Quest A Hunting We Will Go

[Riaris Dovukalis]

Riaris was glad to see the warhorse being more useful, by dropping and rolling over the Zith put two less in their way. But the Akalak wasn't taking chances, he quickly moved to the down Zith, and with a turn of his wrist slit the throats one after the other. The Zith were gearing up for some sort of sky attack, but Riaris was still trying to deal with the ones on the ground and keep them away from the Konti.

He scanned the crowd of furry, winged bats and waited for them to attack. "Come on, I will kill all of you!" Riaris snarled and stamped his feet, daring one to try him. The sudden spear wiping by, almost striking Riaris told him just how hissed off they were. Tucking his lakan into his pocket, Riaris retrieved the spear and held it horizontally with both hands. The moment the Zith would attack he would shove the spear against them and shove them backwards and onto each other. Maybe then, while they were crawling to get up, he could slice a few of them up.

However, before he could do so, the cry of a Zith pulled their attention away from his as a fellow Akalak made his way into the fight. It was Onithet, and while Riaris hadn't forgotten how much he wanted to smack him good, now wasn't the time. More to his surprise was the ring of flames that roared up, showing that the Konti was ready to battle again. One of the Zith slipped backwards and moved a bit too close to Riaris. He quickly grabbed the beast from behind and stabbed his spear deep into it's back. His other arm wrapped around it's shoulder and neck, while his hand laid Krysus' mark upon him. Another stab, and another and the Zith would feel like it had been stabbed with a much bigger spear.

The cries of their brother, called out to the Zith, who started to charge Riaris, but it wasn't as easy with Onithet, Linoa, and the warhorse attacking them as well. A single Zith made it through the group and Riaris quickly slung the injured Zith right at him. He stumbled back from the contact, only to see his comrade fall away and Riaris to leap forward and tackle him to the ground. Riaris stabbed the beast across it's chest and shoulder, ripping into it's muscles before a final stab left the spear deep in his neck. The Akalak stood up, his breaths deep and fast as he regained his footing, only to be tackled by another Zith.

Pushing his weight down, Riaris grabbed the winged beast, turned his hips, and slung the creature into the wall of flames. There was a loud screech as the beast caught fire and tumbled to the ground trying to put the flames out. Recoomas suddenly appeared, the action and excitement of the night calling to both souls of the Akalak. He turned around to find three Zith stalking him and slowly closing in. A smirk stretched across his lips as he lowered his body, pale eyes watching them with a more calm patience and he pulled his lakan free again.

The first Zith attacked, and Recoomas ducked under his arm and slashed his lakan out at it's ribs. The second attacked next, and the quick movements of the Akalak allowed him to duck under and jerk his leg out to slam into the side of the Zith's knee. Two slightly injured and a third in the wait. But Recoomas was ready and waiting for them. Upon the third attack, all three Zith charged in at once knocking Recoomas to the ground and slashing into his flesh with their weapons and claws. The Akalak rolled and thrashed around as he tried to get them all off him.

[Traverse]

oocThat was totally fine.

Razkar

Her eyes, glinting like obsidian in the flickering torches looked mad. Dhani mad, or perhaps just insane mad would do. Sure it would be inevitable her brother's death. If he showed weakness she would cut him down, if he inevitably turned on her, she would kill him. She had always been the smarter of the two, but he had longed so for the power she commanded.

But it would have been her job to put Brother into his place...and this screeching insect had taken it all away from her.

So she would take it all away from him.

Her battle cry was that of a banshee, the cry loud, ear piercing as its cadence went from a scale that humanoid ears could bear up to notes that Razkar could not even perceive, though surely several dogs in Riverfall whined in their sleep at the noise.

An axe? She grinned. Her hands, palms facing outward slid over each other, as if she was attempting to block the blow with her very body. But that was not the ways of a mage, and instead the purple bloom of res re-emerged, forming into another dome, this one tighter, thicker...a shield. The axe furiously plowed into the defensive object, splitting it in half, which gave the Zith pause. She hadn't recalled that happening before.

She didn't have much time to puzzle that riddle out though, for the disgusting man was running for her, and she had other tricks up her sleeve. Crookedly she took flight, wings beating out of time to keep her relatively in-sync within the skies. She saw the male stop below her, snarling in fury, and grinned. Why...he was quite like her brother, wasn't he? Impatient, testosterone fueling him, wishing to rip everything apart without a seconds thought? Wait..no, that was like her?

