Closed A Little Fall of Rain (Vanator)

[Jackalope]

Date: 62 Fall, 512 AV
Location: The Sea of Grass

The day was overcast, as dark clouds rolled overhead. They had been moving from the east, drifting lazily across the long sea of grass, leaving a torrential downpour in their wake. By the time the rain bringing clouds would arrive on this side of Cyphrus though, the vicious storms had weakened significantly, gifting the plains with a gentle drizzle of water. The would always drink up misty offering with greed, the land insatiable its thirst for whatever would dare enter it.

The beginnings of the changing of the season were peaking out from their long rest, with warm temperatures dropping slightly and winds picking up. Long strands of grass waved rhythmically with the gusts, with occasional sound of the untamed land's creatures making themselves heard. Birds, insects, rodents, amphibians. Some would consider it almost soothing, others would call it the calm before the storm.

If Vanator was seeking a respite from civilization, from Zith, from anyone, at least for the moment, the sea was gracious enough to offer it. The grass was still damp from an earlier rain, and the scent of wet greenery was ripe in the air. Everything had a melancholy feel, an almost darkness, yet at the same time, there was a peacefulness in the area.

In the not so far distance were a couple of small groves of trees, likely home to various creatures of the land, with a small stream acting as a break between two long stretches of the infamous grass. The water was shallow but fast moving, the steam going on for much of Vanator's vision before dipping down into Semele's ground beneath. Half of what once appeared to be part of a magnifiant tree lay on the ground across the stream, though by the way one end was forced into the dirt, it was unlikely that it was placed there by Akalak or Drykas. It could offer a crossing for those who wished to avoid stepping this the cold shallow waters, though a horse would be less than enthused about walking on it.

ooc :

Go ahead and give me an intro post with whatever you want to be doing, and I'll go off you. Hope you enjoy the thread!

[Vanator]

Vanator had left before the sun had broken the horizon, without a word to anyone. He had left a posting for the staff, and spoken to Kavala the night before. It had only been two days since he had returned from a two day trip into the grass with Larik for some time alone with his estranged son. They had been helped save a Strider from lions, the same stallion in turn saving him. The horse had willingly joined Vanator on his return trip to the Sanctuary, where Kavala healed their injuries, both he and the Strider's. The next day Vanator started to work with the staliion, who took readily to his yvas.

But to truly bond with a Strider, one must be in the grass. The Semele spawned the majestic creatures from the land itself, gifting them to the Drykas. Vanator could sense the strong connection to the web once he mounted Sirocco, as he now called him, and made no small thing of the creatures acceptance of him as a rider. Both man and beast were seasoned in the Sea of Grass, fathers of their kind, and sufferers of many losses.

Vanator still wore his cloak, though the drizzle had stopped. Rain brought the aromas of the grasslands to a rich crescendo, and the Drykas breathed in deep draughts, savoring the scent of the land's life. He spied the grove not far ahead, and finding the desire to dismount for a brief rest, Vanator guided the Strider towards the trees. Sirocco, as if already having decided the same for himself, easily altered their course.

Once reaching the copse of trees, Vanator made a quick survey of the area. Convinced there was no immediate danger, he slid from the yvas. As he drew his waterskin from the harness, Sirocco took a few steps to the edge of the creek, near the fallen tree, to drink deeply of the cold water. Vanator too, drank his fill from the skin.

[Jackalope]

The little copse did indeed offer some respite from Syna's rays. The trees stood tall, proud, and almost defiantly against the Sea of Grass, managing to survive despite the struggle of many others to make that same claim. The branches sat high on the trees, interwoven with the timber beside them to block out the light. A wonderful shelter, but it offered little chance for life to more low standing vegetation. In a way, it was beneficial, because you could see anything coming. On the other hand, it could see you, too. That was always a danger in the Sea of Grass. Something could always see you.

The water rushed briskly by, it's flow the dominating sound of their area. Soothing, but misleading. The cool liquid was refreshing for all who would imbibe. Water was life, and Vanator and Sirocco would soon realize that they weren't the only ones interested in getting a little drink. Sirocco would notice something was amiss first. Snorting as he pulled his head from the cold waters, Vanator's newly bonded strider began to scan the edge of the grass. Slight movement alerted the horse's keen senses, as the slight rustling of grass would elicit a snort of disapproval. Looking to where the grass began, just the other side of the stream, Sirocco stamped his hoof before turning a quick and nervous circle and looking at Vanator.

With the help of his companion's warning and his own keen senses, Vanator caught a brief glimpse of a creature through the grass. It was on the very edge, stalking through the greenery. Tan fur, slinking low to the ground, a tail dragging behind. There could be a couple of guesses as to what it was, and none of them were herbivores. For a brief moment eye contact would be made. Dark brown spheres, wild, but most unnerving was the hunger.

