Honor by the Blade (Hatot)

[Puck]

One could see for miles on the great plains of Cyphrus, had it not been for Akajia and her dampening veil. It draped across the land, pulling black hoods over vision and slowly burdening the tall grass with dew. Though Leth should have shone full this night, his glow found itself blotted out by battalions of clouds marching across the sky. Occasionally rays of light clawed their way through the ranks to dimly illuminate the Sea of Grass, but more often than not the moon remained eclipsed. Heavy currents of air buffeted the billowing troops above and the grass alike, sending great waves rippling through the grass. The rest of the night stretched before the Sea of Grass, promising a time of great turmoil for whomever stalked the rolling terrain.

Hatot was one of these creatures. Occasionally a guide would accompany an Akalak embarking on his Rite of Passage, but Hatot had no one, given the disaster of his Rite of Trial. So now he stalked the plains alone, contemplating what his brethren had told him of the premium Zith locations.

One popular hot spot has always been along the northern coast, near the rockier terrain where the Drykas riders are at a slight disadvantage to the Zith. Many Akalak had completed their Rite of Trial there, and the route was frequented enough that the Zith traveling along it did not move in heavily armed groups for protection. It was a promising, yet unglamorous route.

But the whispers of someone else plagued the man. Cutting straight through the Sea of Grass was a small group of Zith slavers. Several days ago an antelope Kelvic had bounded into Sanctuary, fresh with whip marks and blood. She had been traveling with a caravan when a hunting party of five Zith had seized her companions and began slowly carting them away to Xy; although one of the caravaners had taken a maul to some wagon wheels, so their progress would be extremely slow- or halted altogether as they fixed the carts. There was no doubt that this route brought more danger and was a farther run, was it worth avenging the kelvic's companions?

The wind gusted across the plains, and the night continued to dance along its path. It seemed as if nothing waited for Hatot's decision, inevitably insignificant in Cyphrus' grand scheme. A few rays of moonlight escaped through the cloud cover, gracing the Sea of Grass with a moment of light.

[Hatot]

55th Day of Summer, 510 A.V.

Hatot narrowed his eyes, focusing his vision in the dark as he rode along his Zavian horse, Tulok. However, his hunt weighed heavily on his mind. Not due to the fact that the odds may have been against him, or that no peers or guides accompanied him due to what had transpired during their Rite of Trial. No, all of that was either in the past, or could be countered depending on the situation. It was the worry that was apparent in the eyes back at Sanctuary.

When the Kelvic had come in, telling of how their caravan had been attacked by Zith, Hatot considered it ironic timing, and Radris had just considered it fortuitous, it having been the day he was to set out for his Rite of Manhood. Radris had bust out into control, leaping into the air as he yelled out that he smelled a challenge. The next several moments passed with Hatot and Radris having a debate over the pros and cons of using this group to use for their Rite of Manhood. In the end, Radris played on Hatot’s sense of honor. He reminded him what happened to Kavala, and how cowardly the Zith were, their acts warranting Hatot’s response. Psychological tactics often played into Radris’ arsenal, and Hatot had finally agreed. When he had finally told them of his decision to ride out and confront this group, there was concern in all of the eyes of those in Sanctuary. Well, except Akela’s. Kavala, especially had concern, worry even. No amount of assurance on Hatot’s part quelled that look of concern on her face as he readied Tulok for the ride. In the end, she gave him the small satchel, filled with various medicinal supplies she had prepared for the use of his Rite, reminding him to take such with him.

It was those looks that stayed with Hatot as Tulok’s hooves thumped heavily along the ground, covering the distance between Riverfall and the last known location the Kelvic reported the caravan to be heading. If they had reported the attack to Riverfall authorities, it would be at least half a day before a raiding party was assembled, and dispatched. Hatot and Radris had that time to at least slow the caravan down if he couldn’t outright find a way to defeat them himself. It wasn’t so much the luster of this hunt that appealed to Hatot and even, to a small extent, Radris. They could have gone to the coast, where the Zith were easier to take down, and, in fact, likely would have originally. It was the fact that others were in danger that drew him to this hunt over the easier, more practical one. “Get them out of your mind you ninny!” Radris suddenly echoed into his head. “We don’t need those distractions when we get there.”

