Closed The Reaping (Jax)

[Razkar]

By the heavens and hells and the dirt between, I fucking hate armor.

The lengthy and vicious curse rushed through Razkar's mind as he closed with his prey; he didn't have time to give it any other pace. There were... three, closing fast, horses nearly bounding over the snow drifts and tumbling over the fallen trees, hidden by the snow. All of them wore those shimmering suits of tiny metal links, all connected, stretching down from their heads-

But the neck and face is exposed.

-covering their arms and chests, down almost to their knees.

But no lower, so they are vulnerable there, too, and a solid thrust from the gladius will penetrate it.

Fortified by his inner tactician, the Myrian dove forward to parry the spear leveled at him by the charging rider, but didn't go wide this time. He parried with his gladius, forcing the spear up and to the rider's side, pulling his arm up and to the side-

Weaker at the joints, remember? And even if it isn't, with enough force-

-and with a yell born straight from the teeming jungles, Razkar swung his ax overarm, aimed straight at the middle of the Dragoon's arm, feeling the pulsing power of the Malediction-worked ax as it cut through the air-

-and crashed into the mail-encased elbow, biting deep into it, armor or not. The rider screeched, speed of his charge and force of Razkar's blow working together to rend and tear-

-as his heedless horse kept speeding on, leaving Razkar behind, but not until the Myrian spun hard to his right, gladius flashing horizontally-

-slicing deep into the back of the horse's right leg, making it stagger and buck-

-as the rider shrieked and looked at the ruined remains of his arm, elbow cut nearly clean through, forearm barely attached by a few strings of muscle and the rest of the chain-mail. Razkar cocked back his arm, ax ready to fly-

Leave him for the boy! You have bigger problems!

Two of them, in fact. One on horse, the other lumbering through the snow, sword and shield at the ready-

Horseman will be with you first. Prioritize.

This one was learning, though. He came at the Myrian with a hand ax, chopping down at him and bringing his horse to heel hard, not relying on a single, dashing stroke to finish Razkar. He forced the Myrian on the defensive, blocking the ax even as the shocking impact sent him staggering-

-yelling rider battering down hard again, and again-

Quickly! Anywhere!

-and as Razkar parried the last, horse hoofing and stomping around him, Razkar lashed out with his ax, aiming for the human's leg-

-hammering into it just above the ankle, where no armor could protct it, just padded leather-

-useless, against the wyrd-enchanted power of his ax.

The rider screamed as his foot came "loose" in the stirrup, throwing his balance off as his world devolved into howling pain, falling from the mount with his stump gushing blood-

-falling on his belly and not seeing the Myrian, not caring, spikes of agony ramming through his body, dimly aware of a shadow that fell over him-

-and a shattering impact of Razkar's ax splitting his skull in two. The Myrian growled as he saw the chainmail hood had actually held up... but the sheer force behind the ax head made that irrelevant. The man would never rise, and already grey matter oozed through various orifices.

The other! Quickly!

Crunching, whispering snow to his right and Razkar spun just in time to face his next enemy, mail hood clinking and jingling around his head as he dove forwards, broadsword swinging down-

-easily parried by the Myrian, who responded with a hacking blow from his ax-

-only for the broad, round shield to block it, thumping impact making the Dragoon stagger, gouging the painted woodwork, but doing no damage-

The Myrian growled, ears and eyes sensing converging figures galloping and wading through snow towards him. This was not the spar with Markus, where he had all the time he needed to dismantle and wear down his plated adversary. Now he was pushed, no room for finesse or tactics, just-

See an opening, any opening, and exploit it.

The Dragoon swung again and the Myrian parried it wide, kicking out but stopped by that damn shield again-

-hammering down at the top edge of it in rage, forcing the arm holding it and the man attached to it down to his knee with the shattering blow-

-then jerking the ax sideways-

-slashing at the man's exposed face, relishing the shriek of horror as the human's nose and top lip vanished in a red nightmare, shining armor not so pristine now, with droplets peppering it, then soaking it, sword falling from his hand as he reached up-

-and the shrieking Myrian reared back and thrust his gladius-

-until it smashed through the back of his skull, ending his life with a choked, stunned spasm and a cough to go with it-

Move, damnit!

No time to savor the moment or glory in the kill. More figures were stomping through the Winter wasteland of dead trees and tangled brush. Razkar had just enough time to sweep his gaze around, taking in the two cripples he'd just made, the corpses-

Five dead or dying. Seven left and closing... four on foot... drawing together again.

