Flashback In The Deep Darkness

[Razkar]

Even through the terror he felt at seeing Tinnok held up next to him, another Dhani stepping forwards to hold them in position, he felt... something like relief.

At least they would die as comrades, without masks or shadows to mar them. The male glanced down at Rehkuna and saw no signs of life, but hoped she had seen, or at least heard. He wanted her to know that she was wrong.

An awful wish for one to wish for another's dying chimes, but she had to know. Tinnok had tried, and was loyal to the last moments.

"Sssssssssuch fun today!" The Priestess said loudly, voice carrying across the cavern and answered by a throaty ripple of laughter from her congregation. "Ssssssuch decccccceptionssssss attempted, but thossssssssse without the mindssssss to follow them through."

She tutted dramatically and a sliding, shadowy figure glided to her right. The male placed a whip handle in her waiting hand, and she held it up. It was maybe nine feet long, razor blade-like protrusions stuck or woven along its entire length. The Head Priestess smiled broader, relishing their terror, their fast-evaporating stoicism...

"Now the gamessssssss are over." She cracked the whip and it sounded like a tree trunk splintering, making both helpless Myrians wince. "Or sssssssshould I sssssay, your gamesssssss. My gamessssssss, well..."

The Dhani female started slowly, swinging it over her head so lightly that the whip was almost flat. Then it grew faster, faster, until it was a sheet of flashing metal around her, her arms snapped back, whip doubling and cracking behind her as she slashed it forwards-

-Tinnok screeched in agony as it lashed across her body.

"Mine... are jussssst beginning..."

She drew back the whip, now clotted with blood... and paused. The male had his eyes closed and was... what was that? She couldn't hear it, but... was he smiling? She felt a cold fury rise in her, that this worthless monkey would ignore and scorn her artwork so. She slid forwards, pushing the whip clotted with his friend's blood under his chin.

"What issssss funnnny, pig?"

A muttering. Vague and indistinct, but definitely ended with a chuckle. She gripped his hair and pulled his head back, almost snapping his neck.

"Speak!"

"You... missed one." Razkar relished that look of dawning confusion, and the horrified realization that would follow... and made sure to raise his voice as high as his ragged throat could take it. "And she is tired of waiting!"

A bowstring twanged and even as the Priestess turned, Erama's arrow caught her in the side. An animal-screech like a howling reptile, keening and enraged, made even the other Dhani flinch, but soon they were moving, the three of them not holding Razkar and Tinnok sliding around the altar to protect their leader-

"Find the archer, you idiotssssss!" The Priestess snarled in fury, pulling the arrow free like a splinter. "Don't-"

Another crashed into her chest, agonizing even her tall, broad Dhani form. Her bodyguards slithered forwards, scanning the darkness, tongues flickering and tasting the air in each passageway, tracking down scent and finding Erama almost instantly-

"FOR MYRI!"

-not that they would need to, for with a screech and a rush the tattooed warrior leapt from the shadows with a blade in each hand, determined that if she must die, she would do so up close and nasty, like a true Myrian.

The Priestess smiled through her pain. Just one? This was their rescue? She shook her head... and then, inch by inch, the smile faded. Fine hearing picked up... vibrations. Running feet in the passageways. Closer... smells... dozens of them...

No. Not alone.

[Tinnok]

It started as a bud within her chest, nestled somewhere deep inside the fear and the pain, that blossomed outward at Razkar’s words, which she clung to like a final lifeline: Hope. She heard the priestess’s gasp of heart, the sick satisfaction in the Eagle’s eyes and a bloody smile came to her features. Her hearing was not so keen, but soon even she could hear the vibrations of dozens of feet storming the rocks. She flung her head backward, eyes on her captors with a large smirk. “Going to hold the weak, unarmed warrior with the army of ones holding weapons coming down the halls?”

She was dropped a couple yards to the ground with an unceremonious thump as the two Dhani grabbed up their blades and bows to fight the coming onslaught. Tinnok attempted to stand, but slipped and fell upon floors slick with excrement, bile, and guts. The second try was more successful, and a body, shaky and weak rose from the ground, back and shoulder screaming, wrists still dripping with blood, eyes wide and wild. She found that obsidian dagger from the ground and her shoulders heaved with the effort of bending over to grab it.

An arrow sailed down the hall, and whomever was behind it knew their way around a bow, for it sunk into the eye socket of one of the Dhani holding Razkar. Tinnok limped forward, bent and determined to cut the other one down to size when a massive claw sunk into her fresh shoulder wound, pulling at left over muscle and sinew. Her legs buckled and tears streamed from her eyes as two green eyes bent over her shivering form and got close to her face. “Not ssso fassst, abomination, you will be mine.”

He was lithe and strong, healthy, and uninjured. She was tired and weak, scrawny and slowly bleeding out. She spat a globule of puke ridden blood into those searing green eyes and sank the curved ceremonial dagger into his chest, getting heaved up and over his body by a flailing tail, thrown like a doll into Razkar’s other captor, one Dhani and two Myrians tumbling to the ground. Tinnok raised her hand triumphantly into the air, a weak sardonic smirk upon her lips. “Abomination to the rescue!”

“How dare you find humor in this…Ssssssssssssnake.”

