blood and thunder

by **Aoren** on September 6th, 2016, 1:11 pm

26 Fall 516 AV

Aoren sat astride Katya looking out over the landscape squinting as he attempted to glean some semblance of familiarity with his surroundings. It was a vain effort. Rainfall blurred anything and everything for some distance. The rumble of thunder in the skies gave him a creeping feeling at the base of his neck. The rains brought with them many things and when they came, Aoren was always slightly on edge. Whether for better or worse, every major event in Aoren’s life had been accompanied by a storm. As it were, the present rainfall was not so bad as to be considered one but there was always the chance that it could worsen. The worst thing he was in danger of getting at the moment was a bad cold from being soaked. With a sigh he turned Katya away from the landscape and back to the group of Drykas making their way toward the main body of the great migrant Tent City. They were not far now but Aoren’s lack of superb skill in horseback riding along with his unfamiliarity with the area had seen him mingle in the far back with stragglers.

Life in Endrykas had seen him busy since the day he arrived. It was a more intense lifestyle than anything he’d come across before. The Drykas people seized every opportunity they came across, they jumped at the chance to better themselves with a ferocity that surprised him. He had yet to find his place among them. Aoren was not disturbed by this. In the years that he’d traveled from place to place, he’d learned that with time and patience he would find his way wherever it was that he chose to call home. Still, the fierce sense of family, of wanting to belong did make itself known from time to time.

“Come on, girl.” Banishing those thoughts from his head, Aoren pat Katya on the neck guiding her forward. Around him were a smaller number of Drykas. Most of them were keeping in stride with carts or were older and moved at a slower pace. The expressions on many of their faces told Aoren enough. They were tired. They were ready to set up camp and find the warm embrace of a fire to chase away the cold from their bones. He could empathize. It wouldn’t be long though. In the distance, Aoren could just barely make out some of the fires of the main Drykas encampment. The flames flickered, sputtering defiantly in the rain. It was a miracle they weren’t immediately put out by the water falling steadily from the heavens. Without comment or any real thought other than to keep moving, Aoren directed Katya toward the camp site.

“Not long now, girl. I know you’re tired. We’re almost---” A shiver slithered its way up Aoren’s spine but that was not what made him pause. Music the likes of which had no earthly description touched upon Aoren’s reverie. It was hauntingly beautiful in its balance and harmony. In his mind’s eye a vision flashed across his consciousness.

Focus. Excitement. Bloodlust.

These were the feelings that drifted across Aoren’s consciousness as the mundane world fell away. The blessed mark of Avalis pulled him from the Sea of Grass and into the spiraling tapestry of the Chavena. With urgency it drew him toward something unknown, something unfamiliar. Images flashed in front of him as he bore witness to the great construct of light and music bidden to see what the Lady of Foresight wanted him to.

He saw the grasslands. He saw the train of people making their way across the landscape but it was not as the great caravan was now. No, this was already past.

Anger. Hatred. Hunger.

The vision turned away rapidly soaring over the landscape, faster and faster, with a growing feeling of dread building with the momentum. Abruptly a great black maw opened up in the ground before him and the vision ended in darkness where all Aoren saw were flashes of blood, teeth and claws.

His return to the present world was sharp and sudden. Aoren gasped, his chest heaving, his heart racing. The Sight had taken him from the world that is and into the past that was for no more than a breath but it had felt like hours. Eyes wide, Aoren looked around. There was danger. The gift of Divination never reached out to him without cause and it was seldom, if ever, wrong.

“Are you alright?” Aoren ceased his frantic scanning of his surroundings to let his gaze fall upon a middle-aged man who was staring at him in concern.

