Closed [Outside Sapphire Star] From Brawl to Bloodbath

[Ashar]

55th of Autumn, 514AV
First Tier, Sapphire Star
21st Bell


There was animosity in the air that day.

Since the beginning of the Fall season, people had been acting strangely - antithetical to their original personalities, with about half their traits swapped out for others and rearranged to make a completely different person. And some people didn't like this. Change was not always welcome, these changes in particular, and the resulting personalities of so many honest and diligent people created a nearly palpable atmosphere. Some people would walk quickly to where they were going, eyes downcast; some would saunter around the streets, daring the passerby to get in their way; others were simply lollygagging without a care in the world, oblivious of what was happening around them.

Inhibitions had eroded greatly, and there were a good deal of people milling about the first tier on this particular day. The weather was fine, beautiful in fact, drawing out a variety of people, from slackers escaping their jobs to inquisitive minds looking around. The streets became a melting pot of personalities, all bumping and scraping against each other. All it would take was a spark to set it off.

That spark could come from anywhere at anytime, and those wary or paranoid enough to suspect what was coming would often glance around, as if looking for the flint that would strike the conflagration. People would bump into each other, intense looks exchanged, but then they would move on. Apprehension was an understatement.

Outside of the Sapphire Star, the city's club for its few women, some of the more brazen and tactless gathered to remark at those coming and going from the establishment. Lewd and downright obscene remarks were made, often accompanied by gestures. Far too many were Kavran, members of the Kuvay'Nas meant to safeguard its citizens. Those around them with milder personalities tried hard to steer well away from the small gathering of callow males, but the throng seemed to be attracting more like them. Their number was growing, though still small enough to make it a disgusting annoyance rather than a serious issue. That was not to last long, however, as voices began to rise.

Shouts filled the street.

[Sarshassilivoss]

Obliviousness, yes that was precisely the state Voss was within as he strode through the city. The sun was fresh and bright, a pleasant breeze from the sea wafted the familiar and wonderful quality to the air that Voss could bask in quite completely, wearing nothing but a strangely woven set of trousers that appeared to be made from seaweed, and bunched just above the knee, held up with a length of fishing line. This city was strange no question, and his moods seemed to shift, from extreme happiness, to a homesick melancholy, to contentedness. He liked to think he was getting a better handle on realizing when this happened, but more as like it was that the Iyvess simply did not care.

Walking with his head in the clouds he barely noticed the edgy individuals, nor the grumpy ones, nor the downright fearful ones. A flock of Silk Gulls soared overhead and he paused in his lazy machinations to stare at them in child like wonder.

"Hey!" He could only assume that the sound was not meant for him.

"HEY, I'M TALKING TO YOU!" He glanced around distractedly, his eyes falling on a dark cobalt form of one of the Akalak's of the city, leering at him with hostile intent that the Iyvess didn't seem to pick up on. Voss slowly pointed a finger at his own chest.

"Yeah you, you idiot, you're one of them sea Dhani right?" Voss nodded slowly, but his nod only seemed to enrage the blue man further.

"THIS IS ALL YOUR FAULT!" He screamed, and he was not alone. A whole hoard of the Akalak's looked ready to murder to Saltwater Iyvess then and there. Voss lifted his hands, some clouded part of his mind realizing he didn't have his trident on him, nor the time to shift into his Dhani form. He wouldn't care, but it seemed...it seemed things were about to get a might violent.

Voss opened his mouth, unsure of quite what to say, if it was an apology they wanted, maybe for him to grovel, but then the tension, broiling and rising seemed to burst, and the Iyvess was lunged upon by two large Akalak's as the beginnings of a brawl began.

There were a few hoots and hollers coming from the Sapphire Star as Voss began to receive his beating, his form harshly tackled to the ground, feeling his back open up as it skidded across the rough ground to a stopping point. He knew little to nothing of unarmed combat, so accustomed was he to utilizing his girth and tail to strangle and latch onto opponents. Though he was more than capable with his trident, that also would do no good when he didn't possess the weapon, but after the first few heavy punches to his ribs, the at once lollygagging Dhani wanted the pain to stop, right away.