The Priestess saw her world crumbling around her. She was infinitely smarter than these pathetic vermin that had overtaken Siku’s rightful place in the jungles of Falyndar. They were pathetic weak creatures only good for offerings and the most petty of amusement. But these ones…Their fearless leader, the male filled with more intensity than any she had seen, the wily tainted blood and now this…inked warrior…they had somehow managed to destroy in one evening all she had worked to build over centuries. Well their blood would freshen her claws and fill her mouth, even if it was her dying act.

And the half-breed and the male were the perfect start.

Tinnok didn’t know what strength she used to rise again, to draw a deep and vicious gash in the stomach of the felled Dhani, who squirmed and slide away out of her reach, but whatever it was, a similar vein of it must had run through the Eagle as well, for she saw he stood next to her on the raised dais. An old ancient looking hand axe in his grasp, and she smiled at the fact. The Tempered Steel always liked to say that a Myrian could master many weapons, but there would always be one that represented the reflection of their soul, and it would call to them over all others. Her eyes looked at the strange black dagger, and the equally strange almost bluish steel of the axe her comrade held, one of many long lost objects scattered along the floor of the cave, and felt the world click into place. She felt her torn back fit like an odd puzzle piece against his, shoulder blades sliding together. He faced the priestess, she the male that had squirmed away, blood dripping from his stomach. It wasn’t a fair fight…but it was the fight they had sought coming into this cave, and Tinnok would damn Myri before she backed down now. She glanced down at the bloody corpse of Rekhuna, and thought. See? I said I would show you what I was made of…even if you cannot see.

And then that coiled and muscled form charged her, a spiked mace swinging for her face. She ducked, and it swung past her, the force of the blow through the air causing the Dhani to travel a bit with it. She got a nick on his arm in as the appendage flew by, and heard the priestess curse behind her, and Razkar cry out in pain. She snarled and their bodies twirled, switching positions, the half breed facing the priestess…and he the male. She saw bodies fly into the cave, and a warmth surge through her limbs. Just a little...longer.

[Razkar]

Arrows and darts and spears began to fly from the passageways, and Razkar saw through addled eyes that the Dark Water had finally arrived. Seven Dhani were swiftly reduced by one, an arrow through his eye sending his massive form crashing down and spasming in dying agony, throwing rocks and discarded weapons to and fro.

Tinnok slammed into the other Dhani holding Razkar like a boulder from a catapult, all of them dropping and rolling in a tangle of bleeding flesh and dripping scale. He rolled onto his side, found himself behind another male, facing the fresh enemies pouring towards him from the darkness, tail vibrating with anger-

Such a mistake to make, Razkar though with bloody and growing joy, turning ones back on a wounded Myrian...

His torso and arms were ragged and weak but his legs were still strong, shaking, but tight, yearning to be used. Razkar bent his knees and threw himself at the back of the Dhani with a ragged cry, wrapping his arms around its neck.

"Get off me, you sssssssscum!" It thrashed and screeched and snarled and Razkar felt like a ship on a raging ocean, flung side to side. "How dare-"

Razkar's hand groped upwards, over fangs and nose and eye-

-and plunged two fingers deep in the soft, fleshy eye socket right up to the knuckle.

The snarls of fury became screeches of sheer agony, spasms becoming stronger, more desperate, and Razkar found a war cry matching the screams hurled out of his throat. But with only one arm holding him in position he couldn't maintain his grip, the Dhani reaching over behind and raking claws over his back-

-he screamed, grip loosening-

-and the Dhani hurled him over its head to smash against the altar.

Something snapped in his lower back, but the sudden freedom, the chaos of these smooth creatures reduced to panicked shells, the rescue by the Dark Water, they drove him back to his knees, hands groping blinding, for a rock, a dagger...

... an ax?

Razkar looked down in something close to shock. Yes, it was an ax. The head was made of some strange metal, old but... timeless. Even after decades, centuries in the dark and the wet and the dank, he could see it's razor sheen.

The world slowed for him, just for a moment. Here, in his last moments, he found an ax like his own. Like his mother's. He gripped the handle, and it... fit. Like it was destiny, and...

Razkar looked up into the light, feeling rather than seeing Tinnok standing next to him. He smiled at the sun... and the woman he knew was watching from it.

Grant me the strength for just a little longer. Then do as you will with me.

Then his head snapped down, one final surge of strength filling his tired, violated limbs as the Priestess faced him, naked, uncontrolled fury distorting her pale features. He smirked.

"You've... You've lost, sssssssnake," he chuckled, feeding off her outrage as he mocked her snake-voice. "Everything you have, all that you are... that ends today, never to rise again."

With a wordless hiss of hate she flew at him, ceremonial dagger flashing towards his chest. He swayed to his side but she was quick, and huge, and had a massive mace of her own in the form of her tail. It lashed out like a whip and cracked across his side, bruising a rib and nearly doubling him over-

-his cry of pain became a snarl of rage and he slashed at the mass of snake scale and flesh, arcing down diagonally and lurching forward in case she tried to dodge him-

-and was rewarded with a thick, nasty thunk of metal slamming into flesh.

The Priestess howled with agony as the ax bit into her right shoulder, sinking deep through scale and muscle, rendering her arm almost useless. She reared back and Razkar heaved, pulling his weapon free and staggering back until his back hit the dais-

-where Tinnok whirled in front of him, switching positions.