“Move! Move faster! We must---” He didn’t get the chance to finish his sentence as a shiver went up his spine once more. Over the rainfall the sound of wings beating in the wind drifted to his ears a moment too late to ready himself. He turned just in time to gasp as a shadow slammed into him knocking him from his saddle. Pain erupted in his left shoulder as he felt sharp claws rake through the cloth of his shirt and bite into his flesh. He cried out in surprise and as he met the wet earth, the wind was knocked out of him. Disoriented he blinked away the rainwater from his eyes and saw only a few things. Dark wings and sharp claws. Drawing in a breath he shouted the only thing that came to his mind.

“Run!”

The next thing he heard, was the sound of screaming over a crack of thunder.

by **Waisana** on September 9th, 2016, 4:12 pm

Waisana kept to the edge of the travelling group, both to make her search easier and to allow her better movement when it sometimes became necessary for her to go against the flow. While everyone else was eagerly making their way towards warmth and shelter, the teen had opted to keep a watchful eye on those who travelled more slowly, wary that the older Drykas might require medical assistance in this inclement weather. Her brother and his wife had gone ahead of her many bells before and he would probably have set up his pavilion and sat Waisana's heavily pregnant sister-in-law by the fire for warmth. Icharo, who was really her half-brother, had no love for the daughter of the Ankal's third wife and the only reason he was even willing to deal with the doctor was because of his wife's condition. As a doctor himself, he did have the necessary medical training to deal with the issues of pregnancy and even labour but he had grudgingly admitted that the blonde girl had greater experience in the matter. Many women preferred to have a woman help them when their time came and thus, Waisana had gathered a wealth of experience that Icharo lacked and resented her for it. He had been ill-pleased when she had explained her intention to remain with the slower travellers and she anticipated a very chilly reception when they did reach Endrykas; she was glad that they had so little to do with one another.

Leaning back in the yvas, the teen made Drusine pause as she scanned the group before her. Seeing a man whose body was wracked with a coughing fit, she urged her Strider towards him and wove her way into the column to keep pace beside him. Leaving one hand on the yvas's grip, she reached the other out to the man, rubbing his back firmly as he choked and spluttered. He startled a little, glancing sideways at the young blonde through the downpour. She offered him a reassuring smile and he no doubt assumed her profession by the white cloak she wore. The girl cocked her head to the side, listening to the rattle of his chest in an effort to diagnose him. When the coughing stopped, the man signed his thanks for her concern.

"When you are settled, come to the River Flower." Check. Treat, she explained, leaning closer to him so he would hear her words over the wind. Committing his face to memory, the teen carefully picked her way out of the column once more and urged Drusine towards the back of it. Each impact of the horse's hooves bounced her drenched cloak up and down on her form, its weight serving as a warning for how wet she had allowed herself to become. Waisana was so chilled that she wasn't sure if she was completely soaked through but self-care would be at the top of her list once they were settled; it was very difficult to help patients when you grew sick yourself.

Continuing her careful scanning, she saw them as the screaming began but did not grasp what they were. A dark shape fell into the midst of the column, its presence bringing panic and terror as horses shied away, throwing some riders who failed to hold on. A general rush began and twisting around in the yvas, Waisana observed the scene stupidly as she tried to understand what was happening. Those who could do so had urged their mounts to a faster pace, mud splattering upwards as hooves slid rapidly through it. The girl applied pressure to Drusine's flank, bringing the mare wheeling around to flee towards the camp ahead, hoping for safety in greater numbers. A dark shape whooshed from the sky close to her and she screamed as a snarling something descended on her. What riding skill she possessed was lost amidst blind panic and she threw her body sideways, hoping that the horse would follow her direction and quickly move that way. Instead, she threw herself at the moment that the Strider reeled, emitting a scream of terror of her own before she bolted. With a shriek, the young doctor was sent flying into the group of fleeing Drykas, heat flashing through her leg as it caught on something briefly. She was left rolling and crawling in the mud as she tried to get clear of the pounding hooves and trundling carts, her leg wet and throbbing in a way that suggested she'd cut it.

