[The Sanctuary] Sanctuary Means Survival

[Serrif Von Chatlyn]

He heard stirring inside the room as well as muffled voices, the girls were there alright. But Gianne sounded stressed…like she was having a rough night. He waited and Rhy opened the door for him…He could tell Gianne was not doing well. Here eyes were puffy and irritated and he could see the dried up salts in her eyes. Had she been crying? Likely but for what reason? He saw her hands resting on the side of her temples…a headache? It hit him in that moment that she would be a liability if she pushed herself too hard. And the last thing they needed was one of them dead in the fight.

“A headache Gianne?” A quick nod would confirm this for him and he went to work. OOCTook liberties there to move things along

Concern for her sat in his deep emerald eyes and he pushed off the fight for a few moments while he reached up with his hands and touched the side of her temples. His hands cradled her entire head in them with his pointer fingers resting on her temples. He was gentle because he knew such an area would likely be tender. And with steady focus he poured Rak’keli’s grace through his hands straight into her body. The migraine would lesson, likely her vision would become much more clear. Slowly but surely it was vanishing…at first the thumping would stop…then the pressure would relieve…then the soft humming of pain in her skull would go away. Truly Rak’keli’s gift was an amazing thing for one to wield.

Clarity came with that calming when his hands met her head. With a mixture of his Konti gift as well as his Goddess granted gift. The power for someone in a hurting position like Gianne…well Serrif always wondered what it would be like to be healed from a marked healer. But then again Rak’keli herself had laid hands on him healing all his fractured bones. And that feeling was something he still remembered to this day. He was done soon enough and then with a smile looked into Gianne’s eyes again.

“That should have you a little better. Now to the armory we need to fit you with armor of some kind. And Rhy too depending on what form she wants to stay in.” However the girl had already taken off and ran to the armory…and likely now had made her way to the entrance to help defend. As he took Gianne to the armory he noticed the girls clothing scattered about…that was not good…not good at all.

He would help Gianne any way he could, strapping on armor and the likes or handing her whatever weapons she thought they wanted. It was going to be a heck of a fight. And he had to hurry along some, he knew they would fight without them. He would do whatever he could to aid her in quickly getting ready and once they were he would head topside with them to the tunnel that lead topside. There the fighters gathered, although the first thing that caught his eyes were the massive obsidian spikes that Kavala had grown from the earth. It was indeed Kavala’s handiwork. And a nude Rhy standing there holding a mace.

“Well done.” He said with a small smile, they were indeed wicked spikes.

Kavala’s brother was here with them as well. Serrif pulled from a leather pouch several vials. Some of them completely clear liquid and the others tainted yellow. Elem would know what they were, the clear ones were a painkiller. But when given in large unchecked doses it would start to shut down important organs and could stop the heart… In lower doses it would numb limbs and cause the target to lose co-ordination. The yellow however…that was a poison from the cousin of the same plant. It however had a much more potent effect. Temporary loss of vision was the best effect…and in this instance that would be lethal.

“Take these.” He then picked a few for himself and handed the three vials, two of painkiller and one of poison to Gianne. “Coat some arrow tips with that, the clear one is a painkiller, the yellow is poison.”

He looked across the spiked forest and nodded, he could see Elem and Kavala tucked into the clinic. There were only two people there…they could likely use a little extra help. Maybe one extra bowman. However the balance of people was a delicate act and well he figured it would be best to leave a healer on this side just in case one was needed. And by the looks of it there wasn’t much more room left in the clinic anyway.

Without much more a thought he took an arrow and coated it with some of the clear liquid, it seemed each small vial would coat three to four arrows each. He would have to re-stock later but that would be something he and Elem could easily do. With the arrow knocked he looked to the sky and figured he would take a pop shot at the next Zith to come down and inspect the spikes. One did and Serrif loosed the string.

The arrow hit but not in a delicate spot, it bit the arm of the beast who flew up to escape any other oncoming projectiles…However only moments later the beast was wobbling in the air losing control of it’s flight ability. Flying was such a delicate art…and a nearly impossible one when your vision was tunneling and your extremities seemed like they were hundreds of miles away from you detached. The Zith lost his ability to hold himself in the air and came barreling down on the spikes at an alarming speed. He was easily skewered on the spike all the way to the ground where death met him quickly. If the spikes didn’t kill him, the impact against the ground did.

Serrif’s answer was a wicket smile as he nodded. “That works.”

[Razkar]

"What in the hells?!"

Razkar's knees bent as soon as the ground started trembling, then undulating, then transforming right under his feet. The stones and cobbles warped and groaned, remade themselves taller, thinner... sharper.

Out of instinct he jerked his head around to the clinic, and saw Kavala almost glowing, hands making complex movements, directed downwards. She was doing this?! Mastery of healing, the ability to change rock to what she wished, a dead shot with a crossbow...

He was starting to think the Kelvic had been born on the wrong continent.

More movement on the ground. Vanator and Kavala, armed and their weapons trained upwards. The healer - E-something, wasn't it? - rushing first into the clinic and then back outside to grab a crossbow and join the fight. Then more faces, more movement.