“They aren‘t distractions.” Hatot echoed back, his eyes narrowing as the blades of tall grass rushed by him in a blur at Tulok’s speed. His eyes switched to Infravision, looking ahead as he spied for signs of the caravan and the Zith who took them. The heat of the season made such more difficult, but with the cooler temperatures of night, such wasn’t impossible. “Their faces give me something to return to.”

“You’re not seeing their faces in a welcoming matter. You’re seeing them filled with worry, and it’s giving you doubt over your own ability.” Radris barked as Hatot felt almost a repeated poke along his head when Radris struck him annoyingly from a spiritual perspective. “We just ride over them like we are the grass here. No problem.”

“That’s not how the hunt works, Radris, and you know it. Besides, it’s not that simplistic.” Hatot replied as his eyes started searching the grass for bent grass or any other signs of the caravan’s movements. “We’ve no talent for mounted combat. We’ll have to take them on foot and it won’t be easy.”

“Oh come on, how many of them can their be?” Radris said with boldness in his voice. “Four? Eight at the most?”

“Numbers will nullify our skill if we take them head on.” Hatot replied as he began to slow Tulok down now, not wanting to suddenly rush over a hill and have them surprisingly on the other side of it. “As well, you forget that Zith can fly.”

“Ohhhhhhhh yeah.” Radris said as his tone betrayed one of sudden recollection. “Well, we’ll have probably six bells at the most to make our move before the Raiding Party catches up to them as well, if they come at all. What would your plan be until then?”

“We spend some time in observation first.” Hatot then said as Tulok’s pace finally slowed to a light trot, giving a few huffs of exhaustion as he breathed. “I’ll observe for weapons and physical exploitations. You observe their mannerisms and what approach might be taken from a psychological point, if any. We’ll likely have to sneak up on them.”

“Yeah, because a blue Akalak that’s over seven and half feet tall is so good for stealth.” Radris said sarcastically.

“Oh, and sarcasm will help us?” Hatot replied.

“It’s all I can bring to the table at this moment. Petch off.” Radris then echoed as they continued to ride, looking ahead every now and then for signs using both normal site and infravision.

[Puck]

Not a soul stirred in the night as Tulok raced across the plains. A half bell slowly rolled by as the steed swiftly carted the two men who shared a body across the Sea of Grass. The cloud cover shattered, and Leth's rays suddenly shone down upon the entirety of the world before Hatot. Looking back, he would have seen the route to Riverfall still in shadow, but a clear, starry sky stretched before him. The wind gusted against his progress, howling in his ears and nearly drowning out Tulok's gallop.

The star field sky silently watched the Akalak as he proceeded, as the chimes slipped away. Another half bell brought him to the ascent of a large hill. The horse snorted against the incline, his ears twitching as a faint sound reached his ears. Another sound, and another twitch. Hatot was near the crest of the hill now, which, as it turns out, dipped down into a basin. The voices were clear water in the night, not an iota of discretion apparent, "Break open that last vial of Pillowsap, we want it out cold for as long as we can." The voice spoke in common, a deep rumble carrying it to Hatot, "You, hurry with the wheel."

Had Hatot moved to where he might see the source of the voice, he would first notice the three wagons arranged in a triangular formation. Each was loaded heavily with cargo, though it be unidentifiable from this distance. Five winged men stood about, two were standing in various guard positions around the camp, two stood off to the side doing some task, and another stood near a pair of men on their knees wrestling with a wagon wheel. In the center of the triangle of wagons Hatot would see a small swarm of people huddled together. Though his normal eyes did not notice it, Hatot's infravision pierced the dark masses of cargo on the wagons to show him a man strapped limply across a crate. Something, likely handcuffs, blotted out some of the heat on his wrists, and he did not appear to be moving at all.

One of the Zith that stood separated from the group walked over to the unmoving man on the wagon, tipping a vial of something down him. Pillowsap. Not a single motion indicated that this caused him any more distress, and he was clearly alive for his body emanated heat.

[Hatot]

Hatot laid along the top of the hill, looking down into the basin, his hand slowly reaching back as he pulled his lakan free from it’s sheath. Five of them. When the Kelvic said there was a group, it did not lie. He gave a slow exhale, peering through the tall grasses to the prey below. Despite the odds being dramatically against them, Hatot felt calm strangely enough. Most likely Radris’ eagerness and confidence rubbing off on his soul. Certainly, Hatot would need to remain calm if the two of them were to make it out of this alive.