Her escape was thankfully not a wrong one having not been thrown too far into the fray and as she dragged herself clear, she flopped onto the ground, panting and staring wildly around her as she sought some means of escape. Where had Drusine gone? The white clothing she wore was now well-muddied, the rain managing to clear some of it away to reveal the bright colour beneath in a way that would make her stick out, even on the ground. Propping herself up onto her elbows, she struggled to get her legs beneath her, the injured one shaking under her as she tried to rise. A high keening could be heard over the lashing rain and the screams of riders and horses and Waisana searched for the source, imagining that it must be near and not knowing what it was, she grew more panicked. As the sound grew wilder and louder, the young woman wasn't able to register that it came from her own mouth.

by **Azmere** on September 12th, 2016, 9:21 pm

The rain had been a blessing. Fall, normally a time of year that the scarred man enjoyed, had become a brutal continuation of the soul-sucking heat that summer had wrought. Azmere rode wide from the column of wagons and Drykas with D’nang Starheart. The young watchman was always a pleasant companion though sometimes he was a little too eager to be useful. It was in these times when Azmere tried to council patience. The soft water that fell from the looming clouds and heavy mist made the recent heat fade from the ankal’s memory. Young men had a way of overlooking the everyday blessings that the gods delivered like cool rain, a salve to the soul. The contrasting gaze lifted to the weeping heavens as droplets exploded upon his face and left lingering beads of moisture in his eyelashes. Azmere smiled the half smile that his scarred appearance allowed; the left side remained emotionless as if the burnt tissue was devoid of feeling. Sometimes, the Drykas wondered if people viewed him as such or if they suspected that he had two separate personalities. Odd thoughts such as these were easy to come by when traveling in a long slow caravan.

Skylla accelerated her pace as if to affirm the annoyance of regulated travel. Her rider leaned down and put a hand on her mane and stroked some of the rain through the long, coarse hair. He whispered to her patience and a prayer. “Thank your father, Zulrav, for the rain, mana. He is a great father and we are both blessed to be his children.” Leaning back up in his yvas, Azmere extended his arms then allowed his eyes to close as his head lolled back, the hood of his chestpiece fell from his head. His black hair had gotten longer and in recent days, he had not been very attentive to his wraps or braids so there were stray strands of black that protruded at random angle and locations. The archer didn’t care for he was too busy relishing the cool down. From the right side of his face, his expression might remind a person of a child splashing in a puddle.

Like all things, this peaceful moment was about to end. D’nang tapped Azmere on the arm. “Hey!” The man called to his partner. When the rainbow starbursts turned to the one who had slapped him, the Opal clansmen signed trouble with a question mark then pointed towards a pair of riders. One seemed to be checking on another that looked distressed. The archer was about to dismiss the alarm that his counterpart had raised. The fellow looked startled and the older man was checking on him already. There was no need to complicate things by riding in and causing a commotion. That was the plan. It was at this time when chaos descended upon the quiet of the Drykas.

Without warning, the distressed man shouted that everyone should run and it was mere ticks before the hellish figures of Zith emerged from the mist. Azmere did not hesitate. Boot heels slammed into the flanks of his young mare who shot towards the column’s tail at a full gallop. The youthful strider loved to ride fast and could gain speed quickly. The archer instinctively drew his bow and snagged an arrow using the leather ring on his thumb that was specifically designed to help grip the fletching. The rain made Azmere miss on his first attempt to notch the arrow which angered him but he did not allow it to cloud his judgment. When the man was knocked from his yvas, the Watchman had managed to connect the shaft to the string and draw it back to his cheek. His left arm raised the bow lining the head up with the swooping target directly in front of him.

Zith were reknowned for being hard to hit so despite coming head on, Azmere elected to fire a bit premature. The shot was well over the horse but lead the attacking beast’s torso by nearly a foot to its right. His follow through was simple. His left hand, a vice upon the handle of his longbow, tracked the movement of his target as did his eyes while the right drew and notched another arrow. The draw was instantaneous once more and with the shorter distance, the ankal released his second arrow only leading the foul creature’s center mass by a few inches.

