Unexpected Prey (Asher)

by **Wrenera** on May 10th, 2015, 10:25 am

42nd of Spring, 515 AV

Wren left the tree covered slopes of her cave home far behind. She flew west over long stretches of forest, circled briefly around the place where water fountained upward many feet into the sky, and finally came to follow the special causeway the humans so loved to travel. They sometimes left curiosities in their wake. Wren had rummaged around and found a round piece of wood (wheel) with connecting spans (spokes) that all fed into a smaller circle (hub). That had been a lucky night, the last time she had been there.

Wren flapped northward, shadowing the road. Nothing of interest poked out adjacent the highway for sometime. She spotted a dark pile beside a structure of wood. But when she swooped down to the ground, Wren found the pile just to be charred timbers and ash. Peering to the shelter door, she wondered if anyone lived within. There were other places like this one, spaced out and close to the road. Perhaps the travelers used them.

Wren slunk to the side of the building, noticing a number of tree stumps at the forest's edge and wood bunched high under a low-hanging roof that wedged up against the wall. Just when the huntress was about to stand on her tippy-claws and peer into a window, she heard something creaking her way. Quickly and stealthily, Wren slipped behind the wood pile. There was a slim gap between the roof and topmost log from which she could stare out at the road and hopefully catch sight of whatever was making that odd sound.

One of the common conveyances trundled into view, squeaking merrily along. Hauled by two thoroughly exhausted horses. An aged man sitting high up on the vehicle drew on lengths of rope, bringing the tormented creatures to a much needed halt. Wren heard the old one speak and believed him to be talking to the horses, at first.

"Here we are. Best to stay here for the night. Make for Stormhold come first light," he said. Clambering down, he gave a groan as he stretched his limbs and rubbed his rear. Wren saw then what she could not before from her position. The man gave a chuckle as a small human child charged into his legs, hugging them, and pointed to where Wren lurked.

"Are we gonna live in there, grandpa? It looks scary," said the boy. He unlatched himself and clasped the hand of a female of similar age to the male. "Do you need me to get my sword, granny?" asked the child, twisting away, drawing the woman back toward the vehicle.

"No no Seth. We haven't any need for your toys," protested the old woman, tugging the small human back her way.

"It's not a toy," muttered the boy.

Though Wren hadn't come to the special road to hunt, the child did look rather succulent. The wooden transportation vehicle fascinated her too, with the possibility of shiny things within. It would be a simple thing to kill the two decrepit creatures, eat the child, and fly home with a full belly and whatever things she found.

Wren schemed to sneak in after the old lady and child just as soon as they entered the shelter. Once they were dealt with, she'd ambush the old male. Her plans were suddenly interrupted by rushing footfalls. The old human bellowed something unintelligible before sliding down and tipping over. The Zith saw that two new figures had arrived. They weren't old. These were hardy men wrapped in leather and animal skins. The foremost of them held sharp steel, wiping it clean on the fallen human's clothes.

A ragged shriek came from the structure followed by a thud. She mourned the loss of her mate. The killer laughed, advancing toward the building, pointing the blade tip forward. "Naught but a hag and boy. Not worth the trouble. Let's get out of here before those bastards send a patrol our way," he said, moving back to his warriors.

Wren drew out her own blade, keeping to the shadows that clung to the side of the building. Her sight far less obstructed, she spied a third human. He jumped onto the back of the vehicle, setting down a device that resembled a bow. The figure ducked low, vanishing from sight. No doubt rummaging through the things she had wished to find. That angered her. These humans would get much more than they bargained for this night. So much more....

by **Wrenera** on July 4th, 2015, 1:32 am

Wren saw the two men closest to the building pivot around to meet her. She shrank back, suddenly unsure what to do against such odds. She had expected to at least get the jump on them. She hadn't trampled over anything to generate any noise and she had been extra careful to stick to the shadows. What went wrong? Then it came to her. It literally did. Though not to her, but away from. The door to the dwelling had been opened quietly and only now did she see the small figure emerge and go tottering toward the looting men, a sharp-ended instrument with a bur nearly at its tip clutched in both of his little hands.

