A Long Way From Home (Nya, Abashai)

[Gillar]

Commander Dral had not attained his rank and position by being a fool or overly flawed. He was in line to go through the deadly test of the Ebonstryfe known as the Crucible, and would soon be made a Paladin of Rhysol. Getting to the point he was currently at was not an easy task as few soldiers possessed the ability to command, much less walk the fine line between uncontrolled and controlled chaos. For all of his accomplishments though, Dral despised the Acolytes of the Black Sun. To him they were self-important, power-hungry idiots who used Rhysol as a means to greater power. Dral served the God for a sense of purpose and as a path to becoming something more than he could have ever been without the guidance of the Defiler. He hated being stuck so far from home in the middle of the wretched forest under the leadership of a fool like Calinthar. Thus it was this hatred that Nya's attempt at coercion was able to latch on to. Dral had turned to look in her direction to be sure she was not trying anything overly defiant when he met her gaze. Her words echoed in his mind and his face went blank for a moment as his affected subconscious struggled against his trained, conscious being. Though not having quite the effect Nya had hoped for, her tickling of his mind did put him off guard and she saw it. This gave her the chance she was hoping for. Unfortunately for her though, the poison that she had been given was still affecting her and as she took hold of the chain in an attempt to twist and loop it around Dral's neck, she felt her desire to harm him start to fade. The presence waiting in the shadows had followed Dral and Nya out of the tent. It watched closely all that was transpiring with eyes that saw everything as clear as day. It saw Dral's thoughts and knew the conflict within. The entity knew at that instant that the Commander was not worthy of life if a simple girl could affect him so. With a single thought, the watcher washed away the poison from Nya's system and with a smile, watched what happened next. Just as the poison began to affect her, Nya felt its affects vanish almost instantly. She felt her strength and determination return as she gave the chain a quick jerk with her wrists. It swung up and looped around Dral's neck, tearing him from his internal conflict. With all of her strength she began to pull and continued to wrap a few more loops of chain around the Commander's neck. Surprise was the first thing Dral felt as his mind came back to him but by that time, Nya had already worked herself behind him and was pulling hard on the chain; putting her weight and desperation behind it. Calinthar, several yards away in the hollowed-out remains of the ancient temple, was still busy drawing symbols and muttering various things in strange tongues as he worked some sort of ritual and was oblivious to what was transpiring but a short distance from him. As large and well armored as Commander Dral was, he had been taken completely by surprise and was quickly losing the contest. He did not seem to want to go down easily however and with one armored hand alternating between trying to grab hold of some part of Nya and trying to loosen the chain, his other hand took hold of the glass-shard mace at his side. Pulling it free, he began to swing it back over his shoulder in an added effort to save himself. Dropping down to one knee, Dral had little to no time left. Before the darkness could consume him though, one of his swings with the mace struck its target. Nya's eyes flew open and pain tore into her shoulder as one of the glass shards jutting out of the head of the mace sliced into her flesh and broke off. She lost her grip on the chains and fell backward. Dral too fell to the ground on his hands and knees, the chain still hanging from his neck. He was gasping for air and coughing up thick globs of blood. A cool whisper licked its way through Nya's ears and into her head. It was cold yet almost intoxicating. "Take the stone next to you and crack open his skull like an egg. The key to your collar is around his neck." ------------------------------------------------------------- Abashai, hidden behind the ruined stone, could hear more signals being called out. They all sounded similar in tone but were obviously signaling different things. Unfortunately it also sounded like there were now four separate sources with a two of them close by and two others a little further away. As he raised his head; his eyes following the tip of the arrow he had ready, he caught a tiny flash of movement and another arrow sang toward him. The tip embedded itself in the brittle stone just inches from his face. Although a close call and one that almost caused him to soil himself, Abashai knew now where the source of the deadly shots was. Up in a tree about 15 yards away, the brief but telling flash of movement allowed him to at least stand on equal ground with one of his opponents. A crunching sound in the underbrush however also let him know of a second threat but a few yards behind him. The light of day was almost gone, especially beneath the forest canopy. He had little time left to still see the location of the sniper yet the other threat behind him was so close. Whether either threat knew their locations had been revealed was still unknown but Abashai at least now had a chance to act and with direction. To his advantage, Abashai was surrounded by ruined stone walls of various heights and differing states of decay. There were low tree branches about seven feet from the ground located a few feet from where he lay and his position was shrouded by deep shadows. Just then, a soft, whiny whisper could be heard right next to him. With a glance to the side, Abashai saw Rencil's face two inches from his own. "Do you always find yourself in such exciting situations?"

