Closed [Guest ST] Dug Too Deep

[Razkar]

Bloody, but unbowed...

The phrase could have been an eternal description for The Horde. Its Alpha was dead and headless, its numbers decimated, members confused, trapped in the darkness of a collapsing cave... and yet...

New thoughts or urges collided with instincts as snarling bodies did the same. The bloody scrap with the interlopers to their domain had hardened then in that queer hive mind way that all Yukmen adapt. Their numbers were fewer, but they had adapted... learned... and now a few glow worms high in the cavern caught gleams of gems and shale gouged into dirty flesh as...

Movements began to still... or mostly. Two hulking figures had found each other, drawn like ions, inexorably. The two largest of The Horde, and the smaller minions watched in near-silence as they roared and screeched and slashed and hacked and battered each other into raw stones, or-

-one grabbed a heavier stone, ripped it loose, swung-

-but his opponent ducked, lashing out as the arm flew over its head-

-grabbing a handful of throat, squeeing, jerking-

-ripping it out with a fountain of black and muddy blood. His enemy gasped, then gurgled as his chest glittered suddenly with streaming, smelly liquid... then collapsed. The Horde tensed and still utterly. One, vast breath was taken...

"YUKYUKYUKYUKYUKYUKYUK!"

... and then the new Alpha exhaled it with a mad, endless barrage of their one known word, bloody hands raised high to an unknown and awful deity (perhaps). Then they began to swarm again, crushing into narrow passages around the wrecked and blocked main one, seeking height, following fresh blood... Syna. Something urged the Alpha now; inherited memories, perhaps, or just Caiyha's oldest imperative to all her children.

The surface. The light. Where all that lived could be found... and all they could slaughter and destroy awaited them.

++++++++++

"I petching heard it again."

"We all did, no reason to stop doing yer job..."

The last word had barbs in it, not to mention venom, threat and a glare that could have melted steel. The bandit kept doing as he was told, not wishing to risk his master's ire any further. This one was... very particular. Very strict. He reminded Jak of those handful of tutors he'd had in the orphanage; every situation that didn't meet their approval was beaten or scolded into submission. But Heinrich didn't put the scares into him as much as... it.

He knew the thing had a name, of course. No-one cared, though. They didn't care to ask, wonder or even go near the thing. Mattered hair and fur sprang from everywhere save the black and scarred face, eyes burning like coals drenched in lamp oil. A pair of gnarled and ugly stumps at its back were mute and grisly testament to the glorious ebon wings that had once been there.

No longer. The Zith had been... "purified". Made less than sentient in the eyes of its kin, and driven near-mad by the horror of such a thing. Where the boss had picked him up - or how he'd convinced it to work for them - Jak did not know, nor did he want to.

A dozen ready bandits scurried back and forth, eagerly squabbling and dividing plunder... but the Zith did not move. It just squatted by the cave's maw and watched... sniffing... breathing...

Then it hissed.

Heinrich turned in a flash; he'd long-since learned to trust it's senses. He strode over and the Zith waited a few ticks before looking up into that hard, cold face.

"What is it?"

"... more meat..." The thing said in a voice like a sword scraped over stone. "... five... six... meat from before... come back... in the tunnel..."

Black eyes turned back to black tunnel, as if the two were engaging in a staring contest. The Zith inhaled and the sweet, delicious scent of fresh blood dance up its nostrils... but more was crowding the pleasure.

"They wait. Come out soon."

"Why do you think?"

"Earth men come."

Now everyone was paying attention. You didn't need an anthropology degree to understand what the filthy, vicious abomination meant by that phrase: earth men, earth demon, Caiyha's hounds, whatever you wanted to call Yukmen, it was pretty plain. All ears strained as weapons were unsheathed, the pitiful band of surviving spelunkers nearly forgotten as a far more dangerous enemy was-

"Quiet!"

Heinrich hissed and the ground was still. Even the horses ceased their confused snuffling, wondering why these new humans were taking such an interest in them. It didn't seem right; the old humans were very picky about them.

But then even the horses quavered fearfully. The caverns... the handful of tunnels surrounding them... they started to moan. Sounds like screams and crying and laughter all mingled and crushed together blew and frothed from them. Washed over the slowly-stewing clutch of bandits until-

"W'ere leaving." Heinrich said. "Finish up, get the horses loaded and hitched, then move. Now!"

"And the survivors?"

"Fuck 'em. They ain't coming..."

