[Western Hills] Running Wild (Complete)

[Roka]

Roka had rested at Stigandr's side the entire stint. His legs were groveled beside him in a folded manner and stinging from dearth of movement. His panic had matured as the pads of his hands felt the rise and fall of the other's chest. His fingers inclined themselves to instead fasten at his forehead and drape over his eyes in resigned loathing. The unresponsive eyes upon him made him irate. He wanted to pluck them from their holds and toss them across the field for ravens to prize until there was nothing remaining of their accusations. Instead he suited himself to looking at nothing but the blackness of his lids, held firmly together by the pressure of his hands.

He did not take notice of Stigandr stirring or him beginning to call until a trace upon his arm pulled him back from his rocking meditation. He recoiled startled, but cooled his burning face into a mask that feigned indifference. His eyes still glistened in deep pools of someone young and inexperienced, learning another cruelty of the world.

He did not answer his query, instead trudging his blood covered body to its feet. The soggy grass beneath his feet did not feel as good as it had just one bell ago, instead it was sticky with sweat and blood, clinging stray blades of green to his heels. His vision remained downcast as he examined the scene again, the thrown bodies and the wagon left in waiting.

He went to the wagon and pulled the blade still sleeping idly upon the dirt into his sticky clutches and headed toward the butchered slaver who had subsumed to death first. "We should make it appear more of a robbery." he muttered and lifted the blade in a swift motion to slash at the chiseled neck and separate in from its host like a parasite. It now gave the impression that it had been carved off and then nibbled on, by the fleeting scavengers.

He proceeded to the next man. Froths of spit were still rising in his curdling lifeblood. His awareness twisted in agony at the site of the same blood streaked across his own form. He raised the blade and slated it down onto the man’s neck with malicious intent. The force of the blade's strike emitting a symphony of cracking and popping sounds as the tendrils of nerves and muscles ripped apart. Only then did he recognize the scream that rasped from his tight throat. A scream of frustration and torment, as the head rolled to peer at him again and he lifted his foot in a rage filled motion and thrust his foot at the detached skull. It rose in the air and then dropped in small and short-lived bounces several paces away.

He flung the cutting edge down and turned back to the cart. At its side he extended his arms to slap against it and take a defeated stance pressed there. He puffed heavily through the hot tears building in his eyes. "We might as well take, what little they have." he called to Stigandr after having ignored him for the entirety of his crazed actions. "Then we can head back to town." He turned to face the other, once again with a controlled emotion sight still cast down.

He felt a connection in this action with this Kelvic. He felt no need to share with others about what had transpired. There was an accomplice and now a silent oath they would share. How deeply that ran he could not guess, but was alacritous to find out. "This won’t be the last time we run in to each other will it?" his eyes finally met with Stigandr's and a smirk played over his lips with blood stained canines and a sickened sense of humor.

[Stigandr]

At his touch, Roka stirred and recoiled sharply, his face turning into an emotionless calm facade. Stigandr watched as Roka stood and moved slowly, the ground making wet noises as Roka walked, the blood soaking into the dirt slowly. Slowly, the smaller Kelvic made his way around, taking a sword to clean up the scene a bit, ending with taking what few mizas the slavers might have had. Stigandr's eyes watched the whole event unfold, not understanding covering up the evens that had happened. It would not change anything for the dead or the living. What was done was done, why try to make it seem as if something else had happened? Stigandr did not question Roka though, but just stood there watching. There was a look in the Kelvic's eyes, a slump to his posture, that spoke volumes of what had transpired here and how it was affecting his new friend. Killing had been hard for Stigandr as well, maybe more so as he never ate meat so it was entirely new to him when he learned to do it. Slowly his new friend made his way back to him and they started to walk in silence at first, until it was broken by the Kelvic at his side, looking up with those young and once innocent eyes, now tainted by death and cruelty. "No, Roka. This will not be the last time we meet and run together. There will be many more meetings between us in our lives." The hills passed under their feet, the grass slowly licking away the stains of the recent past from their feet. Blood was still on them in other places, and that was something they would have to handle once back in the city. For now, they simply made their way back to their clothes, still in two separate piles where they had first met. The clothes somehow seemed even more foreign to Stigandr. For the last chime, they had run with one another in their true forms, unashamed and not hiding who they were. They had fought and saved one another, defending each other as brethren, both in animal and human form. All of this without these alien pieces of fabric that were nothing more than a facade that Stigandr wore to blend into society. Why did he do this? Why did he hide who he was? He was not prone to deep thought and philosophical moments, but this reality versus the illusion he was returning to screamed too loudly at his face to be ignored, even by him. With a last look at his new friend, he smiled gently and touched Roka's shoulder, "We should run again one day Roka. Maybe run farther than this time."

[Archelon]

Thread Award "..." And the Results!!!!: Roka : SkillName 1-5 How/why? Unarmed Combat 2 Running 2 Observation 1 Weapon(Shortsword) 1 Beheadings count (I assume this was the blade Roka used) Lores: Stigandr(Partial) Ledger: 35 gold mizas worth of goods sold (kelvics don't really carry around much so I'll assume this is what the slavers had.) Stigandr : SkillName 1-5 How/why? Observation 1 Stealth 1 Running 3 Unarmed Combat 4 Lores: Roka(partial) Ledger: 35 gold mizas worth of goods sold. (kelvics don't really carry around much so I'll assume this is what the slavers had.) Would you like some extra turtle sauce ? : Interesting, any questions comments, concerns, please feel free to pm me a nice pm .