Bad Decisions [Liar]

by **Etrius** on February 29th, 2012, 11:23 pm

59th of Winter 511AV

"Damn you!" Etrius threw another strike, clawing nothing but empty air with his gauntlet.

"Eeheheheheheheh!" The high-pitched cackle played through both his ears and his mind. The pale white form that Etrius was trying to hit stayed just out of arm's reach. Always barely out of range. The man was a perfect mirror image of Etrius, except inverted. The man was white, from head to toe. His hair, skin, and clothes were all blank as a sheet. All except the whites of the man's eyes, which were a dark, pitch black. "Faster!" He shouted at Etrius, Remember what's at stake here! Your very sanity! Hmmm... Maybe, when I take over, that'll be my first target." He pointed a thumb at the horse tied to a tree near the edge of the small campsite.

"Vagik! You leave her out of this!" Etrius swung his arm, attempting to cut Him across the chest. He only cackled and lept backward, retaining the distance between Himself and Etrius. The horse in question was staring at Etrius. It knew something was wrong with him, for he was far too angry and wild for this to be normal training. Etrius struck again, only to have Him catch Etrius' gauntlet-clad fist in His own hand.

"That's enough." He said with a wide, patronizing smile. Suddenly, He began to dissipate. Little pieces of Him detaching and flowing into Etrius' hand, like a piece of paper being torn apart by a stream. "You must realize now that you'll never be able to beat me. You may be in control now, but remember..." Only His face and the arm that was holding on to Etrius was left now, slowly falling apart. "If you falter, even by a little bit, I will throw you to the ground and crush your skull like an egg!" He faded completely, the last few pieces of Him disappearing into Etrius' wrist.

Etrius sighed. "Damn Him." Etrius knew they were hallucinations, but they always seemed so real, even interacting with the outside world through him. Etrius took a long swig from his waterskin and poured the rest of its contents on the small fire he had created earlier. Stamping it out the rest of the way, he spoke to the horse. "Don't worry, girl, He's still weaker than me. I won't let Him out. Besides, I've got a tournament to win, and it wouldn't look very good if I killed my opponents." He yawned and stretched, reaching towards the night sky. Gods, I'm tired.

by **Liar** on March 6th, 2012, 12:27 am

The campfire sizzled and gasped beneath the weight of the water. With their final breaths, the fighting flames fought tossed dark grey smoke up from their embers. A thin grey pillar wisped high into the sky, above the trees and toward the heavens, alerting all eyes to the location of a vagrant, a trespasser, a menace and a miscreant.

There were more than monsters in those woods.

Guard monks on the city wall had been noticing his movements for days now. If it wasn’t the smoke, it was the disturbances in game movement or the suspicious crossings of a face that was becoming too familiar at the Gates. They let him come and go, because there had been no word of trouble. But on this day, some monks were feeling anxious. Maybe they had been without a good fight in too long, or maybe they had simply had enough of this foolhardy foreigner who thought he could use their sacred land as his own playground. They had been searching for him in the forest brush, following the strange noise of his practice, when they smelled the smoke, saw it rise between the trees. All senses led them instantly to him.

A slim, simple knife spun through the air in silence. It stirred a small breeze beside Etrius’s left ear and, with a shik and a thuk, was embedded in the tree behind him. Three of them emerged from the flora like the very vision that had haunted Etrius moments previous. But their flesh was real, their intentions clear.

“Stand up, fool,” one said, brandishing a long, thick bastard sword. Another man’s halberd glinted in the afternoon sun; the woman with the knives approached the spotted horse. Each of them wore long brown robes with a sword insignia on the breast, and each showed more caution than malice in their eyes. The woman cooed lightly, as if to ease the clearing’s tension from the animal’s mind. “You’ve been loitering around here for long enough. Leave this place, or face the city with the respect she deserves. This is your only warning.”

by **Etrius** on March 7th, 2012, 7:20 pm

Shik thuk!

Etrius felt the blade pass by his ear an instant before the sounds come, creating a miniature vortex that he could feel in his ear canal. Shadows emerged from the bushes and, faster than he could blink, Etrius was surrounded. The monks eyed him, making it clear that they were not happy to see him here. Etrius obeyed the first monk's command, slowly rising to his feet, eyes shifting from person to person. The woman spoke this time, apparantly the one who had thrown the knives. Damn. She was standing near Iona, his only chance at escape. It seemed that Etrius would have to follow their orders.