OOCOK, so the Yukmen are finding new ways to the surface, the bandits are momentarily distracted... but you can probably guess how long that'll last if a certain group of P'd off travelers re-emerges. Looking forward to your replies, but remember, Seng: you are badly wounded and physically exhausted. You go Conan again relying solely on adrenaline, it won't go well for you.

[Kaie]

The emergence of a weary Senghor caused the Myrian to wheel around maliciously, gladius clutched and already beginning to rise to strike the intruder down, the woman silently cursing herself for turning her back to begin with. The mere sight of him caused a momentary stab of guilt to twist into her gut. Lips parted and eyes dilated in silent shock and bewilderment. Just when she had left a seemingly lost cause behind, he hobbled back to rejoin them as if his sole purpose was to spite her judgement. At least his first exclamations weren't ones of completely justified disdain for her.

He chose to stop in the face of the swarm and fight the Alpha. That was his crazy choice, not yours. Don't you dare forget you came here to be paid and protect the men here, not babysit zealous men who all want to be heroes. Get a petchin' grip.

Her lips pressed against each other again into a hard line, eyes narrowing in thought. The guy was right. The group needed to get a move on. They had waited for their guards to returned and here they were. Even the olive skinned man, whom she had thought was overcome in the swarm as well, had raced back to them from some other opening. Still, there was little time for a plan and their options were limited. It appeared to her that they needed to take the men waiting for them by storm. Then it was time to recover what supplies and transportation they could before getting the petch out of there.

"Yukmen wait for us here. Thieves wait outside. If they're still out there, it means they have our things still. Supplies and horses. I don't know about you guys, but I'd rather take my chances fighting men with weapons for a chance at a horse, rather than stumble through the woods with the rest of that horde behind me," She raced out hastily, Common probably tainted by her thick accent and sheer speed of spoken word. Like everything else, what was said was rushed out. Ironically, it was exactly what they should be doing, too. Only moments later (and right on cue), a new Alpha emerged with an earth shattering battle cry. She had had enough.

Kaie shifted her sights about the group, finding all their weathered faces before setting her jaw and pushing past them. No point in deliberating who would chance taking the first arrow. There was no time for short stick. Since she offered up the rationality, she deserved to blaze the trail out. And so she ran. Feet sprung against the cold tunnel ground in soft echoes in the direction of the opening. Where Syna whispered sweetly to her promises of liberation and salvation from the horrors below. It would've given off such a rush of relief and utter joy had it not been tainted with the reality of what camped in wait.

The woman felt her heart race, body pulsate with the massive release of adrenaline as the light seared at her unaccustomed eyes. And when she had finally come to the precipice of darkness, Kaie swallowed what fear came with anticipation. And as her eyes began to adjust to the new assault of radiant light, she did something that would appear odd to those who watched. She zig-zagged. Left and right, two steps one way and then a random three in the other direction. A single bolt flew like an eagle from a readied thief that had been waiting for such opportunity. Yet in the wake of one of Kaie's sudden V-cuts, it missed the slender target and panged sinfully off stone. Apparently, such an unorthodox running pattern had value that she was aware of.

Rage built in her heart at the scene that sat before her. Bandits armed and baiting her, comrades and their mangled corpses slewn about where Dira had reaped them. Supplies looted and horses taken from their designated places to have their reigns held by a member of the rag-tag crew that had wronged her. And somehow through all that hatred for their very existences, her unspoken curses that damned each to the darkest void, she almost stopped right in her war path. Her bee line for the crossbow wielder was forgotten as if he had never existed at all. As if he had never made an attempt on her life. Petch, she had forgotten all of them like they weren't about to slaughter them all on the spot. All but one.

Kaie's breath caught, eyes widened and her features were contorted with pain. Flashing memories of cries, beating wings, and whispered goodbyes from bloodied lips wrecked havoc upon her. Her world spun and in that moment the Myrian woman was brain washed. Whatever calm and collected front she had before was gone. Pent up anger and grief let loose to strangle rational thoughts, giving into primal rage. Her superego faded out of existence, and with nothing there to imprison it, the id controlled what came next. The very moment she set eyes on the monstrosity, everything changed.

Even without the wings she was no fool to what it really was. It was a monster, a murderer, and nothing more than a beast to be hunted and eradicated. And like her ancestors did in the jungles preceding her time, she would continue the genocide here. She would punish the wingless heathen for its race's trespasses with no more mercy than its kin had granted her own. Kaie had not forgotten the ill fated day in Cyphrus. It haunted her everyday she awoke with nothing but a sword to prove he ever was. There is something dark and twisted that happens inside the soul when a daughter witnesses the slaughter of their father. There was no thought of ever contemplating if she hated the Zith for starting the blood bath, or if it was herself she loathed simply for being inadequate to make enough difference.

