Honor by the Blade (Hatot)

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The Wilderness of Cyphrus is an endless sea of tall grass that rolls just like the oceans themselves. Geysers kiss the sky with their steamy breath, and mysterious craters create microworlds all their own. But above all danger lives here in the tall grass in the form of fierce wild creatures; elegant serpents that swim through the land like whales through the ocean and fierce packs of glassbeaks that hunt in packs which are only kept at bay by fires. Traverse it carefully, with a guide if possible, for those that venture alone endanger themselves in countless ways.

Honor by the Blade (Hatot)

Postby Puck on August 6th, 2010, 6:37 am

Dazed, wounded, and in immense pain, the Kimenth found itself hardly able to stand on its feet- which were not perfectly morphed in any case. The tentacle that Hatot had severed writhed and twisted upon itself, though did not vanish into the beast as the first one did. The other appendage, limp and dragging, twitched dangerously; though neither did it disappear. The Kimenth, it seemed, was feeling the weight of its injuries rather keenly. Moonlight shimmered through the wickedly sharp beak on the remaining tentacle as it slowly bobbed like a viper. Heavy breaths filled the beast's lungs and its humanoid arms spasmed every now and again. Blood ran freely from its body, watering the hungry grass beneath their feet. It stood, but barely.

Sustenance lay just beyond its reach, the Akalak before it being the sole barrier. So it struck like the viper it so resembled, glass lightning before Hatot's eyes. An adept lateral movement saved the Akalak, for the razor tip punched through the air where his shoulder had been. A second stroke of lightning, Hatot's lakan came down on the fibrous limb. The force of his blow did not sever it, weakened as he was, though it convulsed dangerously as it split.

The vine limb whipped back though, the beak dragged along like a particularly sharp rock on a cord. It cut across Hatot's midriff, tearing the fabric and leaving a shallow gash across his stomach despite his backwards jump to avoid the second attack. The end of the limb fell heavily, clearly of little use now that the end could not be manipulated.

The Kimenth's shoulder warped and jerked as a stump grew from it. It warped and sprang forth, as if a snake were forcing itself out of the Kimenth's skin. The beast lurched forward a step, spines growing from the newly forming limb. A pained look crossed its face though, and a scream erupted from its lips as its eyes began changing. Their concentric circles vanished as they turned to clear glass, suddenly unmoving. It opened its mouth wide as the shrieking continued. It was unearthly, ingraining itself into the crevices of Hatot's mind, refusing to let go. Its teeth were suddenly of the same glass substance, the clear material of the beak spreading across the beast's face. Icy blossoms appeared on the Kimenth's cheek, spreading like frostbite to encompass the entire left side of its head.

Suddenly, razor sharp ridges burst from its spine, splitting its intricate structure with the organic chitin. The spontaneous morphing continued to wrack the beast's body as it fell forward, shaking as if possessed by abyssal forces. Had Hatot left the creature to its fate, it would have continued convulsing and shaking for several minutes. The agony the Kimenth felt wracked its body as organs and nerves turned to hard glass.

All was silent.
Last edited by Puck on August 11th, 2010, 1:07 am, edited 1 time in total.
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Honor by the Blade (Hatot)

Postby Hatot on August 8th, 2010, 1:52 am

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As the Kimenth fell forward to the ground, laying their in a series of twitches and spasms, the body that Hatot and Radris shared slumped, a large exhale escaping the lips. In the eyes, the color of red slowly began to seep away from the orange, slowly revealing golden hues in the iris’ once again. “That was a lot of fun,” Radris suddenly echoed, their balance now back to what it normally was, “but I’m gonna rest now. I’ll let you talk with the survivors or whoever shows up. You’re the people person after all. Just don’t forget the proof.”

Hatot’s breathing increased significantly as the full onslaught of pain from his injuries finally wracked his body. It hurt even when he made the slightest movement, and it was during these times of pain that he would have normally retreated, leaving Radris’ rage to deal with the source, and any who got to close during the initial outburst. Radris slept now however, leaving Hatot to deal with the full weight of it all. Though this time, Hatot didn’t find himself needing to retreat from the pain itself. In fact, the wounds hurt less the he could ever remember of any previous wounds, despite the fact that they were possibly some of the deepest wounds he’s received to date, especially the one along his left shoulder blade. It was almost like a revelation for Hatot, a step forward. Overcoming his fear of Radris, helped him to overcome his low pain threshold. It still hurt like a sonuvabitch though.

