Honor by the Blade (Hatot)

[Puck]

The dagger thrower clawed at the air as if his hands might find purchase on some invisible ladder. Yet he continued to plummet, pulled down in the bone shattering grip of Hatot. Before a three second had passed, the world around him had suddenly lost air. He gasped and struggled to fill his lungs, the air expelled from his chest. It was then that the blade cut open the tibial, and his leg went numb. Sweet oxygen finally flooded his lungs as his lower body lost feeling. His mouth opened, but Hatot heard nothing, and began dragging himself away. Ten seconds and he collapsed, unaware of the copious amounts of blood gushing from his leg.

Hatot turned to see the mace wielding Zith lay collapsed on his stomach, a small cut on his back. Bereft of any ability to move, he lay awaiting the coup de grâce from Hatot.

Behind him, a middle aged woman called to Hatot in a high and frightened voice, "Please release us! I am a doctor, we need to take that man off the wagon and force a purge of the poison they've been dosing him with before it does more damage. I fear he may die if we do not act, ever second is of dire import!" Her voice was shaky, nervous as it addressed her apparent rescuer. He had, after all, cared little for the fate of the elder.

Time swift exhausted itself, and Hatot discovered the need for a quick decision. A sharp cry of pain was elicited from a large Drykas male as an arrow lodged into his shoulder. A cursory glance revealed that the missile had come from somewhere behind Hatot. It appeared as if the last Zith had arrived. Another arrow, this time so close to Hatot he could hear the shaft whiz by his ear, lodged into the soft earth at his feet. Yet, this one came from the opposite direction. Another arrow, this time within inches of the Akalak. The Zith were homing in.

Heat continued to seep from the man on the wagon, and the doctor watched Hatot with expectant eyes. Her chains were weak, as were the rest of the slaves', for the Zith primarily utilized fear tactics to keep their cargo in place. With enough effort, or even a strong enough blow from his Lakan, they would shatter. With twenty seven slaves and four bodies in total, there was no hope for cover behind the wagons for all of them.

The man bound on the wagon was slightly more secured than the others, but the constraints were mainly hemp rope. He lay strapped down around the chest and thighs, keeping him close to the wagon. The last restraint found on the man was a heavy pair of manacles that glimmered faintly even in the moonlight. These were attached to the wagon by a small chain, and oddly enough a key tied to a thin cord hung nearby the manacles. Apparently the Zith wanted to be able to quickly untie him if necessary, but for what reason was certainly not clear.

[Hatot]

Their gaze shifted back and forth for a moment, looking over the Zith firing arrows down at them first, then the gathered Drykas shackled together, and finally the doctor and the man bound to the wagon. “Well petch! This is just shyketastic!” Radris bellowed in their head.

“We knew this would be a very likely possibility.” Hatot replied as he began moving towards the huddled Drykas.

“Yeah, be we didn’t discuss how we would be handling it.” Radris then echoed as he forced their body into a duck, avoiding another arrow.

“Um,” Hatot replied, letting a moment of silence pass, “decisively?”

“You’re just trying to piss me off now, aren’t you?” Radris echoed in a grumpy voice.

They suddenly crouched down next to the Zith along the ground who wielded the mace. “Need to use you for a moment.” Hatot then said, slinging the Zith’s paralyzed form over theirright shoulder as it’s wings and upper half laid sprawled out over his back. He kept grasp of the Zith’s legs with his left hand, his the tip of his lakan continuously poking into the Zith’s leg. They then reached over with their right hand, grabbing the Zith’s mace before moving towards the group of chained Drykas once again. Another whisper in the air soon found the Zith grunting out as they felt an arrow tip poking them lightly in the back, threatening to cut through their leather armor. “Cripes, why couldn’t they have wore armor? The arrow wouldn’t have gone strait through them then.” Radris complained, finding the poke irritating.

They then stepped in front of the Drykas woman who called out to them, lifting the heavy mace as another arrow whizzed by, nicking their arm. “Those arrows are becoming more and more annoying.” Hatot then echoed to Radris before dropping the head of the mace over the woman’s chains, breaking them under the force.

“Go, begin freeing the man strapped to the cart, I’ll be over in a moment to help you.” Hatot then said the woman before moving to the other slaves, passing ten of them that had been chained together before breaking the next links of chains. “Start sheltering yourselves under the wagon.” Hatot then ordered them.