"I will mount your head on his grave beside your brothers!" She yowled her battle cry in nothing less than a furious scream calling for vengeance. With her gladius raised and teeth bared in an animal-like fashion, nothing could turn her from her course. Kaie would paint her body in its blood or fertilize this ground with her own. There was no other way. And she would have her revenge.

[Senghor Vilhjalmr]

As he leaned against the cold, sweating jagged walls of the earth, his senses seemed confused, his thoughts were the only things he could grasp too, they were the only things that could keep him standing. 'I wonder how much a lousy story and a few battle scars sell for in Sunberth...' he thought darkly as he chuckled openly, he didn't care at that moment, he was too sore to give a rats ass. 'Maybe... Maybe I should have just taken the simpler jobs, something that would have ended up with less pain, more pay...' he kept preaching within the confines of his thoughts, with each throb came the drumming melody of his heart, causing him to wince and slip slightly. Nearly falling forward he kept a steady stance and looked up towards the myrian, he hadn't truly taken in much of her during the expedition yet from the looks of it, she was simply a child fallen into this nonsense like the rest of them. Senghor brought his hand to his side and stepped forward, inching cautiously not to end up stumbling into falling into the embrace of unconsciousness, at that moment he was wondering how long he'd probably be out like a lantern, a couple of hours, days, a week or two? Ah, who cared when he heard another surge of rumblings within the earth he didn't care anymore, he just listened to what the girl had to say and decided to go with it... Better to take on something that can stay dead and unwilling take on an army. He watched as she raced out and soon followed, his feet still had some life in them and luckily so did the rest of him. Adrenaline was euphoric, surreal and powerful for mammal, it is what allows to great eagle to hunt and kill mercilessly, the beasts of there great land to adapt, survive and evolve. Maybe that's how Senghor worked, maybe he was an adaptive human and thanks to his father, surviving through such situations was within, it was an inherited strain that allowed him to survive Sunberth and if he could survive there, sure as hell he could survive anywhere. It was when the myrian stepped out through the sheet of light that Seng stepped forward, he knelt slowly within the embrace of the darkness within the mouth of their exit and watched, observed. Her agility allowed her to swiftly dodge a crossbow bolt, and kept moving forward... But then, a cease came from her as if she wanted death to calm her but than there was something Seng saw coming from her body, something he was all too familiar with, rage... And than the melody of vengeance was sung from her lips, a deep song that he knew, that he could relate too. It was the Ode of Vengeance, she made sure everyone around them, friend or foe heard her. At that moment all thoughts stored within the mind of the mind faded momentarily, he inclined his head back to look at the group left behind before turning back to the young woman outside, his curiosity became the best of the Vilhjalmr as he watched all but forgotten the 'plan'...

[Crypt]

A Zith.

Crypt hissed under his breath. A broken Zith, no less.

What travesty is this? How dare they remove the wings? I can understand the logic behind it - to prevent it from escaping, but something as cruel as that? Bah.

He shook his head, attempting to get the rage-filled thoughts out of his mind. He himself considered freedom to be of much value, and the thought of seeing a creature bound to the earth, when it could have been flying in the air above, had rattled him.

But only for a moment. He reminded himself that Zith had preyed on many a Drykas and Akalak since after the Valterrian, that they were not very good. Perhaps it was an understatement, but the two Zith he had an opportunity to interact with were at least courteous enough not to tear out his heart when he first spoke to them.

He moved on, taking a higher position in order to determine the bandits' numbers.

Approximately fifteen. Crossbows, swords and daggers. A shortbow here and there. No armour I can see except leather. Too much for me to handle. And the Zith can scent me if I go upwind of it.

He licked his index finger and held it out, gauging the direction of the wind.

That'd be... southwest? Good enough. Wind's blowing towards me. Hope it doesn't change.

He snatched another glance at the other two mercenaries that were still alive. The female Myrian had worked herself into a rage, while the other berserker - he could call him no less - appeared to be weary, but still managed to hold himself up, tall and proud.

No time to lose. If we want to get out of there alive, I'll have to act fast. Ah. Look. They're going to run away from the Yukmen.

He could take advantage of that.

Carefully climbing down from the ledge he was perched on, Crypt moved off towards the bandits' horses. He could not bear to harm the horses in any way, though cutting the tendons of the horses would be the fastest and most efficient way to stop the bandits from leaving, and as such would assault the bandits themselves.

