The Beginning of the End: Part 1 (Solo/Flashback)

[Massacre]

The Beginning of The End: Into the Jungle Wilds Timestamp: Summer 78, 498 AV There were two places the elders of Massacre's tribe had never led them. One was the great land of sand south of the sea of grass. To go there was to burn in the sun, freeze in the night, be eaten by some monster, or be trapped in whatever shelter one might find as the shifting sands covered you up in your sleep. And that was all assuming you didn't die of dehydration. It was a place Massacre had no desire to see, and he had no intention of leading his tribe there while he was the elder in charge. The other place was the jungle across the Suvan Sea. Though he had never known why the elders feared that place, the fact that they did meant Massacre wasn't about to let himself be ruled by their fears. His tribe had grown considerably over the past year, having merged with another small tribe, and was at twenty members when they first set out across the narrow part of the Suvan Sea. They would have been even more, but the merger had not been entirely smooth. Massacre liked being the eldest, the one in power, so everyone older than him had been killed off. Of course there was resistance, but his tribe had been through many battles, had learned to use the Drykas bow and arrows, and in the end he had won. So.. they had twenty members, up from their former twelve. Within a bell of having reached the coast of Falyndar they were down to fourteen, and a day later they were at eight... Timestamp: Summer 77, 498 AV Massacre's wings ached. Even at the narrowest point, crossing the sea was still a long flight, but they were almost to the other side. The sun was just rising, as they had set out before dawn. Massacre was more than ready to take a break and sink his clawed feet into the sand and feel the waves splash over his ankles. Sadly, that moment would not come for some time. As they began to descend toward the shore the Zith flying nearest to Massacre was suddenly jolted backwards before falling from the sky. Massacre caught the briefest glimpse of a feathered arrow shaft protruding from the Zith's chest before the second arrow struck down another Zith. One by one his tribe was being picked out of the sky, and Massacre tried to scan the dense tree line for the source of the attack, but they were well hidden. The experienced members of his original tribe reacted quickly, just as Massacre would expect of them, and began stringing their bows mid-flight while swerving erratically in the air to make themselves difficult targets. They had fought Drykas and Akalak archers before, and it was mostly the new members who were being picked off. Massacre did the same thing, preparing his bow and nocking and arrow as he still struggled to spot his enemy in the trees. The Zith dodged hard to the right as he passed over the shoreline and another arrow zipped out from the trees, but he also spotted its source. There were humans below, and suddenly Massacre had confidence that he and his tribe would come out of the encounter with minimal casualties. Even with all that Massacre had experienced, he still did not respect the threat that human beings truly posed. They were in fact Myrians, though Massacre did not know it, nor did he even know what a Myrian was. Massacre let fly his arrow and one Myrian died. Two more replaced her and he nearly took an arrow to the shoulder as they retaliated. Massacre snarled and twirled in the sky, flipping over backward and diving head first toward the trees. With all the arrows he knew that he was vulnerable in the air, he would be safer among the trees. At least, that was what he thought.

[Massacre]

Massacre was on the ground running through the trees. Some of his fellow tribe mates had followed his lead, landing with him and running alongside. Massacre preferred the air, naturally, but he wasn't going to risk being plucked out of the sky by an arrow when he could face his opponent head on. It didn't take long for the Myrians to find them. The first one seemingly came out of nowhere, attacking one of Massacre's tribe-mates from the right flank, hurling a spear and catching the Zith in the shoulder before the Myrian charged in with a short curved sword to finish him off. After that more Myrians appeared and began to attack. One came at Massacre with a hatchet in each hand, skillfully hacking at the Zith who was hard pressed to dodge. Massacre danced away only to turn around and come right back at the attacking Myrian with his claws and fangs bared. The Zith slashed at the warrior’s chest, but the man was equally skilled and dodged the attack before hacking at Massacre's exposed wrist with the axe. Massacre barely withdrew his hand in time. Knowing firsthand how dangerous it was to face a skilled opponent armed only with his claws, Massacre quickly backed away the first chance he got and drew out his sword. He wasn't nearly as skilled with it, but perhaps it's reach would give him the advantage he needed. The Myrian eyed the blade cautiously, though there was no fear in the man's eyes, only respect for the weapon itself. Massacre held it out in front of him two handed and as the Myrian advanced he swung the blade hard at the warriors neck forcing him to back away. Massacre advanced, swinging again and again. By now the warrior could tell that the Zith didn't really know what he was doing, but that didn't mean the blade itself was any less dangerous. The Myrian blocked one strike with one of his hatchets and tried to slip in under the blade, but Massacre kicked out with a clawed foot before the Myrian could get close. He might not be skilled with the sword itself, but Massacre was no stranger to battle. He knew how to avoid being hit if he had to. The Myrian was no stranger to battle either, however, and Massacre's kick barely phased him. The skilled warrior danced right back around Massacre's weapon and swung his axe hard at Massacre's ribs. It was only by luck that Massacre managed to slide away just in the nick of time, taking only a grazing bite instead of a deep cut. Even so, his opponent had spilled first blood. Massacre knew he had to keep his guard up.