"You leave my grandpa alone!" the boy shouted, swinging the weapon off-balanced and pitching over as the lead bandit easily deflected the blow with his sword and sent the youngster reeling.

She heard a shriek of panic and the old woman lingered just outside the door. "Seth! Please don't harm the child!" cried the old woman. Then a chorus of guffaws. The other brute, a full half-foot taller than the one that did most of the talking, bent down and plucked the child up by a single arm, twisting the rod from his grip before making him dangle off the ground precariously. "Ha! This runt be a brave one, Vin," he said with a chuckle.

The old woman ran out, reaching arms out to the boy as she pleaded for his life. The lead bandit brought her up short with the tip of his blade. "Hold it right there. You want a reunion do ya? Well, I reckon we could at that. I see no reason the two of you can't join that old bastard through Dira's door," he said with a wolfish grin. More mirth from his comrades. The old woman stared out at the unmoving form that lay by the horse-drawn construction. Her expression bitter. "Do what you want with me. I beg of you, let the boy go. He hasn't done you any wrong," she said hollowly.

Wren was through with watching this play out. She figured whatever advantage was to be gained by this touching interlude would be fleeting fast. She had her sights on the human rooting about in the back of the cart. He was farthest away from the other two and if their struggles were heard, she would have just enough time to kill the one before the others got to her position. The Zith slunk off toward the trees, picking her way around to the road from a different direction.

"The petch is this?" said the bandit bowman, finding a wood play sword among the scattering of turnips, potatoes, carrots, and hay in the back of the cart. He spat and whipped it out backhanded so that it clattered down the road. "Bloody worthless score this was," he muttered sourly. A creak in the wagon caused him to lift his head, dirty fingers reaching up to part the fringe of hair from his eyes. "Vin?" he said.

Wren was upon him then. Her claws tore away at his throat leaving a bloody ruin. The only sound to emit from his trembling lips was a wheeze and gasp before he went over. She remained in a squatting posture, listening closely for any signs that she had been detected. She heard muffled sobs followed by a thud.

"Stupid old crone. Trying to bargain with me as if I gave two shykes," said the leader, his footsteps getting louder. "The petch you doin' in there? Randal?" he said.

"He's prolly wanking off to that old bitch," said the tall one with a thunderous laugh that the other man did not partake in.

"Let the little shyke go. I'm a bandit, not a child murderer. 'Sides, the kid will sing songs of our great deeds tonight. We've got a reputation to think about," he said with a maniacal chortle.

Wren heard something drop to the ground and go running off. "Shame though. I really was lookin' forward to cuttin' out his tongue," said the big one. Footsteps grew even louder, they had to be just on the other side of the rickety wood. Wrenera drew her curved tool of death and quietly waited at the back opening. There wasn't much room to maneuver, but she would land the first blow. That usually made all the difference in a fight where life and death teetered moment to moment.

by **Asher Claveson** on July 27th, 2015, 4:27 am

Usually Asher knew better than to travel the road at night. There were all manner of bandits wandering about, and he could easily be taken by surprise and mugged. Or worse. Not that it mattered all that much. There was no one at home waiting for him. He was still upset that the home he had made for himself and Meyarra had been flooded, everything ruined. Three years was a long time to be upset, unless you had nothing to live for. That was how Asher reasoned it, anyway.

He'd spent the day hunting, and had caught a few hares. The plan was to sell them to the butcher in Evantide Outpost, but it had been late enough that the shop was closed. Looked like Asher had his dinner for the night. He was beginning to feel a burn in his legs from walking for so long, but he ignored it. Pain was nothing, "fear leaving the body," as his father put it once. He didn't think he had much fear to let loose, considering he never felt much of anything. He supposed there were the dreams, nightmares that brought the cold of the city caves creeping back over his skin. Other than that? No, he'd never really found anything to be afraid of.