Another screeching laugh echoed across the fields and the Zith summoned up her Res once more, a sweet voice in her head encouraging every move as if she had needed the affirmation. She seemed to enjoy shaping her ice, it seemed for now she made a glistening spear, crystalline and wafting off ice crystals in the chill winds that swept across the Sea.

She spun it around like a performer, tossing it from hand to hand, making sure she had the male's attention before hurling it at his chest. But he was not the easy kind of prey that stood still, and so, copying his idea she swept downward after her attack, icy spikes growing from her knuckles as she attempted to strike his face.

Recoomas

Why fight one Zith when you could be clouting three simultaneously?

Zith have the benefit of flight, but once you remove that, there is something to be said for pitting a Zith against a muscled Akalak, giant and powerful with or without weapons. The small horde that had formed around Konti, Akalak, and horse suddenly found themselves at more than a little disadvantage. Linoa removed a thin curved sword from her belt to stab the fiery Zith Riaris had sent her way through the chest, and the wounds that Recoomas was doling out left and right were no flesh wounds, the monsters spitting, spinning and coughing up blood at every turn.

But sheer numbers could always be a problem, as was the case in this particular instance. It seemed the purple Akalak could manage to get off one, even two of his assailants at a time, but not all, and they struggled to keep him down, knowing the consequences of what would happen if they allowed him to throw he weight around once more. Scratches lit up his chest, paining flooding through him.

His savior it turned out...was simply another Zith.

But not just any Zith, no...the one that had already marked Recoomas as his prey. That dark sword slashed powerfully through the Akalak's assailants, one head and several limbs spilling over onto the ground as Zith bodies collapsed in a frame around Recoomas.

The large male Zith chittered, slashing his sword in a menacing horizontal swipe. His muscles glistened, and just like his opponent a score of scrapes and cuts littered his body, half of an arrow shaft sticking out of his soldier.

He was no Sylirian knight to wait for his opponent to rise, and following the swipe he brought the giant blade above his head and slammed it downward directly towards Recoomas's torso.

Onithet and Linoa were busy on the sidelines, one hacking at Zith, the other attempting to heal fallen comrades before they were swept into Dira's embrace. Patience, arrows in her flanks and blood leaking out of her nostrils was surrounded by a half dozen Zith who seemed to be sick and tired of the petching ornery warhorse.

Leaving the freakishly large zith and the freakishly purple Akalak to their duel.

[Razkar]

His heart leaped as his feet did when he saw his ax smash aside that damnable, cowardly shield like it was glass, but the impact threw it off course, sending it tumbling away from her. But he still had his moment, dark feet pounding across the clear patch of earth between them, gladius tossed to his right hand in anticipation for-

Just a little a longer, a little closer-

"Cunt!"

Twas not to be, and Razkar roared his outrage up in the short, sharp, universally savage curse as the wing'd bitch laughed her sheer scorn at him and flapped (unsteadily) away. But steady or not, she was still twenty feet above him, gaining by the tick, far beyond his blades and there was no bow near him.

"RRRRAAAAAAHHHHHH!"

A wordless, primal, deafening cry of barbaric fury erupted from his mouth until his lips were peeled back to nothing and his face was just a mass of twisted flesh, glaring black eyes and sharp teeth. Her eardrum-shattering banshee cry answered him, that mocking laughter at the poor ground-ling who was still helpless.

A chime passed, another monster dead, but he was no closer to victory. Not while she could still fly-

-and craft weapons from that purple wyrd that spread from her hands.

Razkar tensed and lowered into a crouch as she crafted a long, jagged-tipped spear in her hands, more like a whaling harpoon than a javelin. She tossed it lightly from hand to hand, playing with him, grinning with teeth sharper and longer than his (well, almost), but Razkar forced his mind to focus on her, knowing the weapon was useless, harmless until it was-

-hurled-

-straight at his chest-

-and he was throwing himself to his side the tick after it left her hand, gash in his ribs and leg stretched but numbed by rampaging adrenaline throughout his body. His gnosis peaked at the back of his neck and he almost heard the heavy thunk of the ice spear slamming into the ground where he'd stood, eyes flashing back up as he rolled to his feet-

-and saw nothing but a black, furry fist tapered to vicious claws and topped with what looked like shards of broken glass pressed into her knuckles-

Down!