He flailed uselessly for several moments, pushing the Akalak bodies ineffectually with his hands, until he managed to grab a lock of the ebony hair of one of his assailants, tugging it fiercely. He may not have had skill, but his form was still much stronger than any human. The Akalak screamed in pain as a chunk of his hair was ripped from his head. Voss held the bit dumbly, not observant or skilled enough to take advantage of his opponent's lapse in focus, and then more of the giant men fell upon him with even greater fervor, the sun blocked out, the Iyvess howling in pain.

[Eselle]

It was a tense night. There had been a lot of tense nights this Fall. Eselle walked with undue confidence down the street towards the Sapphire Star. She had taken to carrying both of her suvai at her belt and a bastard sword sheathed across her back. Even now the threat of the weapons were usually enough to keep the less arrogant from hassling her. In truth her skills with her suvai were less than stellar and her bastard sword might as well be a broom, but strangers didn’t know that.

What Eselle found outside the club, was not at all her hope for the night. A Number of Akalak were beating on some wailing figure beneath the writhing, brawling masses. The Konti caught sight of a tanned. An observer yelled, “Get him!” Another chimed, “It’s his fault!”

The seer was incensed. There was no chance this ravening mob had proof to back up their accusations, and how could one man be responsible for this chaos? No, this was wrong. The Judgement struck a chord through her thoughts, reverberating, feeding in upon itself until it was her only thought. Rage fueled her feet as she ran, indignation her hands as she drew a suvai. The irony never occurred to her.

Eselle jumped into the brawl like a child into a pile of leaves. The first Akalak had no chance to see her coming and she sliced across his exposed back muscles with her Suvai. THe immobilizing poison saw him pushed out of the fray. That was all the advantage she got though. The warrior Akalaks were quick to accept a second adversary and the stunning fist that hit her cheek was their reply. It didn’t remove the Konti from the mass but it did daze her. Still she grappled and scratched and bit and screamed. In Kontinese the insults flew, “Your Fathers are bottom feeders!” she screamed, interwoven with a number of obscenities.

For a brawl, all things considered it wasn’t too bad for the Konti, until one of the Akalaks realized who had thrown the insult. It hadn’t been part of her plan for one of the Akalaks to know Kontinese. She was hoisted out of the mob and slammed face first into the wall of the Sapphire Star. The hilt of her bastard sword still sheathed on her back pushed against her with his weight. Her mind flooded with fear at the vulnerable position, he was yelling at her in Tukant which she understood none of. The tone said all she needed to know. With sheer force of will she closed her eyes and desperately sought the calm of a fortune teller, calling on her mother goddess Avalis. The lily at her side a reminder of who she was, she fell into the Chavena. His breath was hot on her neck, she had no trouble finding him. Eselle pulled at his memory, his darkest most vulnerable moment of his long life. It was over in a blink of an eye, she was back and being crushed. The action was quick but mentally taxing.

“You were young” she began in Kontinese just below conservational volume. He would hear her, “Your shame I see it. You were taken by the Zith. You let your father be killed while you whimpered. Pathetic, even a woman could have saved him. You are a disgrace and no true warrior at all!” By the end her voice had risen steadily into a scream, making his worst moment public knowledge for any who spoke her native tongue. It was enough to pause him, she took it. Her first suvai was lost in the mob, but her second she pulled from her other hip and rammed it behind her trying to meet flesh. She found flesh, far more than she intended. The Akalak pulled back from her weapon, it had punctured through the flesh of his bicep. She held her grip firm, not losing the weapon when he pulled himself from it. Part of her was horrified, part of her felt impowered. The poison of the suvai would take its toll soon and the Akalak would be out of the brawl for a few chimes.

Eselle turned towards the mass again, intent on the innocent in need of help. Her pale cheek was already swelling and the red hand prints on her arms were not fading.

[Jeremy Casing]

It came to the surprise of many a conversation partner that Jeremy worked in the Sapphire Star. Apparently, for he had not lived long enough in the city beforehand to realise, the club exercised a strict female-only employee rule. This usually led whoever Jeremy was talking to glance quickly down towards his groin and then back up to his face. This irritated him; the Kelvic was slight of build, with long (perhaps quite effeminate) legs and gangly arms, but he was most definitely a man.