Now a male was before him, blood leaking from his arm, heavy mace in one hand that only Oxil could have wielded, but he carried with ease. That same rage was in his eyes, too. That killing anger that spoke of centuries of dominance shattered, reduced to tatters.

Glancing behind him, Razkar smiled, because that was true. The shadows were alive with whooping, frenzied Myrians, two-dozen of them bearing the marks of the Dark Water clan. Ioxera was leading them, along with a strangely-subdued Ysir, swinging mace and ax respectively.

Another male fell, swarmed by a trio of Myrians that hacked and slashed even as he fell. The one-eyed male hissed at Razkar but was soon distracted by Erama, swinging a him with her blades and diverting him.

Razkar grinned at the male... and winked.

"Time to die, snake."

"Not before you!"

And it hurled itself at him, huge trunk propelling him forwards with unnatural speed. Razkar didn't sway, he simply jumped to the side, mace the size of his head barely missing his skull, but swung backhanded to try again-

-he ducked under it, down to his knees and swung his ax into the trunk, blue steel finding flesh again, ripping a hole-

-only for the inhumanly strong free hand of the male to swipe down and knock him off his feet, onto his back, mace raised over its head for the killing blow. Razkar braced himself, teeth gritted as he tried to back up, elbows and knees pumping.

A pair of arrows thudded into the Dhani's back and he threw his head back, screeching, distracted-

Yes, Razkar thought, crawling to one knee, hand groping and finding a broken sword, time to die indeed...

His legs stayed true to him for the last time, sending him flying forwards even as they went numb, sword raised high to stab the monster under the throat.

[Tinnok]

She was massive and vicious, and everything about her stank of dead things that had been too long in the dark, but she and this priestess were different, yet one and the same: They both so wanted so badly to live, to tear the other one to pieces and feel their beating heart within their grasp. Yes they were one in the same, but whereas only a few chimes ago Tinnok had been certain she was on the verge of death, she now knew the reverse to be true. She had never tasted Dhani flesh before, had found the idea disrespectful because even if she despised the snake’s she shared their blood. Now her tongue dragged over her lips.

Two black curved daggers clashed together with a ping of glass upon glass. The priestess’s strength was so much greater than Tinnok’s however, and she felt herself being pulled off and away from the Dais. She glanced over to see Razkar about to tear his foe limb from limb. How delightful the fear that these snakes must feel, the indignation at being torn apart by these warriors so much smaller and weaker than them. So much stronger than them.

A tail wound around her legs and sent her sprawling to the ground, the pale creature grabbing her arm and yanking on it like a stick stuck in the mud. Tinnok howled as the arm was dislocated in one smooth movement, the appendage hanging limp and separate from her body. The priestess laughed a cold laugh that knew of her own mortality. She sat back and waited for the pathetic half breed to rise, attempting to lift her full weight with one hand and failing over, and over again. Tinnok screamed again, this time with frustration and rage, the sound coming out like a banshee wail as sheer force of will pulled her off the ground, body bent and tired.

“You are ssssso sssstrong, sssissster, Ssssiku would have made you a general of her armiesssss, put you as leader of her troopsssss when our people ssssurged to your citiesss. They would not have insssulted ssssuch sssstrength, ssssssuch cunning.”

One flick of her tail and Tinnok was returned to the ground, knowing that she would not be able to rise again. The priestess lifted her body for her, putting her upon her feet and holding her there, tail wrapping coil by coil around her stomach, waist and legs, then tightening inch by inch. Tinnok groaned, feeling her bones creak and her body howl at her to make the pain stop. Quivering hands raised the dagger up and plunged it into scales, dragging, twisting and rending the blade into the thick part of the tail. The priestess yowled, but kept tightening, and s dark blood spilled upon the floor, Tinnok began sawing away at the tail like it was a great tree.

Both creatures stubbornly clung to life. She was the last snake in the room, and arrows, throwing axes, and daggers stuck into her flesh. Tinnok’s arms were numb, and was barely aware that her arms kept moving. Her eyes couldn’t leave the yellow ones of the priestess, the same exact color of her own. Her arms sawed, she felt it as her ribs cracked under the pressure and her breathing became shallow and heaving. Though blood poured out of the female Dhani at an alarming rate, the tail kept tightening. Tinnok could only keep sloughing through flesh, arms slick and crimson. She saw Ioxera running forward, her own blade at the ready, but the end would come for one of them before she made it.

A strange sloshing thunk heralded the slow and laborious unraveling of the massive tail. The priestess had a shocked expression upon her features to see the massive appendage go, and Tinnok’s own face mirrored it, seeing the hunk of meat fall off of her, pain wracking her body. She stepped forward and nearly toppled, then again, then again. The priestess reached for her and Tinnok batted away the arm, nearly as weak as hers were. There was a moment of silence then, tired warriors, dying Dhani, and the weary fang that had brought it all about. Time seemed to slow, and the abomination could feel her body plunging into darkness then and there. She hammered the curved dagger into the Dhani’s chest, rending flesh and reaching in afterwards. Fresh pain marked her bloody wrists as she reached in and scooped out the heart. Yellow eyes looked up with pain and hate as Tinnok lifted the warm organ to her mouth and sank teeth into it. Just one bite, a strange almost nutty flavor to the meat of her heart, strange and evil as it was. Then both the priestess and half breed collapsed onto the ground, world filled with darkness.

