he knew what would have spawned it.

Smoke drifted lazily from the remains of a funeral pyre in the center of the village. The previous night, by the looks of it, and his jaw clenched, guts roiling as he wondered whom that had been. What childhood friend had he lost? Was there even enough recovered to burn?

His dark thoughts were broken off when a familiar, craggy face appeared from his family's longhouse. Ax held ready, his father marched towards him just short of a run, and Razkar broke ranks without hesitation to embrace him.

"Son-"

"My brothers?" Razkar blurted out without any preamble, eyes almost manic. "My sisters? Tell me-"

"They live, son, they live," Zek said soothingly, weathered palms on his son's cheeks, looking up at him with a mixture of pain and relief. "I hoped they would send you. When Lowax sent the message-"

"Someone in the Roost must approve of me," Razkar said by way of reply, his fang already stopping behind him, greeting politely with the Shorn Skulls clan members trickling into the square. "I came as soon as we..."

He saw his father's gaze torn from his face, following his eyes... until it saw the same thing. The remains of Arken, most of them in burlap bags, slung onto the ground by Draksyl's patrol. The one-eyed old warrior shook his head minutely at Zek, the barest glimmer of a plea for forgiveness in his eyes.

"I'm sorry, Zek."

Razkar looked back and it tore him to see how quickly his father accepted this latest death. Five of them. Enough for a sixth to become... almost normal. Instantly he felt his choler rise, his anger at whatever it was out there hunting... no, not just that, slaughtering his kin just for the sake of it. A wild tiger he could understand, if still slay. But whatever monster was targeting the Shorn Skulls now was doing so out of sheer malevolence.

"Your cousin." Zek said quietly, shaking his head. "Told him not to stray from the patrol..."

"And he will not be the last, I fear."

Razkar knew that voice intimately, and was bowing before Matriarch Lowax had even finished her slow walk over to the visitors from Taloba. One by one the Fang did likewise, immediately showing their deference to the ranking female of the Shorn Skulls. True to form, she tossed her hand out dismissively and got to the matter at hand.

Firstly, greeting her long-lost distant nephew.

"Razkar," she said, voice softening a shade as she gripped his hand, "I am glad they sent you. I hoped for it, in fact."

"Do you have any idea what is doing this, Matriarch?"

"It smells like a Dhani." Lowax said, spitting the word like the rightful curse it was to their race. Instantly a murmur of hissing hatred went up from the crowd. "Nothing else in the jungle is so strong, nor so able to evade our trackers. With our patrols and hunts, we would have found a tiger by now. And then there's the way they've been killed, like-"

"-punishment."

Lowax nodded slightly, ghost of a smile on her face. "You're learning, Raz."

"So what do we do about it?" That came from Draksyl, glowering at the rest of them with his sullen patrol, straining at the leash to be back in the jungle. "So what if we know what it is? If we can't find it, what's-"

Whoops from the treeline, and all eyes swiveled that way. Weapons were raised but already their fears subsided. Those were Myrians... and they were savagely rejoicing. Razkar was already walking to where the foliage was shimmering and shaking, seeing dark figures approaching... three of them clustered... carrying something between them.

"Who?"

"Your sister." Zek said, keeping pace. "Sheema. Her patrol. Looks like they've-"

"We've got the bitch!"

Razkar's mouth fell open at how much his sister had changed. Aged, more accurately. Her flighty nature had vanished utterly, face now resembling more a she-wolf than the round-faced tiger she had been before. Fresh tattoos were on her face and neck and she bore the scars of the hunt on her arms. Two behind her carried a pole, and slung between it was a bloodied figure who-

"Brother!"

"Wolf?!"

Didn't that just queer the reunion? Sheema's joyous smile faltered in utter confusion as her little brother's gaze was not on her, but the snake they found slithering around their jungle. Her eyes snapped back to their prisoner, who'd had the boots put to her on general principle, but they'd decided to bring back to the village alive.

She'd been killing their people, after all. The whole clan deserved a chance to make a cut each before they jointed, boned and roasted her.

But now her victory was soured, her certainty was shaken and she reacted how Razkar knew she would: with anger.