The column had broken down into a scattered mess as the elderly and children fled under the terrified and shaking weapons of those with scant martial abilities while Watch and Drykas alike rode towards the sounds of screams with weapons of every kind drawn. When Azmere reached a point a few feet away from the fallen man, he yanked up on the handle and leaned his weight back in the seat. Skylla slowed instantly but the archer didn’t wait for her to stop before he swung his right leg over and hopped to the ground. He landed in a crouch and made two long strides to cover the space between himself and the man.

He could see the wounds but knew that they were not serious simply because he had been damaged on the shoulder in the past. He slipped the bow over his head and arm and extended his left hand to the Drykas. “Can you fight?” Azmere asked in a huff. His right hand was already weaving the leather loop of his club around his wrist. His fingers grasped the wicked weapon and freed it from his belt. He held it out to the side away from the man, the rain slipping off of the ever-sharp glassbeak horn and talons. The watchman kept his gaze upon his kinsmen but knew the mist would give the winged-bastards enough cover to strike again.

Then a thought crossed his mind. Without moving from his position, he closed his eyes and brought the image of the stars and the colors to his mind. He remembered the pain and burning. He recalled gouging the strange woman’s eyes to make it stop and he called the dream that started everything to his foremost focus. A twitch set through both eyes and when he opened them, the starbursts around his pupils would appear to be moving. The warrior gazed around from his crouched stance of readiness. His fingers flexed upon his weapon giving it a quick twirl from his wrist. He could see colors everywhere but most clung to the ground. His eyes flitted over the man that he was trying to help and he was swimming in a patch of aura larger than Azmere had ever seen on any one person. He made a note to ask him about it after they survived this ordeal. That was the key here; survive. The Drykas scanned the area above the horses for paths and swatches of color. He had found a few fragments here and there but the twists and curls made prediction nearly impossible. Like a sleeping calf. He thought.

by **Aoren** on September 13th, 2016, 7:46 pm

Aoren did not have long to gather his wits. The shadowy beast that knocked him from his horse was still about. Through the haze of mist and pain he could make out its form in the grey skies. Katya, his Strider reared back before bolting in a panic. In vain Aoren tried to reach out to her as if to grab the frightened mare for whatever good it might do. His fingers grasped naught but air. A terrified scream drew his attention as his attention to a downed woman scrambling in the mud, desperate to get away from the chaos all around them. Her soiled robes were darkening at one of the legs she was dragging across the ground. Aoren was pulled away from her plight however as the beast up above dove back down toward the earth. He heard it emit a guttural bellow of bloodlust and he knew its intent was to kill. Fueled by adrenaline and pain, Aoren propped himself up reaching for his djed as he raised a hand. He was about to send forth a bolt of lightning when an arrow whizzed by overhead. The beast was forced to veer off course until being driven off, if only briefly, by a second arrow. He didn't have to wait long before its source became clear.

Galloping forward, a Drykas man wielding a bow atop a horse made himself known. He leapt down from the horse and in just a few strides was at Aoren's side extending a hand. To the question, Aoren merely gave a firm nod. He reached out accepting the hand with gratitude as the man closed his eyes for a few moments. Those few moments were all it took. As Aoren pulled himself up, another dark winged beast appeared out of the rain just behind the man. Sharp claws out and teeth bared it dove toward them both seeing easy targets. Aoren was about to show the creature how wrong it was.

"Look out!" With a shove to the Drykas warrior to get him out of his line of fire, Aoren brought up his hand allowing res to shoot forth. He had neither the time nor a clear enough shot to react with anything but a basic element. So he went with the one that would do the least damage to those caught in the crossfire but still could drive the beast off, wind. A blast of forceful concentrated wind parted the rain hitting the winged monster directly sending it careening off course. A few other people were sent sprawling before managing to pick themselves up and keep running. In that moment Aoren managed to get a good look at the beast registering it as Zith. Aoren snarled in disgust then turned to the warrior.

