Blood Rain (Edreina)

by **Radiant** on September 10th, 2013, 5:31 pm

As the battle raged on, sellswords versus landspawns. With Razkar's leadership, the group's higher ground, and the sudden help of a mage; the Yukmen couldn't break through the line immediately, in fact, they looked struggling to defeat the steel, arrows, whip, and magic that faced them. Without the Alpha, the ravenous horde was torn into disarray, but they still had the strength in numbers, the battle still had no clear victors... yet.

"...." Karin kept staying by the Myrian's side, her pale right hand faced another large Yukman, lashing it with the illusion of a bright blinding light, she picked potential targets so the group could easily dispatch the more dangerous Yukmen. Being a Viper and one of the Inverted, a dancer to be exact, Karin was lithe and graceful, her acrobatic movements keeping pace with the Myrian, yet staying safely out of his attack range to avoid any friendly fire. A smile grew on her lips, she might like this Myrian after all, yet he viewed her with barely contained hatred, it made the Inverted all the more excited and willing to skew his views on her race.

"Gu-?!" Graceful though she was, dividing her attention to her gnosis, hypnotism, and movements caused her to have some openings here and there, and a lucky Yukman managed to slam its fist to her small frame, specifically to her back. Karin recovered before she fell to the ground by rolling forward, a Yukman was snarling and chasing her. She looked to the Myrian, he was busy facing about four Yukmen surrounding him, Karin clicked her tongue and lashed the offending landspawn with her light illusion, causing it to rear back.

A squad of about six Yukmen noticed the loud sounds of Edreina's whip, they were strangely attracted and charged at the Svefra, aiming to surround her and claw her to pieces. Karin noticed this and ran to the redhead, she slipped pass the Yukmen and grabbed Edri's hand "Run... now!" Her voice sounded a bit panicking, Edreina was high-priority person in the group, mainly because of her connections with Razkar.

"Tch!" She clicked her tongue, she had no choice, the six Yukmen were too close, she lashed each of them with sudden thoughts of "Fear!", the Yukmen paused for a couple of ticks as the result. "Ah... hah..." she could feel it, anymore exertion and she would overgive, this much magic was too much, even for a master like her. Karin grabbed Edri's sleeves and whispered to her "L-let'sss get out of here..." meaning that they both must gain back-up, either through Razkar or some other sellswords. The Dhani would be clinging to the Svefra should she decided to retreat.

by **Razkar** on September 12th, 2013, 2:46 am

He slashed and hacked and gutted and decapitated and washed himself in black blood and dying djed but it was never enough. It never would be.

Razkar could slaughter millions and it would not bring her back. But slaughter them he would.

The rain poured harder and the Myrian raged at the soaking horde of monsters through a howling frown, water cascading off his body, gnosis burning, lending him strength and speed. After the Eypharian was felled, he leaped over the corpse and was among the rest, the Dhani's illusion already fading, endless rage compensating for mere magecraft-

-which is where steel and iron came in-

-Razkar hacking down through an upraised arm, severing it through the elbow, momentum of the rune-marked ax crashing through the limb then into the torso attached to it, obliterating ribs, heart, lungs-

-gladius backhanding savagely to the side at another snarling parody of humanity, ripping open its rock-encrusted torso. Razkar felt the blade whine and tremor as iron scraped on those fragments, miniature geyser of black blood splashing across his chest-

-before he reversed his stroke and thrust the gladius into the beast's throat, ebony liquid that went with its eyes pouring from the ragged hole and its mouth-

But there were always more. Two dead was a drop in the ocean, and without Moretta's horsemen to harry and distract, the full weight of the Yukmen's single-minded lust for murder was focused squarely on that line of mercenaries... which was already breaking apart.

Even as he wove and ducked and slashed, Razkar cursed himself obscenely under his breath. What a foot he'd been! Rushing into the horde like some undisciplined recruit, eyes wide and full of dreams of glory, bringing the whole mess of the humans with him. They should have stayed in a straight, solid line, reinforced with shields and spears, let the unarmored Yukmen battered themselves bloody against them...

But now it was too late. The line wasn't breaking it, was broken; dozens, a hundred individual battles and duels between monster and sellsword taking place in a mad scrum of dirt churned to mud.