After a quick survey of the whole area, Hatot began observing each of the Zith individually. Noting the weapons they carried, their height and build. How they carried themselves as well as any noticeable limps or inconsistent movement that might give away a point of attack for him to exploit. He observed the guards who kept watch for dangers. Where they really vigilant, or merely standing around, distracted by even the most minor of events that involved the huddled group, the repair of the wheel or the individual one poured pillowsap over?

“What do you think?” Hatot then echoed in his mind to Radris.

“They’re impatient by the sound of one of them, rushing the two to fix the wagon wheel. It means they don’t want to run into anything, and know that with the escaped Kelvic, something may be on their way to hunt them.” Radris echoed back, a slight anticipation in his voice. “Such impatience, over fear a large rescue party possibly coming their way, may make them fight inefficiently when they encounter smaller resistance, as they’ll want the fight to be over with as quickly as possible. Avoid further delays.”

Radris let another moment of silence pass by in simply observation before he let out a small chuckle. “Though they’re not expecting any visitors this soon.” Radris then noted, seeing their layout. “Even if they can see good in the dark, only two keeping watch of the surrounding areas? Two occupied with the guys working on the wheel, and another playing games with that sap? They don’t think they’re running into a fight anytime soon, and they also feel they’ve suppressed any kind of resistance from their captives.”

“It is a relaxed defense.” Hatot concurred as he began looking over the captives, searching for signs that any of them might have been looking for opportunity to resist. “Any ideas on the approach?”

“Rush them, rip each of their heads off one by one.” Radris quickly replied.

“Logical ideas.” Hatot replied with a groan.

“Fine, fine.” Radris replied, grumbling slightly. “Hrmm. Lure them to us, one by one.”

“Wouldn’t work.” Hatot replied, his eyes still gazing over the area, searching for possible lines of approach to the camp that would allow them to remain unseen for the most part. “They likely wouldn’t come one at a time, and even if they did, they wouldn’t approach on foot. They’d fly overhead to investigate.”

“Well, what are you asking me for, you know I’m more of the direct approach type of tactician anyways?” Radris then muttered in their mind.

“Just gaining perspective.” Hatot replied. “What do you think the capabilities of the captives?”

“They’re all scared. Scared to be hurt, scared to die. Even I can smell it from here. They’d make better distractions than allies.” Radris replied, almost scoffing. “They’d rather lay down and hope that someone saves them, rather than risking a resistance. It amazes me how many of them march to their death like this.”

“Even a little resistance on their part would be beneficial to us.” Hatot as he continued to search over the land for ways to sneak in, reaching into the bag that Kavala gave him, his fingers fishing around for one of the sedatives. “We’ll have to approach the lookouts first. With the others distracted, they’ll be the first to spot us. We’ll need to take out any that have ranged weapons first, as we want to haven the remaining swooping in for their attack from the air, and not shooting while their out of our reach.”

[Puck]

Hatot’s infravision had difficulty picking out the cold forms of whatever weapon the sentinels carried, though the silhouette of a large knife could be seen pressing against the nearest one’s thigh. The other sentry’s wings beat pow&erfully, the glow of his core leaving the ground to take flight over the huddled slaves. He did not swoop down upon the prisoners though, ignoring them and instead alighting upon the other ridge opposite the Akalak stalker. The Zith's infrared signature dimmed at such a distance, and slowly began to disappear over the top of the hill.

The Zith playing with the man on the wagon tossed aside his vial after forcing its contents down the subject's throat. Hatot would notice the dimming heat of the bound man, likely a side effect of the poison- and not a good one. At the rate he was fading from Hatot's vision, he would die within several bells. His torturer seemed oblivious to this though, as he simply turned and stalked over to the other prisoners. There he stood, a malignant shadow hovering over their existence.

Not a word drifted from the camp, though the sound of a mallet knocking on a wagon wheel rhythmically broke the silence. It was impossible to determine with his infravision how many more wheels the slaves had to reattach with his eyes, but there could not be many more for otherwise the Zith would indubitably employed more slaves for the task.

A few more chimes of silence, and a child began to cry. Her noises grew exponentially, starting at a small sob that soon pierced the air as a wail. The girl's chains clanked heavily as she stood and tried to shuffle to her mother. She tripped, falling on her hands and knees as her mother scrambled to her. Picking up the child and cradling her did little, for the child's incessant noise continued.