Ioxera wasn’t sure how she felt about any of it. She was strangely removed from the entire scenario: So much death, so much blood, eventually numbness overtook you and that was that. But to see the last member of her fang…the one she had always thought would die first collapse to the ground, her feet charged forward.

“Tinnok!”

It was the first time she had ever said her real name, and she slid through grime beside the half breed, grasping her body and praying to Dira that she had only taken that abomination of a priestess…not her abomination…

[Razkar]

The male heard the Myrian charge forwards and swung about with his mace, but it was too late. Razkar had already closed the gap, and though the thick shaft of the weapon slammed in to his side, the head did not, and what was one more rib in his condition?

His blow, however... that was on target.

With a roar that blew blood and bile and rage against scales, he sunk the sword as deep into the Dhani's chest as it could go. The beast reared back, nearly falling from the impact, the pain, the shock, the sheer weight of Razkar pressing on him. The Myrian held grimy on, twisting and tearing the broken blade inside the creature's rbcage, feeling meat and muscle and organs ripped and shredded-

-until the Dhani's had snapped forwards and bit into his shoulder.

Razkar howled and let go of the sword, suspended in the air by the thrashing Dhani. His eyes wide and half-mad, he looked down at the Dhani's face-

-and sank his own teeth into his nose and eyes.

Shrieking, snarling, spasming and agonized both, the Myrian and the Dhani were locked together in death agonies... but one would come faster to Dira. heart pierced by the ruined blade, the male sank slowly down, thick yellow blood pouring from the hole, fangs lessening...

Razkar ripped his mouth away, taking an eyeball with it and most of its nose. The creature sank down, tail curled about it weakly, hate still raging inside its remaining eye but body now unable to match it. Panting, swaying, heart pounding in his ears but fainter than he would like, Razkar ripped the sword clear, collapsed across the Dhani's body, blade first-

-and rammed it clear through its face.

His body seemed to fall away, spent and exhausted and deciding it had no further use. Razkar was aware of his breathing, but that was all. He could not even turn his head, resting as it was on the blood-slick, dessicated chest of the Dhani. He wanted to stand... or did he? So tired... so much pain, no wonder his body was dulling itself.

Chest. Ribs. Shoulder. Arm. All bleeding, battered, bruised, even broken. So weak... Goddess, how he hated it, but you could only fight you biology for so long. His eyes worked, though. They worked fine.

Razkar saw Tinnok take her victory and her prize from that cursed High Priestess, sinking her teeth into it before falling herself. He hoped the Dhani bitch (no, the one who'd been cutting him... no, the other one) lived long enough to see that, to know she had been defeated, her children wiped out and her lair soon to be sealed forever.

Tinnok did not rise again, but Razkar saw the blurry shape of Ioxera rush to her side, and something like surprise flickered in him. Only now, at her death, did the Fang Leader see Tinnok for what she was.

A loyal warrior... a loyal Myrian.

More shapes and shadows around them. The Dark Water clan going from Dhani to Dhani, striking and stabbing blades into hearts and heads, just to be sure. The War Mistress Ysir was issuing short, terse commands, pointing and gesturing, but Razkar saw... something...

"Raz! Male, do you yet live?"

Another shape bent down, blocking it all out... and Razkar smiled weakly into the inked and concerned face of Erama. His eyes flickered down and he thought, rather than felt, his eyebrows rise.

"Think I... got a... career... onna' stage...?"

Erama's laugh was so hollow and choked that it could have ended in tears, but then her arms slid under his shoulders, pulling him up into a sitting position. He could see cuts and bruises on her body, but this female? Indestructible. She grinned proudly at him, rolling her eyes.

"Still you jest? With Dira whispering in your ear? Petching male."

"You know... you love it..."

More was unfolding beyond them, and now Razkar could see a little better. Ioxera was barking at Ysir and her warriors, holding Tinnok with one arm and gesturing with the other. Erama was still talking but Razakr was only half-listening.

He was watching. He watched as Ysir's features tightened, and she turned to her warriors. Orders were issued and most of them trooped out, hurrying to obey their War Mistress. Razkar frowned. There were but a handful left, and they were older warriors. Faces grim and set, even in victory.

Something is wrong.

"She fought well." Tinnok said proudly, trying to heave Tinnok to her feet, tiny smile on her face. "I taught her well, after all."

Ysir walked closer, spear in her hand. Razkar felt a nameless dread rise in him. He knew it was wrong. Erama had her back to Ysir, trying to find his wounds, jabbering and talking.

She is wrong!

"Yes," Ysir said, genuine sadness in her voice, "She fought well. They all did... so I am truly sorry for this."

"Era-!"

Erama's face darkened and then... crumpled. Her body jerked, utter shock making her mouth fall open... as she looked down, almost afraid... and saw the spear head piercing her chest, impaling her heart... and Razkar saw Ysir holding it.

"But Taloba cannot know of our shame."

She ripped the spear clear and Erama fell against Razkar, whose strength had returned with utter, raging grief. He reached up even as his shoulder groaned against him, one arm under her shoulder, the other cupping her face, chest warmed again by flowing blood.

