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by Sira on June 9th, 2011, 11:59 pm
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by Mercury on June 16th, 2011, 6:43 am
Dycon yelped at the first stinging gash, ripping his snout, far too close to his eyes to be comfortable. He hadn’t considered the knife. Cheating was what it was, but there was no time to think. Shedding any lingering vestiges of humanity, Dycon released his mind the savage control of animalistic blood lust. Not only were his golden eyes tinted red from emotion, but so to his brows dripped blood, impeding his vision, but only slightly. He shook his head, squeezing his eyes shut, splattering the ground with drops of bright ruby red. First blood was drawn. The air was rife with hunger. An aching thirst for more, more blood, churned between the two circling hunters. Aha! Dycon could have cried out in glorious triumph when he caught the stupid human’s arm in his bite, but he wasn’t foolish enough to let his excitement distract him, not again, not yet. And he had missed the flesh, only catching cloth. This was not something to be proud of. Dycon grew angrier. And Sira’s incessant mental torment was definitely not helping Dycon’s concentration. The wolf was starting to get sloppy. As Dycon twisted with the entire torque of his body, he blinked violently, trying to clear his blood blurred vision. The torrent punches were also starting to get annoying, no matter how ineffective they were. Finally, it took him long enough. Dycon unbalanced the human while inadvertently killing the second bird: neutralizing the blasted sword. His face, his perfect face. He didn’t hesitate for a moment, grabbing at the window of opportunity with the full vigor of his soul. His maw gaped wide, trying to encompass the entirety of Fois’ countenance. Sure the throat was a natural kill shot, but for the monster of a wolf, ripping off the victim’s face almost always far more painful and humiliating. Unfortunately for the flesh hungry wolf, Fois reacted just in time. The sleeve of his shredded katinu barely provided any more protection. The Endal was given a split second of false security, before the cloth tore under pressure, releasing the full crushing and tearing force of the wolf’s jaw and jagged teeth into the tender flesh of his fore arm. Fois’ cry was beautiful: music to Dycon’s pointed ears. He could barely see now. The blood from his muzzle had spurt all over his face, incited by his racing pulse and excessive movement. It was pointless – all of Fois’s thrashing. Dycon was surprised he had lasted that long. Dycon was enjoying the acrid taste of warm flesh far too much: he was starting to get careless again. Dycon ran his raspy tongue against the torn flesh, poking the exposed strands of muscle, plucking them as one would a lyre’s strings. A wolf through and through – Dycon had already forgotten about the knife, too focused on just the man before him. So it came as quite a surprise when the signature smell of his own life blood filled the air, yet again. He did not feel the pain, not yet. He felt the pressure at his side – it didn’t feel right. His grip shifted, not loosened. Not until he heard the satisfying crunch of bone and the splurch of the searing blade within his own flesh, too soon again, did he finally release his prey. He barked in reluctant surprise. Still, there was no pain – only shock. This wasn’t happening! Dycon staggered back. If he had been in his human form he would have been screaming, screaming louder than his lungs could bare, screaming just as loud as he was trying to in his mind. Sira was really starting to get to him. This wasn’t fair. The odds were against him. This never happened him. He worked with Kragoth for a reason. Dycon loved to hunt, loved to play – he was a bully, but he was not stupid. He was not going to die for a piece of petch. He definitely wasn’t going to die for Kragoth’s newest pet. This was serious though. The lack of pain was alarming. Was it deep? He couldn’t tell. He didn’t want to transform in front of Fois. No matter how broken the two seemed, they always managed to surprise him. Surprises were only entertaining to a point. That threshold had been reached, and now Dycon was just ready to win, at least live, at whatever the cost – honor be damned. Staggering back, his head swiveled from the bleeding man to the prostate woman. The woman wouldn’t be going anywhere any time soon. The man wouldn’t be able to himself, let alone his sister. Dycon knew enough of wounds, especially of those he had inflicted himself, that if the man didn’t tourniquet himself soon enough, he would die of blood loss in a matter of chimes. Dycon shot a quick prayer to Krysus, asking to speed the man’s death, or at least have him lose his petching arm, as the wolf ran, limping away, with his tail betwixt his legs, trailing red crumbs. Mod Note :
You can have Seleer come swoop in and save the day now... if you want But yeah, Dycon won't be back for a while... but I love my psycho wolfie a little too much to have you kill him without any Talon Sword Skill, just yet that is. I wanted to reward you guys (think It's raining men but with gold) since I've basically mauled the bejeebus out of you guys, but I'm not sure if that will be plausible with the way things are going... now I'm rambling. Tell me if you guys think I should work on anything!