Surprised again, but now the beginnings of some savage confidence, even joy, stirred inside Razkar. Even as he swayed back to avoid the first, a blur of grinning teeth and flapping wings vibrating in front of his eyes, he felt himself swell, felt something that rippled like laughter flow out from his gnosis.

You should have stayed in the skies, bitch. Down here? You're mine.

Her fist swung past and over him as he tucked his head and bent his knees, but exploded upwards against when the whoosh of it had passed over his hair. She wasn't as fast now, not as sure or agile with one wing shredded, and though wounded, he still had Myri's Blessing.

Don't waste it.

As his legs jacked back up sharply so did his left hand, snapping out and aiming to grab a handful of-

He didn't know the word for it, the material that made up her right wing. It was like... skin, but stretched and lined with veins and thin chords of muscle. Perhaps it was a combination of both, or maybe the wings were, in fact, just massive, thin muscles.

The Myrian decided he would find out later. For the moment, he contented himself with jamming his left hand into the mass of it, still flapping weakly despite being shredded, holes so big the fires could be glimpsed through them-

-grabbing hold onto something that could have been bone or muscle but bled all the same-

And then, as expected, her sheer momentum dragged him almost clean off his feet, spinning him around, outraged and agonized shriek splitting his ears but now from much closer. Sister spun around, amazed and furious that her flight had been interrupted, feeling her feet skin onto the hated ground like some... some... insect!

The two locked eyes as Razkar kept his grip, surprised at how light the female was. Mayhap she had bird bones, too.

He smiled. Once. Time it well and didn't give her a chance to do anything but realize-

"Stupid."

-as the purple light burst from her hand and Razkar's gladius hacked upwards, right hand trembling as he felt the keen blade slice through the wing he held near its base, and come away from Sister's body with a scream that spoke of the death of the soul.

The moment the pressure and resistance ceased and he knew his blade was cleaving through empty air again, above her head, Razkar would slash down diagonally, towards the sweet spot between the ball of her shoulder and her neck. At a different angle, it would take her head, but Razkar was not planning on being so merciful.

No. Instead it would rip through her fragile clavicle like an ax through a sapling, smash down into her ribcage and burst every pumping organ inside it like bags of rotten fruit.

A fast death, but not immediate. Long enough for her to know she'd lost. An indulgence, and perhaps a costly one... but she'd earned it.

Careful, a forgotten voice chimed in, early drowned out by the churning carnage all around them, you have to strike the blow first.

Yes, he countered, a little smugly but with some justification, but where can she run to now?

[Riaris Dovukalis]

The fight went on forever, a fierce brawl for the ages. It seemed bleak at moments, the hoard of Zith continued to topple him again and again, no matter how many he tossed off and cut up. Fatigue had set in long ago, and the Akalak's adrenaline rush was washing away. Recoomas stabbed another Zith, he kicked two others and rolled over another. At this point he could see nothing beyond the winged beast that attacked him non stop.

His wounded burned, muscles ached and he was no where near a resting point. His hair was matted, wet and caked with sweat and blood. His flesh appeared discolored with the same crimson that faded his torso into a strange blueish tone. Pale eyes started out at the mass of bodies surrounding him and Recoomas saw life. Even if he did die that night, it would be a warrior's death and a better way to go than by simply dieing of old age.

"Show me your strength beasts, prove to me that you are worthy of taking me down."

Suddenly cries were heard, and he noticed Zith peeling away as their bodies were cut and sliced up. At first he thought it was his comrades, coming to reunite and finish off the battle. Until he laid eyes on the dark sword, that same dark sword that he had seen before. This was surly a fight worth Recoomas' style. Blade for blade, beast vs beast.

"And you..I'll give you a good death."

The horizontal swipe was met with a push from his lakan, using it to block and also to push himself away from the hulking creature. Recoomas moved back, ducked, and rolled himself under the arm of the Zith as it tried to slice him in half with a powerful swing. Finally able to return to his feet, the Akalak was met with a viscous back kick that forced him to stumble backwards. Grabbing his chest, Recoomas breathed deeply, forcing air to continue to work through his lungs even though his chest felt as if it had been caved in.