[Abashai]

The impact of the arrow kicked dust in Abashai's shocked face. Ducking and pressing his back against the ancient wall, The man had hardly wiped the the grit from his eyes when the unexpected voice tickled his ear. "Hik!" the startled Abashai hissed in a harsh whisper. "Where did you come from? Never mind." He had no time to waste, danger had stoked his pulse, heightened every sense and emotion. He was pinned down and outflanked. Threatened from opposite angles, Abashai knew he had to act now. He quickly decided that, as long as the sniper existed, any attempt to defend himself from another attack would open him to an arrow in the back.

He looked down at the curious simian, another strange twist in this encounter. "Watch behind me, there is someone there." Hoping the shadows would conceal him from the unseen stalker long enough to hit the sniper, Abashai pulled back the bowstring with a soft creak. He tried to ignore the dull throbbing pain in his arm. The monkey's leaves did make the wounds more tolerable. Holding the bow horizontally, he raised up from behind the wall just enough to get the bow over it and sight his target. He quickly aimed at the archer in the tree, at least at the dark shape where he had seen the movement, then let the barbed shaft fly. He watched the missile for only an instant, long enough to see if it hit its target. Then he was behind the wall again, watching the shadows behind him. If the soldier in the tree was felled, he would move to a new position of defense. Otherwise, he would have to find someplace in the shadows where neither archer nor the approaching attacker could easily detect him. He knew he would have to dispatch them quickly, as the remaining pair was surely closing in...and Nya languished somewhere beyond them.

Slipping the khopesh from his belt, Yahal's marked one summoned again the gnosis of his Lord. Power flowed into his limbs, strength bolstered his spirit. The pain of his injuries was not diminished, but the incredible single-mindedness the gnosis bestowed allowed him to focus on one task alone, detecting and eliminating or avoiding his foes.

Crouching with heavy blade in hand, enervated, monkey at his side, Abashai prepared for his next move.

[Nya Winters]

It felt so good... so very good... finally doing something. All the talking was for humans really. All the mind games, the deception, the lies, the posturing - it wore on the forest cat's nerves and had her wound up tighter than string on a spindle. Fighting, even with one who was obviously stronger physically in her current form, felt good... really good. Nya snarled as she pulled on the chain, willing to kill the man without a twinge of conscious. She was acutely aware of her bare feet dragging in the ground as she pulled, scrambled for a grip, and pulled again. Even when he started swinging, she dove and ducked, trying to keep the chain taught while avoiding his blows. She just wasn't very fast, smooth, sleek, or agile as a woman. She hated it but knew he was going to hit her, and hit her good. She ducked, twisted, avoiding a mace blow to the head and instead took it deep in the shoulder. It hurt like another forest cat had tried to rip off the limb. Glass protruded, and her arm fell limp, making her unable to hold the chain one-handed. And though she was human, the smell of her own blood fueled the cats rage even more...

Too bad releasing the chain flung her backwards, awkwardly, onto her rump. The voice in her head, though, wasn't a surprise. She'd been listening to Zulrav most of her life and was an obedient cat. When the wind spoke, her soul answered... and though this was no Stormlord, it was someone higher... a voice she answered and obeyed.