Men screamed and hollered, in battle rage or dying despair. Blades clanged and hammered, screeches no womb-born tongue could ever produce sent shivers like ice water up and down mortal spines. Bows twanged over and over, arrows whipping through the air like over-sized mosquitoes, and the Myrian was glad to see most of them were hits.

But not enough.

Razkar saw a couple of sellswords overwhelmed by sheer numbers, one still hacking with his broken blade even as his stomach was ripped open by talons, spitting out curses with his blood, his partner just shrieking and praying and pleading to eldritch faces that leered down for a tick before lunging for the soft, delicious meat-

A booming warcry had his head snapping around again, seeing the towering green-skinned Akalak swinging a maul the size of a sapling, shattering skulls and limbs and torsos with ease. One Demon leaped onto his back and the incensed giant reached back, gripped, tugged forward-

-coming away with a bloody jawbone, and the weight fell from his back, shrieking. Even Razkar was impressed; quite a grip...

More shrieking, hollering, snarling and that chilling chorus of "yukyukyuk" that was becoming just plain fucking tedious. A pair of them rushed him but then reeled back as if stung, heads shaking-

-as Razkar gave a glare to the figure tight to his side, trailing in his bloody slipstream. It was the closest he would come to thanking the Dhani, either by words or a simple nod.

He wasn't there yet... but he knew an asset when he saw one.

Disoriented and stunned, the Earth Demons were hacked down quick and clean, throats slashed open to the bone by gladius and hand ax-

-but more filled the gaps, Yukman ranks lessening but still thick, heedless of injuries or losses or odds or pain... even fear was but a brief light in a hurricane of dark, ageless anger. Four of them seemed to surround him, tall and broad, sinews of muscle bulging unnaturally, pulsing like tumors, mouths snarling so wide one would think their jaws were dislocated...

Razkar spat into the mud, bought his weapons together in front of his chest and then whipped them to the sides again, sparks striking even in the downpour.

"Come die for the one you took from me, scum."

They should have rushed him as one, but two were apparently more eager. The one to his right lunged forward, slashing wildly, no finesse or skill, and part of the Myrian wondered why there were no Dhani games being played on them-

Focus!

-but his body was still all the way there, honed by years of training. He swayed to his left, avoiding the talons, hacking low horizontally and disemboweling the shrieking creature, sending it staggering over its own guts-

-one on the left charging, but the Myrian spun in place, gladius hacking upward, taking off its hand-

-lashing out with his foot as it barreled past him, kicking it onward into the third, sending both sprawling backward in a confused heap-

-leaving him with the fourth, already one him-

-and his head rocketed forward out of sheer instinct, granite-like teeth grinding against his skull as they shattered-

-gladius stabbing into the beast's side, piercing malformed kidneys, drawing a scream of agony as he twisted the blade-

"For Yurta."

He whispered the word into an uncomprehending ear, but felt better for saying it... then stepped back and kicked the thing away, hacking again with his ax as the Yukman staggered back, clutching its side-

-opening its throat and sending a tidal wave of black blood washing over him, baptizing him in the abomination's final moments of life. The one-handed Second and jabbering Third were back to their feet but the Myrian was among them again, thrusting his gladius through Second's chest as it turned to face him again-

-ripping the blade free to his left, nearly cutting the dirt-skinned Demon in two as he did, pulling it to the side, out of his way, but pulling down as he did-

-avoiding the slashing talons that swung for his head from the last Yukman, dropping to one knee and swinging his ax into Third's kneecap, sending it crashing down to the same black-and-brown mix of mud, blood and driving rain-

-his gladius parted the raindrops, slicing them in two as easily and quickly as he did flesh and bone-

-neck bones, jugular, demonic vocal chords-

-Third's head hit the ground a few ticks before his body, and Razkar was up, looking for more targets, for-

-Edreina.

The warrior stilled, eyes that had been raging black fireballs now moist with concern, head snapping left and right, searching-

-snarling anew as he saw the Svefra and the Dhani together, the former apparently leading the latter, Karin now... weak? She staggered, eyes unfocused, limbs confused and alien to her... and hulking, ape-like beasts hewn from hate and rock and putrid flesh threw their shadows across the two females.