Hatot slowly turned, a pained expression visibly on his face as he began moving towards the nearest Zith body. The toes of his boots dragged along the ground, carrying him the distance before he stood in front of the heap of the first Zith, holding his lakan tightly along his side. Crouching down, Hatot hovered the tip of his lakan over the neck of the Zith, letting out a slow exhale. A quick plunge downward sent the lakan’s blade through the Zith’s neck, piercing all the way through the flesh and slipping between two vertebra along the neck. Quick jerking motions forward the saw the sharp blade slicing through half of the neck before he moved his position, cutting through the other half next. Hatot gave a stout whistle, which soon brought Tulok galloping to his side. His left arm was still useless, blood still slowly pouring down his back from the puncture wound the Kimenth had made, resulting in torn muscle, flesh and a broken shoulder blade. Needless to say, Hatot grabbed the head of the Zith by the hair with his right hand, struggling to stuff it into a sack hanging from Tulok’s saddle for close to a half chime.

With the first one completed he then repeated the process with the six other Zith that had fallen by either his hand alone, or his tactics using the Kimenth. Hatot leaned up against Tulok, breathing more heavily as exhaustion was beginning to set it. It was likely he hadn’t passed out already due only to the energy concoction that Kavala had made for his Rite. His head slowly turned, resting lightly along Tulok’s body, as he stared out across the field to the Kimenth once again. He would have to wrap it’s body, and drag it back to Riverfall if he wanted to claim it as a trophy. Apart from bragging rights, it would give the researches back in the city something to study, and further their knowledge base. Before today, Hatot himself hadn’t had any knowledge of the creature, and it was definitely something that future Akalaks should be made aware of before setting out for their Rite.

Hatot finally began walking back towards camp, wiping the blade of his lakan clean along his pant leg before finally slipping it back into his sheath. Tulok walked closely beside him as they both stepped into the encircled wagons, checking on the remaining Drykas who had been freed. “It would appear, that the worst is over now.” Hatot said to them weakly before finally dropping down along the ground, his gaze falling along the dead Drykas woman. “Anyone here skilled in healing aside from the unfortunate woman?”
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Honor by the Blade (Hatot)

Postby Puck on August 11th, 2010, 3:51 am

While Hatot had been claiming the heads of his kills, the slaves had been taking the forgotten mace to their chains. Now most of them stood unhampered by the manacles clamped around their wrist, though the frightened look remained in their eyes. Which half were they confronted with? When Hatot asked the query, not a soul spoke up though they looked to each other as if each other person could perhaps be a healer. Yet nobody spoke. If a doctor or disciple lay concealed in their ranks, none stepped forth.

A younger man finally stepped forth, his voice shaky as he projected it, "What is to become of us then? Are our women to become your slaves?" The crowd, especially its females, stirred at the notion of renewed slavery. "We won't surrender our freedom again, Akalak." The hand of a nearby woman found itself on the youth's arm, silently placating him.

Hooves could be heard in the distance, rapidly waxing in timber as the seconds flew by. The horses were approaching, and extremely fast at that. One... Two... Three... Twenty riders burst over the ridge and into the basin, spreading out to surround the camp. Their blurred forms slowed as they circled the wagons and drew taut the strings of their short horse bows. A tall Drykas, garbed in a white tunic and wielding a heavy cavalry sabre, rode into the gap in the wagon circle. His voice boomed, "I am Varel Ironsky of the Silverwind Pavilion of the Diamond Clan, I have come to claim our people." The slaves' disposition seemed to have brightened considerably when they saw the Drykas warriors, and now some seemed absolutely ecstatic. Their leader looked down at Hatot from his horse, eying the near fatally wounded Akalak, and spoke, "Yet I am not a man without compassion, you shall see yourself ferried back to your fortress, Akalak. Your trophies and horse will arrive later, escorted by two of my warriors."

