Completed Lacerations and Donations (Ariella)

[Inoadar]

OOC - continued from here.

8th of Fall, 513

Inoadar did not know what had become of Irriari. 'Had she failed her crucible?' he wondered. He knew that the tests inflicted on those hoping to become members of the Ebonstryfe were both harsh and personally contentious. No two were exactly the same. He'd heard rumors of being put in a situation where you had to kill family members or disfigure yourself or any number of wretched things.

Irriari had retained her samples of the mushrooms that he'd discovered were a crucial component in the creation of "Wildleash" poison. After his incident with some hidden faction at the Kelvic Research Institute, and their subsequent attempt to dispatch a panther or jaguar member to "repay" his assigned task there against them, he'd realized he truly needed to perfect this toxin for protection. It was a particularly debilitating concoction against shape-shifters.

His job at the KRI hadn't been personal. In fact, it had been a set-up by them to generate a patsy to take the fall for a breakout attempt. His insight and vicious resourcefulness had foiled their arrangement and inflicted some harsh setbacks to their plan. The truth was, he was pleased with his impromptu interrogation and the information it had revealed. But now he knew that THEY knew who he was and where his shop was, if not his home itself.

When he had discovered, during the Kelvic's attempt to kill him, that the mushroom paste he'd purified, combined with the blood of the Kelvic he'd been fighting, among the broken shards of glass on the floor of his shop, blended to make a fluid that caused the Kelvic to shift its forms uncontrollably and then become confused, he knew he was onto something quite useful against them.

But he'd used up his sample of the fungal paste, and the rest of the Kelvic blood had long since decayed. He had gone to the Institute of Higher Learning, searching for Irriari then. He knew she still had her half of the mushrooms they had collected days earlier. Naturally, he was prepared to offer her his research notes so she could craft the poison herself, in exchange for her samples. He knew that she too, was interested in such knowledge.

But now she had disappeared, and no one knew where she had gone, or at least they weren't telling. He resisted admitting to himself that he was worried about her. That would indicate that he cared, and such inclinations led to vulnerability. So he'd shrugged off his concerns and returned to the area where the two of them had found the little fungi, gathering all he could while keeping an ear out for the sound of wolves, always a hazard around the shore of Lake Ravok.

He was now returning, his backpack stuffed with mushrooms and several other forms of fungus he knew were useful in toxic and medicinal applications. He had brought wares to camp with, in case his search took him further afield than he expected. But such was not the case and he knew he would be back at the docks to catch the ferry with time to spare.

All his reveries about Irriari, grim rumors of the crucible, tidbits of knowledge as to where she might have gone, as well as details and speculation about toxin sources and new combinations of enzymes and catalysts were suddenly thrust from his mind...There it was. Had he ever left Ravok without hearing it? The sound of wolves...

At least this time, it sounded as though they already had a victim targeted. Unfortunately for him, it sounded as though they were on the path between the docks and himself. He could ride around, but then he might be pushing his luck catching the ferry. And if they were already engaged on a target, they wouldn't bother him.

He decided to go take a look.

[Ariella Rainecourt]

Sprawled across the branches of a tree like an old ragdoll was Ariella, her hair tangled with leaves and tiny twigs. One leg hung down, and it shifted so much of her weight that she was practically teetering off the edge. The brilliant sunlight bade one eye to open, but the girl resisted and shut it nonetheless, for she was not nearly done with her nap. Still oblivious to her precarious position, she allowed herself to drift back into her dream, back to the Jungle Wilds, where she used to play as a cub and a child. There she played in her memories for some time until the wind shifted, and sent a strong blow through her tree.

Thud!