Asher halted when he heard a light patter of feet from behind him. Couldn't be any bandit, the footsteps were too light and the gait was too small. It sounded more like the sound of a child running. Frowning, he turned to get a view of the person who was running towards him. Eventually, the person - a boy, as Asher predicted - came into view, and looked frantic. Tears streaked his dirty face, and his breath was ragged. What was a boy doing out this late at night?

"Please!" The boy cried out and pushed himself harder to catch up to Asher. "Please, you hafta help me. My gran, they're gonna hurt my gran like they did my grandpa. I couldn't stop them, you hafta help!"

Asher found confliction within himself towards the boy, but was at once disgusted. How could he think of leaving this boy to fend for himself against bandits, murderers who would no doubt leave the child without family. Everyone deserved a family to love, to protect. He squared his jaw and said to the boy, "Show me."

Asher had to jog to keep up with the boy, who was running as if... well, as if there were lives at stake. It didn't matter, at least not until they got closer. Then they'd have to be quiet, careful. Asher didn't know if his arrows would be able to do much towards bandits; they were hunting arrows, designed to take down game. The only game large enough to compare to humans were deer, and these arrows only made them bleed out. But perhaps that would be all he needed to drive the bandits away.

Once some lights came into view, Asher grabbed the boy to slow him down, putting a finger to his lips to show the boy they had to keep quiet now. They walked carefully, Asher pulling out his short bow and notching an arrow. It would be a bit difficult, shooting a bow with hares draped over his neck, but he'd have to make do. Handing the animals to the boy was out of question. This boy didn't need to see more death than what he was about to.

They were finally close enough that he could make out the silouhettes of bodies, hear the deep murmuring of voices. There were two men who walked about and talked with each other. A figure laid motionless by a bigger structure, probably a wagon. He glanced over at the boy. Must be his grandfather. Another figure was motionless, but it was more upright, sitting still on the ground. If that was the grandmother, then he only had to worry about the two men.

And however many were inside the wagon. It swayed and shook as if someone was walking around in there, and it seemed to catch the attention of the bandits. More murmuring went between them, and they started moving to the wagon, their attention diverted from the woman. If Asher had to choose any time to strike, this had to be it. From here, it was going to get worse. He'd lose the element of surprise. And these men looked to have swords on them. Asher might have had some time with swords while he was still a squire, but not long enough to know how to use one. Definitely not long enough to know how to disarm a man. He motioned for the boy to stay out of sight, drew back his bow, and let loose an arrow at the man closest to him.

As the arrow sunk into the back of his leg, the bandit cried out and turned. Asher had no time, he quickly drew another arrow and sent it sailing. This one grazed the bandit's neck, who finally locked eyes on him and growled. "You petching welp," he said, breaking the arrow's shaft close to the head. "I'm gonna gut you like the swine you are!" Asher started stepping back, quickly notching another arrow, as the man started for him. He gritted his teeth, realizing now that he was probably in too deep. He was going to be no help to the boy and his grandmother. He was very likely going to die here tonight.

by **Wrenera** on August 2nd, 2015, 4:48 am

Wren saw the dark outline of the leader for the briefest of moments at the rear of the wagon, but just before she prepared to swing her blade a disturbance arose, drawing the human away. Wren heard the whiz of arrows interspersed with curses. The burly bandit howled an oath of rage. The lead man's footsteps receded in a rush and she was left with confusion written plainly upon her face. Apparently other humans were about in the night and opposed those she hunted.

The Zith did not know how to assess the new order of events. On one hand, those she faced were distracted, and that was to her advantage. On the other, she could simply have exchanged one enemy for another. She quickly decided to abandon the wood conveyance stealthily to get a better look at proceedings. Perhaps she could sneak attack one of them with very little risk to herself.

The broad and bearded man came forward, a noticeable limp in his gait, and a unmistakable look of fury and anguish twisting his features. "I'll have your petchin' head for that!" he roared, sword raised and coming as quickly as he could manage to where bowman and boy stood.