Razkar bellowed with all the power and fury of the Night Lion the necklace around his neck had ensnared, and began hacking his way towards them... heedless to the fresh vibrations and distant sound of... hooves...

by **Edreina** on September 13th, 2013, 4:12 am

The approaching Yukmen had not escaped Edreina's attention... But what could she do other than back away slowly? Run? Where? Instinct throbbed around her neck, whispering what she should do. But, she was too afraid to trust it at that moment. For all she knew, the Balicani would tell her to run at the monsters and hope for the best.

And suddenly, there was the stranger, gripping her wrist with such small hands. Before she spoke, Edreina knew the words that would leave her lips.

"Run... now!"

And then, the Yukmen paused for some inexplicable reason. Either way, Edreina capitalized upon it. Hauling the small woman along with her, the Svefra ran across the slick, muddy ground, feeling her boots threaten to sink or be suctioned with each step.

And then, she was facedown in the mud, tackled from behind by one of the creatures. She gasped, nearly inhaling some of the muck before remembering herself. Sharp hands grasped at her ribs, bruising and scratching the skin.

The Balicani exploded within Edreina, causing a growl to be ripped from her lips. Pushing off of the mud, she managed to roll until she was on her back, atop the writhing creature; it was physically shorter than her but so dense that the motion was a chore. Flipping the filthied whip in her hand - how had she managed to retain her hold on it? - the Svefra stabbed blindly over her shoulder just as she felt jagged teeth latch onto her shoulder... the same shoulder that was already scarred.

Both creatures screamed in pain, but one's scream was cut off in a grim gurgle as life was pulled from its body through a three-sided spike.

As the bite released, warmth bloomed about her shoulder once again, a feeling that was sickeningly familiar. But, she had no time to consider it. Another Yukman was upon her in an instant.

This one was also small and vaguely feminine in appearance, with willowy limbs and wider hips. It threw herself at Edreina with such ferocity and lack of subtly that the woman had no trouble rearing back her legs and planting them into her chest, kicking out with a grunt as the creature stumbled back, dazed.

Edreina moved to her feet quickly, swinging the whip over her head in an arc that allowed it to slash downwards, whistling ominously all the while, into the creature's neck at an angle. It did not remove the head - though that would have been lovely - instead creating a divot in the flesh at the neck so that the creature's black blood spillt forth as Edreina pulled her whip back.

But, neither of them were done. The shoulder with which she would have wielded the wakazashi had she the skill to focus on more than one weapon at a time was throbbing at the shallow bite. Somewhere beneath the desire to kill these demons of the dirt, the Svefra wondered if that was what a shark bite felt like.

Matted with dark brown mud, Edreina's hair resembled her weapon as she spun, whip working like a saw as she flicked it across the creature's abdomen. More blood came forth, and it only spurred the woman on. If she kept fighting, there was always the chance that she would make it to see another rise of Syna.

"For Myri..." The woman growled, eyes darkening a shade as she charged forward, turning the whip in her hand again so that she could punch the spike through the abomination's ribs, just below the sternum and up, as Razkar had taught her.

The creature shuddered then went still, breath leaving it, body collapsing towards Edreina with so much weight that the woman had trouble getting herself out from under it and managing to take her blade with her.

As she whirled to face the others, blue eyes hunting for the tanned skin of her lover, the tiny form of the stranger, the Svefra finally became aware of the horses. Mounted, bloodied, but still lethal, the damned half-Drykas and three of her companions had managed to return. The leader's arm was mangled, but still she wielded a sword from the back of her skittering strider, hacking through Yukmen as they charged for the caravan.

She was so beautiful in her execution of death; Edreina found herself hating the woman all the more.

But, it seemed as if the rest of the sellswords did not agree. At her appearance, harsh war-cries greeted the gore-splattered rider.

The injured blond was smart enough to ride back and bolster the rear guard, but too proud to seek safety. For a tick, the world stopped as the women's eyes locked and they realized that, for once, they would fight together.

by **Radiant** on September 14th, 2013, 3:04 am

With the arrival of the cavalry, the tide was clearly turning to the mercenaries. The horsemen charged, making use of the already engaged Yukmen to deliver a crushing blow, slicing dicing.