Each Zith visibly twitched, the one standing by the stabs clutching his ears with his palms as he made a beeline for the child. Her mother tried to escape the approaching monstrosity, hands clawing at the grass and feet pushing her body. Yet she had not moved more than two feet when the Zith stepped on her chain and cleared the last few steps. His clawed hand flashed like lightning, raking across the child's face. Hot blood seeped down the girl, brightening her signature to Hatot. Clawed hands struck her again, and again, her cries finally becoming silent as he dug his nails into her throat. The mother, screaming, pulled against him, but weakened as she was she could not dislodge him from his spot on her chain. All she found herself able to do was clutch her dead child and cry out against the injustice of life.

The care for her child lasted as long as it took the Zith's hand to viciously drag across her eyes. Suddenly she found herself more concerned over a different pain.

[Hatot]

Their face knotted up over the view of that first spray of blood, their eyes narrowing as the hue of color began to shift and swirl continuously with shades of gold and red, neither giving way to be dominant to the other as they pulled out one of the vials of poison Kavala had prepared and coated the blade of their laken with it. Their muscles then tightened as they stood up from their position along the hill. “They are all,” Hatot began to say before Radris finished by saying, “dead.”

A large leap saw them covering half of the distance down the hill as they began running head long towards the first sentry, just as the child’s cries began to fade. Their feet hit ground in a full on run, echoing an almost feral growl into the air as the nearest Zith caught sight of him first, calling out to the others as it’s wings began to spread out. A slight push off the ground with it’s legs and strong downward flap of the wing sent a rust of air down, pushing the tall grasses aside as he began to take to the air.

An almost eerie calm rage was expressed in their face as Hatot and Radris simultaneously took control of their body, working in unison towards a common goal. Their feet slammed into the ground as muscles along their legs bulged, pushing off. A giant leap through the air saw them reaching the initial height the first of the Zith gained. Their free hand reached out, grasping at one of the Zith’s wings and squeezing tightly while turning their wrist, executing the Gorilla’s Grip hold as he attempted to snap the bone of their wing in the process, to keep them on the ground.

Violence shined in their eyes as the stared strait towards the Zith in front of him for a moment, the hand grasping his lakan being drawn back, the same he would do when drawing back to strike with his very style of fighting, before thrusting it forward towards the Zith’s chest. The attack with his lakan wasn’t aimed to be lethal, rather just a strike to break flesh, and infect the Zith with the poison covering his blade, hoping Kavala had mixed it to be strong, fast acting, and painful.

[Puck]

A visceral scream erupted from the Zith as the brutal cracking of bones ensued beneath Hatot's clenched fist. Immediately, his wing ceased its struggled as its structure disconnected from the body. Had it not been for Hatot's fist, the entire limb would have fallen limp. The male Zith's pain escalated exponentially as Hatot's blade slipped into his skin. With very little success, the broken creature tried to twist his body to avoid Hatot's blade. However he was tightly bound in Hatot's fist, and the blade pierced his chest. Hot blood spilled down the Zith's body, and though the blow had glanced off his ribs, it was still an excruciating one. A second scream punctured the air like Hatot's Lakan had punctured the Zith, surely alerting anything nearby.

The pair hit the ground with a heavy thud, and the Zith seemed to have forgotten about Hatot entirely. He clutched his wound, a desperate attempt to staunch the crimson stream. No attempt was even made to stand, the creature was in such shock that he lay there and convulsed on the ground. Lead arms suddenly fell to his side, limp and lifeless as his broken wing. So too, did his head fall limply back, as well as his shoulder and now the rest of his body. The Zith appeared to be dead. Though Hatot may have noticed, barely perceptible as it was though, that his chest still rose and fell with breath.

The remaining three Zith turned to face the new threat. The two Zith near the wagon abandoned their charge in favor of the new threat. One drew what appeared to be a heavy mace, while the other began flapping his wings vigorously and reached into an inky spot clinging to his side. The mace wielding Zith rushed forward, wings beating furiously to give him the slightest lift as he leapt at Hatot. The assailant brought the mace over his head a few seconds before Hatot came within range, eyes madly boring into him. This Akalak had materialized from nowhere and slaughtered his kin, and he would pay dearly for the transgression. The heavy head of his weapon was a cold blur as he brought down, aiming to crush Hatot's shoulder.

Wings could be heard in the night air above Hatot, and had he looked up he would have noticed the second Zith flying high above him. Its arm pumped, and a knife whirred through the air to quiver into the ground beside Hatot. Again and again, the Zith's arm worked like an automaton's and two dark silhouettes whizzed toward Hatot.