And with every one, their odds of survival increased.

The man in a suit of armor that Razkar had seen let loose an arrow skywards, and though it just nicked a low-flying Zith, Razkar saw the creature... lose it. All of it. Balance, coordination, equilibirum, and then its life when it fell from the sky and-

-the impact drove the spike it landed on clean through its chest cavity. No need to worry about a coup de grace.

The spires and spikes stopped growing around Razkar and he looked around at them in surprise... then smiled. Perfect cover. The Zith would be unable to swoop down and harry them, but they could fire away with bow and crossbow with impunity. Flashes of wood and metal were already whipping through the air, narrowly missing the flapping, confused monsters.

Razkar growled, frustrated. Kavala had designed a fine and effective strategy. Wonderful... but without a bow of some kind, he would collect no scalps, and he was not so low as to claim the kills of others. He would...

... is that a naked woman?

He blinked. Yes. Yes, it was. Wielding a mace and nude as the day she was birthed, rushing out into the courtyard and ready to do some damage alongside him. Razkar opened his mouth to shout out at her-

-something black and furious dove at him.

He caught the movement out the corner of his eye, a shining wetness of wing and open mouth. Without the fires, he might have missed it. But now he spun to his right, bringing his gladius round in a flat arc as he did-

-slicing open the Zith's face as it screeched towards him-

-and dropping to his knees after that first brutal cut, screaming monster doomed by its momentum, crashing into one of the obsidian pillars. It howled and held its ruined face, tongue hanging out of the ragged hole that used to be its mouth, eyes wide in-

Razkar snarled in his native tongue and thrust his blood-spattered gladius through its heart. The creature spasmed, threw back its head and screamed to its brothers... and when Razkar pulled his blade free, it was over.

He turned his face upwards, and the sky seemed to writhe beyond the glow of the fires. The Zith from the gates below had followed the noise and light like moths, sensing more to be gained from the open courtyard than the stone entrance. Their numbers were growing...

Which would be a problem. Razkar learned long ago that you didn't just break your enemy, you broke his will to fight. Once you had done that, the rest was easy. But with numbers on their side, anger on their side, well... it would take a lot more corpses to convince them that Sanctuary was not worth the effort.

The Myrian smiled and hefted his weapon, disappearing in the tangle of obsidian spikes almost twice his height.

Always like a challenge.

[Vanator]

After Vanator sent several more flaming missiles with Kavala's bolts across the courtyard and open build spaces, he readied another arrow and began to scan the skies for targets. Razkar, who had followed up behind him, dropped one right away. Then the crazy Myrian ran out into the courtyard to finish off the fallen zith. "Fool! What are you doing!?" Vanator yelled after him. The man was a brave warrior, but bravery without tactics meant a glorious death and your comrades one sword arm short. "Petch." He muttered under his breath. stepping out in a crouch, bow ready to cover the bloodthirsty painted warrior. Elem appeared, and Vanator nodded as the healer ran over to Kavala's position at the clinic. Then Vanator moved a few more steps out to cover Razkar. Suddenly, the ground erupted in front of him, massive black glassy spikes, a field of them cropping up between the tunnel entrance and the clinic. Staggering back, Van looked over to see Kavala conjuring the defensive shards from the ground, and for a stolen moment he marveled at her creation. Then she was on to give Elem a crash course with a crossbow.

"Myrian!..." The Drykas realized he didn't even know the man's name, ..."get back into the spikes!, its down, let it bleed to death!" Kavala had created a more readily defensible area, as they could all take up position within the spike field with ranged weapons, for the tall obsidian shards would deter the Zith from attacking hand to hand. Van loosed his arrow at a passing shadow, hearing a screech. It disappeared into the higher darkness, only to sweep down over the spikes, wobbing, with a spear in hand. Quickly setting another arrow, Vanator raise the bow, the Zith was coming in too fast, so he rough-aimed the weapon and let fly. The iron head pierced the thing's throat, a screech cut to a gurgling as the impact of the arrow halted his momentum and he dropped onto the spikes, writhing desperately.

Turning back, the Drykas saw the naked kelvic, mace clutched in her hand. The girl looked wild, and after only a moment's hesitation, Van saw her resolve take hold, Defend your territory little one. "Rhy!, Kavala has the crossbows, take a quiver and go fetch one!"

Nocking another arrow, Vanator raised the bow and fired again, it disappeared into the black without indication if it found a mark. Turning again, Gianna and Serrif were already readying their weapons. Thank the gods...archers. The girl looked like Hai.

Vanator let loose another arrow, keeping eye on the two poisoners until they were ready. The Drykas dropped another with a lucky shot through the chest, then watched the Zith hit by Serrif's tainted arrow careen out of the sky. He looked back to give the armored man an approving grin. Thats when the growling she-Zith dropped between the wall and the spikes onto him, enclosing them with her broad leathren wings. "Vanator!" She hissed at him, one of her clawed hands gripping his mail shirt, the other clutching a notched dagger.