“Unless, of course, you all want to fight back?” Radris then added before echoing into Hatot’s head, “I hope their arrows weren’t poisoned.”

“We’ll know soon enough.” Hatot echoed back before moving down another ten, breaking their links as well as another arrow suddenly found it’s mark, piercing into Hatot and Radris’ left arm which was left a little less protected by his Zith shield. They hissed out in pain, gritting their teeth together as they then began moving towards the wagon with the Drykas strapped down to it by rope. “Okay, that one hurt.”

“You Zith out there!” Hatot’s voice then called out. “You have a choice here. You can turn away, and cut your losses, or you can stick around while we wait it out for the Akalak raiding party that’s coming this way. Then of course, you two will just be dead, regardless of what happens to us.”

Hatot then dropped the body of the Zith he carried, taking their lakan along the ropes to cut the Drykas free. “Unlock his manacles,” Hatot then told the Drykas woman as they looked to where the Zith were currently flying around.

[Puck]

The woman began scrambling over to the wagon after Hatot broke her chains. She hesitantly glanced at an arrow at it struck the ground a few feet from her, quivering dangerously. Despite the danger the doctor was calm as she began releasing the poisoned man. She started with the manacles, forcing the key into its slot and jiggling it till they popped open and fell heavily to the ground. With the manacles removed, she started frantically searching for something with which to cut his ropes. She tugged at the knots, but to no avail. Her voice was starting to shake, "I need your dagger to cut his ropes!" She fell back on all fours and crawled toward Hatot.

Meanwhile, the slaves Hatot had released had set up an impromptu hierarchy. A small spark of life had been thrown up as the mace head cracked their chains, and the Akalak saw some of the slaves suddenly become human once more. A slim man in the first set of slaves had immediately taken command of his section, "Hurry now, under the wagon before we are shot!' It really was nothing more than a reiteration of the Akalak's orders, but any amount of reinforcement would likely be beneficial. Despite their haste, nine emancipated grasslanders found themselves dragging the tenth underneath the wagon. The last person in their section had been hit by an arrow, its shaft buried in his back. He had bit through his lip trying to maintain his dignity and not scream, but he had since lost control of both his middle and lower body as well as his bowels. A scream of frustration erupted from his mouth as he broke down, tearing at the earth with his frantic fingers. His brethren had pity though, and a man immediately clamped a strong hand over his mouth. Another Drykas promptly squeezed the paralyzed man's throat, robbing him of breath.

Another arrow sang through the air, piercing the slave nearest Hatot in the neck. A second ticked by. Then another. No more missiles came from the Zith. Either Hatot's bluff had worked, or something else had scared them off.

[Hatot]

They had just finished cutting the last of the ropes, slowly pulling the poisoned man down from the cart. A sudden silence passed over the caravan then as they looked down to the doctor for a moment. “The arrows stopped.” Radris then echoed. “You think they bought that line of shyke about the raiding party.”

“I don’t know.” Hatot replied. “It seems premature. Even if they did, they’d likely keep firing until they saw them coming, and they shouldn’t be here for another bell at the very least.”

They then grabbed the poisoned Drykas by the back of his shirt as they began dragging him under the wagon. “Get under the with him, doctor.” Hatot then said the Drykas before dropping the mace near them. “If you manage to save him, begin breaking the others free if you see the opportunity.”

They then reached to the arrow sticking out of their left arm, grasping the shaft tightly. With a subtle grunt, a quick yank was given, ripping the arrow free from his arm, tearing the wound opened further before he tossed the arrow to the ground. Fatigue was starting to set into his body and it wouldn’t be long before the wounds began burning with pain. While there was nothing he could do for the pain at that moment, there was something they could do for the fatigue as their hand dipped into the satchel that Kavala had given him the day prior. A small bottle was retrieved from within and examined for a moment to ensure it was the right one. “Stamina in a bottle, I suppose.” Hatot then muttered before the small cork was pulled free and the contents of the discolored liquid drank.

The bottle was then slipped back into the satchel. They weren’t sure how long it would take before they began to start feeling the effects, but it wasn’t important now. Instead, their eyes blinked for a moment, switching back to infravision as they began to scan the area surrounding the wagons for heat signatures other than those of the Drykas and the Zith he had so far dispatched. Whether they were gone, or just laying in ambush, they had to be sure.