He maneuvered himself around the Zith and two men in charge of it, careful to watch his step and leave as little of an impression as possible, although his footsteps would be visible at a certain angle.

He noted the trail of footsteps and his shadow. He couldn't do anything about the footsteps, but he could hide his shadow. At least for a little while.

Ionu help me here. I can't maintain such control over my illusions for long.

He withdrew his dagger when near one of the more isolated men.

Unfortunately, he had forgetten (and even if he had remembered, he wouldn't be able to cloak it) that his dagger would be visible to his next victim.

The bandit was able to give a loud cry of alarm at seeing a dagger floating in mid-air before the panicking Crypt, his illusions dissolving from his body like sludge, leaped at him and stabbed him in the face, cutting through the nose's cartilage.

Crypt snatched his crossbow from where it had fallen, along with a few stray bolts, then bolted for the nearest possible cover, which happened to be a stone formation.

In the few seconds he was exposed, Kaie, Senghor and the other bandits could see him running like hell towards the dense vegetation of the Everstone Forest even as a body fell to the ground, rolling some distance towards the twain.

A crossbow bolt caught him in the right leg, right in the middle of his calf.

Crypt stumbled out of sight, letting out a screech which halfway transitioned into a manly shout of pain. He still had his image in mind, and he would not sacrifice his own masculinity simply to scream like a woman.

Then again, there were instances when a man would be allowed to do feminine things.

[Razkar]

"Gods, they just don't know when to fucking die!"

Heinrich snarl was lost to the clamor a moment later as the rest of his band woke up and wised up to the figures streaming from the cave entrance. Well... perhaps "streamed" was a bit much.

One darted, the other slumped to one side like a wounded bear, and the others...

"Blessed Rhysol, look at her g-"

"GO, YOU BASTARD" Wilhelm bellowed, pale face flushed with his last ounce of bravado, finally drawing his bastard sword and filling his other with his dagger. "INTO THEM!"

The Zith ignored the rest. They hurled themselves at the surprised bandits, who were expecting a horde of Yukmen, not a ragged band of half-dead, terrified cave-divers. Swarthy, branded, earring'd cutthroats snarled in response and closed in on them-

-but not the Zith. It narrowed black eyes that blazed red suddenly, glaring at the Myrian that had challenged it.

Like magic, a pair of daggers filled its hands and it screeched a reply that no human voice could ever produce. Even Heinrich winced at the sound of it, but-

Focus, damnit! Pinch this bullshit off now!

"You two!" He snapped at a pair of thugs closest to him, pointing at the bloodied and wearied mass of muscle still by the entrance. "Finish the big one! We'll handle the rest! Leave the cunt to the Zith, and-"

Another screech, but this time very human... and shortly followed by something, shall we say, a little less heroic. Heinrich's head snapped around and saw one of his men collapse without a face, assailant literally appearing from nowhere, sprinting for cover-

-never making it, one of his men taking him down with a lucky crossbow bolt.

"Bugger of a shARGH!"

Jak's praise was cut short by Heinrich's hand grabbing a handful of shirt and jerking him so close he could smell his halitosis. He pointed his scimitar towards the place the running man had vanished and growled: "Go with Jurgen and make sure he's dead! No more fucking loose ends!"

Jax didn't argue, he just squeaked his response and went scuttling off, following the reloading Jurgen as the squat, bearded marksman tromped off into the thick undergrowth. Heinrich stayed put... by the horses... watching... listening...

... feeling the vibrations under his feet...

His eyes widened as he realized what he was feeling. Not the clamor of battle, the clang of steel nor shouts of brawling, cursing, screaming men. Under it all, like a wind coursing through a meadow that heralded a storm, was the distant echo of an echo.

Yuk... yuk... yuk...

"Gods... they're coming..." He licked dry lips and scanned the impromptu battlefield... then let his eyes fall on the Myrian as she clashed with her enemy. He bared his teeth and drew his crossbow from the saddle of his horse. "You're the real threat, aren't you beautiful? Well... soon as I get a shot... you won't be..."

The Zith wouldn't be happy, but since when was that a fucking

OOCCrypt, you've got two to deal with but you're partially hidden for a mo'. Seng, same for you, but luckily they think you're near-dead, so... well, actually, you are, but good luck! Kaie, enjoy your little duel but watch out for Heinrich... and the civvies will fend for themselves but be thee warned: the more of them die, the less the rest will be inclined to protect you, and right now it's eleven-on-seven.