The fall rocked her to her core, and as she awoke from her slumber she felt every muscle and bone in her body ache. With an unbearable groan, she rolled over and looked once again up towards the sky, cursing the trees in this region for not having more adequate branches. Once she had regained herself sufficiently, she stood and patted down her dress and hair.
As she was about to turn and climb back up the tree, there came a noise from the brush that sent a chill up her spine. Being no foolish deer, Ariella did not freeze but bolted with her mere human feet as fast as she could out of the brush. She knew she had to get out of cover, or they would surround her and take her down in seconds. Ariella had to admit, pack animals had their advantages.

Having only a few moments before they would catch her, she had to think of something quickly. The trees would trap her, and provide no real safety, while the lake would simply make things worse. Suddenly, she caught a glimpse of someone not far from her, a man. The ongoing chase broke from the cover of the trees and brush into the open grass, and Ariella screamed as a wolf caught a piece of her skirt in its mouth. The tug yanked her back, and another wolf seized the opportunity to take a snap at the sleeve of her blouse. The beast only barely missed.

Having no other options, she had to change. Her eyes shut and when she opened them, she felt the power of her hind legs propel her forward at one of the wolves. She knocked it aside effortlessly and broke free from their range. Pivoting to face them daringly, the tigress emitted a roar so majestic and fierce that it put the silly howls of the lanky dogs to shame. Her lips curled back in a rippling snarl, revealing gleaming white fangs. The black spots on the back of her ears became visible as they snapped back. Everything in her body was telling the wolves to back off, or risk obliteration. Of course, it was almost entirely a bluff. She knew she couldn’t take them all at once, and it shook her mortal soul to think that they might recognize the same fact.

I cannot die here, not like this, not when I have done nothing with my life.

Another roar rumbled from her belly and broke from her jaws, blowing back the fur of the wolves who drew ever closer. It didn’t seem like they were buying it.

[Inoadar]

It was enough that Inoadar hated wolves. They'd mauled his leg horribly the last time he'd been out. That had been over a season ago and it was still not healed, though that seemed, inexplicably, to stem from the wound's unexpected turn for the worst while he'd had Wrenmae as his assistant. There had been a lot of curious goings-on while that odd fellow had been around, foremost among them the sudden infectious relapse his largely healed leg had suffered.

But Wrenmae was gone now, and his leg was, once again, largely healed. There was a time he'd feared he'd contracted gangrene and was going to lose it. 'Damned mongrel vermin.' he sneered. In truth, he knew that wolves were not mongrels or mutts. They were, in fact, a very purebred breed, and well organized, very social and very loyal. But for all that, they were nothing but trash to him. Scavengers and scum.

Whereas, the gorgeous creature they were currently encircling was the stuff of pure feral glory. A white tiger! If it were truly an animal, it might possibly be a match for the six wolves trying to get position on it. But Inoadar suspected it was a Kelvic. Not only was this a very unlikely place to find such a wonder, but it was not behaving with the instinctive lethal fury one would expect from the pinnacle of predatory magnificence. It looked afraid, indecisive, resigned to fate, rather than administering it.

Inoadar made his mind up in a second. Had he not just been out collecting the fungal essence required for "Wildleash" poison, it might not have occurred to him that the other primary component was Kelvic blood. 'Thank you, Lord Rhysol.' he grinned to himself. He found himself saying that more often all the time, he found himself meaning it more often as well. He would aid this glorious beast, and in gratitude, it would surely not object if he kept a sample of its blood. There would certainly be plenty of it.

He grimaced as he saw the tiger burst for open ground. If it were only up against a couple of them, the room to tear them apart would be to its advantage. But the wolves would use hit-and-run tactics, flanking and attacking tendons and ligaments, until they lamed it. Then it would be over quickly. The open ground would serve them much better since the tiger could never maintain its awareness of all its enemies' positions.

Inoadar ran his checklist of combat gear. He had his daggers. He had his mail shirt, the strangely light one that did not hinder his movement. He had his crossbow, though he'd probably not be very accurate with it. He had his nettle cloak, many of the spikes coated with poison, He had his blowgun and his bracer of poisoned darts. But more than any of those, he had his empowering hatred of wolves...