[Puck]

Heat seeped from the bodies of the dispatched Zith and slaves, each slowly making the leap from warm entity to cold corpse. Those that remained alive stayed prone underneath the wagons, their heat signatures lighting up the undersides of the carts like fire. Scanning the horizon yielded naught but an inky blue sky, the remaining slavers were either completely gone or hiding beneath the ridge of the hill.

As Hatot continued scanning the horizon, the doctor pulled her patient off the wagon. She pushed him onto his side and forced a hand down his throat. The unconscious man gagged and wretched then vomited up a foul smelling concoction. It was like nothing Hatot had seen or smelled before- the poison had apparently done foul things to his stomach. The doctor, satisfied that his purge had ejected the toxins, began ejecting Res. She formed a small sphere in her hand that unraveled and snaked into his mouth. As the gas touched his lips it turned to water and trickled down his throat. ”I apologise for not aiding you with my reimancy, but I am not skilled enough with it to do- oh!”

The doctor nodded in excitement as her patient stirred, and Hatot could see that his body was regaining heat quickly. He shifted slowly, and his caretaker lay him down on the grass and began summoning more Res. This sphere she instead transmuted into water and applied to his face, then scrubbing away the dirt and grime from around his mouth and eyes. He stirred a bit, more lively now. His arms heavily moved, sliding across the ground to rest on the doctor’s thighs, slowly flexing his fingers against her skirts. While mildly perplexed by this, the doctor was convinced it was a good sign and began checking for any other wounds he may have sustained.

Hatot saw heat signatures on the horizon. Five sets of large bat like wings and lithe bodies burst from the basin rim like weeds. Two pulled back their bows and loosed arrows, one narrowly missing Hatot- there was not so much distance between the Zith and the Akalak this time. The other three flapped their wings and began gliding toward Hatot, pikes in the hands of each. The weapons were angled up, like a pendulum being held in check. They would swing down, their great axe head eager to cleave Hatot’s flesh. Another set of arrows whistled through the air toward Hatot, and the flying Zith approached.

Had Hatot been facing the doctor, he might have seen her own plight. Her patient had awoken, and immediately she saw the concentric rings around his iris and knew something was wrong. Though instead of fleeing, the foolish Drykas had tried to think of an illness that would cause such an effect. The patient’s hand snaked up to her neck, clamping down tightly. She felt the Djed empty from her body at a blistering pace, as if the man was stealing her power. A cry died in her throat as his hands clenched tighter, and she could do nothing as her essence was sucked dry. It was painful, so incredibly painful. She tried to pry his hands off, but it was to no avail. Small pins began forming on his palms, pressing into her neck. The pins grew into small spikes, puncturing her skin and curving like rose thorns. Each time she pulled on his hands, the barbs caught in her flesh. His skin looked as if it was boiling as it bubbled and sprouted thorns. His limbs looked thinner now, but the woman could not so much as touch them without tearing her hands. Whispering could be heard in her ear, demanding she manifest Res. Her skin began splitting open in random places, weeping wounds spitting out crimson discharge. It was not much longer before the effects of overgiving forced her into coma, the world going black as she stared at the beast in horror. Its back was arched in ecstasy as it sucked the Djed from her body, and primordial cry erupted from its mouth as it pushed the woman’s husk aside. Twenty five seconds from health to a husk.

Suddenly standing up, the creature’s torso burst. Four long, snake like limbs sprouted from it, each growing the same rose thorns that adorned its original arms. At this point it looked like nothing so much as a horrible cross between a human and a rose bush. Its new limbs continued to grow, sliding down underneath the wagon. The slaves batted at the tentacles, seeing what the thing had done to the doctor. However, they seemed to care little as they wrapped about the chains and bodies and yanked them out from beneath the wagon. The limbs coiled forcefully around four slaves, each of whom began screaming as the Djed was leeched from their bodies.

It seemed that the Zith had not found a slave, so much as a secret weapon.

[Hatot]

They took a couple of steps back, their eyes widening as their infravision faded into normal sight. The transformation of this simple man into the beast he had become, greedily sucking at the energies which fueled magic, was a sight that set even the tall Akalak to take a step back. “Petching balls!” Radris echoed out. “What the hell is that thing?”