"Ir'Kala!" The newly freed slave snarled back. Many of the scars that marked Vanator's skin were left by her. Vanator grabbed her weapon wrist with one hand, struggling to grab his own dagger with the other. He was laying on it. His free hand then shot to the she-zith's throat, squeezing, forcing his former captor to gasp for air as she spoke. "I should have killed you after the last time we fu..." Van squeezed tighter, choking off her sentence. The deep purple Zith put her weight behind her weapon, the ragged edge of her dagger drew closer to his exposed neck, but the human's grip was crushing her larynx. With a flap of her wings, she pulled free. She was on her feet as quickly as her former slave. Van reached back to find his dagger was still on the ground, as were his bow and quiver, his battle ax still lying by the tunnel entrance. Seeing Vanatpr unarmed, Ir'Kala gave him a feral grin.

[Elem Bree]

Kavala's answer brought a strange sound from Elem's throat, something between a chuckle and a cough. Her matter-of-factness about wanting a man named Ronan to come back amid her battle readiness made for a surreal scene. The Reimancy spikes and the courtyard in flames was enough, as was the shrieking, chirping cloud growing above them all. Elem decided that it was best to just remain silent and pay the attention that his mentor demanded.

He watched as she loaded the crossbow and cocked it, paying great detail to the process as he suspected the next time it was loaded it would be with his own hands. It was time to kill. Kavala said it and she meant it. Elem knew that the time would come when the fighting would come to him and he would have to be ready. Ready to defend himself, his friends and his home. This was the time. Kavala was already back at her business when the Zeltivan stepped into theflickering firelight. He could see the savage still going wild and he could see Kavala's brother as well. Rhy's naked form was not so surprising to him, though her bravado did seem so.

Doing as he was told, he pointed the crossbow toward the shifting mass in the air and pulled the trigger. He could see it flying free but couldn't tell if it had made its mark. Stepping back inside, he slung a quiver over his shoulder and started loading another bolt. He pulled back until it clicked, gingerly loading the bolt into place, being careful to avoid putting his finger anywhere near the trigger. Again he pointed up, though this time, he did let the stock rest against his shoulder. Having no idea how to aim or what he was shooting at, he fired again. This time, however, he saw a flurry of motion in the direction he had shot.

The bodies were dropping from the sky and while Elem was okay with killing these creatures, he didn't wait to make sure his bolt had particularly done anything. Instead, it was back to firing as quickly as possibly. His hands were a bit sweaty from the chaos and his own anxiety holding the lethal weapon. These factors combined had him lifting the bow just as he had loaded it, cocking it and slinging the bolt in. Be it the rushing or the carelessness, he had it at about waist level and the bolt shot free. Elem's heart leapt up into his throat as he saw it fly across the battlefield. Time seemed to slow as he could see the shaft miss the stone barrier and head for Vanator and the Zith he was fighting. Elem thankfully and wordlessly uttered a prayer to Rak'keli as the bolt struck the female Zith in her side.

Elem turned, his face pale and sweat pouring, stepping over to the triage table he had set up to lean on. He could have killed Vanator as easily. Taking a moment to breathe and regain his composure, his eyes fell on one of the stimulant vials. If he ever needed a boost and clarity, it was now. Popping the sealed lid off, he tilted his head back as the solution trailed down his throat. In aflash, his eyes popped open wide, his heart hammered against his chest and everything became acutely clear. His breathing, the sounds, the yelling. Everything. Loading another bolt in with as much caution as the stimulant allowed, Elem pointed it into the air, purposely avoiding the opportunity to look over at Vanator and the Zith. The bolt fired free and he watched this one ans it struck a Zith clearly in the chest, its body trailing down directly for the spikes. Elem chose not to watch that either, paying attention to loading instead.

[Kavala]

Seeing Elem take her advice and pick up the Crossbow like it was born in his hands cheered Kavala slightly. The Konti knew they were fighting a life and death fight and that anything could turn the tide and bring victory to either side. And as much as Kavala wanted to believe her side was strong, skilled, and would prevail, there was a growing desperation in her hearing the wingbeats of leather and the soft weird language of the zith above them in clicks and chirps that were more batlike than anything. Kavala glanced at her crossbow and then at Elems crossbow and wondered if they had that many bolts or indeed if there were that many crossbow bolts in the world.

No. They didn't have enough. Not by a long shot. Her fear grew. She was not in control of this situation, not at all. And it almost felt like somewhere a newborn goddess laughed.

But there was no time to dwell on anything. The Zith were landing. Vanator grappled with one and Elem fired straight at her brother, almost stopping Kavala's heart. His shot didn't kill her brother and her heart restarted. There would be time to process the fight later. Now, they needed more help, something to tip the scales.