He cocked the crossbow, crouching to steady his aim. "HEY, TIGER!!...GET BACK TO THOSE TREES! PROTECT YOUR FLANK! I'LL GIVE THEM A NEW THREAT!" His shout served several purposes. First, it froze the wolves as they realized his presence, giving the tiger a chance to bolt for cover or slash a flank or two of theirs. Second, it froze the wolves, giving him a still target to fire on. Third, it would prove once and for all if this was a Kelvic, since it would only understand his words if it was. Fourth, it would re-energize the tiger with feral enthusiasm, knowing that it had support. And last?...It made HIM feel bad-ass for the fearless injection of chaos he'd just accomplished.

He fired the crossbow.

[Ariella Rainecourt]

The faces of her parents, their home in the jungle, everything she ever loved was rushing through her thoughts all at once as she stared into the eyes of the foremost wolf, who she assumed must have been the alpha. Glancing backward, she realized her fatal mistake. There was now nowhere to run, they had her surrounded, and she swore they could smell the human side of her through her animal skin. Or perhaps they could just smell the fear. When the shout came, however, each of their heads snapped in the direction it came from and they all froze like the silly, purely instinctive rats they were.

An arrow sped through the air and struck the dog on her right in the upper torso, and the thing was down with a yelp. Surging to her left, she grabbed as much flesh as she could in her maw and used the superior muscle of her forelegs and back to toss the wolf aside. With her exit path cleared, Ariella bounded for the trees with the rest of the pack on her tail. They were all barking like mad, and it made her all the more anxious to get to the safety of the branches. Besides, she hadn’t fully taken out that last one and she was sure he’d be back with his teammates soon.

What are you, a house cat? Her long-gone father always loved to pop in during moments like this.

Upon reaching cover, the tigress took a sharp turn into the densest foliage she could find and waited for the pack to catch up to the spot where she had changed direction. Silently, and with unmatched agility, she leapt fifteen feet and landed directly behind the pack, which turned to face her defiantly.

No, a Rainecourt.

The first wolf that charged at her proved a martyr for the rest. Ignoring the others, Ariella waited until it got within range then swiped at it with her four-inch claws. As it fell, she clamped her jaws down on its throat, the same time as one of the other dogs began ripping at her side. The tigress let out a heart-wrenching groan of a roar, for the evil little thing was wreaking havoc on her. Disregarding the pain, she released her kill and shook its friend off her back with a quick spin. It skidded to a stop about seven feet away, enough of a distance for her to pounce at the closest wolf and land a bite in its lower neck. The thing shrieked terribly, and she sunk her fangs deeper until she felt it wriggle and die.

The remaining wolves took turns dipping in and out of her range, nipping at her legs and side, but she was growing too weak from her lacerations to continue fending them off. With what was left of her strength, she leapt into the arms of a nearby tree, scaling it like a spider would its web until she felt secure enough to curl up and lick her wounds.

[Inoadar]

Inoadar cranked the crossbow and loaded another bolt. He saw the tiger take down two of the wolves at great cost. She was torn and bleeding, only a small portion showing the original white beneath the blood and dirt. The remaining four wolves danced in and out, wearing her down.

Inoadar fired another bolt, but he had to try catching wolves as they moved away, for fear of hitting the tiger. They did not stay still long enough, and he could not anticipate their lunges. The bolt hit where it was aimed, but the wolf was no longer there.

The tiger suddenly leaped up and clawed its way into one of the trees, taking a last couple of nips to its legs as it attained enough distance to frustrated the howling group milling furiously below. Anticipating a change of target, Inoadar hooked his crossbow to his belt and unfurled his whip, spinning and lashing it around a branch above him.

He triggered the blades in the toes of his boots, intending to use them the same way lumbermen used the spikes on the sides of theirs. He began to pull himself up, hearing the approach of the pack. He got a few steps up when the weight of one of the wolves was added to the lower boot. It was too much for the blade. It snapped and Inoadar dropped a bit before he was able to catch his weight on the snugged whip and the remaining boot blade.