“Bad news.“ Hatot replied as they took another step back, seeing the Drykas woman flung to the ground.

“Thanks for the battle update, dipshyke.“ Radris grumbled

“Are you with me on this one, Radris?” Hatot then questioned as their feet dug into the earth, preparing to spring forward.

“Like I can just up and leave, trapped in our body like this. Petch you ask stupid questions sometimes.” Radris echoed back as he forced a grin to appear on their lips. “Beside, this wiggling thing looks like a whole bag load of fun.”

“Let’s do this then.“ Hatot then echoed. Their teeth grit as their lakan was switched to their right hand and griped tightened. The color in their eyes now turning almost completely orange as small spikes of red hue shimmered around their pupil, and smooth waves of gold danced around the edge of their iris. Their very thoughts began to synchronize as both knew what the other was thinking almost instantly. There were no longer any secrets, no bickering, no snide remarks to each other. There was simply a goal. There was barely a duality between them now, and only Auristics would reveal that they both had two souls. Pain began to melt away from previous wounds, distractions gave way to almost complete focus. They were almost completely one, and had they not been so focused on the creature in front of them, they might have come to realize just how close they were to complete balance at that point.

Their legs pushed them forward, the body springing with speed fueled by the energy concoction Kavala had produced for them. Their muscles may well disagree with them later on, but they felt at that moment that they could keep up a high pace for bells. As snake like limbs suddenly burst free from the Kimenth, reaching for the other chained Drykas, their body ducked under the first couple of tentacles, the movements of the limbs seeming to appear slower to their eyes than they actually were. Could it be, in this state, that their body reacted and moved all that much faster? Or was it something special in the drink that Kavala had prepared? Perhaps both? These were questions to be answered at a later time as their right hand drew back, their body twistingly slightly in their run forward. As they pushed off with their left leg fully, their right hand shot forward, thrusting the blade of the lakan forward, the blade that curved in front of their fist, instead of extending upward from the hilt, acting as an edged guard for a simple strait punch, with all of their body weight put behind it.

The blade met with tough resistance, not being able to cut cleanly through the limb that had reached out for the remaining Drykas captives as their arm jerked back slightly at the resistance before cutting through the lower half of the limb. As it dangled, practically completely useless now, they had thought that was sufficient enough compared to what they truly wanted to do. Their head turned back to meet the gaze of the Kimenth as they smiled wide. “Come and get it.” they said, their voice a mix of Hatot’s calm tone and Radris’ intimidating gruff voice. “If you’re able.”

"Oil, torches. Have them ready!" They said bluntly to the Drykas as they began leading the Kimenth away. They then began moving in the only direction that made sense. Away from the Drykas captives and towards their Zith enslavers. Their eyes keeping focused on the Zith for their incoming attacks, while occasionally looking back to make sure the Kimenth was still giving chase.

[Puck]

A guttural scream erupted from the Kimenth as Lakan cut through its tough hide. The arm fell limply in the grass and it's attention became firmly rooted to Hatot, harsh clicking noises emanated from its larynx. It stepped forward to latch its vine-like appendages to the Akalak, but he was already on the run and the limp arm caught on the grass. The arm began retracting into the creature, until there was naught left but a stump and the weeping wound caused by the Lakan. Again it began its pursuit, legs growing longer with every step. Within short order the Kimenth was a foot or two taller than Hatot, and was quickly gaining on him.

The slaves the Kimenth had been terrorizing were thoroughly incapacitated. Two of them lay dead, and the rest attempted to crawl back under the wagon, dragging the corpses of their fallen brethren by their chains. Fortune lay with Hatot though, for the slaves beneath the wagon next to them began scrambling out from hiding. They clawed at the side of their wagon, pulling off the small casks of oil for the lanterns and reached into the wagon for torches as well as flint and steel. With only a small inkling of why they were doing so, they began lighting their torches.

The Zith continued their aerial charge toward Hatot, pike angled down to skewer the Akalak. But events would dictate another course for them, as a flask of torch oil sailed through the air to land to Hatot's right. The clay vessel shattered, and the heavy liquid coated the tall grass and ground. Next a torch landed in the pile, and in the next instant a blinding flash went up as the world seemed to ignite. The nocturnal Zith screeched as their sight suddenly vanished in what felt like the sun. Each pulled up, completely forgetting their prey.