The huge male Zith chittered again and darted towards the Akalak, wings extending and beating up dust. The Akalak moved in as well, quickly shifting his weight to one side,after appearing to go for a swipe at the Zith's neck, then instead turning off his shoulder and slicing open the folded meat at the top of his right wing. The Zith snarled in pain, his wing twitching as he tried to extend it fully to see if he could still fly. Recoomas darted in again, slamming his shoulder into the chest of the beast, while stabbing his lakan into it's back where the muscled structure of his left wing protruded from his body. A second cry rung from the Zith and he shoved the Akalak off once more.

His wounds weren't fatal, but it would keep him grounded and he would now face Recoomas on a level field. Rage filled, the Zith took a viscous swing at the Akalak, who swung up and blocked with his lakan held between both hands. A clawed Zith foot jerked up and jammed into his knee, forcing him to stagger and the back hand of the beast met with a loud smack against his face. Recoomas took another step back, wiping the blood from his mouth and pacing his next move.

When the Zith moved, he did. The Zith swung hard and wide, forcing the Akalak to dodge more than attack. He was already tired, and having to face a fresher Zith wasn't a good idea. But he wouldn't give up, and if he couldn't match the creature then he would tire him out. The Zith continued to attack, and Recoomas ducked and dodged mostly. A sudden charge by the Zith caught him off guard and as he ducked the swing, the huge beast slammed into him and knocked him flat. Rolling to the side, Recoomas slammed a foot into the side of his, and quickly shifted a wicked kick into his jaw once he dropped down to one knee.

[Traverse]

Razkar

She wasn't quite sure precisely when she realized she was going to die. It might have been that look, the look of a reaper of Dira herself, black soulless eyes filled with hate and rage and as she drew close...glee. It might have been when she felt blade tear through muscle, bone, and flesh, with pain so great she knew she would probably never fly again.

But then again...it might have just been when the blade, backed by some inhuman strength sliced through most of her body in one single go. She tried to scream, but blood welled up inside her throat, coming out in a cascade that flew against the barbarian's chest. She looked up hopelessly into his eyes, seeing his chest heaving, the wounds she herself had inflicted, but that hadn't been enough.

A fast death, but not an immediate one. She saw him lean in close, perhaps just to watch the life go out of her eyes, to make sure she knew who was sending her into death, and that was when Razkar would feel a hand, weak, but strong with the fervor of a last act, wrap around his throat. Was she actually trying to choke him? What a preposterous thought, she hadn't the time or the energy left. But no...suddenly and a bit too late her would feel something soft and velvety, yet cold sliding along his throat, up his chin and it slipped in between grinning sharpened teeth into his throat. The hand fell down, and the Zith's body crumpled, but she managed to look up at him, lips twitching in a small smile, and just before her eyes closed and her head lolled to the side, she snapped her fingers.

And all of a sudden...Razkar was unable to breath. Whatever had slid into his throat had solidified. It pressed harshly within his throat, cold and not belonging there, and if he had the capacity in that moment, he might realize precisely what she had done. But even if he did, what the petch was there to do about it now?

Recoomas

The cry of the Zith was deafening. He opened his mouth and what should have rightfully come out was a yell, like the Myrian's far across the field, or a cry of pain like the Drykas who had just taken a javelin to the chest, instead it was a high pitched squeal, somewhere in the pained category, but also angry...? Perhaps.

The kick from Recoomas sent the Zith whirling, one wing catching him to make sure he didn't topple, the injured one tucked in carefully to avoid further harm. He simply couldn't understand these creatures, so large and brutish, they never seemed to die, while he saw so many others Zith and human alike collapsing with blood spilling out of their mouths, just how he liked. He wasn't stronger than this purple-man thing, no...but he could see the weakness, the exhaustion in its movements, knew what games it was playing with him. The wing injury had been a folly on his part, but he couldn't allow for any more.

But now his wing was aching, his leg pounding, and a throbbing starting up behind his eyes that the Zith just couldn't shake, and his grand idea of tactics ended with another vicious sweep toward the Akalak, which just like most the others, he dodged surprisingly quickly for something his size.

The Zith snarled, and took a couple steps back, resting his large sword in the ground. He heard the sounds of death around him, and part of his mind wondered if when the sun came out the next morning if this fight would have simply ended with each side killing themselves. What he could not see was several of his brethren already retreating, and a marked push from Akalak and Drykas lines, who had not lost so many as it would seem with a few well placed healers charging around the field, tending to their injuries.

