Whats that sound? (Shadowfang, Wrenmae)

[Ana Sol Starris]

Crimson Edge Camp Spring 25th, 512AV Dream : Clouded mist crawled around the floor, dragging across it in a spooky way, darkness covered the walls, engulfed and consumed into nothingness. The dirt underfoot was an ashened black as if fire had run rampant across it beforehand, charred, the smell of ash and soot filled the air as light flooded from above. Stark, an obviously bright contrast to the macabre like area, in the middle of the light stood a mirror. Intricately designed along its edges, ringlets and metal flowers welded around the glossy surface of a reflection. Metal rings were bounded around the mirror, and seemed to travel across the ground like tendrils. Pulsating with life, the mist that drifted around also seemed to fog the mirrors surface, erratic in its swirls. Gigantic, ugly cracks lept from the glass of said mirror as if a hand from behind had punched it, smaller, finer cracks travelled around the larger ones in swirls. Nothing was behind the mirrors surface it seemed, Ana was suddenly there, in front of it, her hand out stretched to the contours of the glass and its cancerous like shards. Tracing an especially big one, her gaze fell into the eery fog of the mirror, Anas reflection- supposed reflection did not show itself. Stepping closer, palm flat on the surface, a somber, indifferent expression on her face as she continued to look in till both palms were on the mirror, questions filling her eyes as the fog cleared to reveal an ugly monster with images of blood, mirth, destruction and hopelessness swimming in its wake. Its eyes were black holes, black and blue lacerations crawled out of the eyeless seeming sockets, its grin full of sharp and pointed teeth, begging to have its lust quenched. Whispering horrific, senseless, mad things to Ana with unmoving lips. Eyes widening, Ana stared into its sockets and felt the mirror crack even more as the monsters clawed hand jumped out of the mirror, piercing her chest just slightly, but it was enough to make Ana begin screaming in pain. Wrenching herself away from the mirror, everything went black... OOCWasn't sure if you guys wanted to read a bit of her dream, but hey its up for reads. Tossing, turning, whimpering and finally waking with a sharp gasp as her body convulsed, hitting her companion probably hard in the chest, or perhaps the face by accident with a loosely clenched fist; sitting up, she held her own loudly beating chest with a shaky hand where the last of her dream remained vividly clear in her mind. Eyes wide, her heart was pounding in her ribcage and her breath had caught in her throat. Bringing an arm up to her mouth she began to cough loudly into it, the arm that kept her sitting up was shaking violently as she tried to catch hold of her breath. Trembling, shivering, Ana bent over slightly to rub her throbbing head, breath seemingly ragged and forced. Crossing her legs she would hold her head in both hands, trying to rub into her temples for the thudding pain in them to go away. Suddenly her stomach gave a lurch and she felt as if she were about to be sick, Ana crawled out the tent as quickly as she could. Wretching outside and away from it as far as she could into the darkness of the night, on her hands and knees shaking; now not only did her head hurt, her throat stung, and an awful taste lingered in her mouth, not to mention she was shivery. Wiping her mouth off with a sleeve, what was happening to her? She wondered to herself, she hadn't felt this sick in years, yeah the occasional cold or two but nothing like this.. This was almost like when she was a child, living in Zeltiva. Groaning, holding her stomach as she felt another wave of nauesia pass over her, she was about to hurl once more when her senses perked up at a rustling noise in the dark. But she didn't have time to investigate, catching her mouth with a palm, she felt it come up once more and she couldn't hold it back; she hurled into the already sticking pile of vomit before her. Muttering darkly "petching night terrors..." Anas body shook some more, sniffing, and then not liking the smell as it made her stomach roll once more. Holding it back this time, her eyes watered as she crawled away and just sat outside the tent, with her clouded senses and the dark limiting her vision she couldn't tell if it was Wren who had been making the rustling noise, inhaling the cool night air to try and calm her senses, but it was too cold for her body... Ana ignored this fact, and shivered, now only just remembering the rustling noise "Wren..?" She asked warily, her head swayed slightly from the effort to stare into the darkness, then behind herself with a frown towards the tent. Anas eyes would then travel up to the dark sky, sickly feeling, the moon only came out in brief patches when the clouds would pass on, the stars hidden from veiw for the most part.