Hatot was close to the Zith now, in fact he would be able to jump up and reach their ankles had he a mind. However, the Kimenth was close to Hatot. The two Zith closest to it did not feel the thorny vines wrap around their feet, being so preoccupied with their loss of sight. However, they did feel their backs slam into the ground as they were yanked down in front of Hatot. The third tentacle began snaking toward Hatot's stomach as the Kimenth entered range, but did not get a grip on the fleeing Akalak as it nearly jumped to the left of the fire to avoid the heat.

Another burst of light as the slaves threw more oil and torches near the combat. It seemed as if they had taken their own initiative, regardless of whether or not it was exactly what Hatot had in mind. At the very least, it was effective, for the arrows sailing into the fight were wild and lacking any semblance of accuracy. It seemed as if the light was not treating the archers' eyes too well either.

[Hatot]

They suddenly leapt as two of the Zith were pulled down in front of by the following Kimenth, their body tucking into itself as they rolled forward along the ground, coming to their feet once again. A quick push of their legs were given then, sending them vaulting forward in the event the Kimenth was reaching out for an attack. They did not look back, but merely kept their eyes on the closing distance of the final three Zith wielding bows. The vision of the Zith, hindered by the sudden flashes of lights, shot blindly through the air. They suddenly jumped into the air. In their right hand, a quick swing was given to the Zith on the far right of them, nicking it’s leg with the poisoned blade. Their left hand reached out, grasping the other one, grabbing it’s ankle as he pulled it down to the ground on his fall. A quick glance behind him noticed a third jar of oil being ignited as the Kimenth maneuvered around it. “Good,“ they said under the breath lightly, “they’re taking more initiative than I expected.“

They quickly moved forward once again, moving past the third Zith still in the air as they gained higher ground. A quick turn was then taken as they sprinted towards the Zith, leaping through the air once again. Their legs raised and their arms extended. After a short distance, they collided with the Zith, their feet pressing into it’s back while their hands gripped it’s shoulders, soaring down into the ground right towards the Kimenth. They waited, timing the fall as best they could before finally they kicked out, shoving the Zith strait down towards the Kimenth’s embrace while arresting their own forward motion, falling strait to the ground. They raised their lakan, eyeing the results, hoping that the Zith were now dealt with and their full attention could be given to the Kimenth alone.

[Puck]

Hatot, it seemed, had escaped the pressure presented by the Kimenth. He could almost feel the wind of iron jaws snapping shut at his heels, closing instead over the three attackers. The Kimenth's triad of vine arms split at the ends, wrapping around the neck of each Zith and squeezed shut like crab claws. Shrieks that Hatot could not hear writhed from their throat as the thorns on the arms began elongating to pierce their necks. Blood trickled from their necks, slicking the arms the crushed. Like the doctor, this fresh prey could not grasp at their attacker for the thorns. Djed was sucked from their body, ejected by the emptiness that quickly filled them. Their eyes helplessly begged before a starving automaton of a master, finding no reprieve from the strangulation.

As each Zith swiftly went limp from oxygen loss, the Kimenth hurled their corpses at the other target before it. The bodies were not exactly aerodynamic, and the first was high. Said improvised projectile smashed against the ground and flailed wildly as it rolled. The second and third bodies were more accurate as they were gracelessly whipped toward Hatot.

Without waiting for the retort to the hurled bodies, an odd formation burst from the tip of a tentacle and began growing. The white substance resembled bone, and began forming into a wickedly sharp. While not finished, it was clear that the bone was the upper jaw of a glassbeak. While the central vine was morphing, the other two snaked forward to strike at Hatot's lower right leg and neck. The blows were not overly zealous, as the beast was primarily concentrating on the transformation. But it would not take much for the beast's thorns to lodge into Hatot, and then the obvious constriction would follow.

[Hatot]

They began to move forward, ducking below as the body of Zith came flying over them. With the Zith now out of the way, their heart raced, excitement pumping through their veins as Radris’ love for battle influenced their enthusiasm. Their body shifted to the side, avoiding another Zith corpse thrown at them by the Kimenth, their eyes taking in Hatot’s calm and tactical mind when it came to fights. The third body flew as they ducked under it, barely avoiding the corpse as it’s wing grazed the hair on the top of his head.