"You know this fucking snake?!"

"She is not a snake!" Razkar all but snarled, walking right past her and ripping his gladius free without pause, hacking at the ropes binding the groaning Tinnok to the pole. "She is a warrior of Taloba, or was, until recently. Marked by Caiyha and fought beside me a dozen times, what in the black hells are you doing with her?"

Sheema did not back down for anyone, especially not a male, and when she reared up to her full height, she topped him almost as much as Tinnok did. She glared down at him and poked his chest.

"Watch your tongue, male. This snake was creeping around our lands, and with everything that-"

"-you thought she was the one that did this?" Razkar's mind boggled at his sister's stupidity... but he had not been here. Even now, with the crowd around them, he could feel his clan's desperation, their anger, their yearning for some figure or force to blame and purge their fear through. "Sister, you are wrong, there is another reason-"

"You would let it free?" Razkar gritted his teeth as Draksyl spoke again, already tiring of his abrasive, grinding voice. "If Sheema says that-"

Razkar swung his gladius around and pointed it dead at the older male, head lowered slightly so his gaze was all the more blazing, voice coming out as an angered and impatient rasp.

"I am the aid Taloba sent, Draksyl! The aid that was requested, and as Fang Leader of the Taloba army, I have authority here!"

"The Matriarch has authority-"

"-and I concur with Razkar." Lowax said sharply, and that settled it for the moment, but the tension ratcheted up more and more. Mindful of that, the old female's beady black eyes flickered over to Razkar and narrowed. "Make this extraordinary, Razkar..."

The male set his jaw and leaned down, instinctively checking Wolf for wounds. Yes... just a kicking, by the looks of it. Myrian hospitality towards unwanted guests. Her wrists were rubbed raw by the ropes binding her, and her ankles, but she quickly came to, yellow eyes flashing with anger-

"It's me!" He said quickly, putting a hand up and gripping her shoulder, black eyes boring into hers. "Eagle. Now speak plain and swiftly, Wolf, what in the hells and heavens and the dirt in between are you doing here?"

[Tinnok]

It was a long walk, but the half breed wasn’t awake to experience it. When someone shook her and the murmur of voices filtered into her mind, she first became aware of the very acute pain in her ribs and the aching headache coming from nearly the base of her spine. Those bastards were going to pay.

Yellow eyes flicked open, body flinching as someone shook her shoulder, teeth bared menacingly and ready to spit in her captor’s face- Eagle.

Eyes went from out and out rage to confusion and surprise in but a moment.

“Eagle….?” She saw a tall lanky female next to her stiffen to see the abomination recognized her clan mate, then felt the hate and rage of those surrounding her. They were like rabid dogs being held back by…the older woman there. Eyes flicked from individual to individual, glancing beyond them to see the remains of a funeral pyre. This clan was far out from the city….so their expressions of loathing, hate, and a need for vengeance made sense…Shyke.

Tinnok cleared her throat, tried to speak, and then cleared her throat again. There was a question to answer and her captives were already chomping at the bit.

“Two days ago I was fishing in the river when I found the first corpse, a Curassow ripped apart and thrown into the river, only piranhas there to feed on its flesh. There were small deer, even monkeys, ripped apart, eviscerated, not eaten, simply maimed.” She looked not at Razkar, but the old woman, meeting her eyes. They might have been rabid dogs, but she held some kind of leash. “I have been following this monster’s trail since. I am a servant of Caiyha, whatever has caused this I must find and slay, no matter what its form.”

Ripples of disbelief ran through the amassed clan…and judging by the scalps upon their shoulders…it was the Eagle’s clan to boot. Tinnok spat a globule of blood and tried to shift, though at present Razkar had still not finished cutting her down.

“The proof is on my left arm. See my mark and tell me that Caiyha would let me live long enough to create such mayhem in her jungles?” Arms bound and knees beneath her the half breed didn’t have much room to maneuver, but she proffered the marked appendage, strangler fig climbing the heights of her skin, the subtle magical wind shifting the leaves upon it’s trees, a toucan slowly bobbing up and down in its branches as other creatures milled around the base.