Karin found herself laying on the ground, dropped from Edreina when the Svefra decided to engage them. She coughed and put her hands to her mouth, finding some splotches of blood. Wincing, she stood up and observed as the sellswords finishing up the battle. Razkar reached his lover's side and assisted her in slaughtering the Yukmen that surrounded her.

Karin knew the battle would be over soon. She let the sellswords finish it up while making her way to one of the wagons that contained medical supplies. She rummaged it and took out a healer's kit, sighing, her small frame went under a wagon and removed her drenched cloak. Prodding her body, she got bruises here and there but - thankfully - no slash wounds.

As she patched herself up, Karin couldn't keep her mind off of the dynamics between the Myrian and the Svefra. A small smile curled on her lips, maybe she could do something about his hatred to Dhanis... this trip turned out to be interesting indeed.

OOCAlright, this should be my last post for the thread.

Post your last reply and I'll give you your grades, then we will continue the plot with the aftermath of the battle (and some shenanigans with Karin)

. I will create a new thread and PM you guys with the link.

by **Razkar** on September 14th, 2013, 10:12 pm

Razkar would have to admit later, he probably couldn't have planned it better if he'd tried. The line of sellswords was battered and bloodied and desperate, but it was holding... barely. The Yukmen horde had been decimated and the solid few that were left had learned, adapted in that eerie, utilitarian way they all did... but focused every ounce of rage and strength forward. Toward Razkar and Edreina and Sebastian and the whole haggard rest of them, and the succulent banquet of Albrecht and his caravan trembling behind them.

So when Moretta and her shriveled handful of survivors thundered into their backs, it was with the strength of a squad of charging Knights.

The Myrian had butchered his way to Edreina and they fought together in a brief, beautiful moment, back to back, hacking and whipping and chopping and bludgeoning anything that came close. So thick was the rain that Razkar didn't realize the half-breed and her fellows were back until they loomed out of the almost-liquid air a few feet behind the horde-

-crashed into the rear ranks, Moretta at the forefront, chopping downward over and over with her one working hand. A bloodcurdling Pavi curse would probably be rending the skies but her reins were clasped tight between shining teeth, eyes raging, determined to avenge those she had lost in the unknown bends they'd come from.

Razkar's eyes lit up at the sight of her... then darkened just as quickly. They would be having a talk.

And it would come sooner than expected. Squeezed by two sides, reduced massively in number and leaderless, the Yukmen horde dissolved into individual animals fighting desperate, merciless last stands. Sellswords, many hewn and limping, circled and slashed at each one, landspawn doing likewise, the very idea of Dira's embrace utterly foreign to them-

-until, one by one, they were hacked down, and fittingly enough-

"Bastard!"

-it was a final swing from Sebastian's ax that finally ended the skirmish. Mud and blood flowed and mingled together to thickly on him that one would almost mistake him for a Yukman... until the rain began to wash it away. From all of them.

Maybe a score of staggering, crouching, panting sellswords stood knee deep among twitching corpses. Eyes looked warily around, jaws under them slack, exhausted... and Razkar knew that to collapse now like many of them wanted to would be to show weakness.

You are the leader. That means, you cannot afford to collapse.

But even knowing that, before anything else, he turned to look at Edreina. Hands roving over her body in a way intimately familiar to her and yet... cold. Clinical. Cautious. But the few injuries he found were mild, much to his relief and he pressed his soaking, muddy brow to hers...

"Proud..." He muttered, breathless and uncaring who watched in that moment. "Proud... Reina..."

Like a cloud eclipsing Syna then floating past, the moment vanished as quickly as it came. The warrior straightened up, looked her over quickly, and then his eyes closed to slits as he saw the Dhani nursing her own wounds by a wagon. He pointed over to her with his black-soaked gladius.

"Go with her, Edri, and get patched." But just before she started off, his blade stopped her progress, and confused eyes swung to him. Black stared into blue, intent and serious, voice low and growling. "Be careful. She is snake, and she has touch of wyrd... like Matthew. Put thoughts and fears into you head. Be careful. Yes?"