[Kaie]

With the answer of the mangled screech that pierced her ears, Kaie gripped her gladius tight like a weapon of righteous retribution. The very sound rocked her to her core, passing through her as if her body was thin as parchment. Yet her charge did not yield to the proclamation. Her eyes were wide, pupils dilated with adrenaline and loss from reality. The world around the Zith and the Myrian faded to black. And with the manifestation of daggers, the two gladiators took center stage in their own arena. It would be a fight to the bloody end of one or the other. The Myrian would have it no other way.

There was a bloodcurdling scream of a long remembered agony followed by the clash of metal. Her gladius divided nothing but air, the Zith stepping back just in time. Kaie's second wild swing was knocked away with a dagger. Next thing she knew, the two were separated and the sensation of warmth trailed down the side of her face. In the moment of pause, Kaie lifted her fingers to her cheekbone, only to find when she pulled away that her fingertips were coated in red. A slash just along the bone. She looked from her fingers to her opponent in surprise, and then their dance truly began.

Gladius strikes were foiled by clever dagger tricks, short blade edges narrowly dodged by a sudden step off center. Here was her fight, but no matter how hard she worked, how quickly she reacted, the monster was a step ahead. She simply couldn't escape him. Their close shadowing was vicious, leaving Kaie sliced and bloodied in his wake. Now and then she'd compensate for her lack of sword skill with a swift punch when he was open. Overall it just wasn't enough.

The Zith had slashed her well thrice more before the Myrian finally was able to push back. Next time the dagger made an ambitiously wide swipe for her middle, she pressed down upon her pivot heel and twirled outside its range. Instead of countering with a clumsy sword, she continued the rotation and struck into the Zith's side with her heel. The sprung spikes tore along the beast's rib cage to give way to a murderous cry. It pricked her ears in the most sadistically pleasant sort of way.

He hissed malignantly at her, lunging to close the gap once more. Yet now the Myrian had created a small edge for herself. She attacked the wound whenever an opening appeared, but rarely escaped the punishment of her foe. The pivotal point came when the beast rushed her, disarmed her while knocking her down, and mounted her with the daggers hanging over her ominously. He made a jab down at her with the first, but instead stuck it deeply into the earth. She tried to thrash from its grip, to escape, and cause damage in any way she could to liberate herself. In response, the beast merely held her arms down above her head. Trapped. She was at its mercy with nothing but the dirtiest look she could muster, and a look to kill as her weapon.

Call it a lapse of judgement or the excitement of victory so near, but nonetheless the outcome remained. One moment the Zith was hissing something foul in her ear, its jaws nearing her throat in a toxic, wide grin. The next there erupted a savage cry of defiance, hips bucked to send the beast up and over her shoulder. It was then the Myrian tore the Kukri from her back, turned and hacked down with a nasty force upon the back of its skull. Seizing opportunity, she repeated the action even as the beast turned back to face her with daggers raised.

Kaie struck it over and over until it dropped onto its back like a stone. Even then her shrieks did not cease. She fell onto the weakened body and jammed the blade into its face over and over, never satisfied. Never feeling the hole filled as she imagined it could one day be. The revenge never sated, pain of tragedy never dampened. The void was overtaking her into a bottomless pit where she knew naught else what to do. And thus the Kukri rose and fell several more times, the Myrian continuing to yell obscenities down at the flightless bastard. A teenager consumed in her own fires.

But not Heinrich, no. For the moment he spied her, she was to be eliminated. The trouble was that he simply couldn't get a clean shot with the two so closely entwined in battle. Not anymore. With the savage woman sitting atop the mangled corpse completely lost to herself, he knew he wouldn't have a better chance. And so he let the bolt fly...


"Ah, PETCH!" Kaie howled upon impact of the bolt, the force of it knocking her from her kill and onto her side. She rolled onto her back and arched her spine in agony, teeth grit trying to silence a yell."Son of a bitch! Goddess, dammit!" Her strained voice hissed through clenched jaws. She could feel the spot in her right shoulder where the bolt lodged itself soundly in her flesh. Another tally to her wounds, but there was no time to stick around and pity herself. The archer would be reloading. She needed to move. Now!

Hurriedly, she returned the Kukri to its scabbard. Her head turned to her side in search of her father's gladius. It sat several feet away where she was disarmed. So after several deep breaths, she forced her body into a low forward launch with a cry. Shaky feet took off into a hazardous mad dash for the sword. The moment she had it in her hand, Kaie ran to her left pass the cave's mouth to find cover link with the rest. With the echoes of the atrocities below surface bound, the last thing she needed was to be isolated in her condition.