More of it dribbled from her mouth, and her eyes began to dim, the fierce light that he had seen in them year after year fading like a torch caught in a sudden storm...

"Era!" He croaked, emotion cracking his voice like stone under a hammer. He shook her, bloody hand spreading crimson over her tattoos. "Era?!"

"Wh... What...?"

And with that, she died.

[Tinnok]

oocBRILLIANT!

"Has there not been enough death this day, you bitch?!"

Ioxera was a wiry woman, dozens of earrings hanging from her ears, hair knotted up, and black eyes fierce. She had such a strange pride for this motley band that had survived this attack...and now Erama, such a promising female to be cut down with nary a word...not even a chance.

She shook Tinnok. "I am sorry, abomination, but you cannot rest, not with creatures worse than Dhani about." She lay the half breed to the ground, splashing foul water upon her face and turning to Ysir.

"I am sad you have chosen an even greater dishonor for yourself and those that serve under you Ysir, to be forsaken by Myri, to be shunned. And I hope when you open your eyes and are born again, you find them slitted, and for the rest of your days find yourself cut down by the true Myrians that live on beyond you."

She was strong, she was ready, and from her back the warrior drew two long blades, thing and strange, from a foreign land. She loved her club, but it was time for her katanas to dance. The older warriors moved forward, and there was no response. Ioxera glanced toward Razkar, a finality in her gaze.

"Tell her that I am sorry, male."

"No Need."

The voice was cracked and dry, but it was there. Tinnok was so tired...oh so tired, but the dagger was in her grasp, and her shoulders rolled, neck cracking. She looked at Erama's strong and limber body, crumpled upon the ground, and she did feel sadness then. It was not right what had happened to her...they would pay.

Tinnok stepped forward, and the three remaining warriors made an arrow pointed at the five or so warriors. She smiled bitterly. "How does it feel to have less honor than an abomination, scum?"

That was when they charged forward. Ioxera was a whirling dervish of steel and strength. It was a good thing too, for her back up was in serious need of back up. Tinnok dashed forward, curved blade swiping horizontally towards an older male Myrian holding a double sided axe. He jumped back then took his turn to slice at her, the half-breed toppling clumsily backward to dodge the blow, catching the shaft of the axe upon the curved blade of her dagger. She pulled the male close and rammed her head into his. The advantage of being in so much pain was the move barely even dazed her as the man staggered backwards and she rent the contents of his stomach open, watching with satisfaction as his innards spilled forth to join the gory mess of the floor.

"For Myri!" She cried, her voice cracking with pain.

She moved in closer and punch a female in the gut who was swiping dangerously close to Ioxera's side. She watched Razkar sweep into the midst of the other warriors, weary but still so strong. The half-breed took a deep breath and kicked a knee cap, wondering vaguely if the others returned and wished the same end for them... how they would never make it out.

She simply couldn't stand being this close, but still so far from the light of the entrance of this hollow and dead hole. The sheer frustration and unfairness of this battle flowed like a strange elixir through her blood as she surged forward.

So when she saw the archer in the shadows of the hall draw their bow and aim the half breed screamed. She saw them pause and concentrate on the moment. Her legs pumped, but she had no strength to truly run. So she swam through debris over the field of carnage, screaming Ioxera's name, and the fierce warrior did not hear her. She had already cut down one of the experieinced warriors and was dueling Ysir one on one. Then the barbed shaft of the arrow plopped itself into the center of her chest and Tinnok snarled. She knocked blades aside and slashed at arms and legs, and reached the tunnel. The archer sought to draw another arrow but the half breed had pulled back her arm with the curved dagger and sent it flying forward long before the bow was brought up. It wasn't a clean hit as a regularly shaped dagger would have been, and plunged at an odd angle into the archer's neck. The Myrian struggled to removed the knife, but Tinnok was there, and punched the warrior in the face, knocking his legs out form under him, and kneeling upon his shoulders.

Her fists hammered into his face again and again, rending flesh and making his entire head toss and turn with each blow.

Ioxera refused to fall, and the fear that she had seen in the eyes of he Dhani grasped at Ysir's aged features.

[Razkar]

The words would not enter his ears. All was just shadow and shade to Razkar as he looked down at Erama's dead face. He felt his body shaking, old and buried grief bubbling through him.

He saw another female in his arms. Older. Even stronger. As proud and fierce and wise a Myrian female as he had ever known.

Yurta. She had died in his arms, too, his own mother. He could not save her, and had made peace with that. But now? Erama? And at the hands of his own kind...

Slowly, his teeth grew closer, until they ground so loud even Ysir could hear them. Trembles of shock became ripples of rage, coursing through, sheer, unbridled fury pulling him to his feet. His eyes were wide and his pupils wider, so it seemed in the shadowy light that he only had pitch darkness to see with.

Razkar rose like the wrath of Myri, holding an ax and a broken sword, and even the old warriors who stood before him glanced nervously-

"DIIIIIIIIIIIE!"

His scream crashed through the brief silence and he charged forwards with Tinnok and Ioxera, swinging his weapons madly, without care or concern as to what or whom they hit. A weather female blocked his swing with her spear, but the blade cut through the yew as if it were nothing, though it bought her time, hand grasping a dagger-

-only for a howling Razkar to stab his broken sword through her guts, ripping it upwards and shattering ribs, leaving it buried in her as she toppled backwards, innards and lungs exposed, pulsing, falling.