He didn't unbar her way until she nodded, and when she did... he let her go. If the Dhani-scum had some machination for them, or him, or her, she had plenty of opportunity during that chaotic clash of demon and living. But, she had stayed; she'd helped, risked her life, shown courage and-

Cease this! She is Dhani! She is enemy, regardless of-

"Not now!"

"Ex-Excuse me, Mister Razkar...?"

Albrecht nearly flinched when Razkar turned to him so fast his neck nearly cracked, flinging little droplets of pitch blood and dirty rain. A wide-eyed visage of something primal and savage stared down at him... then softened... and he remembered to breath again.

"Mister Albrecht," Razkar said slowly, looking over and beyond the man to the milling caravan crowd behind him, "All you people are safe?"

"Y-Yes. They all stayed back, of course."

The human looked around at the unmitigated carnage before them. Bodies so thick that the ground was lost beneath them... a brief space of the world peopled only by staggering, wounded sellswords, some supporting others, some on their knees and panting... a few doomed others panting out their last breaths into the uncaring and turgid sky...

"Fucking Yukmen," the caravan master muttered, "Bastards..."

"All dead now." Razkar said with due satisfaction, kneeling by a dead sellsword to wipe his blades clean. "And we have work left to do. Have you people come forward. Cut off all heads and pile them on left of road. Throw all bodies on the right. Pour pitch on top and set both on fire."

Albrecht nodded, knowing as well as anyone else who'd traversed the Wildlands for half a lifetime how best to dispose of these foul creatures. But then his brow furrowed again.

"And... our dead?

Razkar looked around and did a quick headcount. Six archers, none of them wounded or marred, smart enough to stay back and stay high, supporting the close combat brawlers like he'd ordered. But only four horsemen returned out of twelve, led by Moretta.

And the brawlers, the ground-slogging bastards who'd truly won this battle with sweat and grit and sometimes their own lives...

Seventeen. Out of twenty-four. Eight were still or stilling, mingled among the Earth Demons. He lowered his head briefly, and Albrecht knew better than to speak as the savage's lips moved silently, eyes closed.

"Myri, look upon those brave and stalwart enough to face great odds this day. Barbarians they may have been, beyond your grace and light... but they fought hard, and they died as warriors. Goddess-Queen... remember them... and guide them to whatever judgement awaits them..."

Adapted though it was, warped and amended for those not born in blood and loyalty to the Goddess of War, the words were sincere. Razkar's gnosis purred softly at his neck as if in answer... and then its died... just as his men did.

"Clean them. Strip them. Prepare them for their burning... further down the road." He cast one more hateful glance at the deformed bodies surrounding him. "We will not cast their ashes among their killers, these... abominations. Then we can move."

He left Albrcht with his head bobbing and beard smacking wetly against his coat, turning to a crowd of minions waiting orders. He was already bellowing them out when Razkar turned away and began to walk, treading over severed limbs and discarded weapons, making a beeline for-

"You tried to fight them."

-Moretta. Sitting with her remaining three horsemen, one of them tending to her, eyes flashing sharply at the harsh tone of the fresh voice... then mellowing with latent fear when the human realized whom was speaking.

Not so Moretta. Hair disheveled and plastered to her face by the rain, arm a bloody mess of scars and cuts, she had nothing but grim, smoldering distaste for the one standing over her. Razkar paid the mood no mind; his words were delivered as a knowing statement, not a querying question.

"We tried to get back in time. They cut us off-"

"Eight dead." Razkar's dead, dull monotone cut her off, and that was more frightening to her fellows. Raging, screaming, spitting and shout they could handle; had handled. But this calm, lurking menace... "You think I believe eight men died running away from Yukmen? You must think I am moron, female. But not as much moron as you."

In a lurch of wounded pride and flesh she was up, finger flashing up-

-until Razkar caught it, twisting her arm to the side and her elbow inwards, then jerking it towards her-

-driving her back to her knees.

"The petch're you-"

One glare was enough to silence her riders; that and his other hand resting oh-so-amiably on the hilt of his gladius. Then he turned his gaze back to her.

