Closed Night Terrors

[Pulren Marsh]

The long wait for action came with only the sound of his breath, short and shallow in the panic heightneed lighting of the night. His trident was gripped so hard he might not ever let it go. His feet continued backward, his body crouching even inside, partially from protection and second in order to stay hidden from sight should ---

BOOM --

The creature slammed into the door at full speed, shaking the wood and causing a piece of pottery to fall from a shelf inside and break somewhere. It slide below the small glass panes that were visible and Pulren kicked into action. Fight or flight? Flight to fight. His feet moved through the Quay, shouting to see if anyone was home. "Creature attack! Creature attack!" He knew that there would be no answer. He had known no one was present prior to the invasion, but he thought it daft not to call out should anyone have come home early. With no answer, he moved faster, rushing up into his own room, throwing the wardrobe open and sliding his studded leather over his head, his arms working through and grabbing up his trusty wooden shield.

Next footsteps would travel to the front of the house and lock the heavy door there. Any resident would have a key and this would keep him from being crept up on, should the creature develop the use of its hands. Once the house was locked up, he moved back to the back door, stooping and then crawling on his belly to the door itself, the cold stone against his legs as he put his shield down and placed the shaft of his weapon across it so that its metallic body made no noise when it was picked up. Pulling the straps of his armor, he laid still in the darkness, keeping his ear to the crack at the bottom of the door. His sight was challenged in the darkness of the courtyard. Torches would need to be posted after this attack, he thought to himself. Now to wait, listen and prepare.

[Terror]

Thought trickled by for the stunned Zith as she recovered more fully now that she'd retreated to safety. Honestly, in those moments her first conscious thought was to forget all about this hunt in order to pursue something easier, like maybe the rats that were often found in the streets, rummaging.

Terror stretched, her movements languid and drawn out, feeling the aching points where her body had met so firmly with the door. She didn't think. There was nothing to think about. In all honesty, there was only the frustration, as if the much desired prey had slipped into its burrow, out of harm's reach.

But that was what had happened. Terror had to consider this the same as hunting hares, foxes, or the solitary badger with his gnashing teeth and nasty attitude.

A badger could not stop her, and nor could one of these humans. They were food. She could not lose to food.

With a full body shake, she cleared her head and stuffed her aches and pains behind her desire for a good meal. And then she looked upon the building, with its infernal door and windows, and considered how to startle the badger out of his hole. Being as she'd actually never been in a home, Terror struggled to come to terms with the challenge it posed.

She scanned the walls, looking for weaknesses that would crumble beneath her blows, and her eyes settled upon high windows. Though she didn't understand their proper function, the Zith mind understood them as alternate routes, much like a fox den would have a front and a hidden rear entrance. She tensed, poised to spring into flight and enter.

With a low growl, she took to the air, beating hard to gain altitude rapidly before directing herself at the windows. Rarely had she pursued something into its den, but she would do so now.
.

[Pulren Marsh]

It seemed like an eternity that Pulren found himself lying on the cold floor of the back entrance foyer. His breath was slightly visble above him in the cool moonlight which filtered through the small panes of the door. His fingers tapped on the shaft of the trident as he listened and waited, straining to catch any kind of aural clue as to what the beast was up to. With no one else home, he was the only protector of the house and its belongings. Fortunately the thing only seemed interested in a meal, though that meal was him.

All of these thoughts quickly dissipated when Pulren heard the creature growl and then lift off of the ground. Its wings were clearly powerful and it was pushing them hard, maybe to fly away he hoped. Standing and picking up his weapon and shield, Pulren looked up and could see the creature still in the area. It wasn't leaving and if it was flying it was most likely looking for a way in. That would mean windows and with Winter approaching and pregnant friends inside...He shook his head and unlocked the door, opening it and slamming it shut behind him. He wouldn't have the home of his benefactors vandalized due to any stranger, winged or otherwise.

Walking out into the courtyard with his head up, looking at and tracking the creature, the trident's shaft came down hard against the ground, ringing more. He then slammed it against the wood of his shield, yelling up into the sky. "Come on then, foul creature! If it's a fight you want, it is a fight you'll have!" The shield went out in front as it often did, the trident resting against its upper right quadrant in preparation for a defense. His weapon would be adorned with the creature's entrails before he allowed it to run rampant over he and his.

[Terror]

Terror lacked the foresight to realise the human would re-emerge from his den; she had fought foxes and badgers more than she had any man, so she reverted. Sharp tines and confusing sounds would not stand against her and her prey.

Though he emerged as she alit upon the sill of a window, awkward and unsettled, Terror paid him little mind. Her attention was riveted, everything consumed in the desire to make the nest and den open to the sky, and to herself. For all she actually cared, he was simply a bystander. A witness. Her quarry remained inside.