Apparently, however, the staff of the Sapphire Star - in particular the broad-shouldered Akontak bouncer - appeared to have softened in her mannerisms this season. Lika Kibraxa still terrified Jeremy, with her muscular arms that were thicker than his thighs, but her demeanour was not completely unpleasant. She would wrap a trunk-like arm around his throat in a playful manner, pretending to snap his neck whilst calling him 'twiglet'. It enraged Jeremy, but he could hardly fight the brutish woman, could he?

Nevertheless, he enjoyed his job. The women of Riverfall smelt nice, spoke in friendly little tones and laughed airily. They mothered him, playfully toying with his hair and resting their breasts on the bar whilst he mixed their drinks. His bartending skills had not improved much - if at all - and it still took him twice as long as the other employees to make and serve any drinks. His clumsiness, and subsequent frustration at himself, entertained his clients to no end.

If Jeremy knew he that was the source of the women's amusement, he did not show it. In fact, he appeared to be completely unaware -- and in truth, he was. He merely assumed that those little laughs and patronising pats on the back were a sign of genuine affection, perhaps even mild flirtation. When he would quirk an eyebrow in response and give a toothy smirk, the women would laugh even harder, and he would swagger away really quite full of himself.

Yes, his work at the Sapphire Star allowed Jeremy to bring humour and entertainment to the women of Riverfall, even if he did not know that it was at his own expense.

So when one of the regular customers - a plain-looking human woman with mischievous green eyes - approached Jeremy to tell him that they needed 'a pair of extra muscles' at the front door, the wiry Kelvic happily strutted to the main entrance, to the woman's great amusement.

His confidence quickly fizzled away when he saw the brawl outside. A single male appeared to be surrounded by a group of particularly fierce blue and purple gentleman, beating him mercilessly. Jeremy watched the scene, mixture of growing unease and intrigue twisting in his belly. Should he be dragged into the scuffle, a single punch would easily break any number of the skinny Kelvic's bones. His new confidence gave Jeremy an added sense of arrogance, but his basic instinct to avoid such fights remained, thankfully. The mere sounds of several blows landing on the victim's body was enough to make Jeremy wince in expected pain.

With a shrug of his narrow shoulders, he turned his back to the scene and began to make his way back into the safety of the Shining Star.

[Kyo]

Howling, but unlike any animal's. A raw sound, like that of an opening wound, torn from deep in the throat.

The coyote thought he recognized the voice. He most definitely heard the sound, and knew that it came from pain.

As soon as he heard it, he was running. Fear pumped in his blood, cold like a spout of icy-winter water in his chest. But for once in this wrong-feeling season he wasn't running away. No. He thought he knew that voice. And he did not like the thought of the once-snake-man, the not-blue man, the Voss-man in pain. That one had been kind to him on the day that he first began to fear, when the city-place went from so beautiful and different and grand to awful, scary, strange, threatening. That one had been new, too. And that one had said he was a friend.

The coyote's nose scented blood. To his back and the side his brother-dog let out an angry-bristling growl deep in the chest as he ran. That meant Brother smelled it too, the blood spilled on the stone-path in between the high buildings, and Brother in this Riverfall-place was not like Brother in the wild. Brother in the wild was cautious, mild, and bumbling like a bee. Brother, in this city-place of blue pissers, was plain evil-tempered like a mother bear whose cub had been viciously attacked. Only Brother had no reason to bite and growl, other than just meanness.

Beside him, the dog spotted something and sped up, ears perked straight forward with attention.

The coyote saw it a moment later: a group of the pissers, all tumbling around. There were screams and shouts and other loud, tearing-breaking sounds. The cool silver-moonlight-glint of a couple naked weapons, flashing as they swung. Colorful fists hammering down and coming back with red on the knuckles. Boots swinging at a figure that lay curled on the ground. They were scrapping, and the coyote heard the howl of pain again. This time he was certain-- that was the voice of the Voss-man, the one he had met on the beach. The sound came from the form that lay with the others clustered around and on top, a pack of hungry wolves taking down an elk.

Immediately the coyote let out a deep huff from the throat, a growl-breath-bark, his fur standing on end. He didn't know what this fight was about, but he did know that Voss, the not-blue man, he was good. It made the coyote spitting-angry to see him surrounded on all sides and being hurt by the stupid pissers, whom the coyote simply did not like at all. His feet sped up, and he heard Brother give out a snarl like he was trying to scatter a herd of deer.