"Fall back!" He yelled to Bradshaw as the man finished with his own chosen target. "Finish the wounded and fall back! Don't let them overwhelm you!"

Then he was springing off again, fleeing like a tanned hare from the iron hounds, clouds of snow and dirt tufting into the air as he drew them deeper and deeper into the Isle.

[Jax Bradshaw]

Jax threw himself to the left of the incoming horse as it's rider swung his vicious sword towards the human, with intent to kill. Or seriously injure. Neither was a fate Jax wanted. If anything, the exact opposite would be perfect. He could use any advantage he could take in this situation.

The Dragoon forced his steed to turn, facing Jax yet again. Both men stared into each other's eyes, determined not to show any sign of weakness to his opponent. Jax tightened his hand around the hilt of his newly-acquired short sword, which resided in his left hand. The Dragoon, on the other hand, was clad, neck to knee, in chainmail armor and had much more training with his weapon.

The Dragoon kicked and his horse shot towards Jax, it's rider bouncing upon it, deciding how he should attack his blue-haired foe. Jax stood his ground, awaiting the advance, having figured out his plan of action moments before the steed began moving.

It was time. The rider raised his sword, planning on swiping it downwards and decapitating his enemy. But that was not the case. Jax decided it was time to put his plan into action after the horse got close enough. He swung his sword in a slashing motion, aimed low, at the horse. Jax's plan only just paid off after only the tip of the sword cut into the horse's chest, but it was enough to make it rear onto it's hind feet, forcing it's rider from his seat and onto the cold floor below. The animal then proceeded to run as fast as it could away from the scene.

Jax walked towards the Dragoon, who was sprawled out on his back, winded after the fall. His sword was a meter away to his left. Jax raised his sword, both hands on the bottom of the hilt. He looked down upon his adversary, who was in no condition to move. Easy. Jax smiled as he plunged the sword down and into the Dragoon's left eye. The blade tore through and into the man's brain, killing him almost instantly. Jax yanked the sword out the Dragoon's head and turned to Razkar.

"Fall back! Finish the wounded and fall back! Don't let them overwhelm you!"

Jax looked at the severely injured Dragoons lay about the snowy battlefield and the incoming ones on horseback. He decided it wasn't worth getting left to face the brunt of the force over a few dying soldiers since Razkar had already shot off again. Jax grabbed Razkar's kukri and sheathed it before taking off after the Myrian.

I'm a God and it's judgement day.

[Razkar]

Come and chase me, lads. Chase me with all that armor...

Razkar snorted out his amusement, sending twin jets of steam into the air as he leaped over a fallen log. Well, it looked like he could use the same tactics he did against that Knight, at least to a degree. The Dragoons on foot - a swift glance back counted... four - were already huffing, bulky and uncomfortable armor weighing them down, tiring them... and slowing them, too. Letting their mounted comrades drive ahead and separate again.

Don't get overconfident. If they're still mounted, that means they know how to drive their horses better than most. That makes them the real danger.

Stewart - or "Ser" Stewart, as he insisted the whores called him - gritted his teeth hard as Falco bounced and jostled under him... but he was gaining. After his comrades had been butchered, he would be the one to bring this bastard down. He drew his gladius and leant to his side, ready to lean down and swipe at the Myrian as he ran ahead of him like some scurrying rat-

-and getting taller.

For a fractured, stunned tick the fake-as-snake oil "Ser" watched as the Myrian kept running but got taller, got higher-

-running up a tree trunk he'd spied, half-fallen against another and acting almost as a ramp, legs pumping and straining and streaming in the chill air until he was high enough to spin around-

-ax flashing in a horizontal blur at a stunned Stewart's head-

"Fuck m-"

-and the Dragoon jerked his gladius up, impact of the blocking blade crashing through his body like an earthquake birthed in his arm, knocking him back-

-and toppling over the back of Falco like the worst kind of novice rider, world becoming just a series of jerking, painful glimpses, all frost and snow and black branches and-

-a figure that leaped down at him like some daemonic bat-

Pain. A spike of sheer pain through his chest that paralyzed him, crystallizing all the other aches of his body into one solid misery, so much so his vision cleared in shock and he looked up from his back-

-seeing the Myrian impaling him through the chest, gladius grinding against his ribs, snarling face splitting into a fanged grin as he did-

-twisting the blade; letting the human know what was happening-

-then his head jerked to the side as pounding hooves got closer, the final rider, spear in hand, leaping the fallen log behind him and closing-

The Myrian's eyes flashed to the dying Dragoon's weapon, still held in his weakening grip.