"Let's go." Aoren was without his quarterstaff and his blades. He cursed to himself again for his foolishness. Still, he was far from helpless without them. Thus far he'd counted two Zith but he didn't doubt that there were more. The beast men might have been savage but they weren't stupid. They wouldn't attack those who proved too much of a challenge, that's why surprise and obscurity were their chosen weapons. They'd go for the feeble, for the injured and as that realization hit him, Aoren searched for the muddied woman from mere moments ago. He searched the thinning column of people and when his eyes found her it was just as yet another Zith made itself known. The winged beast man landed mere inches from her swiping at her with clawed hands.

"There!" Aoren pointed in the downed woman's direction. She had to be close to fifty or so feet away. Kicking off, Aoren set his djed to a different purpose. He tugged it into motion as he broke out into a sprint as fast as his legs would carry him. It wasn't fast enough, he knew, so he would lend power to his legs that he could move faster. Pushing the Flux into motion he let it flow through his body once, twice, on the third time he mentally shoved the power into his legs feeling the muscles swell with strength as he ran to the woman's aid. He could only hope that he got to her in time to help her.

by **Waisana** on September 15th, 2016, 3:10 pm

Despite the keening sound she made, Waisana was able to make out the beating of leathery wings as one of the beasts bore down on her. It landed a short distance from her, the girl letting out a high, hysterical scream as she saw it properly for the first time. It was man-shaped except that what was now stalking towards her had large wings, which kept unfurled as it came towards her, as if ready to take flight at any moment. Its body appeared entirely covered in black fur and the hands it extended towards her had sharp, wicked-looking claws that seemed as dangerous as any blade. The girl couldn't get up, her legs unable to gain traction in the mud to lift her up so she could only scramble backwards in panic, terrified to turn her back on the creature that she now identified from stories as being a Zith. Moving backwards on her back was slow and difficult so that the gap between herself and the beast-man wasn't being widened but was in fact being reduced. She rolled over onto her stomach, and clawed her way through the mud, trying to crawl on hands and knees even as her injured leg throbbed and ached beneath her.

The blonde tried to follow in the wake of the other Drykas who were rapidly departing in the direction of the tent city. Most people had gone on the run but there was someone running towards her on foot who she assumed was coming to her rescue. "Help!' Help me!' she screamed to the man, stretching a hand out to him imploringly as she dragged herself forward another foot. She felt hard nails grasp and then dig into her ankle, tugging her backwards as she shrieked in pain and fear. Digging her fingers into the mud, Waisana hung onto the ground by her nails, which did her little good as she was pulled. Her nails shredded as she tried to cling on and hold her position but to no avail. The grip moved higher up her leg, pulling her backwards until it could wrap its arms around her waist. Still screaming, she squirmed and wiggled, trying to free herself from the beast's arms. It clutched her tightly against its chest, its arms trapping her there as she gasped for air to scream more.

Its wings began to beat and her feet left the ground, sending her into a frenzy as she kicked her legs back and wriggled and whipped her head back against her chest hard enough to make herself dizzy. There was growling in her ears and the pressure around her chest increased as it clasped her even more tightly. It was going to take her away; it was going to capture her and bring her back to its colony where they'd probably eat her. Zith ate people didn't they? After all, they were beasts that happened to have a humanoid form.

"Help! Get me away from this thing," she cried.

by **Azmere** on September 25th, 2016, 3:13 am

Azmere did not have time to question motives. The shove was obviously well-intended so Azmere used the backwards force to topple his body. He let his legs go limp and crumple which normally would result with the archer in a heap on the ground but the added force and vector provided by the cloaked man pushed Azmere’s center of gravity beyond his base. When his legs went out, his bottom came down and splashed against the soggy ground. His upper body leaned as if to crash like a falling tree but the Drykas kicked down with his legs a tick before his shoulders mad contact with the mud. This didn’t require a great deal of force but it continued the momentum of the fall and turned it into a backwards roll that brought the warrior up onto his knees. The starburst eyes caught the final action of the cloaked man. He had made the wind blow like Zulrav! The archer could literally watch the djed move through the air and knock people down. It was beautiful and fascinating but the magic was only serving as a distraction at this point.