The lead bandit saw the new threat and a look of irritation crossed over him. "Bloody fuck! Get to it, Randal! We've got company you bastard!" he shouted. Clearly the brains of the outfit, he returned to the wagon for cover, peered inside and went slack-jawed at the sight of Randal, still as death, throat gaping and covered in blood. "Shyke..." he said in a low voice, suddenly twisting out of the way to barely avoid being slashed open from head to belly. A dark-furred monster dropped soundlessly from atop the wagon, pursuing him doggedly, her lips parted in a scream he could not hear.

Wren attacked aggressively, her cruel curved sword licking out at the retreating bandit mercilessly. He surprised her though, reacting to her ambush with a speed she did not believe him to possess. Now he dodged or parried her relentless strikes with a desperation born of necessity, clearly trying to flee the scene if given half the chance. She knew his idea was to make it to the forest where he hoped to hide. The Zith doubted he could escape her so easily, but also didn't want to draw the hunt out overlong.

There were others around to deal with.....

by **Asher Claveson** on August 7th, 2015, 7:20 pm

Asher only took a second to think before he loosed another arrow at the bandit coming for him. He had hoped that by aiming at the knee, he'd be able to stop the bandit in his tracks. Of course, he forgot to take into account the man's movement, as the shifting of his leg meant the arrow pierced just above instead. It still seemed to have the same effect, as the man roared in pain, stalling slightly to see the damage. Without thinking, Asher charged forward and tackled the man to the ground, his attention on the sword in the man's grip. He had tried to kick it away, but that only gave the bandit access to slice a cut at his calf. Asher growled from the sting of the cut, but didn't let it stop him from punching the other man in the jaw.

Pain spiked through his fist, though it seemed to have done what he intended. The bandit was dazed, and Asher believed he had enough time to pry the sword from the man's hand. He was nearly there, but the bandit heaved and rolled them over, regaining his grip on the sword. They struggled against each other, the clang of swords distantly registering in Asher's mind, before he managed to kick the bandit off him. He stood, panting, sizing up the man on the ground, before the motion of another fight caught his attention.

He glanced over, only meaning to make a brief check on the commotion, only to pale at what he saw. The other bandit was parrying wildly against the curved sword held by a... some furred creature with something large folded against her back. Were they wings? Whatever they were, it only seemed to make the creature look more feral, more dangerous. He doubted it was there to defend the family as he was. It looked hungry, and that hunger fed into its relentless attacks on the bandit.

A roar brought his attention back to the man he had kicked off, though once he whipped his head back to the source of the sound, he saw the man ready to swing the sword at him. Asher stepped back, which he realized too late was a bad move, because it meant he was losing ground, that his advantage on the bandit was slowly waning. But another swing came, and another, and Asher could only stumble out of the way to avoid getting his torso sliced. His bow was out of reach, but he realized once the bandit stumbled that he still had his arrows. He pulled out one from his quiver and, with as much energy as he could, charged once more at the bandit, barely feeling the sword cut against his side as he shoved the arrow right into the man's throat.

The bandit gasped, though it sounded wet with the blood that was no doubt pouring into his lungs as much as it poured from his throat. Asher backed away before the man could try anything else, and watched as the man struggled with the arrow before falling over, his breath gurgling as he slowly died. Asher managed a sigh, stumbling back a bit as the adrenaline slowly passed from him. His hands shook as he checked the cut at his side. It wasn't too deep, but it had already stained his clothes. He'd have to buy new ones, as he had no idea how to wash blood from his clothes.

The clang of metal against metal shot his adrenaline back up, as Asher realized that he couldn't relax yet. There was still the bandit and the beast to worry about. He stumbled over to his short bow as he kept careful watch on the battle before him.

by **Wrenera** on August 14th, 2015, 2:27 pm

The man he had found was locked in combat. He wanted desperately to lend his aid to him against those who had hurt his grandparents. Seth ran as fast as his short legs could carry him, his breath came quick, small hands grasping for the wooden rail to scramble up through the opening. He let out a noise of panic, caught suddenly off guard by the presence of a bandit inside. But after a terrifying moment, he understood the bandit would be no harm to him. Whatever had killed him, had been thorough. Seth had never seen a dead man before. He expected to feel sadness, or maybe anger, or even satisfaction since he was bad and deserved to be dead. But no, he felt nothing at all looking down upon the unseeing eyes. Only curiosity as what manner of beast could have done that to him. He searched around, his fingers brushed over vegetables and blood in his anxiety to find it. It wasn't there. He wondered if whatever had killed the bandit had taken it to finish the rest off. He hoped that was true. But when he swung his legs over the wood flap, his wandering gaze found a dark shape upon the road. "My sword!" he exclaimed excitedly.