OOCSorry this one's so long, guys! Loose ends coming to surface and I felt as though I needed to try to do that piece of her past some more justice. Did you put the Zith in the mix purposely, Raz? If so, that was clever on your part.

[Senghor Vilhjalmr]

As Seng's eyes shut and than opened, his vision a bit slightly blurred due to the dust that'd entered his eyes (caused by the charging explorers that came behind) , he watched as two human figures came towards him with a very cherry spring in their step. 'Argh... You've gotta be kidding me' he thought darkly as he stood up and felt the very fibres of his desert skinned pull together from stress. He walked out the mouth of the cave Rage reincarnate with his imposing stature, yet that visage quickly fell when he winced and held his side. A growl slipped from his dry lips as he looked at the two bandits, Seng's golden brown eyes followed the man on his right, a dirty looking bastard with dirt colored hair, he's face looked beaten in from fights and he wore leather bound armor, well pieces of it. In his hands a spear with a elongated head still bathed in blood, he grinned and showed the inside of his empty mouth. In an instance the rustle of the footsteps took Seng's attention causing him to look at the other walking piece of shyke sent his way, this guy had ashen skin, too pale. He was quite skinny yet seemed to have the agile between him and his friend, he'd dark hair and eyes that only made him bear the profile of a serial killer. Senghor sighed as he felt his arms weigh him down, he felt as if though he couldn't even lift his longsword. The second bandit drew his dagger and Seng's mind went into overdrive thinking of scenarios, of how this would play out... 'Spearman first, comes in with a thrust, I dodge only to get a dagger in back... Dagger first, comes into for a little stab, I sidestep... Spear in the back...' "Argh!, petch this... C'mon!" he taunted an looked at the hesitation in their eyes, maybe it was large trophy at his side or something else but that slight mistake caused Seng to utilize opponent. He turned towards the dagger wielding bastard and did what his mind only processed at that moment, he ran into him with his elbow, he connected it with the man's face causing him to yelp in pain, Seng spun to the side and watched as his partner reacted to it with a run and thrust of his weapon, instinctively Seng reached out for the dazed man and pulled him, by luck the skinny bandit fell into place like a puzzle piece and the spearhead connected with his side. A roar of pain came from his lips, "Ugh!!!, you stabbed me!!... "Nah... No!... Wait! It wasn't my, Ugh-argh ahh..." there was ungodly gurgling that came from the spearman's reddening mouth as a river of blood flowed out whilst a violent fountain spewed from his open throat, his dying eyes turned to the image of a blood ridden Seng as he tore open his neck with... His partners dagger!... When the spearman pierced into his friends side Seng instinctively capitalized on the situation, when his friend howled in pain he dropped his dagger and all Seng hand to do was sweep it from the embrace of the earth and jab it deeply into his neck, it was a bold and very painful move but it worked. As his partner watched as his friend's throat essence spurt out of his throat it didn't take long for a throbbing in his chest to remind him of Seng, who'd violently removed the blade and only turned it around, in a swift swing it was dug into the chest cavity and nothing more. As the sickening gurgling died down, the flattering of eyes soon followed in a heap of flesh and death. Senghor grunted in pain as his wounds throbbed. He kept telling himself how stupid that was, and for a moment he believed it... When he turned around, he watched everyone in a fray, fighting for their lives... At that moment he did what he only could, he lumbered to the side with uneasy steps and looked for a place to rest, or at least survive long enough to see Sunberth another day... 'I don't get paid enough for this shit...' It didn't take long for Kaie to literally fall behind him as he left the mouth of the cave, Senghor turned and looked at the myrian, his brain was still trying to process what was happening before the comrade in him helped her.. Turning on his heel the dark skinned warrior knelt down and pulled her up with a collective of grunts... "C'mon kid... Let's get moving!" he said whilst putting a step in his staggering, she was pretty beat up but she still supported most of his step, they needed to move... Fast!

[Crypt]

YOU BLOODY PILES OF STEAMING GARDEN MANURE - ALSO KNOWN AS DECOMPOSING SHYKE - USED AS FERTILISER FIT FOR ONLY WEEDS, AND UPROOTED, PUTREFYING WEEDS AT THAT -

Elaborate insults designed for only the most sophisticated aside, Crypt was attempting to push through the pain and figure out how he would fight off two healthy, uninjured men - Jax and Jurgen - when he was only able to crawl with both hands and on one leg.