Whirling around, taking it all in, Kavala saw Rhy with a mace and Razkar dart off into the spike forest she'd created. She loaded a bolt, fired, then loaded another, quickly going through her amno and knowing that she'd run out before they ran out of Zith. Kavala emptied her quiver into the sky and sometimes was rewarded with blood raining down on them. Sometimes too even a body fell, but mostly things came at them - spears, rocks, arrows of their own. Her face was lacerated with the volleys. And her arm had a wicked cut on it that a spear left as it grazed her.

They weren't going to win.

They had to win.

In the distance, a cow screamed and the sound of someone beating on the door of the chicken house caused the birds within to whirl and scream with fear. These noises carried across the yard and tore at Kavala's heart. Kavala wanted to drop her crossbow, throw her hands up and cover her ears. But she could not. There was nothing else she could do but stay, fight, and face the reality that were the zith.

One bolt at a time wasn't going to get things done either. Kavala knew that as clearly as she knew something else had to give. Kavala picked up a fresh sheath of bolts, slung it over her shoulder, and then swung her crossbow up over her form to settle it on her back. She drew her tamo daggers, holding one in each hand, and sprinted into the obsidian forest. She wove between upthrust spikes, already tired, but knowing she had to do something. She headed to the end of the pathway where the spikes stopped, overlooking the arena, and skidded to a halt in the shadow of one. Pressing against it, she kept her eyes darting up to the sky then back down again at the arena.

Deep inside her she felt her djed move, roll, almost boil. It wanted out. And she definitely had more to give than she'd used. The Konti inhaled deeply and then screamed her defiance into the night, casting djed in the form of breath out into the arena. It expanded, swirled, and kicked up the sand in a whirlwind of air that swirled upwards, tornado like, and cast sand into the sky, filling the air above the fighters with choking particles that lodged in throats, obscured vision and got caught in eyes, and made it suddenly difficult to be a zith airborn.

The Konti's scream seemed to go on as long as her Djed did, coming to an abrupt halt when there was no more. She simply had no more voice to scream with, and blood trickled from her ears. She gasped, ducking her face under the corner of her arm as sand rained down, followed by Zith who were too confused to fly. Some fell between the obsidian spikes, but others were impaled upon them. Everywhere sand choked screams and coughs filled the air.

The fighters were inundated by the sand falling down, having been swept up out of the arena and thrown into the sky by Kavala's desperation. Kavala, hands still gripping her Tamo daggers, staggered towards the nearest fallen Zith, overwhelmed by the need to heal it. It was a need that would end as soon as her daggers found their marks.

[Razkar]

Glorious, glorious anarchy. This was what he'd longed for so badly.

Razkar barely heard Vanator's shouted warning. By the time it had echoed in his skull the Zith was already dead and he had vanished again into the forest of obsidian spikes. Arrows were flying through the air, thick as hail, and falling from the skies just as viciously. The Zith were retaliating as best they could, but between the spikes, the crossbows and the blinding fire, little was coming of it.

So they started to land. And the Myrian felt joy rise in his heart again.

Dark shapes began to thud onto the sand, hissing and clicking in that alien way of all Zith, wings billowing around them. Knives and swords and clubs and spears were gripped in eager hands, but Razkar could see them squinting uncertainly. They were furious and eager and... blinded. Or at least partially.

Razkar moved fast.

The spikes Kavala had wrought from the very sand were the perfect cover, and he used them well. His mind was reminded of those night raid back in Falyndar, covered by shadow and twilight, as fast and swift as a striking tiger. A Zith landed, wings flapping idly, war mace held in its hand, squinting around-

-when Razkar flew at it from the side like a demon.

The thing screeched in fury and struck out with its bat-wings, membranes made stark in the light from the raging flames. Razkar reacted more out of instinct than still, slashing upwards with his gladius. The wing was cleaved nearly in two but Razkar grunted as the edge of it cut his face. Blood stung his eye and the Zith raised its mace, screaming in rage-

-only to double over when Razkar lashed out with his right boot into its crotch.

The scream became a gurgle. The attacking posture crumbled to one knee-

-and Razkar screamed in hate as he slashed diagonally at the thing's face, bursting an eye, hacking off a nose, sending a tongue flying onto the ground...

It toppled backwards, and Razkar was moving before the back of its mutilated head hit the sand.

But already more were landing, seeking to swamp the defenders. And it would work, too. Shadows gained form as they struck the arena, more than Razkar could count, clicking and screeching their commands to each other, weapons raised.

He lunged at the nearest one and another from his side brained him across the back with a mace. The Myrian grunted and staggered forwards, twisting round and bringing up his gladius desperately-

-barely stopped a dagger than arced towards his face.

The Zith was so close he could taste the spittle that flew at his face when it roared. Human features but eyes... eyes that could never be called that. Longer teeth, heavier brows, and an ancient, animal hate that belonged more to those things that crawled in the forgotten places of Mizahar than in the open air.

Razkar spat back at it.

The Zith lashed out again and Razkar jumped away, only for another at his side to lunge with a spear. He backpedalled frantically, spear hurtling through where he'd just been, and gave the charging creature a backhanded swipe with his gladius at neck level-

-something large and head-shaped tumbled through the air, and the dagger-armed Zith screeched again in fury.