Another set of fangs snagged his extended leg before he could tuck it back up out of range. It didn't do TOO much damage to the flesh, but the sudden tug on the fabric rattled the crossbow loose from his belt. "PETCH!" he snapped, making a futile grab for it that not only fell far short, but weakened his grip on the whip. He'd hoped to get into the tree and fire the crossbow at his leisure. Instead, he slid another few inches down.

He could see how this was developing, so he spun himself around and sank his boot blade into the first wolf that leapt up to sink its teeth into his ever-more-accessible body. He was rewarded with a howl of pain, but now both legs were being dragged down by canine weight. He twisted his neck and wrists to spring the spikes hidden there in his Nettle Cloak. He held onto the whip with one hand just long enough to draw his dagger before letting go.

His memory flashed to his fight alongside Irriari. He had survived that, and he would survive this. He hit the ground and rolled, grabbing his crossbow and shoving it into the mouth of an approaching wolf. It wasn't loaded, but it stopped the fangs. They pulled back in frustration, freeing Inoadar to hammer the butt of the stock down into the skull of a wolf going for his leg. On an instinct, he thrust the dagger into the space just vacated by the crossbow, figuring that wolf would renew its attack.

The dagger hit something soft and a yelp accompanied the contact. He kicked his boot blade up blindly, hoping to catch something. He swung the crossbow like a mace and slashed the other way with the dagger. He missed with both as a wolf gnashed onto his upper arm, but the mail gave him protection for now. He slapped the end of his arm back, hitting the wolf with the poisoned spikes on that wrist.

Now if he could hit another one with his other poisoned wrist spikes, and survive long enough to see the toxin take effect, he just might make it out of this. He had forgotten completely about the tiger.

[Ariella Rainecourt]

The gashes in her side and back made every movement send shockwaves of sharp pain throughout her body, but it was not so unbearable that she could not force herself down the tree once the wolves were far enough away. Running now took more will power than she had ever mustered before in her life. Through the pangs of agony, she sprinted as fast as she could after the wolves, but her injuries kept her from catching them. She had to get to the man… if he died, she would never forgive herself for it.

By the time she was able to get close enough, she could see that the man had already taken out three out of the four wolves. One was left, and Ariella was determined to destroy him, utterly and completely. This one would pay for what the rest had done to the human. As she approached, the snarling thing dove for her weakest spot, her side, where she was already bleeding immensely. Had the beast succeeded, it could have easily made the situation fatal. Mercifully, a quick left hook caught its shoulder in her claws. It gave her a good enough grip to pull the wolf in. With its muzzle still free, it tore at the flesh on the front her leg. Before it could do any significant damage, though, Ariella closed her jaws around its neck until she heard a familiar snap.

Still unsatisfied, she put one heavy paw down on the lower half of the mutt’s limp carcass and proceeded to tear its head completely off. Blood and tendons slipped out between her fangs and down into the dirt as she dropped the head. The tigress smacked her lips then lifted her eyes to meet the man’s.

Now that the adrenaline had worn off, she was really starting to feel the pain from her wounds. Letting out a soft, painful moan, she limped one step forward then collapsed. Her blue eyes looked up at him for a moment then slowly closed. She was alive, but suffered severely from the attacks she had endured. Her body was struggling to hold on to consciousness.

[Inoadar]

In the frenzy of hand to hand, or rather hand to fang, combat, he probably could not have even remembered his name if asked. He was a rolling, twisting, slashing, hammering force of mayhem. Most of his swings missed, but those that connected, felt ever so satisfying. He'd have thought his adrenaline spent by the time he gutted the first wolf, let alone the second. He had hold of one now by its very jowls, the two adversaries matching each other in snarling, spitting ferocity.