The coyote slid into the group, small and quick enough to dash between their large blundering human-form legs. He passed one that had a brief female-scent, with shining white hair and some sort of weapon, perhaps tripping her up as he dodged by. Then he was in the mass of bodies, digging and shoving his way to the one on the ground in the middle.

It was Voss, and the coyote saw men on top of him, pounding their ugly fists into his side. He felt his muzzle pull back from his teeth, his head lower with his ears flat back and his eyes open wide in aggression. His back arched as he bounded, tail flagging his intent to attack.

One of the ones on the Voss-man raised his hand to hit again, and that was when the coyote hit him. Paws flashed light over the Voss-man's chest and flashing teeth found the raised arm around the wrist. There was the taste of blood, salt and something else, and the coyote used all of his strength to wrench and rip the man --now screaming in surprise and hurt-- to the side, throwing him off balance. The coyote's jaws were clamped down tight on the arm, the neck and shoulders bunched so he could whip his head side-to-side, tearing a small chunk of meat from the limb and spitting it to the ground. The screaming blue pisser reached out and thumped the coyote hard on the shoulder with his good arm, but it was only a glancing blow like that of a tired big-cat, and the young canine retreated back...

...but at the same time he bent into another arch, almost puppy-bowing as if he wished to play. He let out a taunting yip, licking the fresh blood on his snout. The one he had bitten made some huffy aggravated noise, like the snort of a bull going to charge, and floundered after him without much room to move, knocking into his neighbors.
--

Brother, however, had been too big follow his young-brother into the group; slender coyote may fit between knees, but the Deerstalker was larger, heavier, more muscled. Instead he stayed to the outskirts, chasing down those who might seek to escape, the ones he thought must be weak or afraid and therefore easier targets.

Which brought him stalking towards the back-turned young man-thing that was heading away from the fight, not towards. Odd enough, the man-thing did not smell like man at all... but rather like bird. Brother had had bird before, their tiny bones easy to crunch and snap in the teeth, though the feathers could be irritating when they brushed the tongue. Encouraged by the memory and enraged from being separated from his coyote, the Deerstalker launched himself at the bird-man. The huge 140-lb dog hit the unsuspecting prey at the knee... trying to use strength and weight to knock the bird-man over, which would make getting to the neck or face much, much easier.

[Ashar]

There were rather few Kavran inside the Lodge at this time of night for whatever reason, most likely because a lot of the veteran Kavran could not give a shyke about their patrols anymore. There were a couple responsible squads remaining, but by and large most of those dutiful citizens at the Lodge were volunteers who were not yet experienced and capable enough to be invited into a branch.

There were branch Kavran at the Lodge, of course. It's just that they were there to gloat and drink and compare their swelling egos rather than worry about having to actually do their jobs.

Jek had finished his round of mindless chatter for the day, stepping out of the limelight in order to enjoy a game of cards with some of the more chummy Kavran around. In the absence of his loud boasts, some blustering blue brute began laughing his ridiculously hoarse laugh as he tried to impress those around him by bragging outlandish, clearly untrue feats against even more blatantly imagined creatures. Although Jek was rather fond of boasting himself, at least he remained to embellishing true tales rather than fabricating them on from nothing.

A few others joined those playing cards, either sick of the boastful blue Akalak or bored of whatever else there was to do in the Lodge. Boisterous banter was exchanged over the table as cards and hands slapped the surface, everyone shouting cheerfully and loudly much to the annoyance of the Kavran who was trying to finish a story no one was listening to.

It was all interrupted, however, when someone burst into the entrance of the Lodge.

"Fight!" shouted the intrusive Akalak, his dark green cheeks flushed with activity. It looked like he'd just run across the tier. "There's a fight over to the south! Outside the Sapphire Star!" The panicked man was making emphatic motions with his arms as if he were trying physically to express the situation, perhaps in an attempt to get the Kavran moving a bit faster.

It didn't work the way he was. "So what?" asked the blue boaster, who was quite annoyed at the interruption of his story once more.

The Akalak who'd come in, clearly a decent man in Jek's eyes, seemed at an utter loss for words for a moment. Perhaps he was too decent to think any Kavran would refuse to do their duty, shocked at their inaction. Whatever the case, he tried again.