They then noticed the morphing of one the three limbs, a slow growl exiting their lips as it began forming into something that resembled a Glassbeaks’ jaw. His body then suddenly turned, leaning back as the other two limbs came rushing past him in an effort to grasp on to them. Their free hand then suddenly snatched out the moment the limb closest to them had reached it’s length. Grabbing onto it, they gave a quick jerk forward, sending the Kimenth forward and off balance. As the snake like limbs plunged into the ground, catching it’s fall, they knew they didn’t have a lot of time.

Their body ducked down, their feet pushing them forward quickly as they covered the distance between themselves and the Kimenth’s body in short time, just as it was righting itself once again. Their hand raised into the air before the lakan fell along another one of the limbs stretching out from the body, cutting into it as deed as they did the first one. Their body continued to spin with the swing, their free hand coming around as their fingers bent in a hook like shape before slamming into the soft tissue of the Kimenth’s shoulder.

Their body exhaled loudly as a suddenly as one of the snake limbs whipped back, striking them along the chest, sending them flying backwards through the air. Pain entered their chest, the strike causing two of their ribs to crack before they slammed along the ground, sliding along their back as the inertia refused to give in just yet from the resistance the ground and tall grass created. Their legs swung upward, rolling backwards with the inertia as he came into a crouched position. Their body quickly rolled to the side as the Glassbeak limb plunged into the ground with a loud thud, kicking up dirt and grass with it’s impact. Their feet kicked them forward as they once again began rushing towards the Kimenth, ignoring the pain that rose in their chest with each agonizing breath they took.

The Kimenth’s second limp shot out at them, the tip plunging strait for their chest before the leapt up and it sailed under their feet. Their feet slammed downward, using the Kimenth’s limb as a stepping stone as they flew higher through the air, their knees slamming into the Kimenth’s shoulders and chest. Repeatedly, falling on old training and instincts, their free hand shot out as fingers were jabbed into various pressure points along the Kimenth’s face, neck and shoulders, their own face being twisted as a punch or two from the Kimenth‘s humanoid arms struck out at them.. They then let out a grunt as they felt one of the limbs finally catch them around their waist and snaking it’s way up.

It soon began to feel as though their stamina was being drained, an edge of fatigue first hitting their eyes, their limbs almost starting to shake from a sense of overuse. Pain in their chest raised as the pressure from the Kimenth’s limb squeezing them threatened to turn the cracked ribs into cleanly broken ribs entirely. They had to move fast as their free hand swung outward, before their palm was slammed hard into the flat of the Kimenth’s ear, causing winced facial features as a disorienting effect forced it’s limb to loosen slightly as blood began to trickle out of it‘s ear.

They continued their assault as their lakan was raised next, stabbing the tip of it down into the Kimenth, where it’s shoulder met it’s neck, causing it to roar out in pain as they pushed the lakan forward from their, slicing through more flesh as the lakan’s blade cut itself free out of the back. Another swing was taken with the lakan, this time stabbing the tip of it into the limb that coiled itself around them as they constantly pushed forward with the blade, slicing through the limb until it feel limb towards the ground, releasing them entirely.

A growling could be heard from them as their feet hit ground, deep breaths being taken. They glared at the Kimenth, their lakan still raised as it stumbled back a step or two, looking to be as worse for wear. The tip of their foot dragged as they took a step forward towards the Kimenth, their intention clear on the task of finishing it off. Only their scream echoed, however, as the tip of the Glassbeak limb plunged through the into their back along their left shoulder blade, tearing flesh and shattering bone. They were suddenly thrown backwards, the muscles along their back tightening up in pain as more flesh tore before they were finally tossed free and sent flying through the air once again, their body coming to a rolling stop along the ground.

A subtle cough was exhaled as their right hand still gripped their lakan tightly, pushing their body up off the ground, their leg slowly sliding forward and underneath them as their knee pressed into the ground to support their weight. They were getting weaker by the moment, and it occurred to them that the Kimenth could have finished them off right then and their had it not been for the fact that it too was in a process of recovering from their own attacks. They finally got to their feet, their left arm hanging limp and useless at their side, their lakan raised in front of them still with their right hand as they breathed in and out heavily. “Okay ugly,” they said before letting out another cough, “time for round three.”