Her body ached, but she had to hold herself straight, as a Myrian warrior would do. Any evidence of her snake heritage did her no credit here, and already two glaring reasons maintained focus on the female that could be her savior or her executioner.

[Razkar]

“Two days ago I was fishing in the river when I found the first corpse, a Curassow ripped apart and thrown into the river, only piranhas there to feed on its flesh. There were small deer, even monkeys, ripped apart, eviscerated, not eaten, simply maimed.”

Razkar kept one eye on Tinnok and the other on his clan as she spoke her tale in a tired, croaky voice that slowly gained in power. Well he knew his kin: at the sight of those yellow snake eyes, most of them growled like dogs and edged closer, willing, eager to vent their wrath on the half-breed.

But they did not. Her words were truth, plain for anyone to hear, and Lowax's steely gaze kept her kin and clan at bay. Draksyl just glared like a mad dog, clearly uncaring one way or another whether or not she was being truthful. A half-breed was beneath contempt to him, and that was that.

“I have been following this monster’s trail since. I am a servant of Caiyha, whatever has caused this I must find and slay, no matter what its form.”

"It is our right to slay this monster," Draksyl all but snarled, gesturing with his spear at Wolf. "How do we know you are not lying? How do we know that you have no bewitched Razkar and-"

Razkar opened his mouth to snap back something he would regret but Lowax's steady, commanding voice overrode them both with one sentence and a raised hand.

"Show me the mark."

“The proof is on my left arm. See my mark and tell me that Caiyha would let me live long enough to create such mayhem in her jungles?”

She twisted and squirmed even after Razkar cut the last bond free, but he knew better than to help her. She would resent him for one and, for another, his clan would regard him even more suspiciously than they already did. The Shorn Skulls were far removed from the "stone clans" of Taloba; Razkar often mused that the way the barbarian races saw Myrians as a whole was how the clans of the Sacred City saw their brethren living out in the wilds. Children of Myri, true, but unsophisticated, narrow-minded, primitive... savage.

Unfortunately, they were often correct, and Eagle needed to prove herself to them on her own merit, or not at all.

She raised her shaky arm and Lowax stepped forward... along with someone else. A rattling of bones preceded her and Wolf frowned in mild surprise, seeing the scalp-decked, glowering Myrians part like frightened children as a hunched and aged figure in a cloak of human skin shuffled forwards. Dark, hooded eyes dancing with djed stared out inquisitively at her, standing next to Lowax almost as an equal.

"Mayla..." The Matriarch said, studying the mark alongside the with of the wilds. "Does she speak truth? Is this a Mark of Caiyha?"

For a long chime the witch ran her bony fingers across the mark, studying with clear enjoyment the shimmering, shifting, dancing ink that glowed under her dark touch. Shards of bone, some far older than the ones in her frail frame, rattling and clacked against each other, spun into her hair, her clothes, piercing her face and ears and even her fingers.

Finally, she spoke, voice dredged up from the far gone days.

"Tis, Matriarch. She is Marked by the Green Goddess."

"So she is not our culprit?"

The answer was not long coming, but it seemed an age to Razkar. He couldn't help but hold his breath and his weapons tight. The wrong answer now, and his clan would rip Wolf to pieces, with our without his Fang standing in the way... and would they even do so? Perhaps Zuran and Oxil, but not the rest, and even then...

Would you? Would you stand before your father and siblings and clan and kin and matriarch with weapon drawn to shed their blood? For a half-breed?

"All things are possible..." Mayla's dry voice broke the torturous spell. "... but I think not. To wreak such pain on Caiyha's children, while bearing her mark... it would kill one who wore it, or drive them into a frenzy beyond sense and speech. I think..." she narrowed her eyes and peered without fear into those yellow orbs "... she is one such as me... or could be, one day..."

With that queer, backhanded comment, Mayla withdrew, her task done. Lowax immediately started snapping out orders, Razkar smart enough to hold his tongue and let the real authority here take it's course.