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by Fois on June 18th, 2011, 11:59 am
The second stab was very successful and made the wolf finally release Fois’s arm. The sudden wave of relief and abrupt disappearance of pain that the Endal was hoping to achieve with that, however, were being late to arrive. In fact, the man could swear he had felt the pain hitting him anew as the beast was extracting its teeth from his flesh and bone. Fois groaned loudly again. He had never imagined a wolf’s bite could be so excruciating. His right hand was still locked in firmly gripping the hilt of his dagger, at least long enough for it to escape the animal’s body as it moved away. Then the hand quickly answered the call for help from its sister and hurried to clutch the wound, dropping the weapon on the ground in the process. Fois held his injured arm as if a simple touch was enough to heal it, or at the very least relieve the pain. Strangely enough, it did feel a little better for a brief moment. While trying to keep his suffering quite, only letting an occasional moan escape with exhale, the Endal watched his enemy. The wolf was staggering backwards, seemingly trying to keep an eye on both, Fois and Sira. Was it considering the next attack? Or was it realizing the defeat? It looked like the perfect opportunity to finish off the beast. Fois sat up and his left forearm was quick to remind him of its current situation. He was nearly completely useless now. Sudden and careless moves would only make his injury shoot out powerful signal of pain through his body, turning any attempt to attack into a pathetic and agonizing joke. Finally the wolf admitted its defeat by retreating and leaving the two hunters in a relative safety. Fois looked down at his wound and noticed that simply putting his hand on it did little to stop the bleeding. He was no expert in medicine, but knew that loosing too much blood would lead to death. It was how a lot of his prey died: bleeding out while trying to run away instead of being killed with an instantly lethal shot. The Endal carefully changed his position from a sitting one to kneeling and started taking of his ruined Katinu. First half of the process was rather easy and causing little extra sores, but navigating his damaged arm out of a sleeve made him loudly let out a few creative Nari curses. Once his coat ended up on the ground, Fois gripped the shoulder of it with his left hand. It was painful and the troublingly fast bleeding from the wound was of no help. With his free, healthy hand the Endal grabbed his dagger and cut off a sleeve, the less damaged of the two, of the Katinu. The fabric didn’t agree with such actions and was stubbornly making troubles to the man’s progress, but eventually Fois managed to free the sleeve from the rest of the clothing. He finally returned the weapon into the scabbard and proceeded to wrap up the wound into a makeshift bandage. The sleeve was enough to swathe the arm several times, and when he was done, the Inarta tucked the end of it inside the wrap and placed his right hand on the injury to put pressure on it. The action hindered the fast bleeding, but the damaged bone wasn’t too happy about that and let it be known with an awful sore. ”How was your hunt?” Fois heard a voice in his head. It was one that managed to instantly sweep away the stress, tension and, temporarily, even pain. ”Seleer!” the man’s thoughts not-too-subtly hinted at huge relief. The Endal threw back his head as if hoping to see the Wind Eagle circling above, but he wasn’t there, yet. ”I’m where you had left me.” ”Woah! You sound very happy to hear from me,” the bird was a little bit surprised. ”I take it that was one successful hunt since you’re back so soon.” ”No,” Fois’s thoughts were beginning to sound tired and tainted with ache he was feeling again. ”We’ve been attacked… We’re hurt… Come pick us up, Seeler.” ”’We’?” ”Me and Sira, the Kelvic Endal,” he explained. ”I found her lying on the ground in the forest. Some sorcerer put a spell on her or something. Now I’m hurt too.” ”How badly?” a slight hint of genuine worry behind Seleer’s nonchalant voice could have been noticed. ”Just my arm,” the many bruises that were inflicted by Sira during their great escape hardly seemed important in comparison. ”It’s bleeding and might be broken.” ”Everything is alright then, huh? Be patient, I’ll be over there soon.” Fois looked at Sira lying not too far away from him. Slowly he got up on his feet, releasing several grunts in the process. Inch by inch, gently swaying to the sides, the Endal was moving closer to the Kelvic. He glanced at his destroyed longbow on his way. Losing a piece of wood made him nearly defenceless… What kind of Endal was he? ”The wolf’s gone,” he told Sira when he was in front of her. ”It’s not dead, but shouldn’t be coming back. Seleer is near, anyway. We’re safe. Soon we’ll be back in Wind Reach.” He kept silent for a moment. ”Thank you… For your words when I was fighting it.” Fois made another short pause. ”How are you?” |
by Sira on June 22nd, 2011, 12:21 am
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by Fois on June 30th, 2011, 9:21 am