Azmere closed his eyes tight and shook his head thinking only of his normal vision for three ticks. He stood and peeled his eyelids open once more; relieved to find the paths and colors were dormant again. The watchman popped up to his feet by flexing his abs and rocking back onto his heels. Once in the crouch, he pushed the adrenaline into his leg muscles. The stored energy erupted in an upward hop that took the big man from a crouch to his full height in a flash. The fun was just beginning, however. Azmere’s new friend had caught sight of a Drykas in trouble.

The watchman did not hesitate and took off at a dead spring for the injured woman. The doom and gloom of the day made distinguishing her features nigh impossible at this distance. For several ticks, Azmere felt like he had left his new friend behind in the mud but he didn’t feel like he could turn around to check. The woman was being set upon by a Zith but it appeared that the fiend meant to take her prisoner. Suddenly, the cloaked man dashed past the warrior with an amazing burst of speed. The ankal had never seen any Drykas run that fast. Unfortunately, it didn’t matter. The winged beast had acquired the Drykas female by yanking her leg until he had enough of her weight within his clawed grasp.

Azmere stopped running and slipped Vihar into his grasp. The longbow fell into place almost instantly while the right hand was a bit slow to draw –though still faster than most- since the club hung from his wrist. An arrow was notched as the Zith began to climb higher into the cloudy sky with his captive in tow. The archer gauged the distance at less than thirty feet but it was growing. The rain was steady and the wind was of little account at present. He pointed his left arm at the point where the creature’s wings came together upon its back. Bowstring had been drawn tight, his right hand resting upon his cheek. Azmere held both eyes open and stared down the shaft into the tip of his arrow and the point on his target blurred into a single image. He inhaled and held the breath. In that split-tick, the watchman seemed to become a statue then he exhaled and relaxed his right fingers which released the shot. A true archer, he had not lowered his bow nor took his eyes off of the target though his right hand drew and notched a second arrow just in case. Azmere whispered to the storm as his arrow sliced through the misery which sat heavy in the thick air.

“Zulrav, this storm is your child as am I. Allow my arrow the grace to sing true. My lord Yahal, the vile beast in my sight is corruption by birth and breed. I am your instrument and ask for your strength to vanquish this winged plague upon my people.”

by **Aoren** on November 12th, 2016, 4:28 pm

The burst of speed lent to him by willing his Flux into motion was enough to close some of the distance between himself and the woman screaming in terror. For a moment he was taken back to a memory of very similar danger. The sound of his feet pounding against the muddy ground was drowned out by the thudding of his heart in his chest. Within moments, even that faded in his ears and the woman’s screams changed pitch. The beat of wings became louder over the sound of panic and disarray. What was a crack of thunder to others became a roar signaling horrific death to Aoren. The stirring of the memory made his pace falter before he locked eyes with the woman. The world seemed to slow for no more than a mere moment. He could see the terror in her gaze as she stretched out her hand in desperate plea for her life. Shaking his head, Aoren grit his teeth and dug deep urging the power that was spinning in his body to push him that much faster.

“Gods give me strength.” Taking one, two, three great bounding leaps forcing as much strength into his lower body as he could muster, Aoren fought to close the distance between himself and the woman as fast as he could. As he took the third and final leap he reached out his hand in attempt to grab a hold of the woman and yank her from the Zith’s grasp. His fingers brushed hers before he tumbled back down to the earth hitting the dirt with a hard thud. Aoren rolled for a few feet, his concentration and grip on the Flux dissipating causing a stinging sensation to flare in his legs. He flinched as he was struck with a dull ache in his left temple though whether it was because he lost grip on his magic or because he’d fallen in the dirt, it was unclear. With vision swimming for a moment he blinked looking to focus back on the Zith and the captive woman. Moving to pick himself up, his hand slipped causing Aoren to fall back into the mud. Shaking off his disorientation, the Drykas picked himself up zeroing in on the woman and the Zith as best he could.