Over by the slaves, a woman cried out. The third Zith unlocked the shackles from an elderly Drykas woman, and held a dagger to her throat. He cries were silenced as the knife pressed harder against her soft throat, threatening to slip through. Her captor called out to Hatot, "Cease, Akalak, else more lives be taken." Truthfully the Zith did not want to kill the old woman, corpses gained equaled labor lost. However, his deeply rich voice held no qualms.

[Hatot]

Hatot and Radris slowly came to stand as the Zith’s screams died out, the hues of their iris’ still mixing with colors of gold and red as he began stepping forward towards the next two Zith that were already approaching. One of them began raising a mace, readying his attack, while the other took to the air. Their face was almost seemed to show a mixed expression of calm and anger at the same time an their souls worked together, forming a unison as their movements of even their walk became fluid, yet blunt. Their ears twitched at the sound of a dagger plunging into the earth beside them. “A dagger likely thrown from the one in the air.” Radris noted with a bit of a scoff.

“They look to make us fight not only a two front assault, but one mixed with complication of one front being out of reach of retaliation.” Hatot echoed back to Radris.

They then quickly stepped to the side as the Zith’s mace fell, hearing the dull thud of the metal head strike the soft earth near his feet. His ears then twitched again, hearing the whisper of something cutting through the air behind him. “Another set coming,” Radris echoed out.

“Let’s try this approach then.” Hatot echoed back as Radris forced a smile onto their face, knowing instantly what Hatot had in mind.

Their hand quickly snatched, grabbing the mace wielding Zith by their arm, pulling him forward as they continued to circle around him. Their attempt was simple, and not really an attack in the long run. Rather, the two of them simply attempted to pull the Zith with the mace in between them and the approaching daggers.

Whether they struck, or not, was inconsequential a second later, as the third Zith’s demand echoed into their ears. Hatot and Radris took a second to observe the Zith. Where he held the blade, the distance between them, the emotional state of the old Drykas woman. Radris’ voice came to the surface then. “I don’t lay down to the demands of petching cowards.” Radris barked as they suddenly vaulted forward, their left hand holding the lakan drawn back for an attack. “Old woman, show the winged shyke that your culture isn’t one to take lightly either. Get your death grip on him for me.”

As they closed the distance, they felt the burning pain of something piercing their left shoulder as another dagger thrown from the Zith in the air broke flesh. The injury didn’t seem to deter their movement however as they continued to rush forward towards the hostage holding Zith, their lakan still drawn back for an attack despite the injury. The way they held their lakan was merely for distraction though. When they were finally within reach, their right hand suddenly shot forward instead, finger’s extended as they rushed strait towards the Zith’s throat. The force and speed they put into their strike not only looked to crush the Zith’s throat itself, but to plunge their fingers into it as well.

[Puck]

A small gasp, cracked and laden with fear, arose from the old woman as Hatot's fingers shot forward. So too did the Zith shriek, but the supersonic sound mutely bounced off of his adversary's ears. The slaver ducked quickly while wrenching the elder in front of Hatot's strike. A moment ago, the creature's throat had been where the Akalak's lethal fingers were. Now, a Drykas woman's throat was there. Hatot's fingers veritably crushed the old woman's wind pipe with little effort, digging into her soft skin. Silent shrieks tried to arise from her open mouth, and the Akalak could feel her larynx flexing in her attempt to scream. Meanwhile the Zith had drawn a long hunting knife while pushing the old woman into Hatot from the small of her back. He quietly cursed at his misfortune at facing an Akalak who used his hands as well as a Lakan, he had not been expecting the unarmed strike. However, he did not become the leader of this small slave operation by being slow and stupid. He snaked his arm around the woman's hip to blindly strike out at Hatot, and then released the captive to flee.

He dared not inhibit his mad dash by looking back to see how close the Akalak was. His wings began beating as he ran, readying to lift himself from this blood stained earth. Clawed feet had just broken contact, when suddenly the Zith was fumbled as if an invisible tether had suddenly run out of slack. He tumbled lightly to the ground, feeling a pair of hands and the clinking of chains. Turning back revealed a man on his stomach with outstretched arms, clinging onto his wing. The manacles allowed neither creature any more distance, the slave resembling nothing so much as a thick wire stretching between the two. Releasing a high pitched scream of rage, the Zith recollected himself and brought his knife down on the prisoner's neck. Again and again he plunged it into him, until his head fell limp and pulse ceased. The slave master had difficulty tearing himself away from the task, but escape was prioritized before pleasure. He withdrew his knife and resumed the escape.