[Shadowfang]

He was a part of this group, right? He was trusted here, right? So why was he sneaking through the campsite like a thief? Because he was playing the part of a thief, that’s why. He was so hungry. He had been unable to hunt any animal or find a good reason to kill someone, so that left him slinking from tree to tree, looking through people’s bags and tents when he got the chance but was unsuccessful in finding anything that he could stomach. Shadowfang was crouched low, walking slowly and with great care. The occasional rustle he caused made him freeze and be as still as possible then move on. He singled out a certain tent as his target and began making his way towards it.

He skirted around the edge of the tent’s area, staying in the bushes. He neared the back of the tent and stopped and listened. No good. His hyper-sensitive ears detected shallow breathing from inside the tent, two sets of lungs, it sounded like. He frowned. He was not nearly stealthy enough to attempt reaching into the tent and grabbing at a bag inside. He began moving away from the tent, rustling a bit in the bushes. He only got to a position where he could see the side of the tent and a little bit of the door flap when there was suddenly a loud disturbance.

There was a sudden struggle from inside the tent and a girl, retching and heaving from some sickness, came crawling out of the tent. The sharp, sour smell of bile assaulted his nose, making him wince. Was the girl crying as well? He could not tell. He moved forward as quietly as he could but his wings caught the bushes and made another rustle. The girl puked again, renewing the nasty smell now filling the air. Shadowfang almost felt sorry for the woman. He had been sick like that before, though it might not have been for the same reason. Suddenly he found himself moving forward, still crouched low, moving towards the woman. Why? Why was he doing it? Against his better judgment he stood and, abandoning all attempts at stealth. He put his hand on the top of the girl’s head. It was instinct; he felt that he needed to comfort her. She was a member of the Crimson Edge, a member of his family. It was something he never thought he would find himself doing.

He was so focused on trying to offer her aid, that he did not think about how she might react to the winged predator looming over her with claws touching her head.

[Wrenmae]

He woke when her warmth left. Not that it was significant, but the subtle change in the tent made it seem wider, emptier. Wrenmae stirred in the darkness and rolled away from his blankets. Taking his clothes, he stepped out into the evening. It was more curiosity really, a question to her need to leave so late...when the sun was still a dying echo. Out of habit, he took his blade, the cold iron a surprisingly comforting weight at his side. These days he'd gotten better at its use...a necessity on the streets. The dark was pressing, almost exhaustive, and blinking his eyes, he brought a flood of Djed into his gaze, shifting the eyes into cat eyes. It was an easy change, one that scarcely required much effort anymore. Around him, the night seemed to open up. There was Ana, coughing out vomit a small distance from the tent. He almost felt bad for her, an emotion immediately quashed under years of experience. Vayt had cursed him with his mark, but the only way to save those around him would be to enforce a kind of self exile...and he was hardly in the mood to become a hermit. It was the creature near her that gave Wrenmae sudden chilling hatred. A Zith, one of the Crimson Edge's pet monsters. It put out it's hand toward her, the girl unaware, and shouting, the young storyteller charged the creature, long dagger out and menacing. "Don't you TOUCH her!"

[Ana Sol Starris]

Senses were too muddled to understand what was happening, only that she felt a comforting hand on her head from the dark. It was probably her mind playing tricks on her, though it felt a bit too real to be considored a trick.. She squinted up at the figure, the moon had chosen to come out for a second and then was gone but she saw it wasn't her imagination. Raising her hand up to try and push the mans hand away, her movements were much slower, but she weakly gripped his wrist in an attempt to get him off. Ana couldn't tell who it was by the outline, but the furry arm caught her attention, what was he? Then she heard Wrenmaes shout, it half scared her to death as she didn't expect him to come out of the tent. The anger in his voice could have been mistooken for protectiveness if she wasn't so petched up at the moment, she didn't know what to do, to say but all she knew was maybe being inbetween these two wasn't such a good idea... It was a good theory, if only she could scramble out of the way without feeling sick once more. Horror flitted across her eyes, surprise washed into her face "ehh?" Was all she could say.