"I know you are warrior. I know you are fierce, and proud, and able. But you lost most of our scout in stupid fight. What did I say? I said you and you riders do not fight alone. You bring warning back. You should have done... and you men would be alive."

He let her go, throwing her back into the muck as he did, heedless of her cry of protest. In Taloba, a Fang Leader who had erred so grievously would have been stripped of rank and flogged, bearing the scars of her shame forever. But here... Moretta was still an asset. Just one in need of restraint.

"Do not repeat this." He muttered, voice so low and lethal only she could hear it, Myrian now crouched like some gore-choked monster from the old times, regarding her with clam and empty eyes. "Or you not be worth keeping around."

Razkar walked away. He had others to see, his men to attend to... and a few feet away, he slung a shoulder under Manny's other armpit as Sebastian was struggling to carry the half-conscious boy to the wagon.

"Lad fought well."

"Yes."

"All the lads did, eh?"

"Yes."

All of them, Razkar thought as they lurched from the bodies, Albrecht's men already going about their work, and for some, it was still not enough.

by **Edreina** on September 15th, 2013, 1:25 am

So many times they had fought against one another; fighting alongside one another should have been uncoordinated and wrong for Edreina and Razkar. Instead, because they knew one another's fighting style so well, the pair was able to move in a unison that may have surprised onlookers.

Despite how her muscles protested and her body burned, Edreina straightened up from her crouch upon the realization that, finally, the fighting was over. She did it not because she felt that it was what was best for her tormented body, but because she knew it would be expected of her. Simultaneously, she and the Myrian turned to face one another, eyes roaming the bodies of one another. The redhead was unable to note any injuries beneath the black gore that covered him, but she noticed the way that his eyes lingered upon the bite-mark with something akin to... was that pride?

For a tick, the lovers moved close and allowed their foreheads to touch and their eyes to drift shut, a movement committed so swiftly that many brushed it off as a figment, a trick of the pelting rain or their own exhaustion.

Proud. Edreina was able to add one more Myrian word to her vocabulary as Razkar followed it up by the same in her own tongue, creating the connection between the oddly similar stance of each word upon her mind. The guttural word was turned over in the Svefra's mind, broken down until each syllable was memorized and documented.

His command was followed with only the barest of hesitation. More than anything she wanted to pull him close and thank every god she could name that they had made it through this together, for in some way, every god had their finger in that battle. Even the evil ones had aided the mercenaries in a roundabout way, one could realize if only they were willing to think hard enough.

But now was not the time for thought. The Svefra swayed where she stood as if on an unruly sea before turning to stride over to where the healers were working. For the first time in the entire journey, Edreina was glad that one of the hypochondriac passengers had decided to bring along a pair of personal healers. Both were marked by Rak'keli - twice in the case of the taller one - which gave them the need to help all that had been injured. Edreina was directed to the shorter one after showing another medic her injured shoulder for the wound was not horribly deep.

"Let me see," the man said, running his fingertips over the bent-circle wound as it marred Edreina's flesh ever so lightly. "Not too bad off. You were very lucky." There was an obvious warmth and compassion in his voice, something that Edreina did not realize how badly she missed after so long among the rough-mannered sellswords. To hear kindness with no ulterior motives was refreshing as the gentle drizzle than now danced over them. "This may itch a bit, but please stay still."

The Svefra was dimly aware of how close his hand came to her skin without touching it before the itching set in. It felt as if someone was letting bugs crawl across her skin, little multi-legged creatures created solely to annoy the Svefra. In order to distract herself, Edreina asked the Healer the first question that came to mind. "Why do you work for a single rich person? Would your gift not be better in the general public?" It was only after she spoke that the woman realized how presumptuous she sounded, inferring that this healer cared more for money than the well-being of others.

Just as she was about to utter an apology, the healer surprised her by laughing, eyes still intent upon his own hand when Edreina risked a glance up at him. "My... it does seem odd, does it not? But, no. Usually, I work for the knights but my companion and I grew tired of Syliras. So, when Mr. Deswell - our employer - put out word that he was looking for healers to travel with him to Zeltiva, we were happy to oblige. Besides. Plenty of bumps and bruises and bug-bites to fix along the way- Ah. There you go!" Surprised, the freckled woman turned to examine his handiwork, surprised to see that now a pale crescent rested atop the scar left by Razkar's gladius. Surely, the pattern was repeated on her back. "You have some scratches on your back. Would you like for me to handle those too?"