"I've done nothing wrong. Let me leave peacefully. You'll get no trouble from me." Etrius began to slowly and deliberately roll up his tent under the watchful eye of the monks. He did not want to leave the city yet. He still had things he needed to do here. Bringing his tent up in his arms, he carefully walked toward Iona and tho woman with the knives. Tying his tent down on the horse he noticed the woman watching him carefully, not taking her eyes off of him for a second. Good. Throwing caution to the wind, he began flowing djed into his legs as discretely as he possibly could. It was extremely difficult not to overfill them considering how nervous he was but he kept his focus. Bending to the ground, he began untying the rope holding Iona to the tree. Suddenly, he grabbed a handful of mud and dirt from the ground and flung it at the woman's face. He slapped the horse on it's rump and released the djed, propelling himself past the woman at an almost inhuman speed.

He flew.

He ran and kept running, even after the boost that his Flux had provided had left him. There! A tree with heavy overgrowth. It would have to be his hiding place until he figured out what to do next. He jumped at the tree, barely catching its lowest hanging branch. With great effort, he wiggled his way up until he managed to get on top of the branch. From there, it was easier going as he made his way up the tree. Stopping ans planting his foot on a fork where a branch connected with the trunk, he paused to rest and thought. He wanted to get back into the city, but he had just pissed off three of the city's monks an there were probably more monks guarding the gate. He cursed his stupidity and looked down. Hopefully, the monks would not look up.

by **Liar** on March 13th, 2012, 3:58 pm

Only a single, strident laugh followed him. The exclamation crawled through the trees and faded quickly in favor of the sound of his feet against the shaking branches. Leaves fell after him too, and arboreal creatures fled from his swift retreat like shadows from torchlight, but the three monks did not seem to trouble with the pursuit. As the world settled around where he had disturbed it, he might hear them muttering about finally getting rid of him, about finding his horse where she kicked and whinnied and whether she was worth eating. The time in which they discussed was enough to give Etrius’s breath back to him and, at the end of that time, he would be able to hear one man call blindly at him. “Thanks for your compliance, trespasser. Trust that if we see your face at the Gates again, you’ll—”

There was a low, indistinguishable noise and a loud rustle. Whatever threat the monk might have primed was lost to whatever disturbance had interrupted him. There was the ringing of a blade against something markedly less metallic, and another man’s voice emitted a cry of pain and terror. In the next moment, the forest was alive again with the running of human feet.

First came the knife-slinger, then the sword-wielder, who supported their third as blood seeped into the leg of his robe. They were headed that same direction as Etrius, but not for the reason he might have anticipated.

Etrius heard a snarl, like a wolf’s or a dog’s, and the woman shrieked.

Through the dancing leaves, Etrius might hae seen a blur of grey, but it seemed over before it had begun. Her left around was dripping red from within a torn sleeve as she happened wordlessly upon his abandoned horse, her mud-caked face hard and focused. With her knives sheathed again at her waist, she gripped Iona’s mane and mounted smoothly, holding her injury to her side as she stirred the frightened mare with her right.

Though Etrius might have seen these monks as thugs and bullies, the woman had enough honor not to leave her friends behind. Unaware of how close the stranger lurked, she cut the straps that held his equipment to the poor animal so that it might have a better chance of carrying the weight of three bodies. She was nodded her head behind her, where the two men quickly approached, and hastily bid them join her. “Damned Dogs,” she muttered angrily. “Quick now, before they get the horse.”

by **Etrius** on March 23rd, 2012, 5:12 am

Etrius heaved a deep sigh of relief. It seemed that, now that he had run, the monks had lost all interest in catching him. He decided that he would remain in the tree until the monks left anyway, sitting and listening to their jeering at him. He was caught by surprise when one of the monks was stopped mid sentance and a bloodcurdling scream rent the air. Clangs of battle reached him next, but it did not sound like a battle of steel on steel. Sounds of pain, terror, panic, fear; all of these reached his ears, putting him on edge. What was so strong and terrifying that it could make he monks fear for their lives.

He was surprised yet again when the woman ran under his perch followed by the other two. One of them was wounded, perhaps seriously so. There was as snarl, a flash of grey, and another scream. What was attacking? Wolves? Dogs? Those answers seemed to be the most appropriate as the woman, who seemed to have defeated one of the beasts, cursed at the animals. From the sound of her screams, it was apparent that the monks were trying to make an escape on Etrius' horse. From the looks of the third monk, it was apparent that they would not make it.

What should he do? Instinct told him to stay in the tree; to assure his survival. Conscience told him to help them; put his own life onthe line. Throwing all caution to the wind he dropped out of the tree, stumbling as he landed, and ran towards the monks.