Another joined it, both fixed on the Myrian. He braced himself, grinning despite his situation, weapon ready, face smeared with the blood of these creatures' kin and his own from a cut above his eye. Then he heard a cow, a cow of all things, and thought this would be a strange way to...

The scream had no preamble. No warning. No genesis. First there was sound and fury and crackling flame and hissing monsters, and then...

Pain. Hate. Rage. All spewed out in one massive roar.

A roar that deafened and then morphed the ground around them. The ground shook, the Zith became unsure. Razkar knew he sure as the hells was! Then... wind. It started to whip around his feet, gaining strength with every moment, pushing... upwards.

He felt his feet become... lighter.

Desperately Razkar jerked his head around and saw Kavala, her face streaked with blood and tears, mouth wide and screaming, hands focused and glowing onto the shaking ground. Out of his league, he dismissed the Zith and flund both arms around the nearest spike-

-just as gravity decided to take a break.

Razkar's feet were dragged upwards by a gust of wind that seemed like a physical blow, not mere weather. The Zith, cursed by their wings instead of aided now, were blown upwards in shrieking confusion, some losing their weapons as they vanished into the sky. Razkar held grimly on, teeth bared...

And just like that, the wind stopped.

Like a candle blown out, everything and everyone fell back to earth... or to spikes, depending. Razkar saw a Zith fall from the sky and get skewered neatly onto a spike mere feet from him, black obsidian jetting out of its chest along with a spray of blood. The creature choked once, eyes bulging, and then its head lolled back. Others followed it, onto the spikes, crashing to the sand, confused and weakened and-

Don't waste this.

-Razkar got back to his feet and rushed to the nearest one, gladius raised. There was still work to do...

[Gianne Basete]

It seemed like Gianne was in Serrif's arms for only a moment before Rhy ran off to the battle, leaving a wet kiss on her forehead in farewell. Her lips trembled slightly as she watched the blur that was the Kelvic move away down the corridor, into the outstretched fingers of danger without her. She nodded once to Serrif, pinching her face up in anticipation. Would his gnosis work on migraines? Apparently it did. His gentle hands cradled her head and she couldn't suppress the sigh that escaped her as his magic pooled through his fingers. She swayed toward him, wanting to be closer to the source of the blissful feeling. It was a sweet relief from the horrible thumming that had been bounding her skull for most of the day. Gianne had almost forgotten what it felt like not to have a headache, she had been so engrossed in trying to shut off the pain. Now she was at least partially ready to fight. Armor was next. She'd never wore any before but knew it was necessary. Rhy's clothes left a trail to the armory, but of course she wouldn't wear them to fight. The girl much preferred to be naked if she was in her human skin. Wonder what it's like to fight naked? Must be nice, not being expected to wear clothes. There was no time to wonder about silly things though. Once they were in the armory Serrif helped her into a suit of leather armor. It was a little uncomfortable, not being used to it, but it would do. She also took an extra dagger, in case something happened to hers. She slipped it into her belt next to the other, and did a mental check to make sure she had everything. Bow, daggers, knife in boot, arrows. That was everything. One they were at the battle itself, everything changed. The Sanctuary had been changed. A forest of spikes were sprouting from the ground, like fingers beckoning to the Zith above. The others were here, she knew, but everything was a little overwhelming and she only looked around at first to make sure Rhy was there. She was, hefting a mace that made her look just as fierce as if she were a dog with her hackles bristled from neck to tail. Serrif was rifling through his things, pulling out vials. Gianne frowned and looked closer at them. He handed her some, and she held them like they would explode in her face. "Okay," she agreed obediently, shrugging off her quiver and unstopping the vial of poison. Why would he give me some painkillers to put on my arrowheads though? Kind of counter productive, but oh well. She wasn't going to dispute his medical knowledge. While she was dipping broadheads in the deadly liquids she remembered how he'd told her the sedative he'd used on her a few days gao, if taken too much, could put her in a coma. A helpful drug that could turn deadly. The painkillers must do the same thing if overused. A wicked little smile touched her lips as she put the corks back on the vials and replaced al[00l but one of her arrows back in their quiver. This was her first encounter with Zith. The roiling mass of their bodies in the air above sent chills down her spine. One dislodged from the group and swooped down, only to take a nick from one of Serrif's poisoned arrows. It would have been a superficial wound if not for the poison. It ended up dropping like a stone, impaling itself on one of the many spikes jutting from the ground. Bile rose up in Gianne's throat and she flinched violently from the sound it made. A wet, hollow sound followed by the crunch of bone as it slid to the base of the spike and smacked the ground. Blood pooled the ground around in within moments. Look away, her mind ordered. She listened, turning her gaze to Vanator. She was startled to see that he was confronting his own Zith, a fierce looking female. Clumsy with surprise and the sudden launch to action, she nocked the arrow she was holding. It took a two tries, but she got it, then lifted her bow and quickly yanked back the string to anchor at the corner of her mouth. But just as she was about to release, a crossbow bolt slammed into the Zith's side. Gianne hesitated, then let the string go slack again. It seemed Elem had taken care of that one. Instead, she twisted around, drew back her string again, and shot blindly into the flock of Zith swooping in the air. She was just about to pull another arrow from her quiver when a piercing scream filled the battlefield. Gianne gasped and clamped her hands over her ears. Her eyes screwed shut and she grimaced. The scream was actually like a physical thing. She was pushed right off her feet, slamming onto her back and losing the air from her lungs in a big gust of air. She sputtered and struggled for a lungful, but when she inhaled there was sand and dirt mixed in. Gianne coughed violently and sat up, realizing the scream had stopped. But sand was showering down on all of them like rain, and Zith were falling like stones. Quite a few landed on the wicked spikes reaching up from the earth. Carnage ensued, but it was too bad that not all of them were impaled. Some landed in between the gaps between the spikes. Gianne was still coughing a little but she lurched back to her feet, brushing herself off at the same time some of the Zith were pulling themselves up from the ground as well. She looked around, hoping that everyone else was alright.