Gladius. Simply made but effective. He picked it up and it took only the motion of flipping it over and holding it by the blade for him to get the balance of it. Too much weight at the top of the hilt. But, for the task at hand-

With a yell he rose, hand pulled back over his head, then snapping it forward-

-hurling the gladius through the air, but it was an unwieldy blade, not designed for throwing with any accuracy-

-which was why he waited until the rider was closer, and he aimed for the larger target-

-barking out a laugh as the two-foot blade slammed into the horse's head, slicing open an eye, burying in the snout, bloody tendrils now flying through the air as it bucked and swung its head around in desperation, scarlet ropes lashing the ground as-

-the Dragoon fell with a crash into the snow, and the horse-

"N-No, Martin, w-"

Pulling his own gladius free from the now-departed "Ser", Razkar watched stoically as four hooves backed by a half-ton of demented animal slammed straight onto the rider, barely even noticing him as it bounded away, blundering through and into trees. The Myrian guessed it would take bells to die, a slow, brutal end through blood loss.

"Caiyha forgive me," he murmured as he walked over to the gasping Dragoon, his chest crushed in and his eyes pleading, "I did not bring them to this slaughter. My enemies did-"

As if taking some small revenge on Caiyha's behalf, Razkar hacked downward with his ax, making the human's terrified face the same cratered, ruined mess as his chest. Flicking his blades to his sides and sending twin spatters of scarlet at his flanks, he took in the last four Dragoons.

On foot, huffing now as they ran closer... but slowing. Smart enough to conserve their enemy, knowing the Myrian was done running. Axes, shields, swords, maces... truly a challenge.

"Blessed Myri, let your eyes fall on this day," he muttered, voice somewhere between solemn and ecstatic, "And know your Son will reap in thy name..."

[Jax Bradshaw]

Jax ran as fast as his legs would carry him through the snow-caked ground, in an attempt to put as much space between himself and the Dragoons who were chasing him. Luckily for Jax though, the armor the knights were wearing slowed them down, making it easier to scurry through the trees without being captured.

They'd left their comrades to die, determined to catch the Myrian and the human who almost burnt down their beloved Community, along with a few of their fellow soldiers in the process. The anger in their eyes. The rage in their steps. The fury at which they swung their weapons, cutting down any foliage in their way.

Jax looked behind him, at the pursuing Dragoons. A couple of them were nowhere to be seen in the dense trees, but the other two were still hot on his heels.

Gods, these guys don't give up easily.

The human's heart was burning, his lungs on fire. He needed to stop, but he knew he'd be killed if he did. Jax looked over at Razkar, who was also running still, only the Gods knew how. He found a small tree and ducked behind it, crouched, trying to catch his breath. Jax hoped the Dragoons hadn't seen him. One rushed right past him and continued onwards, not bothering to look behind him. The second however, hadn't gone by yet. Then, he felt a sharp pain between his shoulder blades which forced him to keel over.

"Not so tough now, are we? You little shyke."

A rough pair of hands grabbed Jax's arm and forced him over onto his back. The large body of an unhappy looking Dragoon met him.

"Where's your mate, then?" He spat, each word dripping with anger. "He run off and left you has he?"

Jax was breathing heavily, fearing his end was near. Then he felt his left hand become wet, before realizing the snow he was lying in could be useful for other than slowing down soldiers.

The human gripped snow into his hand, waiting for the right moment. The pain in his back had numbed, but the Dragoon was raising his sword, ready to plunge it into Jax's chest at any moment. It was a good a time as any. Jax brought his arm upwards, swiftly, and released the snow, aimed at the soldier's face. The snow bounced off his cheek, but it was good enough since he was distracted with it.

Jax drew his foot backwards and rested the sole on the Dragoon's gut, before pushing forwards, forcing him off Jax. The blue-haired man scrabbled to his feet and began running off, in tow of the Myrian yet again.

I'm a God and it's judgement day.

[Razkar]

Razkar growled his approval as ax made himself useful and sent his over-confident assailant flying, scurrying back to him as the other three closed in.

Mace and shield. Bastard sword and shield. Battle ax.

His eyes went across them and as they paused... his weapons lowered just a touch... and his head bobbed forward for a tick.

"Let us begin the end."