Seth ran over to the slumped shape of his grandpa, sword in hand. But after a few nudges, he saw his grandpa's chest was slick with oozing blood and his eyes did not open no matter how loud he asked him to wake up. The boy's vision grew blurry with fresh tears. Anger grabbed him then, a burning fire in the pit of his stomach. He clenched his jaw, fighting the overspilling of grief threatening to render him useless. He stood, noticed his granny also was laying on the ground not too far away. A dreaded fear rose in him that she shared the same fate. But upon rushing to her side, he saw her chest rise and fall despite the blackened area over her wrinkled face. "It's okay granny. I found help. I'll be back," he said encouragingly with a pat of his hand on her arm. Then he was off again, intent on helping the stranger out with the bandit.

He got there just in time to see his rescuer charge him and bury something deep in the man's throat. A few sickening gurgles later he was upon him, slapping the man's head repeatedly with his wooden sword though it was apparent he would make no move to defend himself ever again. The grief had needed an outlet and afterward the boy's rage snuffed out like a candle, leaving him only tired and sad. Seth saw the man he had found was looking off in the distance. Following his gaze, he found the only surviving bandit - fighting desperately with.....something. It had wings and fur. It must have been one of the monsters his grandpa had told stories of. The monster was wild and scary. But he still hoped she would kill the bandit....for his grandpa. He looked up to the stranger. "What do we do now?"

~

Wren forced the human back to where the trees witnessed the battle. It was there the bandit found his courage and turned to face her with resolve. There was a madness in his eyes and he grinned. "You bitch! If you came for my soul, you can bloody well wait! 'Cause I ain't got plans to die just yet!" he said. He managed to turn the tide of the fight to where he held his own. Though Wren was loath to admit it, his swordmanship was on par with her own. She shrieked frustrated fury and renewed her own efforts. But her scimitar was foiled, rebuffed with a clang of blade.

The Zith terminated another stalemate of steel with a violent stamp of her foot to the man's instep. He let out a surprised grunt of pain and staggered back. Wren knew if she gave the bandit even a moment's respite, he would recover. She did not. With another of her furious ultrasonic scream's she sprang forward, bridging the gap with a few helpful flaps of her wings. Her sword cut the air diagonally and was turned only partiallly aside by the bandit's hasty parry. Her weapon still managed to draw blood, parting through muscle and tendon of the man's leg. He let out an anguished cry before pitching back and grabbing at his injured leg. Wren expected the bandit to plead for his life as many humans were wont to do. This one did not though. He merely breathed hard, cursed the pain and eventually smiled up at her. "Do it. Petch this pain. Finish it now bitch!"

Wren wasn't much for granting last requests, but this particular desire she could respect. "Goodbye human," she said and brought her sword down swiftly.

Another scream issued, followed by Wren emerging from the forest edge. Her scarlet irises glowed faintly in the moonlight as she advanced on this new human and child. She held her sword low, its razor edge still wet with crimson. Warily, she regarded them, halting several paces out of reach. Her gaze shifted downward to drink in the slain bandit, her mouth twisted in grim satisfaction. She held their attention, as if coming to a decision on what to do with them. They did not seem to pose too great a threat to her. But they might call for others as the little one evidently had. She did not relish the thought of pursuers at her door. Her instincts demanded she kill them. The child looked pleasantly tasty to her also. Still, she hesitated. The male human was tall, and apparently skilled with the bow. It would not be wise to let that one get too far away.