Nya scrambled with her good hand until her fingers found the stone and grasped it. She lunged, her bleeding arm screaming in pain, and rammed the rock into Drals skull. She didn't stop at once. She struck twice, three times... as many blows as it took to fall him if she could even land them. And if he went all the way to the ground - if she killed him by cracking his skull open as she intended - she'd scramble to find the key at his neck and rip it off.

Her freedom was first and foremost, and that freedom meant getting the key and running to freedom. Had she been whole, she'd have gathered the chain and fled, worrying about the collar later. But she couldn't run without dragging chain that could catch on things, be grasped easily, or otherwise tripped. So for her, getting the collar off first and foremost was important. She'd do that first... if she had time.

[Gillar]

Coughing and hacking; fighting for breath from a nearly crushed wind-pipe, Dral knew it was almost over. He knew praying to his God would have no affect for he was already abandoned. As with all members of his order, once one undergoes "the Crucible", they gain a small link to the Defiler, Rhysol. That link grows as they do and the God's blessings flow into them at greater and greater levels as their own success and faith increases. Though not yet a Paladin, Dral could still feel the font of grace shut-off as soon as he felt the wave of confusion flow over him; confusion caused by the gaze of the blasted beast-woman. He managed to sputter a few words before the end came for him, "You...wretched...bitch...I...will..." Dral's words were cut short by the sickening crack of his skull as the stone in Nya's hands crushed bone and then brain. Injured as she was with pain radiating from her shoulder and spreading throughout her body, Nya's instinct to preserve herself remained potent. When Dral lay at her feet with his head barely recognizable as such, she was more than able to retrieve the blood/brain covered key. In her haste to unlock the collar, Nya had a bit of difficulty finding the keyhole. After what seemed an eternity yet in reality was only a second or two, she found the keyhole, placed the key in it and turned. The collar opened with a sharp click and full to the ground. Before her instincts could drive her further however, Nya couldn't help but take one last glance to Calinthar. The priest had just finished scrawling another symbol upon one of the broken walls of the ruined temple. Once complete, he turned to see Nya standing over the body of Dral. The most striking thing about Calinthar at that moment was his milky-white eye; trails of smoke licked their way up from the eye which now pulsed with a soft, white light. He raised his arms, palms up, out to either side of his body and with an unnatural smile spreading across his face and then bowed to Nya. "Thank you, my dear. I needed a blood sacrifice. Although you would have done quite well I am more than happy to be rid of that insufferable, Dral. All is ready for the next stage and for now, your use to me is over. Leave if you will, I will find you later I assure you." The ruined temple that Calinthar stood in the center of looked different than it did only moments earlier. The broken stones looked to actually be mending themselves, slowly but noticeably. It was as if the very stone was regrowing lost portions and even the ground; overgrown with weeds, was showing signs of black marble spreading out and forming a floor. Nya felt an uncontrollable shiver wrack her body as she realized that whatever was happening was as far beyond nature as she was beyond human and animal both. ---------------------------------------------------------------- Rencil simply stared at Abashai; ignoring the human's initial surprise at its presence. When commanded to watch the other direction, Rencil raised a bushy eyebrow at the notice but said nothing. He acknowledge the human's wish and watched behind them. Abashai then prepared his shot and cautiously raised up beyond the wall just enough to take it. There was another flash of movement and another arrow was released from the enemy. At the same time, Abashai let his own arrow fly; ducking back behind the wall almost instantly. The opposing arrow sung over Abashai's head, coming within less than an inch of embedding itself in his skull. As for Abashai's own shot, he waited but a moment before hearing something fall from somewhere in the trees and land on the ground with a resounding thud. Blade free and in hand, charged once more with the blessing of his deity, the human warrior turned his attention to the next foe coming from behind. There was no longer any noise and Abashai still could not see who or what was there, if anything. Rencil however tugged at Abashai's clothing and whispered, "There is one more still there. He is watching us, listening to me whisper to you now. He is wondering what I am and why I am talking to you. Wait, now he is raising his weapon and is getting ready to..." There was a shout and and the sound of something charging through the forest underbrush. There was little time to wait as a man dressed in black leather covered in metal plates baring a longsword with a bone-white blade, charged into sight while bringing his sword sweeping through the air at Abashai. "Do something! Do something! He is going to flay us alive! Now, now!" Rencil shouted excitedly and in a very high-pitch, animal-like screech.