The Myrian showed his respect; they would just be confused, and he knew it. But he intended to exploit it either way, and as they exchanged surprised glances-

-he lunged to the Dragoon on the far left, ax hammering at his shield, strength born of runes and muscles formed and hardened in Falyndar behind it-

-a shattering blow that knocked Mace staggering backwards, swinging his heavy weapon desperately-

-only for Razkar to parry the blunt metal club upward with his gladius, impact only lasting a second, flicking the blade away-

-and back-

-ripping a scream from Mace's throat as his sliced into the back of his hand, destroying his grip-

-swinging to his right with his ax, backhanded, instinctive, knowing the other two wouldn't take long to react-

-finding Bastard already swinging, forcing him to jerk his ax upward-

-barely blocking the blow, balance thrown-

-as Bastard howled his anger and burst forward, round shield held firm before him-

-a solid wooden wall that slammed into the Myrian and bowled him over, stars parading and somersaulting in front of him, black bursts against the white snow and the chinking, clinking, panting figures-

Focus! Back on your feet!

-he rolled back and the icy tingles of frost up his spine broke his hazy shock, smacking him back to reality with a freezing slap-

-and the Myrian's feet slammed into the ground, weapons up, crouched, ready-

-as Battle Ax roared and swung hard, ax heavier and larger than Razkar's own whirling towards him, too large to block or parry-

-so the Myrian slid back instead, avoiding it, but the Dragoon kept whirling, shield held stiff as his outstretched arm, and Razkar read the move before it was struck.

Looking to bash me with that, barbarian? Clever. But not today.

Instead he swayed back again, upper body jerking out of the way of the wide shield that chomped through the air as it went, picking the sliver of a moment he'd need-

-waiting until the shield had swung past him-

-and he dropped down to one knee, Dragoon's ax still going, still aimed at his neck-

-only it was no longer there, passing over his head, missing flesh and bone-

-but not Razkar's as he swung his ax low and vicious-

-vicious and unnaturally-powerful weapon smashing through leather and skin and flesh and bone-

-amputating the suddenly-screaming Dragoon's foot just above the ankle and sending him crashing down, all thoughts of fighting obliterating in a wave of agony-

-and the ax kept swinging, but heading diagonally upward instead, toward-

-Bastard, who'd been waiting for his chance as well, slashing down at the Myrian with his sword-

-only to have it batted away-

-and then the ax furiously backhanded his shield, then struck it again, tremors like earthquakes driving the man back until he lashed out desperately with his bastard-

-and Razkar ducked under the stroke, stepping forward as he did-

-stabbing his gladius into Bastard under the armpit, a weak spot in the mail, the Dragoon's eyes popping open like stunned marbles as he felt the blade impale him from the side, blood frothing at the back of his throat-

-until Razkar ripped his blade free, swinging it up and ignoring the choking man as he faltered to his knees-

-gladius knocking away the clumsy swing from Mace, still trying to use his ruined hand to swing his weapon, only to have it knocked away and he bashed at Razkar with his shield instead-

-the Myrian sliding to Mace's side, his shield-less side, ax cocked close across his chest-

-backhanded sweep at the back of his knee smashing into metal and the flesh and bone underneath, not quite breaking the chainmail but doing enough to hobble the human, bringing him to one knee as Razkar spun around-

-and Battl Ax choked and tried to crawl faster, seeing the Myrian, half-hidden by Marcus' head, move his hand with blinding speed, thrusting at the back of his friend's skull-

A crunch. A gutted, choked yelp. And Marcus' eyes widened... then crossed... as he looked down with his final flickering of life and saw Razkar's gladius jutting through his mouth like a sickening metal tongue.

The Myrian ripped his weapon out the way it entered and let the man fall. He stalked forward at the crippled, bleeding Battle Ax, begging as he desperately pushed himself back with his elbows, leaving a trail of blood like a dying slug-

"P-Please, just-"

A scream that would have shamed a murder of crows split the frozen air and every bird for half a league scattered, Razkar bellowing out his primal victory as his ax fell one more time, and caved in the Dragoons head.

He felt him twitch. Just once. The body finally realizing it was dead. The final unhorsed Dragoon was facing them now, but all alone... save for the almost-one-armed horseman still milling about behind him, trying to decide between avenging his crippling or fleeing the pair that had butchered ten armed and armored Dragoons.

Razkar sniffed and nodded at his compatriot, then at the hesitating, trembling foot soldier.

"Our lesson begins again, boy."

He said coldly, the warmth and sly mirth of his past conversation now not even a memory.

"Take him. He should be a good challenge for you. Leave the horseman to take the message back." He smiled darkly. "He will not interfere. He has seen his fellows cut down like chafe and he is missing an arm."