He glanced at them. Crypt had rolled some way down, crawling behind a rock that afforded just enough protection to prevent them from taking potshots at him. He estimated that, at their leisurely walking speed - they correctly assumed that he couldn't get away fast enough for him to escape - it would take about thirty seconds before they reached him.

Attempting to keep his mind busy and off the pain (which had faded somewhat, but was still rather intense), he fiddled with the light crossbow in his hands, noting that a bolt was already in place, meaning that it was ready to be fired.

Oh, what a time to be inexperienced with handling a crossbow. But how difficult could it be? Just aim and fire...

Seeing as he had nothing to do but try to survive, Crypt chanced a quick look at the duo, seeing that they were still walking at a slow, unhurried pace.

Here goes nothing!

He hefted the crossbow, lightly touching the trigger with his left hand while holding its length with his right, taking another glance at the duo.

Once they were within a rock's throw, he slowly moved his head out into the open, placing the crossbow on the rock to steady it. He hastily adjusted it to point at the marksman, knowing that he was the most dangerous, and depressed the trigger, hoping to Dira that he hit something at the very least.

[Razkar]

"Oh, no, you sodding don't-"

Seng collapsed down, almost crushing Kaie as a throwing knife buried itself in the back of his shin. As his bulk dropped, the Myrian would be able to see the figure that had struck the blow, teeth bared and lips white with fury.

"Fucking little bitch!"

His band may have been decimated (so hard to get good blood help nowadays) and the job botched, but Heinrich wasn't about to let the two bastards who'd laid waste to his best get away. The huge human and the rabid female... he knew they were the core, the fighting center of this-

Soft target. That's what you sold them on. And now it's all gon to hell and-

"Mathias!"

The cry of anguish split across the brawling canyon and the old man tried to reply, but only blood spilled from his mouth and stained his white whiskers. Like a tap had been loosed or a damn destroyed, Darrick's fearful hesitation was destroyed by that sight; he hacked down his murderer with abandon, shrieking, screaming, tears and prayers and oaths in Blessed Rhysol's name tumbling from his lips as he crushed the thug to the ground in a bloody heap.

Jacen and Wilhlem fould nearly back to back, slashing and stabbing at all who approaching them, but it was the bandits' will that failed first, not their bodies. Seeing the Zith so brutally butchered, the monstrous figure toss two of their fellows around, and-

"Shyke!"

-hearing Jurgen bark with anger and Jax shriek like the boy he still was. The crossbowman went down with the arrow in his shoulder, bow tumbling from suddenly-numb fingers... but only to one knee. A lifetimes of lines and scars and troubles marked that old bastard's face, and he'd had worse than a bloody bow-bolt. Slowly, he started to rise, drawing a curved dagger...

Jax, on the other hand, had not had worse and had no desire to have the experience repeated on him. Petch it, he thought, time to hand in my two days' and get offski! In fact, let's not even both with the-

Then the rock next to him groaned. He froze, even in this whirlwind of death and battle. His eyes dragged his face to the rock... to see it wasn't a rock... it was a crevice under it, where eyes like jagged gemstones were crawling towards him. A splinter force, just a handful, but within chimes the Alpha would know what they knew, and direct his forces to the exit they'd found.

"Oh, fuck..."

Heinrich saw all or most. He saw his en cut down or break, fleeing for the valley entrances or for the bucking, frothing horses, who knew far better than the humans with their dull noses and blind eyes what was surging forth to devour them. He knew he should follow suit. Leap on the best horse, spur it and leave them to rot and consumption.

The smart play. The logical, long-term play...

... and the unsatisfying one.

"Fucked me over good and proper, 'aven't you, savage?" He punctuated the last word with a vicious, brass-toed kick to Seng's face, smashing a cheekbone as the human was down, striding around him, evil gaze fixed on the wounded, panting female. "We 'ad the time, I'd split you from cut t'throat with more'n' just my blade... but since we ain't..."

He let the words trail off, raised his bastard sword as his teeth flashed in the dim light. No, he wouldn't make out well from this. Barely even have a gang by the end of it. But he'd get a dram of satisfaction from it... before The Horde arrived...

[Kaie]

With the bandits quickly closing upon the group, the exhausted man of desert skin was the last she expected to rush to her aid. Her run had been low, almost a stagger of a sprint. The arrow in her shoulder looked as if it were a great weight upon her, pulling that side of her body down. The pinching of tissue as she rotated the joint sent agony through her body. Still she moved forward. Always forward. For Kaie was still raised very much a Myrian, and she would not fall so easily to the wills of barbarian thugs.