[Shadowfang]

There was a shout; angry, violent, filled with killing intent. Shadowfang caught a glimpse of movement from the corner of his eye. He looked over the girl's  head to see the glint of moonlight off a sharp blade coming towards him at a great speed. His subconscious mind kicked into gear. There was an enemy charging him with dagger in hand, and between Shadowfang and that blade, was the girl. The math was simple in his brain. If he moved, he thought, the blade would cut the girl he had tried to comfort. He moved before he even had time to comprehend what the man had shouted.

As quickly as he could, he yanked his hand from the girl's grip and bent down, scooping her up in his arms, flapping his wings to help himself lift her off the ground. He ran forward, focused only on propelling himself out of the blade's path. As he ran, he felt a sharp pain on his wing. The dagger sliced through the thin skin covering the bone on the outside of his left wing. The cut was excruciatingly cold, almost to the point where if felt like it was burning. He hissed at the pain and kept running, blood pumping in his ears and body shaking from the adrenaline. There were no thoughts in his mind, only instinct driving him, telling him to get both himself and the girl out of harm's way. 

He kept running, flapping his wings as fast as he could manage to keep the girl's weight from pulling him down, fleeing from both the camp and the dagger. The extra weight was slowing him down, there was no way he could escape easily. He would have to either take to the air, or figure out some other way to stop the man from running him through.

[Wrenmae]

Wrenmae followed at a sprint, the long dagger flashing in the moonlight as he followed the Zith out of camp. His feet pounded the ground, driving small wedges of pain up his legs, reminders he should have tried to run more often. The Zith was getting farther ahead with Ana, aided in his passage by the cacophonous blasts of his wings gripping the night. Hissing under his breath, Wrenmae brought up a tendril of Djed within himself and suffused it through his voice, shouting out at the Zith as he sprinted forward. "Watch out! She's on fire!" The tendril of Djed lashed out in his voice, corrupting the thoughts of the Zith for a moment to give him the vision of the girl burst into sudden roaring flames. They did not burn, certainly, but the surprise would be shocking to say the least. He used the opportunity to close the distance, wielding the blade close to his side to avoid stabbing himself and forcing Djed into his left arm, warping the skin into shards of spines and jagged edges. Moon light crested the trees, lancing down over the Zith from training...Shadowfang he called himself. Wrenmae hated him, just looking at him was enough to boil his blood. Ana was sick and the monster had taken advantage of her weakness for his own purposes. "Flee or fight, monster," He growled, "I won't let you hurt her."

[Ana Sol Starris]

From the lifting of her body, to the air rushing past her face, it happened all so quickly. Whilst her kidnapper continued to run, Ana tryed to flail out of his grasp, slowly, limbs heavy from the germ plaguing her body. Trying to look out past the mans arm to Wren, though it was dark she saw the outline of his body and as she looked she saw, more like heard the flapping of wings. Widening her eyes as she realized who they belonged to, she had never formally met the Zith, she didn't remember his name all too well either, Wren had chosen to shelter her from him as apparhently Zith were monsters that couldn't be trusted. Though she had realized what was carrying her, she was slow to realize that she could be in immeadiate danger- the fever in her body burned all sense from her mind as she held onto the Zith for dear life, it was a reaction to being so suddenly carried away. Feeling her stomach beginning to jump around, squeezing her watering eyes as she felt bile begun to rise up her throat again. Why this of all nights, why couldn't there just be peace in this anarchist city? Ana thought to herself, irritatedly, then lightened up- the thought was funny, absolutely amusing. Peace, in Sunberth. Say what? The very thought was laughable, why, it even got Ana to grin to herself in such an awkward and serious situation. One she didn't exactly realize was still dangerous... Potentially it could be life threatening but that didn't cross her mind at that moment. Then she felt it rise once more with the continuous up and down movement, the feeling of flight, oh she was going to be sick again! Holding it down and covering her mouth, Ana swallowed the stomach acid and seemed to choke. Groaning, she felt a wave of nauesia pass over her once more causing her head to spin "stop" she mumbled repeatedly, tiredly, distress filling her voice, fear edging its way in, feeling her stomach lurch again from the sudden movements. Patting the Ziths chest in an attempt to get him to stop, to Ana she felt as if she was pounding against it with a fist. Then she heard Wrenmaes shout, saying she was on fire and for a moment.. Just in that moment, she giggled, delirious as she did so. Fire? She was on fire? That was the last straw. Why, she felt as if she were on fire also, the fever certainly had a way of making it seem like that. Groggily, alert, but focus deterred as she listened to the growl.. Ana was surprised, Wren wanted to actually protect her? Why not just let her be killed by said Zith and be done with her, Shroud would have done that.. Ana thought to herself somewhat depressedly, the one side of Wrenmae she wanted to impress and he hated her very being and made an effort of it every time he was in control to tell her that.. Wait, wait, wait, hold a moment- Ana blinked as she was set on the ground, or rather, to her body it seemed she was dropped in a panick. Had the Zith really believed Wrenmae just then? oocThe last little sentence I am not too sure about, Shang reply how you want to, I'll make the necessary changes.