Now Varel paused, hardened eyes scanning the heads of the Zith and the Kimenth's corpse. He scanned Hatot's body, the carnage, and the rescued slaves, and called out to his soldiers, "Men! Do you not agree that such butchery deserves further accolades?" Those who had also noted the carnage quickly shouted their agreement, while others slowly caught on and joined. Varel unmounted his horse and sheathed his sabre, approaching the wounded warrior. Hatot could see the dozens of scars adorning the Drykas' face and arms as his hands clasped the Akalak's. A smile lightened Varel's face, barely. The leader stared at Hatot, a mix of admiration and perhaps pride in his blue eyes. Finally his voice resounded in the field, demanding attentiveness of each bystander as he spoke, "With great honor, do I welcome to the Silverwind Pavilion of the Diamond Clan, Crystalfall.
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Honor by the Blade (Hatot)

Postby Hatot on August 12th, 2010, 10:58 pm

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Hatot slowly looked up to the young Drykas as his hands slipped over the wound along his stomach. His eyes were lazy as he released a slow exhale when he expressed his concerns, starting to get forceful in his tone of voice. “I was just here to hunt down some Zith.” Hatot said as he reached into his satchel, looking for one of the vials that Kavala had prepared for him, hoping to at least numb the pains of his wounds. “You’re welcome, by the way.”

Hatot’s gaze then rose as the thundering sound of several horses galloping along the plains was heard. It wouldn’t be long before numerous members of the Drykas’ Diamond Clan arrived, surrounding the caravan, armed with bows ready for firing. When Varel announced his name and intentions, Hatot’s gaze then just dropped back down to the satchel, pulling out the small vile. It was slipped along flat ground beside him before the cork was pulled free and Hatot tore a piece of fabric free from his shirt, dipping it into the liquid. Hatot then looked up to Varel as he mentioned ferrying him back to Riverfall along with his trophies. “I can drag everything back, but if you have a healer among you that can patch me up for my journey, and have that large morphed creature back there wrapped and tied to the back of my horse, that would help me out greatly. I‘ve already got the Zith heads collected.”

He let a slow exhale escape his lips then as some of the numbing liquid Kavala had prepared was spread cross the gash along his torso, the pain slowly melting away. He looked up as Varel began to approach, looking over the scene of battle. His shout of platitudes and accolades worried Hatot for a moment that some for of celebratory party would come before his wounds were even patched up then. Finally, Varel took Hatot’s hand, causing a slight wince of pain from the sudden motion before the sudden announcement of his induction into Varel’s pavilion. As the cheering slowly died down, a smile crossed over Hatot’s lips as he looked to Varel. “I thank you for this honor, and accept whole heartedly. My only wish is that I had the energy to partake in celebrations.” Hatot replied. “Alas, my injuries are beginning to catch up to me on this bell.”
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Honor by the Blade (Hatot)

Postby Puck on August 15th, 2010, 7:01 am

The Drykas seemed mildly impressed with Hatot's determination, "Very well, brother. If you insist, we shall grant you this." With little more than a nod, Varel sent his Drykas brethren into a flurry of activity. Three dismounted their horses and broke out white bandages, and another rider approached Hatot with a small satchel. The former three began wrapping the Kimenth up as if preparing it for an exotic burial, while the latter set down his satchel and examined Hatot with expert eyes. Meanwhile Varel remounted his horse and began preparing everybody else for a departure. Slaves were instantly bustling, riders were hitching wagons, the basin had come to life again.

The young doctor uncorked a bottle of pungent liquid that smelled metallic and vaguely of ginger. He dripped the yellow liquid on the Akalak's wounds, traces of smoke and a painless hissing rising from the gashes. With pursed lips he dipped back into the satchel and pulled what looked like a bottle of blue perfume out. A cerulean mist coated Hatot for an instant before settling on his skin and flesh, a soothing sensation creeping into his body. He did not feel any more invigorated, yet no longer did the pain gnash at his nerves. Then the doctor broke out gauze and began wrapping his patient.

The three Drykas had just finished hitching the lightly wrapped Kimenth to Hatot's horse, and the doctor scurried away without a thought. Each of the wagons shuddered forward, loaded with either emancipated slaves of cargo. As the plainsmen pulled out of the basin, Varel addressed Hatot, "Remember, you shall always be welcome within the Silverwind Pavilion of the Diamond Clan, brother." With those parting words, the rider wheeled about and was gone.

The wagons crested the rise, and vanished. All was silent, again.
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Honor by the Blade (Hatot)

Postby Puck on August 15th, 2010, 7:42 am

Impending Award!

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Hatot_______
Skills
    Unarmed Combat - 5
    Weaponry: Lakan - 5
    Evasion - 3
    Tactics - 3
    Negotiation 2
    Intimidation - 1
    Leadership - 1
Lore
    Honorary Drykas: Silverwind Pavilion of the Diamond Clan
    Shifter of the Plains
    Rite of Passage Completed
    Synergy
    Devastating Emancipation

Kill Count!_______
    7 Zith
    1 Kimenth
    10 Slaves
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