"Rexo! Fetch the healer! Eulix, find the blood of Arken and have them arrange his pyre! The rest of you, to your patrols, your hunts, your duties! Taloba has arrived and so has an agent of Caiyha herself! Truly the gods favor us, if Myri and the Green Goddess send aid."

Draksyl was nearly beside himself with disbelief, even if Sheema was quicker to accept her matriarch's words. But Draksyl was old, gnarled, he knew Lowax when she first gained the mantle of her clan's leader and was not so easily cowed.

"She is an abomination, Honored Elder! We should kill her and-"

The high, loud crack of knuckles on skin bought every eye snapping back in shock to the sight of Draksyl's head flying back and him staggering one pace. Razkar crushed a smile; smugness would not help him. But even his own Fang looked stunned, though it quailed before the icy contempt on Lowax's snarling face.

"Know your place, male, and question not the words of your Matriarch again. Heed you my words?"

"Y... Yes, Matriarch..."

Cowed but pausing to fire off one more hateful glare at Wolf and Eagle, now firm enemy's in his eyes (or eye), Draksyl turned on his heel and barked a command to his patrol. They fell in behind him with a stunned blink and soon the jungle swallowed them.

Razkar finally let a long, shuddering breath escape his mouth. Wolf was slow, battered, but on her feet, unwilling, he knew, to show weakness or wallow in the dirt before the pure bloods. Sheema whirled on him, still pissed, naturally.

"You are friends with a half-breed?!"

"Creful, sister," Razkar replied, voice low and warning, "Blood or not, you shame my love as much as my friend with those words, and you know it."

Sheema's righteous outrage was cut short at the mention of Ayatah, Razkar's lover and half-Epyharian, not to mention a female she actually liked, despite her... disadvantages. But she rallied, eyes narrowing at the vague suggestion of scales on the bloodied Wolf's skin.

"That... That is different!"

"No." Razkar said shortly, already turning away, the mask of a warrior of Taloba covering his face now, not a member of the Shorn Skulls... less he would not be able to chide his sister so. "It's not. Go back to your patrol. We will join your after Wolf is healed."

Sheema's eyes widened as if on spring's and she trembled with rage, arm raising-

-a shuffling to her left. She glanced... and saw her father standing there, shaking his head almost imperceptibly. The arm lowered. Females may have ruled the social order of Falyndar, but Sheema loved her father above all others, and would obey any order. Even this one.

With a spat curse she swiveled away from her brother, leaving him to his "friend". Razkar turned to his father, already wary of the heavy brow the older male wore.

"Father, I-"

"Speak not to me yet, boy. Much has been said, and whatever your words, your... comrade," that was as much friendliness as Tinnok would get from Zek, as Razkar sadly knew, "has yet to prove herself. I have duties to attend to. As, I am sure, do you..."

He walked away without another word and Razkar felt his shoulders sag as if he were a boy in his first loincloth again, chastened and cowed by the words of a god-like parent. He sighed and his Fang relaxed slightly, one of them actually passing a water skin to Wolf. Abomination she might be, but she was still a warrior of Taloba, and a useful asset.

Eagle gave an odd, rueful half-smile and quirked his eyebrows briefly at her.

"Welcome to the Shorn Skulls..."

[Tinnok]

Mayla…Goddess, the half breed could sense the power radiating off of the woman as her wizened fingers ran along her Gnosis, making the mark tingle. She managed to keep a straight face, however, meeting eyes the color of strange abyssal coals. How could they be the same color as Razkar’s eyes yet be so much darker at the same time? Would his eyes have this dark quality if he followed his pursuits in bone magic? Tinnok caught her wandering mind and brought it back as arguments broke out.

She was not tempted to smile as the one eyed man was hit…hard. He was merely defending his clan after all, and she was a mixed blood of the worst kind, a blight on this land that was just lesser of the one that was murdering their people.

Razkar’s father…she could see the command he held, even as a male, and her lips twitched to see how the older man and his son carried similar physical qualities. It was clear that Razkar did not learn to question his place as a male just from his Mother…

The half breed slowly rose slowly, eye lids hooded as she saw the Shorn Skulls move swiftly…and with more than a little regret to their respective tasks. Her body was sore thrice times over, and she bent, bones creaking not to inspect the bruises upon her ribs, but the wounds upon her legs from the fish. The gashes and bites mixed with where the rope remained upon her ankles was red and angry from it’s treatment, and she splashed a little water from the proffered water skin upon her wounds before taking a long refreshing swing, wiping her mouth afterwards.