[Shadowfang]

A perplexing voice hit Shadowfang's ears and it took him a few seconds to process and comprehend them. The girl was on fire? Nonsense! He almost scoffed. Until, that is, a bright glow appeared in his peripheral vision. He looked down to behold a terrifying sight. The girl in his arms was engulfed in a blazing inferno. He hissed and stumbled in surprise and panic, almost falling on top of the flaming woman. As he neared the ground, he dropped the girl and flapped his wings hard, stopping his own momentum and pushing himself away from her.

As he spun around to face his attacker, his eyes narrowed and his blood boiled. The very same beams of moonlight that illuminated Shadowfang revealed the face of the man behind the blade. Wrenmae. Shadowfang hated the damned storyteller just as much as he was hated by him. It was his fault the girl had been killed by fire. It had to be. His hateful snarl turned into a scream. "What did you do to her?" He had been so caught up in his anger and panic that he had spoken Zithanese. He grabbed his dagger and drew it, flapping his wings to lift him off the ground. He repeated his shout in the human's stupid, clumsy language, more furious than ever. "What did you DO to her!?"

He would fight. Yes. He would fight. Even as his more base instincts told him to flee from Wrenmae, his anger and hatred won over, forcing him to stand his ground.

He flew upwards into the trees, staying far out of the human's reach. Perching on a thick branch, he held on to the trunk with one arm, the dagger in his other, and looked down at Wrenmae. His back was to the girl but she was not important any more, he was almost certain she was dead. No one could have survived an inferno like that. He leapt from his branch and glided to another tree, landing on a different branch for only an instant then, snarling through gritted teeth, pushed off his perch straight at Wrenmae, folding his wings slightly to perform a dangerous dive bomb. His left arm was stretched out towards the human, attacking with hand and claw and his right arm was drawn back, ready to swing his blade and cut his flesh.

[Wrenmae]

ooc : I have Shadowfang's permission to write this post Shadowfang moved through the trees like some sort of ape, grabbing branches winging place to place. His face was a darkened mask of fury, as was Wrenmae's. But the moment the monster was moving, defense kicked in. Suddenly, Wrenmae wasn't Wrenmae...and Shroud let a small smile play about his face, watching the antis of the Zith with increasing glee. In his left hand he pooled Res, the golden liquid harnessing the element of wind at his sudden command. Robert played coy, hanging off a branch and preparing his descent. Shroud brought Djed to the surface of his skin, his irises shifting from brown to black for the purpose of this change over. Wrenmae was gone, packed away in a neat little box. Right now, Shroud was a member who outranked the little bat-boy in an organization they had both sworn to serve. "I killed her," Shroud stated nonchalantly, shrugging, "Does it really take you that long to process events, Robert?" With an inhuman snarl, the Zith leaped from the tree down toward the murderer, wings out to slow the bone crunching descent. As he neared, Shroud brought his left hand up and unleashed a blast of wind from his hand, catching the Zith in one of the wings and sending the creature twisting off course. Shadowfang hit the ground with a skip and a thud, bringhing his wings around him to avoid breaking them as he rolled across the ground. His blade was knocked askew and he came to a rest for a moment on the cool grass, looking up at the star freckled sky. A sharp pain in his left hand brought his gaze to the long dagger that was now buried through his palm, nailing his hand to the ground. Shroud stood above it. Stepped on the pommel, and twisted. Without wasting time, he drew his second blade and plunged it through Shadowfang's right wing, puncturing the membrane and transfixing the Zith to the ground with two tethers. Straddling his chest, Shroud took only a moment to grip the Zith's chin, leaning in close with a smile on his face. "Oh Robert, poor, poor, uncivilized Robert. I think today's the day we teach you the importance of knowing your betters...hmmm?" Shadowfang lashed out, sharp claws catching Wrenmae in the face and cutting across his cheek and neck. Drawing back with a hiss, Shroud brought his fists down against Shadowfang's face in a tumult of blows. The Zith retaliated with one good hand the best he could, scoring lines of red across the Storyteller's skin, but Shroud had the advantage, pounding Shadowfang in the jaw and face again, and again, and again, picking up his head with both hands and slamming it against the ground. The scuffle was short. Shadowfang was unconscious. Falling off of him, spitting blood and putting a hand gingerly to the cuts scored across his neck, Shroud growled and aimed a kick at the Zith's rib cage. He'd serve his purposes as he was. "Ana," he growled, looking back to the girl, "Get me some bandages or cloth, and a little alcohol to clean the wounds." He stood over his foe now, cracking his neck. "I think it's time Robert and I had a little heart to heart."