[Massacre]

Growling away the pain in his ribs Massacre swung the sword again. This time the Myrian wasn't quite fast enough to dodge the attack entirely, and Massacre drew a heavy gash across the Myrian's upper arm as reward for his quick attack. The hardened jungle warrior was barely phased however, jumping right back into the fray and hacking away. Nearby Massacre saw another of his tribe-mates engage one of the warriors. The Zith's name was Dart. The reason for the chosen name was obvious as he began to fight, darting in for an attack and darting right back out just as quickly. The Zith scored several good hits on the Myrian, but Massacre saw his end coming quickly when a second warrior joined the melee. Dart was quick, but not quick enough to defeat two of the deadly jungle people. It was only a matter of chimes before he was taken down. Massacre could dwell on the loss for long, he had his own Myrian to deal with. The man came in with a flurry of blows from his hatchet landing another hit on the Zith, this time on his arm. The wound was intentional, however. Massacre let the man in, let him score a hit, and then up came Massacre's blade, right into the Myrian's armpit. It wasn't completely severed by the attack, but when Massacre jumped away he noted the arm hanging loosely at the warrior's side. Try as he might, the Myrian no longer had the upper hand. Massacre quickly scored another hit, this time coming down on the man's shoulder on the same side as the wounded arm. It was a fatal blow, and even if it hadn't been it still severed the arm. The Myrian had already lost enough blood, and the shock of losing his arm was more than he could take. The warrior slumped and then fell. Massacre's victory was short lived, however. The two warriors who had just taken down Dart closed in and the Zith knew he couldn't take two of them. Massacre did something he almost never did.. he turned and ran.

[Massacre]

The retreat was by far the most frightening, and most exhilarating thing he had ever done. It wasn't so much a retreat as a mad dash to nowhere while being attacked at every turn. Massacre didn't know where he was going. He didn't know how many of his tribe had been slain, and he didn't know if he was heading away from the Myrians or just running toward them. He was just running. Massacre knew there were people chasing him. His keen ears easily picked up their footsteps, which were surprisingly quiet despite the fact that they were running, and even if he hadn't heard them the arrow that thudded into a tree next to him was sign enough. He could hear the cries of other zith, but he could also hear them running. They were at least smart enough to realize this was a battle they could not win. "Come to me!" Massacre shouted as loud as he could in the Zith tongue, calling his tribe to him. Hopefully they heard him and would try to get to him, because Massacre wasn't able to give any other directions. As he rounded a large tree he was faced with something he had never seen before. He didn't have a name for the massive orange and black striped creature before him, but he knew it was going to be the most difficult fight of his life. The tiger let out a heart-stopping roar before it lunged at Massacre, swiping with its deadly claws. Wide eyed, the Zith dove to the side and rolled behind a tree, realizing that cover was the only way he was going to keep from being torn apart. Looking down at his own claws, they seemed childlike in comparison to the creature's own. Massacre hoped, though it was in vain, that the large creature would at least be slower due to its massive size. As soon as he was behind the tree he came around the other side prepared to swipe at the tiger with his sword. His swing was already halfway through the air when he realized the tiger had already turned around and was batting his sword out of the way. A follow-up with its other paw threatened to take his arm off but Massacre rolled with the force of the parry and managed not to lose his limb. He was left with two large gashes on his upper arm though where the tiger's claws just barely caught him. Massacre was back on his feet as quickly as he went down and began to run once more. He heard the twang of a bowstring and instinctively ducked, narrowly dodging another arrow, then was forced to dive behind another tree as the tiger pounced nearly crushing him beneath its gigantic form. Massacre ran as quickly as he could, weaving around trees and constantly choosing the paths that looked like they would slow the beast the most. The tiger was at home in the jungle though and easily kept up with the Zith, Massacre barely a pace ahead of it, and even that was only by a miracle. Massacre knew he was probably going to die, his entire tribe with him, but he kept on running. There was always a chance, and he wasn't going to give up.