"What do you want? Will you run or will you fight?" she snarled, clearly upset with her unexpectedly soft conscience. "The treasures are mine," she stated firmly with a backward motion of her night-blue mane to indicate the wagon and the spoils within.

by **Asher Claveson** on August 25th, 2015, 2:43 pm

NoteSorry for the late reply. Just got back from vacation with family.

Asher was tired. His bones ached with exertion and his muscles throbbed from the abuse taken from the now-dead bandit. If he had any care for his well-being, he would take time in the moment to stop the bleeding at his side and on his leg. It wasn't as if he had to involve himself in the fight between the last bandit and the furious beast. He still notched an arrow in his short bow in preparation for whatever the beast had in mind for him and the boy.

"What do we do now?" he looked down to the boy, considering his small frame and the question he asked. He ignored the wooden sword; it was less sturdy than the practice swords he'd used as a page.

"We keep out of the way," he replied, looking back to the fight as it moved towards the trees. "No need to involve ourselves when we don't know which one wishes us more harm." For it was the intent that mattered, not who was more dangerous. From the feral shrieks coming from the creature, it was easy to tell who he'd rather fight, but he wouldn't be surprised if the thing turned on him without a second thought if he drew attention to himself.

Soon enough, however, the cries of the bandit were heard from the forest. If it were daylight, Asher would be better able to see and determine what happened. Another scream was heard before the creature stalked out and straight towards them. As if Asher hadn't already done more than he wished. He brought his bow up, readying himself against whatever this thing would do to him. "Boy," he murmured, "if it advances, you go and wake your gran. Get away from here while you can." He doubted he'd survive this encounter, but he didn't have to see more people die because of his inadequacy. He heard the beginnings of a protest from the boy, which he quickly quieted with a growl that brooked no argument. He was not here to coddle, to be a hero. The boy wanted his family, and he'd get them back.

The creature, rather than pounce, paced in front of them, seeming to consider its next move. The hunger still lingered in its eyes, but his bow seemed to be what it lingered on. Asher did not dare lower it now. The creature snarled, and a feminine voice said, "What do you want? Will you run or will you fight? The treasures are mine," though she motioned to the wagon and not to the old woman lying still.

It wouldn't hurt to make himself look bigger, if only to continue to deter the creature - apparently it was a woman. Asher stood taller, growled louder, replying, "I'm not here for treasures. This boy wants his family back. Let us take the woman, you'll never hear from us again." Another throb at his side made him flinch, and was a reminder that perhaps he was not in the best position to be making deals with the unharmed woman.

by **Wrenera** on October 11th, 2015, 1:14 am

She locked eyes with the big one when he spoke. Tilting her head from one side to the other, scarlet irises glimmered in the pale light. "Take the woman..." she echoed with a sultry hiss. Her attention was then drawn to the battered old woman to whom the boy now ran. The child cried urgently and made efforts to rouse the woman. Wren jerked her head back toward the bowman, her eyes burned with humor and she laughed wildly, throwing her midnight-blue mane back. "I will allow you to have this old thing. But the child is mine!" she declared with a savory glance back the boy's way and a challenging look of ferocity for the big man.

The Zith half bound half flew to a place on the ground only a few feet away from Asher. Her beautifully curved blade waved dangerously close to his groin, a feral grin twisted her features. The perfect mixture of beauty and beast all in one creature. "Or maybe I will have you both....instead," she growled erotically. She watched for his reaction, her muscled limbs looked ready to spring into action at a moment's notice.

~

"Wake up! Granny! Oh please get up. We have to go!" he shouted and shook her.

".....Wh... Is-is that you Seth?" Replied the old woman lethargically. Bleary eyed, she came to shaky footing with the boy's aid.

"We have to go!"

"Wait. Where is Gerald?" She asked, but no sooner had the words left her throat did she notice the fallen form of her husband. She wailed at the sight. Then she saw the winged beast near to a tall man the boy was leading her to. She screamed in horror at that.

"It's alright Granny. She helped kill those nasty men who hurt you and Granpa," he said, though his voice lost much of its conviction when he saw the hungry look on the creature's face....

OOC :