"No no! I mean, thank you, but you've done enough-" Oh how wonderful it was to be able to smile at someone without fear of them thinking you weak! "-and I'm sure your talent is better used elsewhere."

Returning her smile, the healer moved to the side, inclining his head ever so slightly.

Moving in between two of the wagons, Edreina found Jorven, standing stoic beside Mrrko with his ears pressed flat to his skull. At the sight of his rider, the horse perked up and whinnied in her direction, giving the Svefra the strength to speed up just a bit as she went towards him. The whip was quickly cleaned and looped in the saddle once more. Before leaving, Edreina opened up the saddlebag to reveal Navis' quivering form, assuring him with gentle pats and a scratch beneath the chin, before returning to the battlefield.

As she walked, Edreina found herself struck by the realization that she felt no remorse for the Yukmen that had died - they were but beasts, afterall - and none for the men and women that had fallen in the skirmish because they had been given a death worthy of any warrior. A warrior... was that the mindset into which she was slowly sinking?

Once there, Edreina would help with moving the bodies the best that she could. But first, the Svefra had to fulfill her more... pirate-esque... urges. The men were dead and though some saw taking things from them as desecration, Edreina could not help but laugh at such a sentiment. What were they going to do with it? They were dead. They did not need it anymore, so let it pass into the hands of someone who would use it. The ideology was so very... Svefra. When someone died on the Anchorage Flotilla, they were not set adrift in their ship. That would be a waste of valuable resources. They were bared and sent down to Laviku. The only ceremony was that pod members got first dibs on the deceased's possessions.

Crouching over the pale form of a fallen mercenary, Edreina made quick work of his pockets, caring not about the necklace about his throat nor the knife at his hip. Let others who would use those take them, the Whitewave reasoned, having not inherited her mother's tendency to hoard things in hopes of someday finding a use for them. However, in the rucksack still about his shoulders, Edreina did find something of interest: books. The battle had ensued so quickly, it seemed, that the man had not the time to divest himself of such cumbersome paraphernalia. The books were brown leather bound with common parchment pages. Upon one cover, a book was named, "The Basics of Shielding", another "The Ways of Ionu", "Knowing Those Around You" was the third, and a single tome known as "The Bladesmith's Guide". The fourth held no interest for Edreina and was left behind, but the others had such odd titles that the Svefra could do not but take them with her for later inspection.

On another body, Edreina found nothing of interest until she noticed that his ring was made from links of bone held together by silver wire. In each link, a familiar black shape was held in place by a carved circle. After a tick, her eyes widened with the realization that the ring was Maledicted. Could she.. should she take it? What would happen if she were to take a Maledicted item that was not made for her as the claws about her throat had been. More than that, what power could this ring hold? Pursing her lips, Edreina tore off the bottom of the man's shirt and used it to carefully remove the ring before folding the bones in said fabric. Waste not... Want not... She thought, slipping the ring into her pocket before turning to leave the books in Jorven's saddlebags before returning to help. Later, she would allow Razkar to inspect the ring. Perhaps she would be lucky and the bone would be ivory and the runes for decoration. Perhaps... Hmm... She would have to wait until later to solve this one.

by **Radiant** on September 17th, 2013, 3:27 am

Razkar :

Edreina :

Notes :

My radiance is not bright enough?

If you have any questions or concerns regarding your grade, beam me a PM and we can work it out.

Skill	XP Earned
Socialization	+1 XP
Intimidation	+2 XP
Dual Wield	+3 XP
Tactics	+2 XP
Riding: Horse	+1 XP
Leadership	+2 XP

Skill	XP Earned
Observation	+3 XP
Socialization	+1 XP
Weapon: Whip	+3 XP
Brawling	+1 XP
Acrobatics	+2 XP
Tactics	+2 XP
Endurance	+2 XP
Riding: Horse	+2 XP

Completed Blood Rain (Edreina)