[Rhy]

Out of her shock, Rhy hears Vanator call her name, telling her to fetch a bow and quiver. Her deep, defensive state of mind is all that keeps her from laughing manicly with stress. Right, fetch, finally something she is good at! But she rechannels this dervish energy into her locked limbs and she starts towards the stone spikes instead. The pull of her instincts are strong, and she gives into them without restraint. Her lips pull back to taunt lines, eyes widen and her open mouth pours a vicious rumble of a snarl and silvery threads of expectant saliva. Vanator told her to grab a crossbow, and to fire from below, but she seems to have forgotten that command. They are in her territory, in her home, and she will rip them apart. But she never gets the chance to. A wild, shattering scream hits her like a storm. Kavala's scream works its way to her bones and rattles her like a drum. Sand whirls and lifts airborne on the power of her dijed, taking Rhy with it. She desperately clings to a protruding spike for purchase, but the force knocks her on her back and drives her from the forest. Crushed pieces on cobblestone and gravel rip down her back in long lines, but she can't help but be thankful as two Zith are dashed from the sky right where she had been. The air is thick with a sparkling haze of dust and sand. Zith drop on spikes or cobblestone, or are driven away by the powerful wave, and Rhy hears a scream and the spitting sound of burning oil. Seems one has landed in the fire. No! Don't waste this, she commands herself. She rolls back to her feet, breathing in the falling sand where it cuts at her throat like she's breathing razors. Kavala is on the other side, she could never reach her in time or figure out what prompted such a release from her. So she focuses on what she can. The two Zith in front of her. Incapacitated, disorientated, and hers. It takes two bounding leaps to come upon the first one. She pulls back her mace like a child's game bat, bringing it crashing down on the male skull before he can even roll to his feet. Cruel points drive into the soft part of his skull and he crumples before he can make a sound. But that doesn't stop the second from hearing the sound of his attacker and his crumpled fall. The female jumps to her feet before Rhy can wrench the mace from the males mutilated head. So before the she-Zith can turn or lift the evil two pronged spear in her grip, Rhy launches herself at her, leaving the mace behind. The force of the impact brings them both to the ground, Rhy wedged between her leathery wings, crumbled between the spikes like a broken tent. The woman clicks and screams in venom, the useless spear forgotten she reaches as far as she can behind her to rake shallow claws across the back of Rhy's head and shoulders, ripping out handfuls of bloody hair. Rhy keeps all her weight on the woman's chest and shoulders, her mouth automatically locking around the back of her neck. But human teeth are not enough for this, so she shifts. After a second of weightlessness, the dull human teeth around her throat are replaced with the bit force of a canine, and the body now much heavier then any Zith. It takes no more then a second for the long muzzle to work around the spine and pierce the jugular. She rips through the cartilage to make sure the Zith can't be saved, and lifts herself with a renewed ferocity. The shock of the scream must have worn off of the horde in the short span of her personal little battle. She leaves the dying she-Zith behind, looking to finish off whatever the sand, fire or arrows force down. Until she finds a Myrian. Covered in blood, sporting a pair of short swords, and looking as battle hungry as the Zith. If he wasn't ankle deep in their blood she wound have thought him an enemy. But she still starts at the sight, and that gives her enough time to spot a Zith landing behind a spike opposite the Myrian. Rhy doesn't give a warning bark, but gallops to the attacker. A dirk in pulled from its sheath but not before Rhy gets her jaw around its lower leg and she pulls it off its feet, dragging it to the open. She dares not go for a killing blow with such a short slicing weapon in its hands. But she is defenceless to another attack with a mouth full of Zith.

[Serrif Von Chatlyn]

There was a very stark reality in the situation they were facing right now. None of them were truly prepared for battle…not like they should be. They were not born Akalak warriors who would face such a flurry of wingbeats and such with relentless fervor and courage. No, nor were they like the Murian man who seemed to almost carelessly throw himself at the enemy…they were somewhere in between; but he was beginning to have doubts if they would be able to pull this off or not. It seemed like they were facing an enemy that far outnumbered them here…and with as feral as they were it became quite obvious that they were not going to easily be able to exterminate all of these Zith.