His cry still rushed around the cave like the fury of ancients. One long, howling, raging, tear-soaked scream of agonized anger that deafened those around him and made it so he could barely hear what else transpired.

A male closed to him, grim-faced and not afraid of this boy, swiping at him with a dagger, getting under his guard. Razkar swayed to the side and slashed with his ax but the male was more limber than he looked, ducking low, slashing lower-

-putting Razkar to his knees with a slash across his injured kneecap, sending fire ripping through his leg-

-but not enough to quench his rage as he swung the ax almost at floor-level-

-and took the male's foot off.

The Myrian screamed as he hopped comically, falling down to one knee-

-as Razkar backhanded the ax just as low, hammering it into his crotch and twisting it with sheer sadism. The male's eyes popped open so wide Razkar was sure they would fall out of his head, feeling his manhood and eggs ripped apart and crushed by the agonizing blow-

-Razkar reared back and punched him in the throat, leaving him to gurgle to death without hope and without a cock in the darkness of the cave.

But there was still more to do. The four warriors had fallen or were falling, but Ysir and Ioxera still dueled. An arrow flew into the Fang Leader's chest but she just grunted, blood trickling from her lip. Ysir was wary now, spear held ready, circling her, voice a low, calm rasp despite the fear in her eyes.

"Taloba would punish us beyond measure for this!" She hissed, trying to convince those she would murder of her righteousness. "We always knew there was evil there, but we could not defeat it! It lay too deep and too long in the darkness. Only with the Storm did-"

"Did you parley with them?"

The question was the only one that mattered, and Razkar heard it plain even though it was half-gurgled through Ioxera's blood-filled mouth. There was a silence in the cavern for a moment, as Ysir's face fell.

"... I did what I had to."

Ioxera smiled, as if given the correct answer.

"Then Myri's judgement is upon thee."

She flew at the War Mistress and Ysir was quick on her feet for an older female, lithe and cunning with her spear. The long weapon kept Ioxera at a distance as she jabbed and whirled, Tinnok and Razkar too exhausted and too knowing to interfere.

This was a blood duel. Only two could fight. Only one would live.

But the spear was still, ultimately, just wood, and with two strokes that took most of her strength, Ioxera slashed it into pieces, Ysir backing up against the altar, hand flashing to her belt-

-as Ioxera screamed, heedless of all danger, katana raised high as she lunged-

-Tinnok screamed a warning, hand raised-

-and the katana buried itself in Ysir's chest, slamming through muscle and skin and bone and striking sparks on the blood-stained altar...

Silence. Labored breathing. Panting. Breath slowing... Ysir's body realizing that it's time was done... and letting go of the dagger she held, that had pierced deep into Ioxera's stomach.

"My clan..."

"They are not yours." Ioxera spat, even as he legs failed her and she slid down with Ysir, Tinnok bounding towards her, or as much as she could with her wounds. "They are Myri's. Her children. The day you forgot that... you damned them..."

A tear escaped the old female's eyes, though her face was still hardened. Then her head slowly lolled backward, mouth open... coming to a halt under the shaft of blinding light. She exhaled her final breath into it... and that was that.

Razkar tried to rise, but he could not, so grievous were his wounds. So he hobbled, and crawled, and rolled sometimes, until he reached Ioxera. Tinnok was already there.

Nothing else stirred in the blood-splattered and corpse-strewn cave. Death and betrayal and evil and horror soaked every surface, Razkar realizing now why Caiyha had been so poisoned by what had happened down here. But it was over, he told himself, even as he sat back and felt more blood ooze out of him.

It's over...

[Tinnok]

“Make sure you add in the part where I outlasted that bitch Rekhuna….” Ioxera’s smile was filled with blood and Tinnok grasped her hand tightly as Razkar limped over. Her fang leader’s eyes were becoming glassy, a certain euphoria taking over her body as the final throes of death came to claim her. “I know it doesn’t matter, snake, that it is too late…but I am sorry.”

Tinnok shook her head. “Don’t blubber, Mistress it doesn’t suit you.”

“Shut the petch up bitch, and let me speak.” Tinnok couldn’t help but smile.

“Myri should be thankful your mother didn’t cut you out of her womb…and male…” She glanced up at him, head lolling. “You are as brave a soul as I have seen…”

She coughed and spat, and opened her mouth to say something more, but it was already the end. Tinnok sighed softly. “May Dira and Myri guide you to the next life, Mistress.”

Her body felt empty, sore, tired and utterly devoid. She looked up at Razkar, then around the stinking mess of the cavern and hung her head for a moment in prayer. Then she tried to stand. She glanced at Razkar. “I will only aid with the Tigress, Ioxera, and Erama, the rest? They can petching burn with the Dhani and the traitors.”