Forcing himself under the wounded man's other arm, he lifted up and sped up the two monks trying to get to the horse. The monks may have been surprised, at the very least, to see Etrius trying to help them escape. Despite his situation - helping people that considered him to be an enemy and having no earthy idea where the wolves were now - his usual cocky smile spread across his face as he looked over to the wounded monk.

"C'mon now. You ain't any good dead, are ya?" he pulled the man to the horse and the woman, ignoring how much the man's leg might hurt, and began helping him onto the Iona. He heard another snarl from somewhere, possibly behind him, and gave up the task of helping the man mount the horse, leaving it to the other monk. He spun around, facing the general area that the sound had come from. "Get outta here! You can give my horse back when I get to the gate! He did not know if his last statement would be true. There was probably little chance of him returning to the city, but he could not worry about a thought like that now. There were predators - enemies - lurking about the forrest.

by **Liar** on March 25th, 2012, 3:12 pm

“What are you—” The uninjured monk’s protests were stifled by his better judgment. He could accept a stranger’s help as easily as he could scorn him for his strangeness and so, together, the three men reached Iona that much faster. The wounded man’s fellows helped him up with as much care as Etrius failed to give, and the third of them climbed up after him. He was about to offer some thanks when a flurry of noises interrupted him: out of nowhere, the wolf-thing snapped and growled, the horse reared and whinnied, and the last monk fell from an unstable purchase.

Iona sped off and the woman who rode her did not bother to stop. The haldberd in her friend’s hand dropped into a bed of fallen leaves as he held tight to the escaping animal. In the next moments, the quiet noise of the afternoon surrounded them again, harmless light on delicate leaves and soft dirt. The very air seemed to chirp with benignity, like the calm before the storm.

Despite the silence, the apparent calm, the remaining monk held his sword defensively out before him, searching the vicinity for something he could, apparently, not see. “This isn’t a regular wolf, trespasser.” Though the word was an insult and an accusation, he said it as if it were merely a name. If Etrius listened close enough, he might recognize it for a joke. “This one’s been changed, warped by the Heart of the World. You’re not the unluckiest bloke I’ve ever known, but it’s a skilled bastard that makes it this far—ah!”

The flash of grey emerged again; if Etrius was looking from the right angle, he might glimpse a snarl of white teeth, the gaunt face of a half-starved canine. Its skin seemed hard, its bones... were they on the outside of its body?

It moved with amazing speed, but the monk was all but ready for it. He turned, spraying cold, dead leaves behind him, and arced his bastard sword down on the beast. While those terrible teeth had missed him barely, neither did his sword find any substance. The blade crashed to the ground and the creature darted away as fast as it had emerged. Then it was invisible again, and their ears were filled with that same stifling quiet.

“Cowards,” the monk muttered, to everyone and no one.

by **Etrius** on March 28th, 2012, 7:08 pm

Standing almost back to back with the left-behind monk, Etrius reached for the slipknot holding the scythe to his back. Bushing a finger through it, it came undone and the weapon fell, standing on its blade for a second or two, and fell over. Something that large and heavy would be useless to him in a fight with quick opponents such as these... things. The silence that fell upon the forest was in equal parts soothing and frightening. He took his fighting stance, gauntlet arm back, both elbows and knees bent and his hands open, ready to strike at anything that came his way. His mind cleared and his pupils dilated. He was more focused now than he had been in a long time, for it had been a long time since he had been in a life or death situation.

The monk's advice was cut short. Another flash from the corner of his eyes. The monk shouted and Etrius could feel him swing at the beast. As it ran back into the surrounding brush, Etrius caught a better look at the retreating wolf. "Wolf" was the best word he could use to describe it. It looked more like a skeleton than a wolf. Another flash from his right side. Etrius could do nothing more than raise his arm in defense. It was pure luck that the wolf's fangs closed around his metal-clad arm and not something more vulnerable. He looked into the wolf's eyes, glaring back at him through a skull-like face. He brought his free hand back and punched the wolf's head as hard as he could.

That was a mistake. His naked fist struck the wolf's head and only caused Etrius to scrape his skin against the beast's hard outer shell. it hurt him ore that it had hurt the wolf. The wolf let go and retreated back into the forest.

Bastards. The wolves used hit-and-run tactics to attack the two fighters, only sending one or two wolves at a time, and still they did not know many wolves were actually in the pack. He heard rustling in the distant brush behind him and acted on instinct, swinging his gauntlet fist wide. He realized, to late, that the monk was also still behind him, and whatever wolf was attacking was probably attacking the monk, not Etrius. Depending on the monk's reaction to Etrius' next order, he would either be safe or knocked out on the ground. Etrius, instead of trying to stop his momentum, put even more force behind his fist.