Both were wounded, him far more than herself. It occurred to her that suddenly they had become a more cohesive team on the field, and as any soldier, she would see to it that her comrade would survive if she could ensure it. More realistically, at least offer him that chance. After all, she couldn't fight everyone off by herself no matter how much she wanted to. So she fell under his arm and braced her own around his thick waist, bearing his weight as they hustled out of the open. If only she could've moved quicker...

Kaie let out a sharp yelp of surprise at the sudden change in their balance. Without warning her companion had dropped from her arms with far more force than she could've prevented. His sudden fall rocked the Myrian from her own footing, causing her to hit the ground on her bad side with a strangled growl. Ah, but then came the voice, the one that called to her. The tone was angry, no, completely irate. The sound of an alpha male whose carefully calculated plan had just crumbled like sand through his fingers. Such music to her ears. Perhaps if she wasn't in such a terrible position, she'd dare to smile at the very sound.


"What's the matter, Deyhan? Lost some of your friends?" She snarled in reply to his deaf ears, rotating onto her back. The Myrian woman propped herself up on her elbows to face him. Their eyes locked, the furious and the defiant. The look in those eyes would be something she'd never forget.

"Fucked me over good and proper, 'aven't you, savage?"

Kaie's lip curled viciously, exposing her teeth in a vengeful fashion. The sound of his boot nailing the already beaten down mercenary was sickening. It fed the wild fire within her warrior heart, increasing the strength of her murderous desires. There had once been a time that his accusation might've hit a serious nerve. A moment that he might've wounded her pride with that word they used so hatefully toward her people: savage. Nevermore. Like the tolerance Myrians had built to allow them to consume the poisonous plants of the jungle, the insult's impact had ebbed on Kaie.

" "We 'ad the time, I'd split you from cut t'throat with more'n' just my blade... but since we ain't..."

The Myrian was already moving backward on her elbows, expression hateful enough to kill. Her heels dug deep into the earth in search of enough momentum to help her back to her feet. She knew how this would end. Heinrich wanted revenge. He wanted her to bleed out like the rest of his fallen men in this graveyard. With her sword arm's shoulder injured, the odds were certainly in his favor.

But if I don't prevail...How can my comrade?

Kaie's focus left Heinrich for a moment to stare down at the bruised and bloodied man, who once seemed so invincible bells before. Adversity diminished him to a bloody animal like all the rest of them, clinging to life with all the internal strength he could muster. Her fingers wrapped tighter around her gladius. Strange, the new sensation was. The feeling of fighting for the life of someone other than just oneself.

With a yell, she swung her left hand to meet the bastard sword before it struck her. His swing went wide past her body upon the impact of metal, and with the pause she was able to shove back to her feet. By then Heinrich recovered and it was another battle until Dira reaped one or the other. Somehow she managed to ward off two blows with her non-dominant hand. Her grip was weaker and her strikes lacked the power she was used to, but it was better than nothing.

"I hope you don't fear the dark. My Mother of the Night will be wrapping you in it soon!" She cried with a desperate thrust at his middle, seeming to abandon all use of Common in favor of her mother tongue. Her opposition expected such a blow and counter it smoothly. Only a quick retreat saved her throat from meet his edge. Fatigue was already setting in, too.

Petch, this is gonna be a hell of a battle...

The Myrian side stepped away from his advances twice before she finally found an opening. A sound thwack was heard as her shin connected to the side of his knee followed by a round of curses. She baited him and employed patience before she struck the same point again. That second time he managed to scrap along her thigh as punishment. Kaie needed to keep things interesting, mix it up in ways he wouldn't expect. She needed to play into his anger.

A cloud of dirt sprang into his face after a sharp scoff of her foot. Heinrich wildly swung in anger through the plume almost blindly, earning him a bladed kick to his back. His misplaced back swing rebounded from her gladius and ended with a crushing blow to his nose. Blood spurted from it with a sickening snap, a call to the savage the damage was done. Slowly she would break him down, piece by piece until the playing field was equal. Until she could turn up the heat and melt him with it.

Her teammates were scattered, cries of bloody murder ringing about. Bodies were falling and the Myrian had no clue which were ones from her side. The last she'd seen of the olive skinned man, he had dove behind cover with a shout, and two men followed after him. How was she supposed to protect them all and herself? To win this battle and ward off the next, all while other bandits ran around with brandished swords? If only her ally could hold onto his consciousness for just a bit longer...