Her words were harsh, but her other fang mates bred no love, and only slightly more respect from her, and she held by her thoughts when she woke bound in that small chamber…their fates were deserved, a strange and sick justice of the universe played out. Their fang leaders, the tattooed feral cat of a woman, they did not deserve to be burned with the rest of this filth. She rose slowly off of the ground, eye lids heavy. She lay Ioxera down upon the Dais, and went down to Rekhuna, who was soaking in the filth. She was long dead, but Tinnok would not regret what the tigress had seen in her last moments. She had done it to live…so both of them could live. “Fierce as a tiger till the end, Mistress. Perhaps you will serve Myri’s shadow army in death. If not I look forward to seeing a young female who hates my guts with your fervor.” Razkar was silently lifting the body even as she spoke, and the two of them worked in silence to bring each of the three great women into the ante chamber down the hallway. It was grueling work, but they would accept no help from the Dark Water clan. In the eyes of those two weary warriors…they had done more than enough.

Tinnok took oil to the chamber, stopping only to retrieve the obsidian dagger which had saved her life tenfold in that one day, and to cut a fang from the priestess. She looked upon that horrid room, an affront to all things natural, representing so much hate and treachery, and she smiled coldly as Razkar lit it and the entirety of the cavern went up in flames. It would take more to cleanse this space…but it was a start.

A ceremony was to be held that evening for their fallen comrades, and the faces of the village were gaunt with sorrow and hate. There were no congratulations or thanks given to the two haggard warriors from Taloba, who had exposed such treachery and deceit, and brought the death of so many. Just as well, for Tinnok wasn’t in a social mood. She made her way to the clear stream by the cavern entrance, given bandages and salve from the healer’s tent. She needed serious tending, but something felt wrong about letting their clan’s fingers touch any part of her. So instead she stood in the clear stream, watching rivulets of red flow slowly away from her body and dissipate in the stream. Truly it was a picture of this day, the red representing all the one’s that she had known, all dead save for the Eagle. Her whole body shook to even picture this day if he had perished as well…

And then she heard the shifting of grass behind her, turned to see him, just as bruised and bloody as she, just as tired.

“Razkar…” The word felt strange in her mouth. Just as Ioxera had only once called Tinnok by her name, she preferred the nickname to his true moniker.

“I know little of medicine, but I know you shouldn’t be bleeding out on the grass like that.”

Of course…that was precisely what she was doing in the stream…but that didn’t need to be pointed out. The half-breed gingerly splashed some water upon her arms, wondering vaguely if the red would stain her skin forever. But it slid off of her, dried and caked, imbedded in her flesh, but moveable. She bent, cringing in pain as the gashes upon her back split open and bled anew, more red joining the stream.

[Razkar]

The rest of the day seemed like one long epitaph to Razkar. Ioxera's passing. The cleansing by fire of the cave and its ancient, evil altar, the chilling acolytes that they left hewn around it. The slow, torturous, endless march through the passageways to the light. The hard and knowing faces of the Dark Water, the younger generation, who were shocked and grief-stricken to know of their elders' treachery.

The pyres... Razkar hardly believed it was real. The three bodies, swaddled in mourning clothes, that laid side by side on a bed of kindling. The fires that ate upwards, inch by inch, until they released them. He felt Tinnok move away, and he did not turn his head. He watched... and his lips moved silently...

"Go on to the next world... unto Dira's embrace... and rebirth by the grace and love of the Goddess-Queen..."

The Matriarch of the Dark Water was a sinewy old mare named Ceriz. She watched the bonfire with respect, but also resentment. Where were her people? Burned like rats in the dark? Eight of her clan, including her War Mistress, did not return from the deep darkness.

And what pained her most of all was that five had fallen to the blades of their siblings, fellow Children of Myri.

"How did we let it go so far...?"

Razkar turned numbly to the elder as she shook her head, her eyes moist and disbelieving. He wanted to dredge up some sympathy for her. Some iota of feeling for an elder who for all her age and wisdom, did not know how to cure the blight that cursed her land, and had...

She parlayed with monsters. She made a truce with abominations that should have been destroyed, even if it meant choking those tunnels with the bodies of the Dark Water. She was weak... and her clan suffers for it.

No. He could find no sympathy for her.

"Taloba will not learn of this."

He heard the rustling of beads and clothing, a dozen heads snapped to his way, but he did not move a fraction. His eyes were fixed on the funeral pyre, granting his Fang Leader, his friend and that unlikely ally Ioxera the honor of watching every moment. But his mind worked, and so did his lips.

"The Council would demand your clan be punished. I know not of what that would entail... but I know the Goddess-Queen is as vengeful as she is wise. For her children to consort so with abominations-"

"We did what-"

"You had to do." Razkar finished, unable to keep the sneer from his voice, uncaring it was an elder and a female he spoke to. He had seen to much blood shed from those he cared for that day to give a Tskanna's cock about that now. "I don't give a petch what your reasons were. You were wrong, and the army of Taloba had to suffer for your weakness. But your clan is strong, and vital for the security of this region. I will not allow Taloba to be weakened further by your decimation... deserved though it might be."

Razkar turned to Ceriz, eyes cold and unafraid, having seen more than he ever wanted to, not just that day, but the weeks before. The Djed Storm. The Blockade. The Deep Darkness. No... he was through being the pliant and subservient male.

He extended a bloodied hand, finger pointed and Ceriz had to draw herself tight not to flinch.

"Taloba owns you now, Elder. From your babes to your Elders. No more compromises. No more deals with those unfit to walk our Jungle. I will spare you destruction and judgement by the Goddess-Queen... and in return, you will become the Children that you were always born to be."