Inoadar wasn't sure how many were dead now. He was sure of one. Another had staggered off as though dying, but it may have simply been the ongoing effects of the poison on his spikes. But it had not returned. He was currently wrestling the third face to face and became suddenly aware of the fourth when it slammed into his shoulder to knock him away from the tree trunk that was protecting the better part of his neck.

He wailed in rage. Rage that he could do nothing to stop the teeth that would now be going for his throat. Rage that his attackers had figured the position of the spikes in the collar of his cloak by now and knew to avoid them. But mostly, it was rage that he would not be able to kill the wolf in his face before its partner tore his throat out.

Yet, the teeth did not strike. At least not the wolf's teeth. A bloody flash of white filled his peripheral vision and there was a desperate yelp, choked off by a deep snarl. A huge clawed pad whipped out and sent the wolf before him stumbling over his legs, off-balance and freshly torn open. Inoadar took the opportunity to kick his lone remaining boot blade into the thing's neck.

He felt the creature tug itself loose and found himself unable to adjust his position to defend himself. His muscles would not respond. His face was now in the dirt and he lacked the strength to even raise his head. There was a ghastly tearing sound, ending with a dull snap, and he waited for something to come and finish himself off while he was vulnerable.

A chime passed and he struggled to roll over. The last wolf lay but a foot away, its head laying in a pool of blood, its eyes staring, glazed and blank. He managed to roll himself over the other way and saw another wolf head. But this one unattached to its body. The tiger took a slow, wincing step toward him and dropped, then lifted its eyes for a moment, only to close them.

Neither of them spoke for a few chimes as they collected what strength they still had. "It catches up to you...pretty fast once the...fun stops...doesn't it..." he said between panting breaths. "I'd shake your hand, but...but I'm...not sure I can...lift it..." he chuckled once. "Sorry to see you...get that gorgeous coat...all bloody...on my account...but I...I definitely wanna...thank you for it."

He got to his knees with a groan. Several wounds started bleeding anew. He commented that it was a good sign. "The name's Nolan Parnell..." He never gave anyone his true name, not even the modified 'Inoadar' version. The man with that name was supposed to be dead and it was best he remained that way.

"I assume you are a Kelvic. I don't know if switching forms makes any difference as far as healing goes, or staunching your wounds. But I need to go get water to boil and get us cleaned up." He whistled loudly and before long, a horse approached, whinnying anxiously at the smell of wolves, tigers and blood. Inoadar calmed it enough to drape himself across the saddle. He took a deep breath and grimaced as he swung a leg over to sit upright. "Can you move? Or do you just want to wait for me here?"

[Ariella Rainecourt]

When her eyes blinked open, red flooded her view, and the sight hurt her almost worse than the dogs had. Her utter incompetence had given the hell hounds free rein on the human. Never before had she felt so undeserving of her stripes. Perhaps her father was right; she really was as useless as a house cat.

The gashes in her side and legs now burned with such searing pain that when she attempted to move, a sudden roar burst from her lungs, something equivalent to the scream of a dying woman. The cry settled into a low, rumbling growl as the tigress clawed the dirt, inching herself ever so slowly behind a tree.

There was an entirely different matter now that she had to deal with aside from her wounds. In the midst of the attack, she had recklessly changed and torn apart all her clothes except for her cloak, which was still hanging in her napping tree. It wasn’t too far, but there was no way she could fetch it in this condition. When her torso was well enough hidden by the tree, she called upon her essence to return her to her human form.

It did so faithfully, and no longer did the flick of a striped tail come from behind the tree, but instead there laid bare legs and on the opposite side of the trunk, a mess of white hair that covered limbs still bleeding crimson. A new pool of blood was beginning to form under her and she shrieked with grief. The woman was sobbing as she slowly began to lift herself up from the dirt.

Looking back at Nolan, she was immediately overcome with embarrassment and scuttled more closely behind the tree until she was practically hugging the bark. A tear-stricken, pale face with the same cat eyes as the tigress peeked out from behind the trunk.