[Abashai]

For Abashai, adrenaline-charged encounters gave him a guilty thrill. It happened the first time he met Nya, face to face across a stream with the curious, crouching wild girl who seemed more animal than human. The rush was so tantalizing, he remembered grinning. There was the Cyphrus night when he wanted so badly to gut a drunken caravan guard for daring to voice his desire to violate Zaira. And the battle with the desert tsanas in the Redstone Cliffs. In fact, that intoxicating rush was never so strong as when engaged in a kill-or-be-killed scenario.

As the sniper's last arrow narrowly missed piercing Abashai's skull, and the telltale sound of the archer's body hitting the forest floor was heard, that hormone-induced euphoria flared. Even in the cool autumn twilight, a sheen of sweat had appeared on his brow, strands of Abashai's dark locks stuck to the moisture on his forehead. His bright blue-green eyes darted in search of his hidden opponents. The dull ache in his arm and pounding heart throbbed in unison, barely noticed by the panting warrior. Flushed with the thrill, the Abashai found channeling the gnosis almost effortless, infusing him not only with physical power, but purity of will. The gnosis empowered him to take the untamed adreneline charge and focus it into deadly intent.

Abashai barely heard the harried shrieks of his simian companion as he fixated on the charging soldier. Instantly the desert warrior sprung from his crouch, the supernaturally-enervated muscles in thigh and calf driving him powerfully forward. Grasping his kophesh in both hands, Abashai raised the heavy blade to block the strange white sword. As the fighter reached striking distance, Abashai suddenly juked to the left, hoping to out-maneuver his armor-encumbered foe, whose momentum would carry him past Abashai. If successful, the benshiran would strike with his archaic sword at his enemy's vulnerable back.

[Nya Winters]

Whoops!I thought I'd posted to this but i think I did a preview instead.

No.. no no no. Calinthar was bad through and through. And he was tainting the entire place... all of it. All of Nya's instinct screamed at her to run even as she shifted shape, trading in the weak human flesh for the stronger faster smarter cat. She knew Abashai was somewhere out there, looking for her, and in danger... but the priest was even more of a danger. And what the stones were doing was scaring her, badly, for no man should have the power to heal what nature had reclaimed for itself and torn down. Nya shook her head, clearing the feel of the heavy collar, and made a decision.

Once, she'd fled a priest because she had promised someone the freedom of fresh air in which to die in. Here there were no promises to hold her to her flight. Plus, she was a forest cat - one of the most powerful predators in Taldera. This wasn't Taldera, but it didn't matter much to Nya. She harnessed that inner confidence and turned, her great claws digging in to the stone of the ruined floor as she twisted, and launched herself at Calinthar. She wasn't going to flee this time... nor was she going to leave him here to find her later or to hurt Abashai. He needed to die. And no matter what she'd told her bondmate, some flesh needed to be liberated from life.

Nya acted swiftly. She used a common hunting tactic the great cats enjoyed. She leaped on the priest, attempting to lock her jaws around his neck if she landed and was able to get anywhere close. She'd snap his neck with her jaws if she got half a chance. She wanted the priest dead. She wanted his warm flesh in her belly.