Until he called out to her and brought her from that feverish anger, Terror was content to fight and rage against the window that wouldn't break under her claws, which couldn't even seem to scratch at it. Glass could prove her downfall.

Terror pivoted, wobbling precariously as she turned to face the man, his sharp-tine-stick, and the rounded shield he now brandished at her. Her lips curled, yet once more, and her teeth were bared at him as she snarled, long and low. The meaning behind the words, and the promise of blood and pain, were one and the same. The tone mattered; Terror understood the way he set his weapon against his guard, the way he cried out to her for her to meet him in battle. Terror could do that.

She leapt from the window she'd set her perch at, finding relief on the nearest adjacent rooftop from which to look him over and assess him. As an inky spot in the black night, Terror was well aware of her natural camouflage. She would have need of it; this hunt would require a fair measure of stealth that she, so accustom to charging in head on, would lack.
.

[Pulren Marsh]

The low growl of warning let Pulren know he had been seen and heard. He had the creature's attention and outside of forcing it into attack, he was still clearly in a precarious position. His anger and pride had brought him out into the open with no cover or defense from the great winged beast. He felt confident about an onslaught from above and the front, but that was about it. He kept his eyes on it, unsure of its next move.

It wasn't choosing to charge him, which only concerned him further. It was watching and waiting. It was observing him as prey, having the advantage of animal instincts, clear of emotions or agendas. He wanted to look around, to seek shelter or a more tactical point of attack. He couldn't, however. Some primal thing inside his human mind told him not to take his eyes away from the creature. His heart was thumping strong against his chest, his breath short and full of explosions.

His posture tightened as he saw the wings rise and the creature take flight. The shield arm braced, the trident arm shivered. The angle and speed of the beast did not act in accordance with a charge, however. It rose and moved laterally, descending and landing on a nearby house, though without the clear sky behind it, the dark fur of the creature caused it to blend in with the rooftop. From his current position, he was losing its position. It wasn't a good idea at all.

He knew it wasn't gone. Keeping his shield and weapon up, he slowly sidestepped until he was against the wall again. It left him open in a way, but it was better than being completely open in the courtyard.

[Terror]

Moving into the thought of tactics and plans, Terror floundered amidst the turmoil of instinctive drive for clarity of thought. Wise to the fact his weapon could disembowel her, as her talons could do him, she kept her distance. Disarming him was priority, but the Zith was unaccustomed to matters involving weapons. Her people found them too crude in her colony and she clung to the belief that weak prey armed themselves where strong prey were born armed.

Bright against her fur, Terror's teeth gleamed as she drew back her lips. Snarl or smile, it was no different. She moved again, lowering herself nearly onto her belly as she stretched, long and sinuous, to claw at the rooftop. The demonstration would likely be lost on him, being that he wasn't Zith, but it was her attempt to express dominance in the situation.

The human's manoeuvring put Terror further on edge and she matched him, so very wary. Not for the first time that night, she longed for her mates in the colony that could have helped her carry him off. Even the Zith of the grass plains could have helped, as inept as she thought them to be. Numbers were what she lacked.

In a fit, the Zith slapped her hand upon the rooftop and looked around for anything at all that would provide her the advantage. The lawless city she found herself in, though easy to hunt in, was not the Unforgiving of her youth nor the plains of her wandering. It wasn't wild in the way she had loved most... but she must adapt. A good predator adapted.

With a slow slink, the Zith began to back up until the peak of the house and then, slowly, she crept over. Perhaps the human would think she'd given up, and that was the point, as the creature began to traverse the slope of the other side of the rooftop, her fingers curled to provide assistance in staying upright.

Shingles, knocked free by her movements, shattered belatedly in the night as she hunted, listened, and prowled. There came a time when, as she met the corner of the building, she wished to see if he had kept track of her. Slowly, she peered over and sought his position.

The smirk on her mouth would have told any other Zith that this was more a matter of playing and drawing out the chase than outright violence. It was unfortunate that this human was no Zith..

[Pulren Marsh]

His eyes peered into the encroaching darkness, searching for movement. His ears did the same, searching for any distant clue that might give him an idea of where the beast was. Its inky fur and wings made it blend seamlessly into the night, a definite disadvantage for the Zeltivan. Once its mouth opened, though, showing the white teeth as they were bared in his direction, he was once again focused. His shield arm stayed up, the trident still resting against the edge of the barrier.

Watching the creature, he found its crouching a threat, expecting it to leap from the roof and go for him. His heart was racing against his chest beneath his leathers, his breathing quickened. His vision was sharpened against the form, waiting for the inevitable attack. But then, it chose to slink back over the roof, away from his view. Pulren didn't move. He expected it was a ruse, an attempt to get him moving and not paying attention. There was no way he was going to back down now.