[Ana Sol Starris]

The collision with the ground was enough to make her wince, rolling a bit, she peeked her eyes up as she lay on her front. Blinking confusedly as to what had just happened, Wren had said she was on fire and the Zith had believed her. Were the bat like creatures really all that dumb? Ana couldn't help but wonder as she stayed there on the ground, watching helplessly as to what was happening. The inflection of Wrens voice had switched to that familliar confidence she was so use to, the arrogant bastard Shroud was out once more. The small thief took note silently, tiredly, groggily at the difference as her body wished to just fall into the abyssal darkness called sleep. What was she to do when Shadowfang leapt from the tree and aimed himself at Shroud, Ana panicked, eyes widening as she watched in horror. She attempted to get up, shouting, but was only an urgent pleaing whisper "stop fighting..!" She curled inwards as she began to cough repeatedly, shivering, cheeks burning in the complete darkness. Only moonlight revealed the scuffle going on, she struggled to get up. Push, push upwards. Heave. Ana goaded herself on, c'mon you worthless petching fool, get up! Mentally, her mind screamed at her to obey and she did so with a fierce, foggy stubborness. But only to her hands and knees as she heard the thuds, the roll and the slice somewheres in the dark around her. Feeling her breath catch in her throat, wishing to relieve the contents of her stomach once more but could not as there was nothing left to vomit. With a rolling stomach, she had managed to crawl fowards uncertainly as she heard Shrouds words and then the smacks of flesh against fist in the dark. Silence followed after a few moments of violent beatings, she froze, feeling her heart speed up at what could have possibly happened just then.. Her voice turned into a hoarse whisper "Shroud?" One light and inaudible. Anas arms began to shake in an effort to hold her up, she shivered as the night brought a new meaning to the meaning of 'dead cold' as she tried to discern figures in the moonlight with her lightly swaying vision. When Shroud spoke up to her with a growl, she looked taken aback at his demands but hurridly scurried to the tent for bandages and some alcohal for him. Her movements were bulky and lethargic, another sure sign that she wasn't as feeling well as she should be. If she could not walk lightly then she was bound to get knifed like this, but that didn't matter, Ana obeyed the orders and came back, holding the items to him obediently "w-what was.. all that about?" Ana inquired, voice ridden with a scratchy tune to it. Grimacing, she felt her body sway before she caught herself again, she inhaled lightly and tried to get ahold of herself. The small girl had to remain strong in front of him, stubborn, not a worthless degenerate as he saw her all the time "I don't know how to.. to do.. first aid stuff... I don't think.. think you want me.. handling the..the cuts either.." with a sniff, that was all she said as she stared up at him, wondering what was going to happen to the unconscience Zith pinned to the ground with what appeared to be.. Daggers. The moonlight glinted off them dangerously, she shuddered, a sharp intake of breath as she caught a hint of red on the blades.