"So you're supposed to stop it!" he insisted, walking forward and slamming his fists down on one of the tables. He had the full attention of all the Kavran in the Lodge now, though they still were too disinterested to be standing up. "People are getting hurt out there, and they can't be taken to the Medical Center because of the growing crowd. You have to step in and break them up, or else people could get seriously hurt!"

For a moment no one said anything. Then, Jek stood up.

"You screech too much," he said, and a number of the other Kavran chuckled loudly. The green Akalak who'd come in looked furious, but Jek cut him off before he could retort. "He does have a point though," the Kavran acquiesced, picking up his weapon from its position against the wall. "We are supposed to, and if we want to eat we'll do it. Besides, who knows? It could be fun."

A few of the regular Kavran still weren't convinced, but those who retained some decency or who volunteered for their Kavran position were up quickly and with him, some of them following the green Akalak and rushing toward where the fight was happening. They weren't many, and a good deal of Kavran still opted to stay behind, but at least there were people who gave a shyke. Some slowly, some quickly, they began their approach to the scene unfolding in the Riverian night, blades gleaming in the moonlight.



More and more bystanders were beginning to join the budding brawl. The tension received its spark, and the ensuing conflagration threatened to engulf the entire street. There were those who rushed to defend the victimized Dhani, others joined in taking out their frustration on the closest target. Fights began to break out even that were unrelated - those who continued to harass the women of Riverfall and those that rushed to defend them, Akalaks looking to defend their face and Akalaks just looking for some violence. There were no duels, no one-on-one fighting that came with the usual honor of the blue sons of Wysar. There was only chaos; one against the crowd, and it was every fighter for him or herself.

OOCApologies for taking so long to reply to this, I've been ill a bit with frequent headaches. Hopefully we can get this show on the road.

[Sarshassilivoss]

The old Voss was struggling to re-surface in his mind. With every punch and ear splitting yell or threat or curse he felt the Voss that lived deep in the sea seething with anger. New Voss, the happy go lucky, relatively absent Voss whimpered like a pup, flailing rather uselessly, even as one aggressor was removed, even as others joined the fray, and not on his person, but attacking anyone they could.

It was just about the moment when Kyo drew another one away that the pain became too much, like a veil of fog being lifted the wide child-like brown eyes of the Voss lying on his back were replaced with wrathful daggers of hate. Brows knitted in a mixture of pain and determination as one tanned leg snapped out. No, he didn't know much about fighting this way with the strange new legs, so gangly and awkward when compared to his graceful powerful tail, but if he shifted his weight, like he would to wind up his tail, rolling his body and sending his foot flying....

His toes connected with a chin, sending a head flying backwards, and also causing more pain in his toes tips as a flash of fur darted in, a spray of blood and a cry of pain following the motion.

Enough people had been removed from Voss's immediate position for him to roll over, trying to regain his feet only to make it to his knees, seeing a massive red dog attacking a stick of a man, a flash of white hair flowing as a woman was pinned to a nearby wall. Two sides of the Iyvess fought, one wanting to give back everything he had gotten, feeling the pulsating pain of his injuries, the other one wanting to flee and hide from all the anger and chaos and noise.

In the end it was the fleeing instinct that won, but it was stalled as the kicked Akalak tried to pin Voss again. Another attempt at a kick was easily caught this time, and the Iyvess let out another howl of pain as a fist sailed into his gut.

Thisss isss ridiculousss. A snarl escaped Voss's lips and he spat into the nearest aggressor's face, a mixture of blood and spittle landing on his face and causing him to reel in disgust. Not sure quite what to do with this opening, Voss opted for another kick, feeling as if he was getting the hang of these now, aiming for the Akalak's knee, making him stumble, letting him scramble up into a somewhat upright position, half running, half limping away with grunts. Flee he had to flee, but another part of his mind had a different plan...

Bare feet transferred from the rough texture of the street into the smoother floor of the Sapphire star, arms shoving anyone gawking out of the way to retreat to the darker, perfumed depths of the pleasure house. A dark safe place...that was what he needed, and just when he thought he had found it, mind focusing on a much more familiar form, a giant muscled body tackled him...again, snarling in rage. From the wetness on the back of his neck, Voss could guess this was the fellow he had nearly knocked to the ground...This was becoming quite annoying...