[Jax Bradshaw]

Jax run his heart out, finally catching up to Razkar, who'd slain three of four Dragoons before he'd even arrived. They lay, sprawled out in the snow, their blood seeping out open wounds. A couple were unrecognizable because of the damage Razkar had dealt to them. Across from Jax and the Myrian was the Dragoon who'd previously attacked Jax and almost took his life.


"Our lesson begins again, boy. Take him. He should be a good challenge for you. Leave the horseman to take the message back. He will not interfere. He has seen his fellows cut down like chafe and he is missing an arm."

Jax handed the kukri back to Razkar before gripping the sword, advancing slowly towards the Dragoon, who took up a defensive stance.

"Not so big now, are we?" Jax said, a sadistic smile appearing on his face.

"We'll see when your blood has been spilled, you shyke."

Jax let out a short chuckle before unleashing an upwards slash with the sword, which was easily parried by the knight who, in turn, threw a fist into Jax's nose. The blow forced him back a few steps, but Razkar taught Jax to ignore the pain, which he gladly did.

"You seem a better fighter than your comrades," Jax spoke through gritted teeth. "We had no problem cutting them to pieces."

The attempt at infuriating the soldier by taunting his dead clearly worked as he swiped clumsily at Jax. The blue-haired man quickly threw himself to the right, swinging his sword as soon as he stopped. The tip just sliced the cheek of the Dragoons, drawing blood.

He cried out in pain, wincing as the crimson liquid flowed by the wound. The Dragoon held a hand over the cut, grimacing. He quickly recovered from the wound easily. The soldier swung his sword again, narrowly missing Jax, but he followed up with another punch. This time, it crashed off Jax's cheekbone and knocked him to the floor.

The Dragoon got atop Jax and raised his sword, ready to plunge it between the human's eyes at any moment. But the soldier stopped and took the moment to taunt Jax, drawing out the scene longer than it needed to be.

"I guess... this is it for you." Came the cocky taunt.

Jax's eyes widened as the sword came down, but he remember another thing Razkar taught him. He brought up his left hand and pushed the sword off it's course, while, at the same time, swinging up his right fist into the Dragoon's face. It bounced off with a sweet-sounding crunch and sent the Dragoon reeling.

Jax scrabbled to his feet and advanced on the soldier, fists clenched. The Dragoon quickly recoiled his head and slammed it into Jax's though, once he got close enough, sending the victim tumbling backwards. Jax gritted his teeth and threw a fist, backhanded, into the Dragoon's head. His knuckles cracked off the man's temple and forced his head to snap to the left.

Suddenly, the Dragoon grabbed Jax's head and forced him to double over, before unleashing a vicious combo of knees into's Jax's head, dazing him. Jax stumbled away from his attacker and rested against a tree for a couple of seconds, getting his bearings. He looked to his right. His sword was only a few meters away. Annoyingly though, the Dragoon had seen what he was looking at as well and they both made a dash for it.

They reached it at the same time, but Jax dropped his shoulder and rammed it into the soldier's gut. Bad idea. Although it had knocked him out the way, it also damaged Jax's shoulder.

Thank Rhysol this sword is one handed.

Jax drew the short sword back and used the momentum to swing it back down fast, slicing open another wound in the man's shin. The Dragoon dropped onto his left knee, trying to clot the new wound. Jax raised the sword again, ready to strike.

"I won't tell them about you! Just let m..--"

The Dragoon's pleas were cut short as Jax dropped the sword blade hard into the soldier's head, almost slicing it in half, but losing momentum halfway through and coming to a stop. He pulled it out the head with a bit of a struggle and returned to Razkar.

"Let's go. It's a matter of time until one of those lot watching us went off to warn the rest."

Jax patted Razkar's arm and continued through the snow at a slow pace, hoping the Myrian would catch up.

I'm a God and it's judgement day.

[Razkar]

Razkar watched as the two men slashed and snarled and swung at each other, face intent as he did so. He would offer no advice now. He would not assist. Jax had learned a few things from him and it was time for him to prove that.

Besides, it doesn't hurt to see how an ally fights when his life rests on the result. You never when he'll cease to be an ally.

He winced slightly as his student went down from yet another blow to the face he didn't block, and reminded himself to take that out of the boy after. If the Dragoon had been wearing the armored gauntlets that Markus had back in Syliras, Jax's nose would be in his brain.

Swish... swish... swish...

The kukri twirled over and over in his hands, the Myrian reversing and righting the grip over and over as he watched, a nervous tic he couldn't quell as he watched. This was a test of himself, too. He'd taught the boy; now how would he fare?