While his vision was blocked, his ears continued to scan for any clue as to the creature's direction. Fortunately, the occasional scratch and shatter of tiles came as he tried imagining it creeping across the other side of the building. All of a sudden, a terrible thought crossed his mind. What of the dog, Orvin? It could be killed by the creature. Or worse, S'Essy with child could come toddling into the courtyard. Yes, it was fortunate that Pulren was alone, but it might not remain that way, His inaction would have to become action for the good of the Scars. If only he had a rock or something to throw at the creature.

Pulren's eyebrows raised for a moment and he quickly put the trident against the wall next to him, the shield still raised. A quiet prayer of concentration, a pushing from within toward the aperture across his chest and Res crept from his body, the green gas congealing into gel, slowly solidifying and taking shape, a round and rocky shape. Focusing his hand in the direction that his trident was pointed, he watched for the creature to appear on the other side. When he thought he saw movement peering from around the corner, he pushed out with his will, launching the earthen Res bolt in the direction of his line of sight, his will solidifying it once it left his reach. A dark rock flew toward the creature, though Pulren's inexperience would probably only make it a noisemaker as well.

His fingers crept back to the shaft of the trident.

[Terror]

The rock clattered against the surface the Zith strove to cling to, and though she wanted to be silent, her hackles rose and she sounded out a sharp chitter and laugh before darting away, backwards again to once more rethink her strategy. Obviously, she felt outmatched, but where others might find that more than enough and would retire, the Zith loathed to lose.

Her heart pounded in her chest as she leapt from her perch, insisting on one last challenge before she considered her prey above her. On the ground, stripped of the sky's darkness, Terror felt especially exposed, as if something else might drop out of the sky onto her back, snap her neck, and make a feast of her. If she feared, it would be a fear of being prey that would haunt her.

Slowly, the Zith made a wary, and ungainly, approach to where she had last seen her quarry, listening and creeping with great intention to make less noise than she had while upon the roof. Her gait was wavering, expressing her inexperience with walking even on all fours as she currently did, and she clung to the places the moon couldn't reach as well, halting before entering the moonlight to watch, to sit back on her haunches and stare at him, fully aware that he may see her and come in with the sharp-noise-stick, but she needed this moment. It was a breath of lucidity in the fever of the hunt that might save her life, if she pursued it well.

.

[Pulren Marsh]

Success! Of sorts. At first came the clatter of his earthen creation as it bounced and skipped over the roof tiles, but there was no mistaking the sound that came next. It was a screech that could be translated into any language. Fear at best, surprise at worst. Pulren's heart felt like it might burst from his chest as he swelled with pride. The damned magic had worked! He couldn't let himself fall in the face of pride, though. He knew that this was still a very dangerous creature, maybe even more so now that it was frightened.

Shield and trident in hand, he turned his body toward the darkness between the Quay and the wall. He could see movement and vaguely make a shape out of it, the dark of night aiding his vision somewhat, though he knew it would be a muddy mess in comparison to a creature who breathed and drank the night in such as this thing. It was clear that the time for strategy and tricks was coming to a close. There would soon only be time for battle. It could be bloody. Hell, it could even be his end.

It wouldn't be. He knew that. How many things in Sunberth had tried to kill him so far? He wasn't going to let this thing do him in either, no matter how hard his heart hammered inside his chest, begging him to run. If he did run, it would only be forward.It had made its own noises, so now it was his turn to retort. Slamming the shaft of his trident into the ground and then slapping the weapon against his shield, he yelled out toward the shape with a battle cry.

It was a standoff.

[Sayana]

Don't forget to edit/delete your grade request. If there's anything I may have missed, please PM me and I'll be happy to look into it.

 

Pulren

Skills

• Planning: 3
• Observation: 4
• Tactics: 5
• Intimidation: 4
• Rhetoric: 2
• Investigation: 1
• Running: 3
• Deduction: 2
• Stealth: 2
• Tracking: 1
• Reimancy: 1

Lores

• The Quay: A place worth fighting for
• Tactics: Having a comrade nearby to help
• Zith: Winged bat-like creature
• Zith: Intelligent hunters with poor verbal skills
• Tactics: Using cover to gain the upper hand
• Tactics: Preparation for a fight
• Tactics: Attracting an enemy's attention
• Observation: Keeping an enemy in sight despite darkness
• Reimancy: A sucessful creation of a rock projectile

Overgiving
Pulren will experience a metalic taste in his mouth and have bloodshot eyes for the following day. He'll be exceptionally tired for the next two days.

 

Terror

Skills

• XP

Lores

• Lore:

Comments
If you unretire your character, please PM me and I will award you grades.

Comments: Great thread. I loved the interplay between the characters despite them not actually coming to direct combat. Pulren, just a reminder to include the effects of using magic. I added some Overgiving consequences mostly as an example of things to include. Since Pulren is a beginner, even simple things like creating a rock would be taxing to do.

Your Grader,

Sayana

Boxcode design: Firenze