[Eselle]

There had been no training about mob fights in her history. In fact Eselle had never witnessed such a thing before. Without any further time to throw a punch or slash another gem-tinted face, the Konti stumbled forward on to all fours. Something furred had brushed past her shins and tripped her. There on the ground she spied her second suvai, she snatched it up. Preparations to crawled towards the poor man that the writhing mass centered one here interrupted by a boot. The untrained fighter took a kick to her hip that sent her sprawling again. All of her wanted so badly to help the man, but she was coming to the conclusion that it was just too far beyond her skill. Doubt began to creep into her thoughts. Still she tried to crawl towards danger.

The world had taken on a strange haze. Her pulse rippled through her entire body making each limb shake. The Konti didn’t know if it was fear or battle spirit, she tried to pretend it didn’t matter either way. In the end it never mattered, someone’s rough hand grabbed her by the scabbard and sword secured acrossed her back. With strength she had never thought to possess, she was thrown back into the onlookers. Becoming a projectile had never been one of Eselle’s life goals, but fate always had a means of getting its way. That was something the scene had made her forget. How could she forget something so obvious?

She crashed into another body. tumbling yet again to the ground, it seemed she lacked the strength to get up any more. The bystander had broken her fall, though she couldn’t call the person innocent by any means. Apathy to the victim’s plight was just as damning as assailing him. Her lips twisted into a grimace. Maybe she would have spoken her mind, but her head throbbed. Her lips tasted of tangy blood and salted sweat. Her legs shook uncontrollably.

There was no place for her to help in the roiling mob; she had tried and failed. Her strength had lasted only a fraction of the time a rescue would have needed. Instead like the bystander she mentally condemned, the seer watched on in horror as she sat defeated on the street. The man’s prospects struck at her sympathies but her weakness stabbed at her pride.

[Kyo]

The coyote panted out a wicked laugh, tail wagging. Things were good. He had bitten the blue pisser's arm and made him bleed and scream and get away from the Voss-one, and then the coyote himself had gotten away before the bad man could really hit back. Now the pisser followed him, but he was uncoordinated in his rage like a stupid-angry bull moose, blundering into his fellows, causing them to stumble and knock into each other and sometimes fall. A couple bodies hit the ground, and then feet were stomping unpurposefully --or purposefully-- upon them, keeping them there.

The coyote was free of this trouble. Small enough to fit through their legs or dash around their knees and ankles. Fast enough to stay out of the bleeding pisser's long grip, dancing past his clutching fingers and leaping in to give him a good bite to the calf, drawing out another pitching-thrashing scream and blood blood blood--

Circling around and nipping him in the meaty muscle of his side, and another scream, and it was just like hunting prey only bigger... no, not even that, it was like a fun game--

Until the coyote received an elbow to the neck for drawing too close for that last bite.

He gasped hoarsely, coughing and staggering away. The breath choked painful in his throat when he tried to inhale. Though it hurt, it also reminded him that hunting was easier --and safer-- when his dogs were there to help distract the prey.

He knew Brother was here, but the coyote could not see or smell or hear him. Where had he gone? The coyote turned his head to look for the shape of his dog-brother, and couldn't place him... but as he looked he saw something else instead: the whole street-place was full of fighting bodies, pressing in, crushing in around him, and now there was nowhere to fit between all the stomping legs.

Nowhere to go.
There would be no easy escape.

No sooner had he realized this than a hand grasped around his back leg. He yelped, tried to jump away, but too late. The hand had a grip and pulled. His leg slid from underneath him, dragging him backwards, and he coiled that way, muzzle flashing with a snarl and eyes open wide and dangerous... and saw that it was the bleeding blue pisser who had caught him.

The bad man snarled back with bloodied teeth. But those bitten do not want bites again. The coyote lunged towards the pisser's face, showing his fangs, and that was enough. The blue-man flinched back, his hand losing its grip, and the coyote broke free... but still nowhere to go, to get away, and he felt the one behind him grab his tail and yank him back once more, trying to get a better hold. A moment later and he had it. Fingers grasped his pelt, digging into his ruff. The coyote flailed but could not get free.