[Gillar]

Calinthar figured Nya would have ran away but did not ignore the possibility that she may actually attack him once she was free. He had already completed the ritual and put his faith in Rhysol and the thought that the God would be pleased with his follower's success. Calinthar, even while gazing upon Nya, flirted with thoughts of becoming a Druvin as a reward for establishing a new shrine in the region. He would be immortal, powerful beyond reason and able to take whatever he wished with but a word. He even considered allowing Nya to live and make her his own whether she wanted it or not. He would enslave her and break her in every way imaginable simply because he could. Calinthar's musings came to a quick end as he watched Nya's humanoid form twist and change into that of a giant forest cat. With amazing speed she leaped at him with hunger and hatred in her bestial eyes. Prepared for such a thing, Calinthar's hand darted into the pouch at his side and his fingers closed around a small, black orb. It was a token granted to him by the Voice of Rhysol, herself. He knew not what it did but she had told him that in his moment of greatest need, it would bring the full attention of Rhysol upon him and grant him the god's blessing. As Calinthar's hand made contact with the orb, everything around him seemed to jolt into slow-motion. Nya's path through the air with her fangs bared and her claws ready to rend flesh was brought to a crawl and even the flames of the nearby torches nearly stopped their flickering. Reality itself seemed to turn on end. For Nya, Calinthar vanished from her sight quicker than anything she had ever witnessed before. With Nya suspended inches from him in the altered reality that filled the immediate area, Calinthar raised the back of his hand to her feline face and rubbed his knuckles softly down the side of her head. "Filthy beast. You actually thought you could harm me in any way? I will make you suffer untold agony to the point that you'll actually beg me to give you more. Your sole reason for living will be to make me happy and you will loathe and love it all at once." He reached into his robes and produced a twisted, black-bladed, jewel-encrusted dagger. "Now, my dear, the pain begins..." Calinthar snarled with a smile. The darkness that had been watching events transpire around the priest and the young woman chose that moment to make his presence more solid. Though still invisible to Nya for the moment, the presence took form behind Calinthar. It was a tall man, barefoot, with long black hair and milky white eyes dressed in simple black trousers. The man placed his hand on Calinthar's shoulder and the priest froze in place. In a cold, silky-sweet voice, the man said, "You wanted my full attention. Now you have it, Calinthar. So sure of yourself and your abilities, you expect my grace upon you? You should be begging for it. Yes, I am pleased with your success and offering and I will reward you in a way of MY choosing." Without warning, the slow-motion reality that kept Nya in place vanished as did the man. For an instant, Nya thought she saw someone else standing before her, the form of a man surrounded by the scent of jasmine after a soft rain. The image was but a flash however, replaced by that of Calinthar. The instance of confusion was gone as she fell upon the priest as she had intended. Instead of snapping his neck however, she found Calinthar's arm close to her head and clamped down on it as the rest of her bulk followed and the two crashed into the center of the once-ruined-now-reforming-temple. With a mighty jerk of her head, Nya pulled the priest's arm free from its socket, tearing flesh and splattering blood in the process. Calinthar howled in pain as he kicked with his feet and slashed with the dagger still held in his other hand. Perhaps luck was on his side for but a moment; whether it was good luck or bad was up for debate. Filled with fright, confusion and great pain, Calinthar barely managed to pull himself up to one knee a few feet from Nya. As shock from the critical wound he suffered set in, he glanced down at the stump to see blood spurting forth and falling upon the newly forming marble floor. As the blood made contact with the stone, something strange and terrible happened. The floor began to form much quicker than before and started to crawl up and over Calinthar's leg. He watched in horror as it spread to his other leg and then up to his waste. He cried out to Rhysol but nothing happened. He dropped his dagger and reached into his pouch; pulling forth the orb that he had used earlier and still nothing happened. Within a few seconds, the marble floor had grown up past his waist and up to his chest. He held the orb up in the air and called out to Rhysol one last time before the marble floor encased his head, crawl up his arm and completely engulfed every inch of his flesh until only a black marble statue of a one-armed man crying out the name of his god remained. All happened over the course of several seconds while Nya tasted the flesh and blood of the man that no longer existed. The taste was intoxicating; so much that it helped keep Nya from acting as Calinthar received the final gift from his god. The ruined-temple ceased its regrowth. Where there had once been a few ruined stone walls, now stood four fully reformed, black marble walls surrounding a black marble floor. Open to the sky, the center of the small structure held a very life-like statue of a one-armed man; his mouth open to the sky with a small black orb held high in his remaining hand. ------------------------------------------------------------------ Energized by the thrill of combat and the victory over one of his foes, Abashai jumped to meet the next one. Rencil jumped out of the way as Abashai brought his sword to bare against the oncoming soldier. The white blade of the enemy left trails of steam similar to that of one's breath on a cold, winter day as it was swung at Abashai's head. Abashai attempted to move to the side at the last moment in an attempt to forgo the strike. The soldier was not a simple squire however and that much was apparent as he caught himself and compensated. Abashai was forced to bring his own blade to meet that of his opponent and the sound of cracking ice filled the air as the two swords struck. The blades struck though Abashai's tactic granted him a good enough position that, while not allowing for an easy strike to his opponent's back, did grant him an opening to the soldier's side as the blades remained locked for a moment and then slide apart. Following his original intent, Abashai was able to take advantage of the opening and strike. The weight of his sword more than the sharpness of the blade invoked the greatest harm upon the armored foe as the kopesh snapped ribs and caused the soldier to buckle from the pain. Falling against a nearby pile of ruined stone, the man held his side with one arm and his sword with the other while gasping for air. His gasping was cut short as it turned to gurgle and blood pooled and coughed from his open mouth. One end of an arrow stuck out from his throat, the other end held by a long-fingered, fur-covered hand. Rencil was standing on top of the ruined-stone. He let go of the arrow, spat at the dying-quickly-dead soldier and said to the corpse, "When will you humans ever learn not to underestimate Rencil?" The monkey brushed one hand against the other and put his hand on his hips. "I think the other two have fled. I don't hear or smell them anymore. I did hear some screams coming from not too far away while you two were playing swords with each other." Rencil pointed off in the direction he heard the screams. He then kicked the dead soldier who then fell forward, away from the ruined-stone, coming to rest in a lifeless lump on hte ground in front of Abashai. "We may want to hurry cause whatever it was sounded really bad; like having one's arm ripped from its socket and shoved up one's own...well, you get the idea."