They were a swirling mass of chaos above them and he would see arrows streak off into the sky every now and then, plunging off into the abyss. Every now and then he had to roll himself behind cover as one of these figures seemingly moved close to him. Barely missing arrows and every now and then a rock would pang off of his breastplate. This was becoming quite interesting.

A scream was issued from the forest of tall obsidian spikes and just like that a whirlwind of sand and debris shot up into the sky hammering the Zith opposition. He had never heard a scream like that before in all his life, never. He could feel the anger and desperation behind it. But the anger…that was what stunned him the most. YES that was what they needed to turn the tables. And then suddenly…what went up came down. It rained shimmering sand onto the battlefield and in the mix were the ZIth attackers that they could not allow to get back airborne again. Because if they did, the winged creatures would escape and come back to kill them.

‘No survivors’ His mind told him as he looked downward just in time to advert an eyeful of sand in his face.

It rained this heaved up sediment and without much more of a thought Serrif looked out over the battlefield and there lay the opposition. Scattered about almost as if they were now confused. And they had good reason to be. They had been in the sky now however they were on the ground. Things were beginning to equal out. He pulled the cork out of a poison vial and poured it over the blade of his coldsteel gladius. His bow would do him little good now. Especially if the Zith were on the ground. He could get rushed and he would rather face them head on and let Gianne pick them off.

“Come on Gianne, let’s help Rhy.”

Rhy was ripping the ZIth apart in both her human and dog form, the Murian was practically bathing in ZIth blood by now. Kavala was nowhere to be found, she was likely in the obsidian forest right now. He wasn’t sure about Elem or Van. He ran off into the forest to fight these creatures head on. He did have one advantage when fighting in this forest, he wore armor, he wasn’t sure about the Zith though. It didn’t take long for him to see one of the staggering coughing Zith on the ground. They reminded him of feral horrible bats of some kind. Terrors of the night…they were the things of nightmares.

He brought the gladius down on the beasts spine severing it quickly.

Heal it…it can be saved… But Serrif knew better. Some things could never be saved. Even if he healed the beast it would only kill him. Or sell him into slavery. NO, this beast was to die. He struck down again across the back of the neck biting deep spurting rich blood from the wound. There was no saving it now. The poison would kill it soon enough.

He moved deeper into the forest where he had seen Rhy. The girl had locked her canine jaws around one of the attacking ZIth and it seemed although startled and being drug across the ground into the open the Zith was indeed going to retaliate. It was trying to slash at Rhy wildly with a short dagger of some kind. It was only a matter of time before the Zith got lucky or another ZIth tried to attack from behind.

“Gianne.” The distance was to far for Serrif to close himself and attack up front. Hopefully Gianne could strike out against the Zith on the ground and kill it outright; his bow was somewhat inaccessible at the moment.

He hoped Gianne would get a good shot on the Zith Rhy was towing around. If not Serrif was already running to her aid out in the open against his better judgment. There were a few Zith that were now getting on their feet after having fell a good distance to meet the ground. Some looked as if the fall had killed them. But he knew the staff wasn’t going to take any chances with it. All these beasts would be killed so they could protect what was theirs.

A loud metallic smash changed all this for Serrif as he felt something substantial impact his back. It threw him over on his chest and he hit the ground while at a full run nearly knocking the teeth out of his skull. He didn’t know it but a javelin had just impacted his left shoulder right where the breastplate covered. It bit through the steel and pierced through the scale mail under layer some as well. But it was the force that had proven to be deadly here. The shock of pain shot through him…he was hit but he didn’t know how bad.

Serrif struggled to get to his feet as the Zith who threw the javelin closed in on him. Using his right hand he screamed loudly in pain and reached behind him yanking the javelin out. And the Zith was only feet away now. Serrif’s Gladius was not in his hand…he went instinctively for his dagger at his chest and as he pulled it out the Zith was ready to rip apart his face with its long deadly claws. He fought and wrestled with the massive creature that was now ripping at him with both its clawed hands and feet. The Zith’s wings started beating creating a flurry of sand and delusion as it blindly ripped at Serrif’s body.

He tried to get a mark on the animal with his dagger. But the beast felt far stronger, far more feral than he was. Driven by predatory instinct. Serrif felt a rush of adrenaline as he fought for his life. The beast made scratched across Serrif’s face, arms, hands, legs…and then the mayhem stopped when serif heart the beast scream in agony. Warm crimson liquid poured from it onto him as his dagger had found a very good mark on the beast. The long isurian steel stiletto point had driven right through the beasts neck, slicing all the important veins and cutting into its spine.

It fell limp atop Serrif, the frantic wingbeats finally stopping. The full weight of the animal coming atop him. Serrif rolled the beast off of him and tried to get to his feet…but his body was struggling to respond; he could feel the pain shooting through his body even with the adrenaline pumping through him. This would be a rough recovery once this was over.