They were too high into the air for him to attempt another leap. What chance there might have been for that to have saved the woman, was now gone. Briefly he considered unleashing the power of his reimancy upon the beast but the woman was too close and he risked hitting her in the attempt. As he was deliberating, out of his periphery an arrow zoomed through the air. It cut through the rain, aimed at the Zith. If it struck there was a chance the beast would drop the woman and Aoren could be there to catch her. But it seemed that luck would not be on their side in this instance. The arrow grazed over the Zith’s left shoulder eliciting a screech born more from irritation than true injury. The beast gripped its prize more tightly as it turned to soar off into the bleak sky. Tightening his fists, Aoren glared at the filthy creature as it hauled off the woman. He stood there for a moment feeling an indignant rage fill him at the injustice of the situation. To his left, there came a flapping of wings and a thud as another Zith landed in the mud. Larger than the one that had carried off the woman, it was male. He possessed a wiry but muscular frame with broad shoulders and vicious looking claws. His wings flapped as he straightened, leveling Aoren with an amused stare. He emit a rumbling laughter while flashing his sharp teeth.

“Angry?” The male chuckled, crouching into an aggressive stance. He sniffed the air loudly. “Good. Anger makes the meat on your bones burn with flavor.”

Aoren stared at the Zith, a cold anger coursing through his blood. Spreading his feet so that they were shoulder width apart he lowered his center of gravity raising his arms up in front of him adopting a balanced combative stance. Once more he stirred his djed into motion willing the res of his reimancy to coat his hands. With a flick of his thoughts he separated the res into layers then clenched his fists igniting the outermost layers.

“Then come, taste fire.” Sprinting forward, Aoren raised a fist to strike the beast. The Zith howled and darted forward reaching out to meet fist with claw.

----

Azmere’s arrow sailed through the air carrying with it the hope of felling a beast that dared to attack his people. These vile Zith, little more than twisted aberrations dredged up from the forsaken pits that scarred Semele’s sacred earth, their arrogance would be repaid in full. As a trained archer, Azmere was easily able to follow the course of his arrow watching as it grazed over the beast’s shoulder causing it to scream in agitation. Though Azmere had his second arrow notched and ready, he would get no opportunity to fire it at its intended target. From his right there came a thudding of wings beating against the air followed by a sharp cry of beastial fury. A third Zith speared through the air, a female, her dark hair a mass of writhing black tendrils that emphasized the sinister blood red of her eyes.

Her hands were outstretched before her, the claws fully on display. She was rapidly closing the distance between herself and the Drykas Watchman, her intent inescapably clear. Kill. Maim. Rend.

There yet remained just enough distance for Azmere to fire his notched arrow at either her or at its original target. The former would see the female Zith forced to divert course thus allowing Azmere time to properly defend himself. The latter was one more chance to try and free the woman in the clutches of the beast that was spiriting her away but at the risk of exposing himself to a brutal attack. A glance to the other man would find him facing down another Zith, clearly unable to reach the woman now.

by **Waisana** on November 19th, 2016, 11:44 pm

The young woman scanned the ground, searching for any signs of rescue. The rain blurred everything and visibility was at a minimum so it was difficult to see much of anything. She wasn't so high off the ground that her people had become like ants but there were many of them who had become faceless in the mist. She saw someone who seemed to take aim with a bow but the missile missed its mark and rescue from that direction was lost as a Zith darted towards the man. The blonde sobbed, watching the ground disappearing beneath her and fearing what would come next. She was unable to see how anyone could rescue her now. Her people were so close yet so far, the lights of fires visible to her only a few hundred yards from where she'd been snatched. Many of those who had scattered in the wake of the Zith attack in a frenzy of muddy hoof prints had no doubt reached safety now. There were still some who remained, fighting to keep the creatures at bay, trying to fight them off but there were few concerned with rescuing her.