But these things, they did not matter in a feud to the death, at least not until it was over, but the Zith did desperately want it to be over.

He charged again, having regained his breath, but this time his long diagonal swipe was merely a feint. Both wings folded inward, one of them shot out, his body rotating to strike the Akalak directly in the face with the appendage, not a fatal blow for certain, but one that packed more a punch then any fist ever could. He continued to rotate then the sword slicing towards the Akalak's legs, but also opening the Zith up to attack as well, his back completely unprotected in the strangely elegant assault.

[Razkar]

Razkar had heard of victory being snatched from the jaws of defeat; he'd even heard it the other way around. But the Myrian had never heard of defeat slithering down his throat and choking the petch out of him.

Icy, paralyzing coldness gripped him around the throat like a massive, frozen hand, but all the pressure was from inside his throat. The vicious victory shining in his eyes was replaced in a blink by confused rage, that passed very quickly to-

-choking-

-retching-

-terror.

The Myrian staggered and reeled through the flickering whirl of battling shadows and blazing lights, gladius gripped so tight it vibrated in his hand. His other clawed and clutched desperately at his own throat, trying to pull away something that just wasn't there.

No thought. No conscious action. He gasped and gasped but no fresh air could seep through the freezing block in his throat, and some primal desperate drove him to squeeze-

A flicker to his right. Something hobbling and loping like a creature unused to its own legs. Tattered wings splayed out like trampled leavers, raging madness bright in its eyes.

The Zith horde was retreating in the face of the arrows and steel and flame of the Drykas-Akalak company, but only in general. Some were simply left behind. The hopeless, the crippled, the blood-maddened and Dira-scorning... they were the ones who couldn't or wouldn't flee, rising Syna or not.

Dira's embrace was upon that frenzied few, and like any other animals facing their end, they knew nothing other than to fight to the end of light and the start of eternal dark.

With a bloody, hissing shriek the creature lurched at Razkar, hands bloody, torn, whatever weapon it carried long since lost but its talons still more than capable of rending flesh. Razkar half-crouched, half-fell, ducking his head, under the blow, arm whistling above his head-

-thrusting upward with his gladius even as he choked against his own turgid throat-

-slamming his blade through the Zith's gut, piercing soft organs and downy fur like they weren't even there, shriek changing from raging to agonized in a mere moment-

-but there was no follow up, no finishing move. Razkar just toppled backward drunkenly like some comedy mime, gladius falling from his fingers, both hands clutching desperately again-

-until a fresh shadow blotted out the lights, nothing but one-winged darkness looming over him, one glaring eye going with it, a Zith with not long left but still with a club, and that was all it cared about-

"Petching DIE!"

-but the groundling was fast despite his chocking, rolling to his side, again, a third time, avoiding each thunderous pounding from the brass-knobbed weapon. The cyclopean Zith snarled its frustration and swung at its head instead, sideways, but Razkar shuffled backwards, feeling his guts roil, lungs begin to burst, managing to get up to his feet shakily-

-Zith barking out at the moment of weakness, both hands gripping the weapon and thrusting the head of it at Razkar's stomach like the club was a spear-

-heavy head nearly knocking Razkar off his feet, pulping his stomach, squeezing everything inside his intestines, forcing the contents up-

-out-

-and with a hideous, blood-flecked ejaculation, a wave of vomit flooded from Razkar's screaming mouth.

The Zith swore and cursed in utter shock as a wave of the foul concoction caught him full in the face, blinding him, sending him backward with his hands clawing at his own face. Chunks of partially-digested Snarlwing, soupy bread, stomach acids and...

The Zith's world shattered, then froze, and for one insane tick, it wondered why the petch there was ice in there?

Razkar fell down to one knee, throat raw, blood on his lips, but there was air flooding sweetly (if painfully) into his empty lungs, and an enemy before him, who'd cracked ribs and inadvertantly saved its prey.

Now blind and bewildered, unarmed... but Razkar was now, and as he felt the coconut-sized bruised on his chest, his fingers brushed the handle of his kukri-

Strong fingers gripped it, ripped it downward and free-

-slashed upward vertically as he lunged forward, strangled warcry loosing from a ragged throat, all the exhaustion of his wounds seeping through his body. Against an aware and skilled enemy, the strike could have been easily blocked or avoided.