[Massacre]

Massacre wasn't used to running, not at such high speeds anyway. He was athletic and in very good shape, but Zith were creatures of the sky. He wasn't used to the extended us of his legs in such a way, and was beginning to tire, but he couldn't slow down. To slow would mean death. To turn and fight would mean death. To fly would mean death, the only option he had was to keep running and hope that somehow he would find a means of escape. It was beginning to get dark, something Massacre could use to his advantage. He knew the cat would probably have no trouble chasing him in the night, but the myrians likely would. They were skilled fighters, but they were still only human so far as he knew. Massacre heard the shout of a fellow Zith not far away and veered toward the sound. The tiger was right behind him, but he did not hear combat up ahead. In fact he heard voices, Zith voices, and quite a few of them. Massacre headed toward those voices and suddenly found himself in a small clearing; half his tribe gathered there, many of them sporting heavy wounds but all alive and moving. When Massacre appeared out of the trees they all turned and Massacre shouted a warning. The majority of the zith were from his original tribe, not surprising to Massacre considering their experience in combat, and they all immediately prepared for action. The tiger wasn't far behind and it came into the clearing only seconds after Massacre. The older Zith dove to the ground as three of his tribe mates raised their bows and fired head on into the angry beast. The tiger let out a roar and the Zith responded with battle cries of their own as several of them charged forward to attack the now wounded animal. As Massacre climbed back to his feet he saw one of his tribe mates, a young Zith who had no translatable name, torn to shreds by the massive tiger's claws. Another was captured in the beast's jaws, and Massacre knew that even if they managed to kill the thing, most of them would die in the process. He wasn't the only one who realized this, it seemed, as a voice shouted out drawing the attention of the Zith. "Massacre, everybody, this way. Follow me!"

[Massacre]

In a situation such as the one they were in, one did not worry about who was in charge and who wasn't. Though Massacre was eldest and leader of the tribe, he did not hesitate to follow the younger Zith who seemed to know where he was going. The entire group turned and ran, having no other option really. "There is a cliff this way. I found it earlier." Massacre nodded and shouted to the rest of his tribe, speaking openly because he was fairly certain none of the people chasing them would be able to speak Zithanese. "Just keep running! When we reach the cliff dive right off. Pick up as much speed as you can before breaking, and follow my lead!" Massacre and the other Zith led the retreat. They could hear the tiger in pursuit, and the shouts and calls of the Myrians were not far behind. Massacre was getting tired, they all were, and he was just about to ask how much further it was to the cliff when he was suddenly upon it. Massacre charged ahead and dove right off. The cliff was not incredibly high, and overlooked a river, but it was enough to get up some speed. Just before he hit the water the Zith turned and leveled out, skimming the surface as he followed the path of the river to put some distance between where he jumped and where he started to gain altitude. He hoped the rest of the tribe had done the same thing and followed his lead, but he didn't want to risk a glance back and crash into the water. After half a chime Massacre started to climb, and just in time. He heard the cries of the warrior and the twang of bowstrings behind him. One Zith cried out in pain, followed by a splash, but there was nothing Massacre could do to help him. He led tribe up into the sky, flying as fast as they could to get beyond the range of the arrows. When finally they were high enough Massacre slowed and looked back over his tribe. There were ten of them left, but they weren't free yet. They all needed rest, none of them could fly for long, and they had to find a safe place to do it. Massacre was not confident that they could. ~End

[Rage]

GRANTING OF XP Massacre Flying - 2xp Detection - 2xp Longbow - 1xp Greatsword - 3xp Unarmed Combat - 1xp Tactics - 3xp Running - 3xp Lores: Dangers of the open desert [Flying] Aerial evasive maneuvers Falyndar's war-like people [Tactics] Knowing when to run Tiger: The jungle's apex predator Thread Consequences: Do take note of the injuries you suffered in this thread. You may add the scars from them in the description section of your CS if you like. Notes : Well-written without overusing details, and you pace the story well. I enjoyed it a lot. I think crossing the Suvan Strait may take more than a few hours to cross even at the narrowest point however, especially with your PC's weight. But that's a minor detail that can be ignored for the sake of the story.