Some long-distant thought came into the coyote's head, of rough hands and tight collars, and he fought harder, whimpering. The one who had him was swearing as he tried to get his hands around the coyote's already-rasping throat, and the canine would have bit these hands, would have torn them to shreds to get free, but he could not get at them where they were. He yelped and wriggled and bucked his body, and still the hands grasped tighter, and then they were closing around his neck.

Panting, gasping, choking. The hands like bands of leather and iron and awful control. The coyote's struggles grew more desperate. There was such a pain in his chest and in his head, pounding, throbbing-bad. His eyes went red. Then flickering-black.

A dawning sleepiness came to his mind. He was confused, couldn't think, and could no longer cry for help. He found he did not know what was going on anymore and it scared him. Fear came, and then more fear as his paws began scrabbling more slowly, as if his body had given up.

Darkness, fought by one last clear thought. The coyote shifted form in a glimmer of light like the shimmer of the moon slanting off still water.

At once the hands tightened, horrible-tight as his neck became bigger. Then they were forced loose, and he wrenched back with all of his failing strength, and he was free.

Kyo could breathe. He felt the other man underneath him, heard him swearing again, but he could not care about that. The world had tipped on its side; his head reeled. Black sight went back to red, then seared blinding white in his eyes before settling into blurred shapes, which settled even more into clashing bodies. Feet were all around him. He felt someone step hard on his hand, and this drew a scream of his own from his aching-raw throat.

It was the pain that caused him to remember through the cloud of confused not-thought. Danger. Fighting.

Around him the pissers had momentarily backed away as much as they could, as if surprised that the coyote had suddenly become a person. Kyo used this opening to try to struggle to his feet. But too soon they crowded back in, and he was knocked around by close knees and lashing feet on all sides. He tried to find his balance, but the world continued to tip dizzily. The toe of a boot connected with his unprotected human side, not too hard, but enough. He fell over again, and someone else kicked him in the shoulder. His arm shrieked, and then went numb and useless.

His mind, still confused, knew only one thing: that this place, this fighting-place, it hurt. He wanted to be away, and yet there had been something that had brought him here, why had he come to this place... then he knew. The Voss-man. He had come for the Voss-man.

But that one was no longer here, and it seemed the coyote-man had taken his place. These pissers did not like bad coyotes who bit. Now they trampled over him, and he felt one of their fists knock into the back of his head, just behind his ear. It was already hard to think; this made it harder. With a moan the young man tucked into a ball, huddling his flopping-hurt arm against his belly, still unable to fully breathe through his aching-bruised throat. He heard the pissers around him laughing, jeering as they hurt him, commenting on his nakedness, leaning over to spit on him.

He didn't know what to do.
And then he did.

He shaped his mouth, sucked in as much as a breath as he could, and whistled once, sharp, loud, high. He took another breath, and made the call again.

Then he did the only other thing he could: he curled up further and lay and waited and hurt.
--

Brother stood over the bird-man, but before he had time to rip out its throat and taste its strange blood, he saw another trying to get away. This one smelled weird, too... more like a snake, though it also appeared to be of human-form. He watched as it managed to slink into a nearby big-place, a human-form dwelling.

He paused where he stood, chest rumbling with a low growl. He wanted to finish the bird-man, and yet... that other had been injured, and the scent of his strange blood was intoxicating. Brother wanted to rip more of that blood from the snake-thing's bruised, weakened body.

He had just decided to kill the bird-man, and then follow after the snake-one, when a sudden piercing sound caught his ear. The dog's rumbling stopped, his head snapped to the side, and he listened, body quivering. A pause, and then the same piercing sound.

His coyote-brother.

Brother was off the bird-man in an instant, leaving him behind unharmed. He sprinted towards the sound of the whistle, and thought he smelled his coyote-brother's blood.

[Faradae]

Ashar
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N O T E S

Grades withheld: You have not posted since last summer. When you return, please shoot me a PM so I can get to your grades!

Sarshassilivoss
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N O T E S

Grades withheld: Character retired.

Eselle
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N O T E S

Grades withheld: Inactive for over two years.

Jeremy
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N O T E S

Grades withheld: Character retired.

Kyo
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N O T E S

Grades withheld: Inactive for over one year.