She saw someone streak towards her, the speed of the figure so fast that she was amazed by what the human body could do in dire circumstances. She watched him rush towards her, hope swelling within her as she watched him jump to reach her. His hand stretched up to take hers, her own stretching out desperately towards his. Their fingers touched, glancing off each other and the teen wailed despairingly as she watched him drop away from her. The hand that had been free was forced against her side, her movement restrained as the Zith held her in place so that she couldn't struggle and felt her breath hitch.

The Drykas girl screamed, bawling her eyes out as she was lifted higher and higher, carried out of the grasp of all who would save them. There was nothing anyone could do. She was beyond help and in that moment, she knew it. Waisana sobbed as if her heart would break and it certainly felt as if that was what was happening. She didn't know where she was going. She didn't know what would be done with her. She didn't know if she'd ever see her home or her family again. Opening her mouth wide, the blonde screeched. It was a long shrill note, a continual shriek of anguish and fear as a result of her fate.

Waisana closed her eyes, unwilling to see the lights and figures shrink beneath her with distance. She couldn't bear to see everything she knew and love recede. Still, she kept screaming, a sound that would probably be carried away by the wind but which would probably still manage to reach the ground in some shape or form. Some would hear her high cries on the wind and probably think it was her swan song. For her, she didn't know if it was or not; she didn't know if she would live or die tonight.
OOCI thinks that's it from me. Appreciate you letting me join in. Thanks, guys!

by **Azmere** on December 26th, 2016, 7:22 am

There comes a point in a person’s life when he’s done something enough and put enough time behind a skill that certain tasks become automatic. The sounds to his blind side forced the watchman to turn. Azmere’s legs remained strong; feet planted, and then swiveled at the waist. His upper body remained in a ready form. The string was tightly kept by an arrow held by three fingers. Instead of a traditional grip, the man with the contrasting stare drew with his thumb. There was a tiny leather cord wrapped into a ring below the first knuckle. It was rough and had an excess along the inside which made lifting a single arrow effortless. The index and middle fingers joined the thumb to make a triangle of pressure against the string. During his shift of posture, Azmere inhaled deep into his diaphragm. Upon seeing the female Zith, the archer released the air from his lungs in an almost peaceful exhale. The fingers peeled out and the arrow flew ahead towards the upper torso of the winged beast.

Azmere did not hesitate to act upon firing the shot. His body burst with motion but his eyes followed his shot. Hands slipped the bow over his head and shoulder in a fluid shift that allowed him to sidestep. The watchman squared his frame and prepared for a further advance from the Zith. His hands, now free, drew up the club made by an expert blacksmith. The horn of a glassbeak sat opposite of two talons which gave the weapon the appearance of a wicked hammer. The Drykas took hold of it in his right hand and drew his arm up into a cocked pose reminiscent of a snake coiled before the strike. His blue and gold stare was honed in on the broad tip arrow. Its mark would determine next move.

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The male Zith was in the midst of a charge when the res went up like dry grass against a late summer’s fire. Momentum prevented any drastic changes in direction but the crafty predator wasn’t without tricks. The creature continued to propel itself forward with a claw up to connect with the flaming fists of the man. The rest of the body slipped down into a slide against the mud. He tucked in his wings and gained speed. At the last instant, he lashed out with his clawed feet to lacerate the legs of the human in an attempt to upend his adversary. If the man managed to stop the slide and remain on his feet, the Zith had planes to take off and cart this horseman into the night sky and drop him.

by **J'Ak** on October 11th, 2017, 10:52 am

G R A D E

A O R E N

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W A I S A N A

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A Z M E R E

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If you feel I missed anything shoot me a PM.
Don't forget to edit your grade request here -

Closed blood and thunder