[Abashai]

Abashai watched the dead soldier land in a heap at his feet, one of his own arrows plunged through his neck. The benshiran, panting lightly, looked up at the monkey-creature. In another place and time, Abashai would have taken time to marvel at the highly coincidental appearances of Rencil, or the mysterious ice-like sword of his slain opponent. But reason and focus prevailed. Nya was near, he knew it, and the sounds Rencil described concerned him deeply.

"It seems I owe you my gratitude, again, Rencil." he offered in a quiet tone with a slight nod of his head. Crouching to pick up his bow and sling it over his shoulder, Abashai quickly headed in the direction Rencil had pointed. Though the other soldiers seemed to have dispersed, he moved forward with a hasty caution. He had to make it to Nya safely if he was going to help her.

[Nya Winters]

Nya shook her head, clearing her nose of the scent of Jasmin. She felt robbed of Calinthars death as the temple reformed itself, its energy oozing up the man and turning him to stone. She backed away, ears flat, muzzle covered with blood. She was in full hunting mode, predator through and through, as she swiveled her head looking for more enemies. Dral was dead, and maybe Calinthar too, though she wasn't certain. There were others... at least two more, and she put her sensitive nose to work looking for them as she circled the newly reformed temple. Underlings, guards... she wasn't sure what they were, but they were a danger if left alive. Abashai was in danger if these people lived. And when all of them were dead, it would be safe to bring him here to figure out how to undo the taint the men had already done to whatever ruins these used to be. Abashai would know what the priest had done and how to fix it. Nya was certain of it.

But first, the survivors needed to be dealt with. She leaped over the chain and collar, snarling at it, before she swiveled her head and began circling the temple. Had she been human, she would have stopped and picked up the jeweled dagger, for nothing else than it would have kept herself and Abashai in housing in Syliras for three or four seasons by how valuable it looked. But she'd come back for it, later, when the metallic taste of blood wasn't so fresh on her lips and dripping down her chest. She wanted more of it - so much more - and she knew what the pair remaining smelled like. Tracking the scents interwoven among each other, she picked out one of them and began to follow it. The taste of Drals blood wasn't enough. She wanted them all dead because there was a bitterness in that taste, a taint, that made her think of the priest with wires from the cult. And while he wasn't touchable, these people were.

