By the time Svan reached his companions, he was desperately searching for an excuse that would give him a reason not to return to the halfbreed. His adrenaline had worn out, and his entire body was now racked in pain. If there was even a single inch of is body that wasn't sore Svan would have been amazed. His head was bruised, his limbs were worn, his stomach was queasy, and even his teeth had a dull ringing sensation in them. The worst part was that while Svan had some ointments to mend torn flesh, he had nothing that could ease his weary muscles.
With a groan Svan walked stiffly over to his bag and plopped down onto the ground. He unfastened the bag and began rifling through it, trying to find something to give him an edge in his upcoming battle. Acid, poison, rope, medicine, crossbow, bolts and more were stored in his little bag of wonders and he could think of a plethora uses for each of them. However, instead of taking anything Svan found himself shoving all of his equipment back into his bag and fastening the pack shut. He made a face as he stared blankly at the closed backpack. What exactly was it that had compelled him to close the bag without taking anything. He couldn't explain it, but it just felt...right? Perhaps not "right", but maybe better. For some reason Svan couldn't shake the feeling that something was amiss. It was thought that hid in the back of Svan's thoughts, dancing at the edges of the snake's conscious mind, flitting just close enough to harass but never near enough to make itself clear.
Svan shook his head and ignored the feeling. With a grunt he rose to his feet and shuffled over to a sleeping Kiyeri.
...
Having woken Kiyeri and set her on watch duty, Svan was now on his way back to the half breed. He felt better knowing that someone would be watching over his sleepy Kelvic friend as he went to volunteer himself to be murdered. He remembered seeing the sleeping tiger, and wished he could go back and sleep on her furry body instead of heading out to fight. Note to self: Learn how to morph fur. Comfy as shyke The snake walked into the clearing to find a meditating Tinnok. Part of him immediately regretted not bringing his crossbow, it was such an easy shot even he couldn't miss it. Shortly after noticing that she was meditating, the Dhani realized that Tinnok had taken off most of her clothes. A few weeks ago such a sight might have caused Svan to blush. Now however, after having lived with a female kelvic for so long, Svan barely even seemed to notice.
The snake scowled down at Tinnok and cleared his throat to get her attention. He watched as she rose and grabbed hold of the scimitar before he began to walk past her. "This way" the snake said curtly as he leaded Tinnok to a smaller clearing that was a little farther away. Satisfied with the distance from his companions Svan turned around to look over Tinnok. She was scantily clad with nothing more than the bear minimum amount of clothes. She held a mean looking scimitar in one hand, and a pair of blades adorned her hips. Judging by the fact that they were small and in pairs, Svan imagined that they were less likely to be carving knifes and more likely to be daggers. Petching perfect, a back up weapon.
As for himself, he wore nothing new. He was still dressed in nothing more that a pair of thick pants, muddy boots, and his sword breaker at his side. He wasn't even wearing his trusted "battle pack", nor had he bothered to shift into his far more powerful dhani form. The snake wasn't quite sure what had possessed him to come to a battle equipped so poorly, but he shrugged it off as his chaotic nature getting the better of him again.
The snake breathed out slowly and let his muscles adjust. A small shower of sparks fell from the mouth the sword breaker's sheath as Svan drew his weapon and held it before him. He spaced his feet evenly apart, grasped the handle with both hands, and lifted it so that the tip pointed directly at Tinnok. He breathed again and quickly analyzed his situation. His muscles ached like a thousand knives, but his breath -for now- was steady. he was glad that the short bit of sunbathing he had done had returned some strength to him, but as he looked at Tinnok he realized how little good it would do for him. She seemed fit and full of energy. A few chimes earlier Svan would have lauded such traits, but not he hated it. The snake's eyes fell upon the sword she wielded. A scimitar? The snake smiled lightly as his mind flicked back to the time spent with his father. Svan hadn't learned petch from his father about how to properly wield anything due to the fact that his father was purely left handed and Svan wasn't. However, his dad had spent a obscene amount of Svan's childhood lecturing him on the uses of more common weapons, and more importantly, why they were inferior to his beloved sword breaker. His lessons often had less to do with educating Svan, and more to do with bragging. With an annoyed sigh the Dhani tried to recall just what his father had said about scimitars. It was a feat that was easily complicated by the dull thump of Svan's bruised skull, but slowly the dimly remembered lessons resurfaced. He recalled that it was designed as a cavalry weapon. The sharp curved edges could glide through flesh and bone as if it wasn't even there. The snake was slightly troubled by what he had remembered of his father's lessons. It was strange, his parent almost never praised a weapon for excellence unless he also pointed out another flaw. The Dhani tried to recall what else he had been told, but realized that while he was lost in thought he had kept Tinnok waiting. There was no time left, any longer and the halfbreed might think he was stalling.
Svan took a firm stance and readied his nerves. He looked up into Tinnok's cold eyes with his own hard stare. "Ladies first." He said spitefully as he braced himself to be struck. He vision flicked down to the curved blade in her hands, and suddenly he remembered what his father had said. A scimitar was a fine cavalry weapon. The snakes eyes widened as he realized his horrible error. A scimitar was a great weapon for a charge or a passing strike, but its one sided nature, broad length, and curve design meant that defensively it was shyke. In allowing Tinnok the first strike he was giving up the best chance he would have to put her on defense. Not all hope was lost however, his weapon was designed to easily resist and reverse and offensive assault with a few simple flicks of the wrist. The only problem was that Svan had neither the strength nor skill to use anything his father had attempted to teach him.
There is nothing quite so horrible as knowing exactly how you're going to get the shyke beaten out of you, and being powerless to avoid it. Svan tightened the grip on his sword and prepared to die.