Not bad, as it turned out. There was no quick and effective conclusion, as Razkar always aimed for, but the duel ended with Jax's weapon crashing down on a wounded man's pleading skull-

-blade making a sound like an ax biting through a melon, and Razkar nodded his terse satisfaction... then went about Myri's business.

"Let's go. It's a matter of time until one of those lot watching us went off to warn the rest."

The Myrian was already walking to the first of the bodies he'd made that day, but pointed towards the sound of retreating hooves as he went. Jax might have been able to see the receding figure of the final horseman, right arm bleeding heavily, staining down his armor, his leg, his horse's steaming flanks...

"Too late. If he makes it, anyway. Either way..."

He bent down to the first man he killed, straddling his back and pulling his head back sharply by the hair with his left hand, kukri in his right slicing a red gash below his hairline, temple-to-temple, just before he-

-yanked-

-and a sound somewhere between a rip and a crunch rang wetly out, Dragoon's scalp coming clean off in Razkar's hand. He tucked it into his belt, leaving the human's bald, crimson head to glisten among the corrupted snow.

On and one he went, heedless of the impatient Jax and his irresistable march. The human didn't udnerstand. He was not blessed by Myri and was beyond her light; he did not understand that where the chance could be taken, respect after victory and battle was to be taken, especially if-

-his head snapped around to the sound of a wheezing groan, and his eyes glittered-

There is one living to be offered.

It was the man he'd impaled. Pierced through the side, lungs pushing frothing bubbles out of the hole, he was trying to crawl but air... he needed air... and couldn't get it...

... and it looked like much time had passed. Syna was setting. The shadow of night was falling.

He looked up, and saw the "Syna-set" he'd imagined. Twas the Myrian, looking down on him with his savage words growling from his throat, intoning words of reverence to the Mother of his race.

"Myri... cast eyes on your son this day."

The Dragoon managed to grunt and pant blood as Razkar straddled him, dropping down and planting his knees on his arms, pinning him on his back, squirming and helpless.

"Feast though your warrior on this gift I bring."

The human pleaded and bled and sobbed and cajoled, or he tried to; all Razkar heard was an incoherent, broken gurgling as he lifted up his chainmail shirt, then sliced his leather undershirt upward, exposing his stomach from waist to breastbone.

"Goddess, I bring you victory-"

Eyes that seemed dim and dying suddenly burst into fresh agony as the kukri sliced a deep gash across his belly, under his rib cage, almost from hip to hip and wide enough for his hand. As soon as it was done, Razkar stabbed the kukri into the ground, eyes wild and joyful, proud to honor Blessed Myri so.

"I bring you souls from glorious battle-"

But that was only a prelude compared to the violation inflicted upon him after, when Razkar firm, questing fingers stabbed inside him, hand vanishing into the hole, snaking past ribs and pulsating organs, until they wrapped around the beat, bloody heart-

"Goddess... I bring you blood-"

-and with one swift yanks, ripped it clean away from the arteries holding it in place, dragging it from the hole he'd made and hlding it high, for the woods and the Dragoon and Syna and Blessed Myri Herself to see.

"I, Razkar of the Shorn Skulls, fulfill my vow, and pledge myself anew."

Razkar wondered, just before he took that first bite, if this feeling would eventually become stale to him. If after years, even decades, of reaving and butchering and warring in Myri's name, the ancient ceremony of his clan would become staid and stagnant.

Then he tasted the rich, warm flavor of it; he felt his gnosis moan as if a lover... and he knew the answer.

Razkar ate until his hand was empty, then wiped them clean along with his weapons, and took his final scalp. He loped and tromped through the snow until he finally found the figure of Jax, who would look around to see the Myrian bedecked from nose and lips to navel in thick viscera.

"Considering your assistance," he said, fluent Common jarring hideously with his appearance as the two of them started walk swiftly over the bridge, "We'll consider payment already rendered for that lesson."

But he frowned, knowing that wasn't quite true, nit until...

"And next time, don't try to fight an armored man as an equal. Don't fight an enemy where he is strong; fight him where he is weak. Do not strike as his armor unless you can pierce it; strike where he is unarmored."

The first man they saw back on the mainland nearly threw up at their appearance, and already the street rats were scurrying back to the Gated Community. Razkar patted his student on the shoulder and nodded to the nearest alley, knowing that the Sunberth-born kid would find them a nice, covert trail back to the warren that was the Quarter and the Slums.

"Let's go."