Following the scent, she licked her lips and tipped her head back to roar. It was the roar of a forest cat in full hunt. There was no pain or fear in her roar, only the certainty that she'd flush out her game and begin the chase. If not, she'd follow the scent and hunt them down and eat them like the animals they were.

[Gillar]

Nya had a little difficulty detecting anything else beyond the smell of blood in the area. However, after patrolling the area immediately around the once ruined temple, her ears swiveled to nearby sounds. Prowling in that direction, she was able to hear, smell and eventually see even more. In a small, nearby clearing, there were two men hastily tending to a handful of horses. They were not dressed in armor like the others were and also looked younger; perhaps assistants or apprentices. By the way they were acting, they looked spooked. They were dropping various gear and haphazardly strapping down whatever they could to the horses while loading up more onto a small coach. There were six horses in all with two of them hooked up to the coach. As she came closer, Nya could see that there were actually four people present; all of them working quickly to pack up and leave. In addition to the younger, unarmored men, there was another man and woman; the other two soldiers Nya remembered seeing from earlier. It sounded like they were trying to keep their voices down but they weren't doing a very good job at it. They were talking about her, her roar and how Calinthar and Dral were dead. They didn't plan on sticking around any longer and wanted to get back to a place called, Ravok. The clearing offered Nya a number of options. The group looked almost ready to leave so she could simply let them go if she wished. However, the canopy was quite thick and she had her choice of lower-hanging tree branches large enough to support her weight that reached out over the heads of the humans. If she got much closer however, she risked the horses catching her scent and alerting the men and woman to her presence. The only real path to the clearing large enough for the coach, led to an old game trail several yards away which eventually opened up to a larger path some distance further. Even if the group was able to leave the clearing, they could easily be found down the way a short time later. ------------------------------------------------------------------------ Rencil looked at Abashai with a goofy smile following the mention of owing gratitude. "Maybe you'll get to return the favor some day! But hurry, hurry, whatever is going on out there don't sound good!." The monkey was acting excited but that was little different compared to the rest of the short time Abashai had new him. Just as quickly as he had show up though, Rencil was gone once more and Abashai was left to making his way to the sounds of the screams. Indeed Rencil was right in that it wasn't all that far away compared to the rather long distance Abashai had already hiked. The underbrush was thick and in his haste, Abashai found himself covered in scratches and bruises from pushing his way through. Cautious as he was, he could not avoid the annoying grip of barbed vines, hidden stones and low hanging branches. There weren't any more screams to be heard and in fact much of the forest was deathly quiet. Where there would normally be sounds of insects drowning out many other sounds, there was nothing but the creaking of tree limbs and rustling of leaves. Abashai soon saw a collection of ruined, hollowed-out buildings overgrown with moss and vines as nature worked to pull it back into the soil. Proceeding further, he came to a rather gruesome scene. The body of a man, his head barely recognizable as being a head, lay a short distance away. There was a bloody rock laying not far from the body. If that wasn't enough, Abashai's gaze then fell upon a strange, four-walled, open-roofed structure made from black marble. The immediate area was lit by a series of several torches hanging from wooden posts. In the flickering light, Abashai could see a doorway into the structure were the torchlight also revealed a humanoid-shaped statue. Details were difficult to make out without actually entering the structure. The area looked rather familiar; much like what he saw in the visions he received of Nya and her capture. He then saw the chain and opened collar that could only have been the one used to bind Nya. Out of everything though, the one thing that stood out in Abashai's eyes were the bloody paw prints of a large forest cat leading off into the woods. The entire scene looked quite fresh as if having happened only moments before his arrival.