Behind Hatot, the Zith with the mace was ripping a wickedly serrated knife from his shoulder. With eyes shut and teeth clenched he pulled the barb from himself, and tossed it on the ground next to another blood coated blade. It seemed as if both weapons had pierced him, as boiling blood trickled down his shoulder in two places. Panting, the Zith stooped and picked up his heavy mace, bracing himself with a wide stance. Straightening to see the object of his rage, the Zith suddenly conflagrated. He ran again toward Hatot, readying his mace for a heavy sweep at Hatot's right side with every ounce of momentum he could muster.

The Zith that had hurled the daggers alighted where the mace wielder had pried the knives from himself. He crouched to pick up the two bloodied blades, and wrenched the third from the ground. Rather than inevitably injuring his companion again though, he took to the skies again to seek a more opportune situation.

[Hatot]

They almost growled as their attack hit the Drykas woman instead of the Zith, watching her fall to the ground. Had Kavala been there, she would have been able to save the woman, strait away. She was not, however, and now they felt a twinge of guilt over the woman’s death, even though they knew full and well that the Zith was to blame. Radris even felt the twinge, if for no other reason than he was working in cohesion so closely with Hatot at that time. The feeling only further angered him over the Zith’s cowardly act, as they dropped to the ground, checking on the Drykas woman. As they looked up again, they caught him fleeing after having killed another when he attempted to restrain the apparent leader of their troupe. They stood up, as Radris’ growling voice echoed out to him. “You can’t fly far enough you duck petching coward!” Radris’ voice screamed out. “I’ll find you and I’ll make your death last for weeks!”

Their eyes then widened as they heard the quick exhale of breath from behind, and the sound of something swinging through the air. Their feet kicked backwards as their back slammed into flesh as the shaft of a heavy mace stuck them along their right arm, leaving a welt behind that would later bruise deeply. Still, better than getting struck by the heavy head of the mace itself, which would most assuredly have broken his arm. “Damn these two, their leader’s going to get away at this rate.” Radris echoed in their mind to Hatot.

“Still, we can not give chase. These two would kill us before we reached him.” Hatot replied to Radris, shifting their sight to the one in the air. “Besides, he’ll be back. He’s not one to leave this many behind.”

“I know, but he’ll likely be back with more.” Radris then pointed out, the lakan swinging around as their body turned. He attempted to stab the Zith with the mace in the back, even lightly, as they ran past him then, rushing towards the Zith in the air.

“We both have to push, it’s a great height to clear.” Hatot claimed, both of them already knowing the plan.

“Watch us!” Radris said as the two of them began pushing their legs together, the color hue in their eyes shifting further as hints of orange began to show in small areas of their iris’.

Their eyes kept watch over the Zith as he hurled another knife at them. They ducked down in their run as it soared past them, plunging into the ground as they ran strait for one of the wagons. A strong push off with their legs vaulted them into the air as their foot caught the top of the wagon’s wheel. Keeping the momentum, they pushed off with that foot, leaping into the open bed of the wagon first as they continued to move forward, both of their feet catching the edge of the wagon’s bed along the other side. A loud growl, carrying a hint of both of their voices then cried out as they put all of their leg strength into the final leap, raising their body close to eighteen feet above the ground. The Zith’s eyes widened as it flapped it’s wings again, looking to gain higher altitude, but it was already too late. The sudden planning of both Hatot and Radris took the Zith by surprise as their right hand shot out, grasping the Zith by it’s ankle before it rose out of reach.

The Zith suddenly found itself being pulled down through the air, the bones along their ankle beginning to crack under the force with which Hatot and Radris squeezed. Furthermore, as they fell, the Zith could feel them suddenly pulling him downward. Hatot and Radris landed first, their knees bending as soon as they hit ground, absorbing the impact of their own fall while still increasing the rate of the Zith’s to the last moment as they continued to whip his body down. With a loud thud, they slammed the Zith into the ground with all the strength they could muster. Their lakan would then be brought into play once again as swung it towards the Zith’s leg, looking to cut through the Zith’s tibial artery, to both paralyze the Zith and let it bleed out. They then finally released their grip on the Zith’s ankle, standing up fully once again. Turning, they looked to face the Zith with the mace in the event he was still moving.