Sira’s words brought a slight smile to Fois’s lips. From the way her voice sounded in his head, it appeared as if her mood didn’t fit the situation they were in, but it certainly lightened up the atmosphere. ”My bow was destroyed and my left arm is useless,” he gave a slight press on the wound with those words as if that would be enough to heal it. ”But I’m alive, so that’s still much better than what could’ve been. I’m sure we’ll get fixed back home.” It didn’t take too long before Fois heard a familiar sound of large feathers beating against the air. He looked up to see Seleer make a couple of circles above them. ”Here he is,” he told Sira. The Wind Eagle made one last large loop around the clearing while descending to the ground. The bird landed not too far away from the two Endals and, after shaking his feathers, looked at his rider. ”You don’t look too good,” he said in a slightly snarky tone. ”Really? You don’t say!” Fois replied with a sarcastic reply. ”So? Who did this to you?” ”A wolf.” ”A wolf?” the rider could hear the amused surprise rising in the eagle’s voice. ”It was a big wolf,” he tried to explain with a small illustration of a dangerous claw with his injured hand. ”Right…” the bird teased Fois further. ”I thought you said there was a sorcerer.” ”Yeah, that too. I think. I don’t know,” Fois gave up explaining. ”Just get us back, all right?” ”Yeah, yeah. Sure thing. Get her on.” Fois kneeled near Sira and lowered his head closer to her body so that it would be easier to throw her left arm over his neck. After that he slid his healthy arm under Sira and sat her up before clutching the side of her with his hand and trying to stand up, raising her with him. ”So a wizard and a big wolf, huh?” Seleer opened a channel between the three of them to talk to Sira. ” Must have been a great fight for you two.” Fois slowly moved towards the Wind Eagle trying not to lose balance or drop Sira. Her limp feet were dragging across the ground, but the rider was one arm short to provide her a comfortable transfer. Seleer spread and laid down his left wing, on which after some struggle Fois managed to put the Kelvic on. The Endal then got into the saddle and pulled Sira up. He had to use his both hands this time in order to be successful. He clenched his teeth in pain as he boosted her up in front of him. ”Quite a hassle,” Seleer remarked. “Maybe you should carry her in your talons,” the Endal responded. ”I can vouch for it as a wonderful method to travel.” “I thought you didn’t like it when I did this to you once.” “I didn’t. It was a joke.” “Oh,” Seleer sounded as if he still didn’t understand why such joke was brought up. Fois let Sira’s paralyzed body lean against his chest while he reached around for the reins. The unattended wound was still bleeding and blood was escaping through the makeshift bandage, so the Endal placed his right hand on the injury again to put pressure on it. It was an awkward position to be flying, but it would have to do. ”Well, the important thing now is not to fall down,” he said to Sira with a smile that she couldn’t see. Once Fois gave Seleer a sign that they were ready, the Wind Eagle took off. Rising from a plain ground was always a bit more difficult for a rider that doing so from an aerie cliff. That was also true now, especially so that the Endal had to make sure that his helpless companion remained on the bird. Fois shifted and turned in his saddle to stay safe in balance until Seleer reached the wanted altitude and straightened up. The man felt the unusually calm flying, lacking any sudden turns or manoeuvres and understood this as his eagle’s consideration for their current situation. Apparently Seleer also thought that making even the safe rescue part of the adventure challenging was unreasonable. After a while Fois already noticed his aerie. The Wind Eagle turned to make a large semicircle and manoeuvre onto his own personal cliff and the Endal instinctively tightened his grip around Sira so that she wouldn’t slide out. Seleer let the flying speed gradually decrees before finally gently perching on a rock. Fois gently laid Sira down on the eagle before getting out of the saddle and onto the ground himself. He then dragged her down in a way so that she would end up hoisted over his right shoulder. The sudden pressure on his knees reminded the Endal how tired he was, but still he slowly carried on across Seleer’s aerie into his common room and then to his bed chamber while occasionally leaning to one side or the other. His head was starting to feel a little dizzy but he refused to pay much attention now that he knew he was safe and soon taken care of. Fois dropped Sira on his bed. He didn’t mean to do it so roughly but his strength simply gave out. ”I think that’s as far as I can carry you,” he said with a slightly guilty smile. Once again he clutched his bandage that was already soaked in blood and gave an unhappy grimace as he did so. ”I’ll go and get someone at the Infirmary to help now. Get some rest.” With those words Fois turned around and went out of the room leaving Sira there alone. |
by Sira on July 6th, 2011, 1:44 pm
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by Mercury on July 10th, 2011, 10:14 pm
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