But against one who was blinded with his own stomach contents? Well...

The Zith felt the slash open up its stomach and its eyes snapped open, glaring even as a thin trickle of stringing... something, dripped into them. Saw the wounded groundling there, now on its feet, swaying but determined, oddly-curved knife gripped, and it lunged-

-just as Razkar did-

-hurling himself bodily forward, kukri held tight at his side until it exploded forwards, thrusting for that same wound-

-and his head aimed at the Zith's throat-

-teeth wide and glinting like Dira's glaives to the bedraggled and fading mind of the Zith.

Savage and monstrosity crashed into each other, but the Zith's eyes popped open in fresh paroxysms of pain, neck savaged and bit through by a row of sharpened teeth, gnawing through flesh and fur, Razkar wanting to gag but refusing to, biting until fur became flesh became veins became-

-a wash of stinking aqua vita in his mouth, kukri hammering back and forth, over and over, until his arm was tired and numb, until the dozen or so stabs to the Ziths stomach bled together and combined into one ugly, gaping void that intestines slithered from...

Eyes fading... rage dying with the rest of it... the Zith slid to its knees, face growing paler and paler but the Myrian would not let go.

The two beasts, one awash in the gore of the other, sank to the blood-slick floor of the killing ground like lovers under hellish light, as the battle fell to rout around them...

[Riaris Dovukalis]

Recoomas rolled away from the Zith to create a bit of distance, and ended up having to duck and roll again when the beast took another swing at him. Recoomas rose to one knee, laken held firmly in his hand. He stared at the Zith across from him, the beast himself was also taking a knee. It was obvious they were both tired and fighting with what little strength they had left. But neither would give up, neither would flee and that left them with only one thing to do.

Finish it.

As far as the war was concerned, the Akalak/Drykas alliance had won. The remaining Zith were already running scared and there were few behind still fighting til their last breath. If this Zith wanted to be one of them, Recoomas would be glad to help him out with it. The Akalak rose to his feet at the same time as the Zith, and charged in as his foe did. The Zith came with a long diagonal swipe and Recoomas was ready for it. He jumped back to dodge it, then quickly moved in for his own strike. He was caught by surprise with the wing attack and took a hard smack to his face from it.

"Damn Zith...enough of this."

Recoomas was staggered for a moment, and had to quickly dart away to evade the finish of the attack. He had seen the opening just moment before, but was unable to take it. He moved around the Zith, edging his way towards it's injured side. Seeing this movement, the Zith turned away, shielding his scared wing and moving towards the Akalak with another attack. This time, Recoomas had a plan, and the moment the Zith came into range, he pulled his feet together, bended his knees, and launched himself upward, shifting his weight around as he slammed both feet into the chest of the beast.

The impact was hard, and the force strong enough to knock the weapon from the Zith's hands as his body snapped back and fell to the ground. His vision was blurred for a moment, and the beast heaved deeply as he tried to force air back into his lungs. The moment he realized his weapon was gone, he started to look around for it, and found it near by. However, a big purple foot landed upon it before he had the chance to pick it up again.

The beast stared upward into pale, almost white eyes, as Recoomas glared down at him. It was his move now, he could flee with the others or stay and die. The towering Akalak stood silently, his lakan at the ready by his side. In truth, he wanted the Zith to try him, he wanted to finish the beast off in the worst way possible. It seemed as if chimes passed as the two stared at the other, and the decision lingered in the air. The Zith snarled, sliding his feet under him, a viscous glare in his eyes.

He knew he was going to die, but there was no other way for him. He would never yield to any enemy no matter how strong they were. His place was on the battle field dead or alive, and so it would stay. The Zith snarled again pushed himself up as fast as he could, but Recoomas was waiting. The moment the Zith move he swung back his lakan and swipe it across the beast face, taking out one of his eyes. There was a loud cry of pain, before he was silenced by a stiff foot from Recoomas to his jaw. The Zith fell backwards in a dazed stare and the only thing he saw was a glint of light as his own weapon raked across his neck.

[Traverse]

A haggard cry went up into the night from the victors, one born of exhaustion, fury and pain, but also of the sweet taste of blood that signaled the defeat of the Zith and the victory of the combined forces of Drykas and Akalak. The bizarrely large attack had been thwarted far from Riverfall's walls and it would send a message to all others, both hampering Drykas parties and thinking to harry and hamper the Akalak: They would fail.