A wave of emotion rushed through the group. Some of the younger generation seemed to swell with a challenge to their pride, but he could see eyes that wanted to rise to that challenge, erase the shame of the past. The Elders... he saw anger in their eyes, but acceptance. They would get no better deal, and they knew it. Still...

"And what if," Ceriz said slowly, eyes narrowing slightly, "You do not make it back to Taloba?"

A hush... and then Razkar laughed. High and loud and thoroughly amused. When it stopped, his hands were at his weapons. His smile was feral now, eyes glinting with a confidence that belied his battered body. But when he spoke, all amusement was stripped from his voice, making the smile all the more jarring.

"A nest of Dhani tried. They failed. A clutch of your oldest warriors and your War Mistress tried. They failed, too. I think we can manage a trip back to Taloba." He took one step forward and let his voice sink low and smooth and... and mirroring that of that damned High Priestess. "And those that would bar our return will taste Myri's wrath... as will their kin and their clan, with such vengeance that it will be as though they never existed."

He did not wait for any further answer or retort. He had bandied words long enough and was weakened, tired, hungry... so weakened. Razkar gritted his teeth and forced himself to limp with some dignity to the edge of the village square, the bodies now just ash...

And tore a handful of clothes from a line as he passed them.

He found Tinnok at the stream. She was waist-deep in the water and he could barely make out the blue for the red. She was cut in a dozen places, just as he, and he was glad he remembered to grab the cloth that they would both need for their wounds.

Razkar waded into the water, stripping of clothes and weapons, chuckling hoarsely at her "greeting".

"I'm pretty sure you shouldn't resemble a side of beef..."

Without any sexual tingle passing between them, he began to wash her wounds in the lukewarm water. Whenever he found a cut or laceration - and there were many - he would tear off a strip and bandage it. It took nearly a bell, and by the time it was over, there was more cloth exposed on her than flesh.

He chuckled, cocking and eyebrow, some kind of return of the Eagle that she knew in eyes that had aged too much in too short a time.

"Much better. Not carrying your fat rear all the way back to Taloba..."

He turned and allowed her to do the same for him. When she began, he was silent, and he knew she would notice. His mind warred, unsure of what do say... but knowing that he must. They had to be of one accord, for only two of them would return.

AS she began to wash him, Razkar told her of what he had said to Ceriz.

[Tinnok]

“You are stronger than I.”

Tinnok wet a scrap of cloth that he had given to her and began to clean out his cuts and scrapes, paying close attention to the ones that she had given him in particular. Gingerly and patiently she applied the salve unto the wounds, making sure it seeped into split flesh before wrapping bandages and strips of cloth in equal measure around his limbs. The half breed took time to massage cramped muscles as well, kneading them out so that changes in pressure wouldn’t disrupt bandages she applied. It was a strangely intimate moment, though neither reacted in kind. She would not have spoken to them, addressed what they had done. She would have been content to let them rot in their village…after she had worked to remove the taint on Caiyha’s land that they had helped create… She had no sympathy just as she had none for their warriors burning with the Dhani scum.

Once he was dressed bandage wise Tinnok slipped from the cold clear water, wanting for some true clothing. Just as he had pilfered from the lines, she did as well, and sent death glares to any that thought to glance her way. She threw Razkar a loin cloth, the only true apparel he would need, giving herself something to aptly cover her breasts with.

And back her feet went into the clear water. “I have to stay a little longer…the land is sick, and has long needed care. I will have to check the rest of the caverns for taint, and help nurture the land, probably will have to make them help me, though I would prefer to tend to Caiyha’s needs alone…”

She paused and looked up at him, eyes tired and weary, but filled with purpose. “My military service is nearly over…and I will be spending the rest of it here.” She said it with finality. The military officials in Taloba be damned, this is what she needed to do.

“But I don’t like the idea of you traveling to Taloba alone…I don’t trust these petchers.” Strange, she thought, knowing what it felt like to feel like to be on the other end of that hate. But no…she was not judging them upon their blood, but by their actions. They proved that they could have killed the Dhani, but had not…fools. Tinnok fingered the ceremonial dagger, and glanced toward Razkr’s own armament. “That is fine piece of metal you have, and I should know.” She smirked, her Tempered Steel status didn’t oft come into play. The simple joy of a fine weapon was something she could cling to in these times, however, and so she did.

“Eagle…” All her words danced around what she wanted to say, but just as Razkar had aptly observed not too long ago when she had slapped his shoulder, Tinnok did not often expose herself in a way that had the potential to leave open wounds. A life in Falyndar could make one hard and harsh, and she had learned that it was better to build walls around herself than tear them down. This needed to be said though, but she was too much of a coward to meet his gaze.

“Thanks for keeping me alive down there…If it had been anyone else…” She let the statement hang in the fresh warm air.

If it had been Chinra, Rekhuna, Erama, Gaest? She surely would have perished at the hands of the Dhani, hopeless and alone…but not with the support of the Eagle. He would have had his loyal support no matter what. He was a strong true blooded male, and regardless of gender had proven himself time and time again. She had no illusions of his own feelings on the matter, but still knew she would burn with the weight of her debt to him if it wasn't voice. It was said, and the silence hung between them, Tinnok breathed through her nose and folded her arms, gazing off into the early night sky.