Yellow eyes surveyed her surroundings, and she rolled her shoulder experimentally, wincing a bit at their sore quality. At last her eyes met the Eagles. She felt great shame, not for her blood, but for his own reputation to be dragged down by her blood. He was a fine warrior, one to make his parents and clan proud. Now they would look upon him and know he had allied himself with a female who ran with Dhani blood, witch of the wilds or no. She rubbed her eyes and stood a little straighter. The only way she could restore faith was to prove she was everything she said. She would fail not him, nor Caiyha this day, and the creature would be found. She was relieved to see him though, and it showed in eyes a bit too tired for this time of day, only the barest hint of sarcasm evident in the first part of her speech.

“You’re a gracious host Eagle…your clan is filled with clever and fierce warriors…I will show them their faith was not misplaced.”

She opened her mouth to speak again when the healer came out of the longhouses, guided by the one known as Rexo. Tinnok stood taut as the woman fiercely gripped her arms and legs, inspecting her body…as well as the Gnosis mark before instructing the boy harshly to get the required supplies.

Tinnok inclined her head as a measure of respect. She was an unwanted guest of this clan and it would do no good to appear flippant., taking another long drink of the flask. She glanced at Razkar.

“This thing has no discernable pattern of killing that I can see. It hunts in the night as well as the day, it cares not for what it kills….though perhaps it does go out of its way to find Myrians, and it seems to consume little to nothing of its prey. Not even the rabid creatures I have encountered after the storm have had this level of anger and hate within them…does your clan have ideas, any trails?”

She wanted to get back out into the forest that instant, being captured had most certainly set her scheduled hunt off course, and if she had been gaining on the creature any progress on her part was most certainly moot now. Despite her weariness Tinnok’s whole body quivered, making the woman tending her curse.

“Will you stop your petching moving tainted blood?”

It was not a question and Tinnok froze, a bit of a shamed smile coming to her lips despite the glares that were continuously thrown her way.

[Razkar]

Razkar's jaw tightened at Ruwama's growled words but he did not reply. He strained to, every memory of Wolf fighting by his side demanded satisfaction, but he had to remember where he was. And, unfortunately, who he was.

Do not try to change things best left as they are, he thought, remembering his own words to Tinnok in that dead arena. Instead, he focused on her own report, nodding slowly.

"We saw the same, in the body we found." He grunted grimly, shaking his head at the recollection. "Not that it was really a body, anymore. Ripped apart. Limb from limb. Entrails, organs... everything. And like you said, hardly anything had been consumed. It was just pure... rage."

He settled back on the balls of his feet at her question, the only one that really mattered. Arms crossed, he shook his head.

"We haven't investigated yet. We arrived her a couple of chimes before you did." His lips quirked into a brief smile. "Well, I say arrived..."

Wolf just glowered and Razkar chuckle rumbled around his fang. Behind them, listening and taking a breather in equal measure, his clan watched the scene quietly but closely. One of the newer recruits leaned over to Zuran.

"What's with them?"

"Huh?"

"The Fang Leader and the half-breed. They seem friendly."

"They are. Fought together a few times, back when Rehkuna was in charge."

The veteran's low and pensive tone would have tipped off an older warrior; Oxil looked up sharply, sensing a topic that should be left alone. But the recruit was, well, newer, and younger, and stupider.

"That's it? I mean, did they-"

"They're comrades." Oxil said firmly, using that tone he'd learned well to make a warrior snap to attention with a couple of syllables. "And you need to keep your eye on our mission. Shut up and listen. Any questions you have should be about that."

Face sour, the boy did as he was told. Watched Razkar scratch his chin and narrow his eyes, face confused.

"Ruwama, what have you heard?"

"No tails, no tracks," the healer said without looking up from her ministrations, "Apart from around the corpses. They're clawed, but look like a Myrian... or a Dhani in human form. But aside from that... nothing."