But no victory comes without cost. Wounded Striders gave their dying breaths to bonded riders, whose tears slipped down their faces, and what might have been an even more lonesome sight was the empty Yvas perched upon a strider's back as it nosed a motionless body upon the ground.

Somewhere an Akalak closed his eyes in the arms of his brother, wounds too grievous for the Konti's talents who gripped his blue arm in a vice.

Linoa slid through blood and gore upon her knees to arrive at the side of Razkar, her hands upon his arm.

"Myrian? Myrian! Stay awake dammit!" A flash in his dark eyes spoke of a determination that even death could not stop and she smiled to herself. "Come on...tonight is not your time."

Hands slid around his sore neck, and through them her magic slid into him. It was cool and clean, the very opposite of the dried substance upon his body, the puke trickling down his bare chest, first the horrible soreness, the pain in his throat made from open wounds taken from the ice were taken and reduced to the vaguest itch, bloody patches of skin began to seal up, but the Myrian had lost consciousness long before it was over. Perhaps this cradle of death was the perfect bed for the savage, or perhaps it was just the end to the long journey, and to have it end in a beautiful Konti's arms? So much the better.

For Riaris and Recoomas, it was a lovely thing of Drykas ancestry that found him, kneeling next to his kill, one hand squeezing the remaining life force out of an otherwise, very dead Zith. She did not possess the healing gifts of Linoa, but the water on his wounds, clearing the dirt and debris was replaced with a cooling balm that seemed to sap much of his pain away. A cool hand ran across his brow.

"Sleep now, big man, the world will be here when you wake in the morning, no?"

A flask of water was put to his lips, and regardless of his responses, whatever was laced in the drought brought him into Nysel's domain as swiftly as anything.

------

The two warriors woke, not far from where they had first fallen into sleep. Both males found themselves upon cots, bodies bandaged and wrapped, but otherwise...in a lot better condition than they had been in the fight before hand, only slivers of wounds remained where gaping wounds had been before, though the soreness of their battle was just as evident, despite their treatment.

Both Razkar and Riaris were in a large tent erected for the wounded and recovering warriors from the fight, put up not far from the scene of the great battle. A few healthier scouting parties had gone out in the morning to pursue any fled Zith to the nearest caves and dark corners they might have found before Syna emerged at dawn. A few scant patrols of Akalak and Drykas walked casually around the grounds, which was the trampled and decimated killing field from the previous night, aiding with body collection and creating a giant bonfire, one separate for the monsters than for the warriors and their mounts.

A simple breakfast of dried meat, hard bread and chess was provided for the warriors upon waking, and as the day passed, those that were fit and able would be released from care of a mix of Drykas and Konti healers to return to their pavilions or the city at large.

oocStill one post apiece and we shall rap this baby up!

[Razkar]

It would have been a good death.

Not a great one, Razkar would have to admit later. Not one that would have been crowed around camp fires back home, nor etched into stones on the walls of Taloba. Few of his people accomplished such deeds, after all, and fierce though the fight was, a handful of Zith were not worthy of immortality. But it would have been... fitting.

You've always known how your life would end.

But lack of fear was not acceptance, and Razkar knew he had some flame left within him. That was what the Konti saw burning in his eyes when she laid her hands on him, though his body was weakened and his vision fading... all but the grip on his kukri, held so tight his hand nearly trembled and her thin fingers couldn't move them no matter how much she cursed or strained...

"Tonight is not your time..."

Razkar's lips curved upward into a slight smile; strange and drowsy, bloodied teeth and gore-caked face clashing hideously with the innocent expression. He gasped as he felt the flood of djed rush through him, sealing woulds, resetting bones, stitching flesh back to flesh and-

And then darkness. Sweet and blissful and Razkar raged against it as best he could. But the body can only take so much, and soon the sounds of cheering and rattling weapons faded to nothing.

----------

"I was right after all, it seems."

Those words greeted the Myrian as his eyes slid open, finding a world far more structured and civilized than the one he left. A corpse-strewn battlefield cloaked by darkness had been replaced by the inside of a tent, bright and chipper Syna bathing all outside of it in light. Gowned nurses bustled to and fro from cots and beds, groaning or sleeping examples of Drykas, Akalak and human in each one.