[Vanator]

Vanator could hear the enemies above, the beating of their leathery wings, their communications when it dropped into audible range, the impact of their rocks and spears as they sought soft targets. From the ground, the response was the twang of bow strings, the whistle of arrows and quarrels and somewhere out there, the Myrian raising a bloody racket. The battle was not going well. The Drykas had to deal with Ir'Kala quickly. But, while he had no weapon, the brazen Zith was still armed, a deadly being even without the dagger. Her menacing grimace washed from her face as shock filled her wicked eyes. Her body jolted as Elem's misfire pierced her side. Vanator saw the head of the bolt protruding from her abdomen, on the right side. Over her shoulder, by the light of the fires, he saw the healer clutching the crossbow.

"No!" Vanator growled. He wanted his tormentor to die at his hand. The she-zith's countenance drew into a pained fury as the blood ran from her side. She moved in to close with her former pet, her free hand clutching at the wound. But Vanator lunged forward, grabbing the notched dagger from her weakening grip. With his other hand, the Drykas entangled his hand into her long dark mohawk, roughly pulling her head back, until her neck was arched and exposed. He met her eyes, human and Zith exchanging a glare of hate. Then Vanator shoved the rusty blade into her throat, pushing through muscle, vessels and cartilage. Dark blood pulsed from her severed artery, flowing over the dagger and down the Drykas' arm. He locked eyes with Ir'Kala, his hand still gripping her hair. He wanted the last thing she saw to be his face lording over her, for her to know he was the one who ended her. The Zith's gaze grew dull, the stream of blood abatied and her body slumped in his arms. But there was no time to indulge in the small victory.

Vanator he heard Kavala's scream, and knew it was her. It was not a scream of fear or pain, it was a shout of defiance. Vanator felt more in the echo of that scream, resonating inside of him. Looking up, he saw the swirl of dust and sand illuminated by the flames. He had no time to ponder what Kavala had done, or how, for the lifted debris now fell, along with the stunned and confused Zith. The Denusk buried his face against Ir'Kala's lifeless chest to shield his face. Grit and dirt fell, whirling around them. The noise of battle changed, the sound of shrieking Zith, the shout of the Sanctuaries defenders, the sound of enemies falling on the spikes, and landing among them.

Looking up, Van saw Serrif and Gianna moving into the spike forest. Dropping the dead Zith, the dagger still lodged in her neck, Vanator looked for Elem, but caught movement from the corner of his eye. A Zith male, armed with a mace made of a blackened human skull, had emerged from the spikes heading towards the unguarded entrance to Within. His and Kavala's children were hiding Within. The Drykas charged the enemy with a shout, dodging a rock dropped by some unseen attacker and scooped up the short bow. Vanator leaped at the invader, swinging the bow with both hands and smashing it against the Zith's head. The bow splintered, opening a gash over the creature's eye. The Zith staggered, but swung his weapon backhanded at Vanator's chest. The skull must have been filled with something solid, for the impact sent the Drykas backwards into the tunnel entrance. He landed with a thud and a wince of pain.

The Zith, eagerness to kill in his eyes, moved in with his skull mace raised. Vanator's battle ax lay on the ground close at hand. Tossing the broken bow aside, Vanator lunged for his ax, rolling to a crouch and raising the weapon in two hands in time to block the Zith's blow. The two combatants struggled to prevail, Van pushing with enough force to get to his feet. With a jerk of his leg, the human kneed the attacker in the groin, the momentary distraction all he needed. With a twist of the ax, Vanator pushed the Zith's weapon to the side, then shoved forward with his ax until the top of the iron head slammed into the Zith's face, crushing his jaw and shattering teeth. As the Zith staggered backwards, Vanator chambered back with the ax, coiling his body, then unleashed a horizontal arc that bit into the Zith's neck. The blow severed the head cleanly, tossing it aside as the headless body collapsed in a fountain of blood.

Vanator, his skin and armor caked with grit stuck to the sweat and drying blood that seemed to cover him. Took a glance into the darkness to assess the situation. He could see no one clearly in the dim flickering light and thick spike forest. But he could hear the defenders engaging their assailants. While many dying Zith writhed in their death throes upon Kavala's towering spikes, other dark winged shadows moved through the defensive columns. He coughed, a sharp pain searing his side, the taste of blood on his tongue. He prayed they were covering each other, and wondered if Elem was still at the clinic entrance. The untried healer should not be left alone. But Van could not leave the entrance to their underground home vulnerable. He drew in a deep, painful breath. He smelled blood, his arms still resonated with the sensation of his weapons hacking apart hated Zith. Every one killed, not only for his own vengeance, but for his beloved, lost Tamar. His heart swelled. Adrenaline, stimulant, and the arousal of rising bloodlust overrode his pain, saturating him with the desire to kill, take life, test himself against his foes, one after another.

A blood-crusted smile split his face and, gripping the haft of the battle ax, Vanator moved to intercept the next shadowy figure that emerged from the obsidian spikes.