Preempted with only a terrible roar, the lioness burst forth from cover, rushing at the Drykas and his mount, fangs bared, powerful muscles rippling as she propelled herself towards her mark.

[Vanator]

Vanator had taken a swallow of the water from the skin, now warm with their travel. What Sirocco was drawing from the running stream looked much more refreshing. Shrugging off hs damp cloak, the Drykas hung it on a nearby branch to dry. He popped off the cork stopper of his waterskin so he could fill it, but the Strider's head lifted abruptly from the stream, water still dripping from his muzzled, spraying as his nostrils flared with a snort. Vanator froze.

Just a glimpse of tawny fur, the revelation of amber eyes, was all the horse and man needed. The bond between them had been forged over the blood of lions, and both knew what lurked just beyond in the grass. But not soon enough. "Petch!" As the beast's roar split the air, Vanator dropped the waterskin and lunged for the battle ax slung from his yvas. There wasn't enough time to ready the bow. Sirocco had already begun to move, making it more difficult to grasp the weapon. Had they been in open grass, Vanator may have just leaped onto the Strider and outrun the creature. But the lioness was between them and the grasslands, and there was no time to mount up.

What took only a breath, but felt like a chime, the axe slid from the straps and Vanator held it up, keeping his knees bent and ready, hoping to dodge the rushing lion, or to at least deflect it's charge with the ax, which was held ready to swing when the beast came in range.

[Jackalope]

The vicious swing of Vanator's ax met cleanly with the side of the lioness' neck, silencing her and leaving a bright spray of blood in its wake. Her red stained body went limp, though as he connected mid leap, it also crashed into his own body, sending him sprawling to the ground. A moment of adrenaline, a moment of power, left him safe for a moment. Sirocco's nerves, however, didn't settle, and the hair on back of Van's neck stood up. His experience had shown him one thing.

Lionesses hunted in packs.

Several distinct growls carried over the bubbling stream, though with a crescendo, the grew into roars as in a flash, three more of the sandy furred beasts rushed from the brush. One would charge straight at the Drykas and his new strider, while the other two arced around, attempting to surround their pray. Teeth bared, the direct aggressor stopped just short where he'd struck the first creature, crouched low, prepared to pounce. To make matters worse, two additional she beasts stepped forth out of the thick grass, moving slowly to join the rest of the pack.

[Vanator]

Vanator scrambled to his feet once he untangled himself from the slain lioness. Recent memories flash in his mind's eye, the lion attack that Sirocco and he had faced when they first met. There was a pack then. The Drykas dread was confirmed when he heard the growl of more predators. His heart was pounding so hard it almost deafened him. One lion he could handle, a group of hunting lionesses, the prospect was grim.

But the Drykas slipped into survivor mode, just like any hunted creature, and he tried to use all his senses to detect his assailants. Three were easy to discern as they charged forth, one boldly confronting him while two others moved to flank the man and horse. They were going to surround him. From the corner of his eye, Vanator saw two more powerful lions appear. He was going to die. It would be a noble death, being part of the cycle of Caiyha's realm, the natural design of prey and predator. But he was also a prideful Drykas, and he would not leave this grass without taking the spirit of a lion or two with him.

Facing the lioness most threatening before him, Vanator rotated quickly to keep his back to Sirocco, hoping the stallion would watch his back. Quickly, he closed his left hand and willed res to form in his palm. The trick had worked before, and he was desperate. Opening his hand, the sphere of res ignited, only a cloud really. Vanator propelled the small flaming mass at the lioness' face as a distraction, lunging immediately behind it and bringing down the battle ax, aiming for its neck, and roaring himself. His left leg swept back, rotating his body to the side as he struck, trying to keep himself from a full frontal attack of claw and fang.

[Jackalope]

The lioness was left with a look of bewilderment as the sudden flash of flame exploded in her face. An almost fearful expression crawled across her face as she let out a roar of anger and confusion. Fire was danger, fire was deadly. Fire was fear. The unexpected cloud of heat caused the she beast to recoil, giving Vanator the time he needed to maneuver behind and slash down. The lioness gave a haphazard swing of its claw, but no flesh was found. On the other hand, Van's axe struck the left shoulder of the she beast, the sickening crunch of bone covered by the howl of pure agony. The heavy blade sunk deep into her muscle, cracking the shoulder blade, causing her to drop to the ground. Another foe down, but Sirocco whinnied loudly, alerting Vanator to the approach of the closest two creatures. They approached cautiously, having viewed the display of flames.

The two who had originally waited back has since sprung forward, leaving a lioness on each side of the Drykas and his mount. Closing in slowly, they stalked, ready to pounce, ready to kill, ready to feed. Fangs bared, they inched closer and closer, soon to send Vanator and Sirocco back to the web where they would be reborn again some day. Death was upon them.