Through winces of pain and short gasps, the young woman managed to reply, “A-Ariella… please, sir… you’ll have to excuse me… I tore my dress when I changed.” Her words were followed by more sniffles and bouts of crying, for the damage done to her body hardly rivaled that done to her pride. What good of a Kelvic was she if she could not even keep a few mangy mutts off a human?

He had not even been their target in the first place. It was her that should have taken all the hits instead of any falling upon such an innocent man, who even then was showing her the utmost kindness. “I would get my cloak and accompany you,” she continued, her breathing heavy and audible, “but I cannot move… I’m so sorry.”

[Inoadar]

"Then just stay put. I will back shortly." His smile turned to a wince as he aggravated some injury while urging his horse, Handy, on to the lake shore. He had learned from his other run-ins with the local wolves to bring equipment for boiling water and preparing bandages when in the field. He had a tripod for hanging his iron pot over a fire to boil it, and he had bandages a-plenty for himself, but didn't think he could cover both their needs. For now, he would cut up what he could salvage from their torn clothes, without stripping them completely naked, and boil them sterile. He would hang them to dry while he cleaned their wounds and then use them for additional bandages.

The girl, Ariella, seemed very open and thankful. He wondered how easy it was going to be to get some of her blood into one of his small vials without her seeing. He thought about simply asking her if it was okay, but he had no doubt it would make her uncomfortable. He knew HE would not allow it. But he had enemies, and feared what sort as mystic access he might be granting someone by letting them have his blood. And it wasn't as though he had any bad intentions toward her. He just needed her blood to finish the process and see if it truly yielded "Wildleash" poison.

He was back in about half a bell after collecting some water in jars he'd brought for collecting materials. He set up the tripod and gathered some firewood. He didn't know of the girl had any experience cleaning wounds. He wondered suddenly if she just changed to tiger form and licked them. That would ruin everything.

"Hey...uh...I'm sorry, I forgot your name. Umm...look don't be shy. I need to clean those wounds. It's going to hurt some, I won't lie to you. I'll go first, I've got a few too. Just let me get the fire going. Do you need me to come in there where you are? I'm not sure how serious you were when you said you could not move. But I shouldn't build the fire where there's so many branches overhead. Over in that open space would be better." He gestured to the clearing where she had been fighting the wolves when he first helped her.

[Ariella Rainecourt]

It was the only real problem with being a Kelvic; if she changed without carefully undressing first, she was usually left with only tatters of what once was. This was the situation now, and even if she had needle and thread it would take more than a day to stitch everything back together. Looking down at her naked self, she pondered over her options. Clearly, she wasn’t about to stroll out into the open without any clothes on, and she wouldn’t be able to communicate with the man if she changed back.

Resolving to cover herself with her sleeping blanket, she whistled loudly for her horse. Soon after, a white mare came into view, trotting towards her off in the distance. Another whistle encouraged her into a steady lope. When she neared, Ariella stood and stepped out from behind the tree for just a moment to grab the horse’s reins and pull her closer. Minding her throbbing wounds, the young woman pulled a blanket out of a saddlebag and wrapped herself with it.

With enormous effort, she hobbled out of the brush and into the open grass of the clearing. Almost immediately she relapsed back to the ground, shutting her eyes and trying to block out the pain. Her blood-stained lips parted as a low groan escaped them, and she began to wonder just how long it would take her to recover enough to hunt. Until she could hunt, she would have to live within the city in order to eat, and the thought was a dreaded one. Cities were grubby and unpleasant, but, they were filled with humans. Perhaps there was a silver lining to this storm cloud.

“It’s Ariella… Ariella Rainecourt.” She said softly, her words half muffled by the grass in which she laid. “I- I can’t thank you enough, sir. You saved my life.” Still her breathing was labored, and blood was beginning to seep through the blanket. She fought against the drowsy feeling that beckoned her into unconsciousness, knowing that if she let it take her, she may not return.