Not all was peaceful, though, as his senses told him within ticks. The stench of dried blood and death permeated everything, even in this post-victory reality. The Myrian sat up and looked beyond the healer standing over him, seeing the mound of bodies ready for the torch-

"Easy... Easy..."

A soft but insistent hand settled him back down before he could go much further, and Razkar realized with a wince it had a point. Linoa rolled her eyes at the frowning savage, patting his chest.

"Your wounds are healed but you are still exhausted, remember? Get some food in you and, please, try not to strain yourself. I didn't get a nosebleed and a headache just to see you undo all my good work."

"Least I can do, I think."

"So do I."

Razkar had no reason for why, but it was not until she was upright and turned from him that he managed to croak out his next words: "My thanks. I would have bled to death if you had not helped."

Linoa knew the reason, when she turned back around: he'd been too busy getting back up. The Myrian got up to his feet shakily and the Konti had been around the proud, maddening Akalaks long enough not to wound his male pride by helping. Instead she just rolled her eyes again and sighed, favoring him with a lopsided smile.

"No thanks necessary, Myrian."

"I give them anyway."

"Then I am welcome."

She bowed her head a little then the silver-haired female wandered off to her next good deed. Razkar smiled at her back and wished her a silent blessing; she had earned it, for he did not believe that he was the only soul she'd dragged from Dira's embrace the night before.

Petch. It might have been more than that...

Questions were soon forgotten, however, when his stomach rumbled and nearly rattled his ribcage. The smell of food, however pedestrian it might have been, assailed his nostrils and he followed them, soon finding a table laden with bread, meat and that peculiar "chess" stuff so common in the Cyphrus region.

Razkar immediately sat and began loading up a bowl, heedless of the few stares or mutters his presence accrued. All part of the training, after all: never pass up a chance to eat, sleep or maintain your arms in safety. Well, the first was taken care of, the third was coming, so the second...

Then there was a shockwave and the table bounced up an inch in the air, food and plates and cups rattling before settling again. Razkar's hand paused halfway to his mouth, already loaded with a chunk of dried beef...

... and saw a familiar figure, twice his size and thus sporting twice the bandages, take a heavy seat opposite him.

Razkar took him in with a steady eye. He felt no joy at the presence of this male; they didn't know each other well enough for such a thing. But he did not sneer or ignore him, since they had shed blood together and... the Akalak had proven himself. So, in silence, with half the table watching, the Myrian made up and bowl and slid it over to the equally-laconic figure.

A curt nod was all Riaris got... and the offered bowl.

Glad you're not dead, male...

[Riaris Dovukalis]

Recoomas settled on the ground beside the dead Zith and relaxed as best as he could. The fight was over and the threat of Zith would be no more for this day. They had defeated the tide that attempted to take them out and in doing so, left the retreating beast with a lot to think about should they want to return. Recoomas stared at the lovely Drykas woman and she patched up his wounds. He started to ask where she'd been the whole fight, but decided not too.

There were other thoughts that scrambled in his mind, but he wasn't sure if she even had those answers. He breathed easier now that she had placed balm on his wounds and a drink of water what exactly what he needed. Of course he hadn't expected it to be laced with anything.

By the time he woke up, Riaris was in control again, and the Akalak sat up in surprise, a quick moment, before a drowsy feeling reclaimed him. He shook his head and turned to sit on the end of the cot while trying to get his thoughts together. Riaris looked down at his wounds and the bandages covering them and yet there was no pain. He rubbed his fingers across his knuckles and he looked off in thought.

Krysus had to be pleased.

A somewhat familiar woman appeared in the tent, though his expression at seeing her was very different from Recoomas'. Standing up, the Akalak popped his neck and rotated his arms to see how much tearing and much his muscles had bruised, and he was pleased to find that he was healing quickly. Riaris nodded his thanks to the woman, not having much else to say. She, in turn, smiled and directed him to where he could get a meal. He was Akalak after all and even Drykas knew how much they ate.

He found the dinning table and saw that others had already sat down for a meal as well. Amongst them was the Myrian that he had left Riverfall with. Riaris took the seat next to him and took the bowl that was offered. In truth he was surprised that the man was still alive after losing sight of him well into the battle.

"Like wise Myrian...like wise."