Razkar tried to view it objectively, seeing the scene in his mind's eye. Not difficult, considering he saw what was left of... of...

The male took a shuddering breath and Wolf frowned slightly. Her very brow questioned him and he flicked a glance at her.

"The one found? He was a cousin of mine. Arken was his name. He was... He was a good enough male..."

Visions of his birthing day, four years ago. Arken with his trademark half-smile, offering him a fishbone necklace he spent all day working on. Roughshod and uneven, Razkar still took it, and th younger male seemed so much taller and prouder-

Back in the present, Fang Leader Razkar swallowed his grief with a cough and focused on the present. On the problem. On the plan and, most of all, vengeance. He shook his head but his eyes glazed over, seeing it all again. Yes, there had been tracks. Scrabbly and strange, like... feet and claws and the uprooted dirt of a slithering snake. But...

"If it's on the ground, the patrols or hunts would have found some trace by now." He said firmly. "I know my clan, I know their hunters. They would have combed every foot of the clan lands, found something."

"What about under the ground? In a cave?"

Razkar's head turned to Xarel, who did not quail or shuffle under her commander's stare. She had asked a sensible question, and did not fear the answer. He rewarded her with a straight response.

"No, we don't have any around here. One or two near the basin but-"

"-they were explored within the first days," Ruwama finished for him, biting off a length of bandage with her teeth and finishing her tending of Wolf. "No traces of a den or a nest."

Razkar settled back on his feet, swaying back and forth gently... eyes lifting up...

"Not on the ground... or under it..."

He stopped, staring at the endless thicket of greenery that rose a hundred feet and more above them.

"The canopy." He said, eyes suddenly shining as inspiration broke through the humid half-light that barely pierced the trees above them and struck his dark eyes. "The bastard's using the canopy to move..."

[Tinnok]

The half breed bowed her head in reverence as the Eagle admitted his loss. Her own clan lay outside of Taloba, but farther to the East, and had not run across problems like monsters...To think of how she would feel...even if it was her Goddess be damned sisters that met a similar fate....not to mention her brother...Tinnok shivered with the thought.

She wanted to place a hand on his shoulder and assure him that they would get through this together...as they always had...but even as her fingers reached she pulled the appendage back, remembering her silent promise. No reason to alarm the clan anymore than possible...Goddess she wondered if they thought she and the Eagle had...

A low snort escaped her mouth which she brought off as a cough as the healer fastened two dark and scrutinizing eyes upon her...Ruwama. Even as she sounded out the name in her mind the healer in question grunted and rose, signalling she was complete. Tinnok's arms and legs were covered in bandages as well as a good portion of her chest. "Thank you mistr-"

Ruwama held up a hand, forcing the abomination to stop, then spat in front of her and walked off in a huff. Tinnok rubbed her forehead, but seemed to recover swiftly from the event. A lifetime of hatred had that kind of effect on an entity. Instead she cracked her neck and shoulders and slid her hands into the places on her hips where weapons normally lay.

"Bow, knives? Where would they keep them?" She was practically naked to begin with, adding to that her armament was gone made the half breed a twitchy individual.

Looking up at the canopy, Tinnok knew that the Eagle was right. "So it hides up in the trees during the day...at least when it knows there are patrols abound, and descends upon Myrians when they are separate from their comrades, also hunting at night." She scratched her upper lip.

"Well we know it likes hunting Myrians, but is too smart to deal with many..." She looked at the Eagle her gaze heavy with purpose. After a moment she saw his eyes light up as he realized where she was going with this particular train.

"We need a trap." That part was easier, but Eagle could see emotions warring inside the abomination as the Dhani and Myrian hashed out the details. After a moment, her voice a little too forced, she blinked.

"I volunteer as the bait." It was the only real way to ensure no lives were lost within his clan...and even then it wasn't a true guarantee, but it was the perfect way to sell this plan. If anyone had a real chance of dying, it was the abhorration that was Tinnok, and none save the Eagle would find issue with that, a vote by the vast majority without any need to count hands.