"Duck!"

by **Liar** on April 1st, 2012, 4:52 pm

Though he was as strong and slow as the sword in his hand, the monk remained alert. Calm attention came almost innate to him, after so many years of training and meditation; in the center of battle, there was no pride or alliance to distract him. There was only the wolf and the man who would help him kill it. He perceived the beast’s attack in the same instant as Etrius did, had readied himself to hold his ground. But the call was made, and he obeyed. He dove to the ground, spinning to his back and throwing leaves as he skirted away from the ensuing clash.

The mercenary’s fist collided with the side of a bony, scaled head, and the leaping Marrow Dog fell out of the air and onto its side. It staggered to its feet quickly, but remained stunned for a matter of seconds, hissing blood and spittle through sharp teeth. Even as it stumbled, retreating, its paws moved with amazing speed. It regained its balance just as quickly, but that single moment was enough for the monk to rise and wield. He advanced on the creature, swinging his sword in a wide horizontal arc. It caught on one of the dog’s protruding spines and ripped a gash down its back, but the shock of the attack woke it enough to flee like a flash of lightning into the brush again.

When the familiar quiet settled then, it was for a longer time than the last. The monk was treading the line between anxiety and poise, put on edge by the lack of action. He waited, watched, listened, until finally he realized...

“One,” he stuttered, naming the word that they both must have been thinking. “There’s only one.”

The noise of talking was addicting, in that pained rustle and mumble of the wilderness. He added another thought, if only to fill the silence. “The belly. Its weakness has to be the belly. It’s just another animal, with a little extra armor—look out!”

He readied his weapon, but the beast had already targeted its prey. Still dripping hot read from its wound, it charged low for Etrius. It seemed to have learned the mistake of taking to the air, and snapped its razor sharp incisors at his ankles. Those teeth could rip to the bone if given the chance, and this one seemed desperate enough to try.

by **Etrius** on April 15th, 2012, 12:49 am

Contact! The dog's skull like visage cracked when his fist hit it, bones and teeth being crushed under the force of his blow. With the monk's following strike, Etrius thought that the fight would be finished but he was wrong. The wolf simply rose and ran into the brush, disappearing once more. Silence took hold of the forest once more; another calm before the storm. He smirked at the monk's observations and advice. So there was really such a thing as a wolf without a pack. With natural armor to boot. The oddities of Nyka never ceased to amaze him.

Them the monk shouted a warning and he heard a rustle and another snarl from behind him. He reacted as fast as he could, trying to step forward and pivot. Too slowly too late. As he moved his leg forward, he felt a searing pain on his lower calf near the ankle. He screamed and fell to one knee, the other leg held in place by the wolf tearing into his flesh. The wound burned, as if the wolf was injecting fire into his bloodstream. "KILL IT!" he screamed. "KILL IT! KILL IT! KILL IT!" His voice was filled with agony and fear. He was almost certain that the Marrow Dog's deadly fangs would rip the flesh from his bones. He was utterly helpless, completely at the mercy of the monk and the wolf.

by **Liar** on April 21st, 2012, 12:12 am

Teeth like blades tore clean lines through the flesh in his calf, catching on the bone it could not break. As painful as the bite was, it was nothing compared to what it could have been; the beast had lost teeth in its last collision with the mercenary’s gauntlet, and was disoriented by a battered skull and internal bleeding. Despite those disadvantages, it was driven by the adrenaline of survival, a potent weapon in itself. It tugged at Etrius, trying to pull him off balance in order to better devour him.

But the monk was at the ready. His giant sword came down on the dog’s back in a great sweep of ringing metal, an impact that would have cleaved it in two, if not for its hardened hide. Still, it loosed its jaws from the injured foreigner and stumbled away, whining. This time, it did not flee.

“Petch,” said the monk.

Clumsy and frantic, it snarled and leapt for it latest attacker, who carved a deep slice into its side before he was knocked on his back. The impact pulled the sword from his hand and left him to scrabble with sharp teeth and hard flesh. He managed to wrap his bloodied fingers around the dog’s neck, but its claws dug deep into his brown robes and the warm meat beneath; he could not toss it off. “It’s dead where it stands,” he stuttered over the spitting growls and dripping blood that lashed at him from above. He attempted a laugh. “Put it out of its misery!”