Sometimes the least expected thing would turn out to be a savior.

One of the lionesses perked up suddenly, leaving her attack stance. Sitting up alert, eyes wide, head on a swivel, an uneasiness overtook not only her, but all those around. She let out a horrific roar, and turned tail, rushing back into the grasses for protection. Her hunting mates took the cue and fled from whatever was unnerving them.

Vanator was left alone, wondering what had happened. He had stared certain death in the face and survived. But how?

The beat of leathery wings was his answer.

About a dozen of them approaching quickly.

Zith.

[Vanator]

Vanator had little time to revel in his small victory over the lioness, as the Strider's agitated whinny warned of more predators approaching. Two more lions, drawing close at opposite angles, ensured that the Drykas could not defend himself agaisnt both and sealed any escape route. Under his breath, Vanator uttered a litany of supplications to the gods they worshipped at the Sanctuary, a last ditch attempt to avert the inevitable.

So, it was with a premature prayer of thanksgiving that Vanator watched the hunters halt in thier tracks and flee as if they had seen a ghost. Only a couple ticks passed before the Drykas discovered what had caused the confident lions to leave. He too heard the beat of bat-like wings, and the guttural sounds of the lower end of Zith vocal range.

"Shyke...Shyke, Shyke, Shyke!" Vanator's expletives lifted from a low breath to a desperate growl. Zith. The bane of his existence. The wretched race had woven their wicked presence in and out of his life like the minions of some malevolent god bent on destroying anything good in his life. He would have gladly had the lionesses rend him limb from limb and devour him than provide an ounce of entertaiment or nourishment to those scourge of the plains. He would not be taken alive this time, he would not go back to the colony.

With an adrenaline fueled lunge Vanator clambered onto Sirocco. The Strider's speed was his only hope, and that one slim. He slid the ax through the loop in the yvas and began to guide the horse out of the copse of trees as he pulled the composite shortbow from its case and nocked and arrow. If he made it to the grass again, with an open path, he would pray there were shreds of the Web close enough for the Strider to tap into and engage his extraordinary speed.

[Jackalope]

oocThanks for your patience with me. I'm getting back into the flow of things and I should be more steady with my replies!

The deadly creatures only grew closer and closer as the Drykas man determined how he would escape. If he chose wrong, that would be it. Taking on a dozen Zith alone, it was madness, and it would be his last act of valor. The Webbing, if it were here, would give him the speed to outrun the vicious beasts, but if it wasn't, Vanator would be rejoining the cycle earlier than he'd planned.

Yet before he sent his strider into the grass to see if that was an option, Vanator would notice something peculiar. The Zith didn't seem to notice him, or if they had, they were paying him no mind. Their flight path was a coincidence, happening to lead over where Van had intended to rest before the lioness attack. Instead, it appeared they had a goal in mind, soaring with purpose.

Coming from high above him, somewhere in the mass of Zith, came the cries of a woman. If Van took the time to observe, two if the Zith were dangling someone of a human's size and shape, almost laughing as they toyed with their prize. They were returning from a raid, a slave, a meal, a prisoner, in tow.

Suddenly the group split, the majority of the group taking off to the right while the others continued on straight. A couple hundred feet past where Vanator sat is where the second group descended suddenly, disappearing from sight. The first group would remain in the skies until they were almost out of view. At that point they too dropped to the ground.

In a cruel twisted humor, the Zith had been his saviors from certain death, but what could the Drykas man do now?

[Vanator]

Diligently Vanator kept an eye on the approaching Zith as he guided the Strider towards open grass. But as the creatures neared, they remained high, making no deviation towards his position. Bringing Sirocco to a halt, Van remained still, unwilling to move and reveal his position if the Zith truly did not see him. Their destination was beyond him, and he carefully slid from his yvas to decrease his visual profile.

As they passed nearby, the Drykas instinctively hunkered down, arrow still readied in the composite bow. Only a few of the sounds the Zith made were audible, but the screams of a female carried easily across the crisp autumn air. Then Vanator spotted their victim, dangling between two of the Zith. For a moment, the Drykas pondered shooting the woman, a quick death by arrow would save her from the horrors of being killed by the Zith, or worse, becoming their slave. But it was a task he did not savor, and as the woman's handlers broke from the group to descend towards the copse of trees, Van belayed the arrow and returned it to his quiver.

Stealthily he crept back towards the group of trees, keeping his distance from the Zith, coaxing Sirocco to move as well, until they found cover within the small woods. Motioning to the Strider to stay put, Van slid the battle ax from his yvas, sliding a strap around it and slinging it over his shoulder. An arrow was again nocked to the wood and horn bow, and the Drykas crept towards the Zith and their prize, keeping low.