Altaira accepted the so called ‘soul darts’ with a weary look and a light frown, gaze settling on the weapons with the smallest strike of familiarity. Her mind was by then far too aghast and form too firm to allow her thoughts to delve into what felt like distant memories, and she rolled her shoulders as she allowed Whisper’s words to wash over her, choosing to accept the new information afresh as opposed to wasting her short time in thought of forgotten knowledge.
‘For ghosts and spirits, ghosts and spirits. Will not harm, merely capacitate. Good.’
She tried not to lend herself to worry as to what would happen to the spirits once they were incapable of thought or action, a slither of anger writhing within her at the thought of any ghost – malicious in intent or not – succumbing to the ritual that was dusting. She let out a bitter breath as Calidus lead them onwards, the form of the Lavender Ruins falling out of view and then returning, the twisted woods that they trekked through thickening and thinning in an unpredictable manner. ‘I should have frequented the woods more so,’ her mind then hit the last knight she’d met, and then shot to the squire Oriah, gaze almost immediately seeking the Benshira’s as she woke herself from the groggy daze.
‘Not good.’
Was it fight or flight that was beginning to twist in her stomach? Her excitement had turned sour and her mind was slightly slipping, the whispers and quiet word passed between her brother and the spiritist aiding little in allowing the kelvic to set herself once more at ease. She’d been so resolute when the full gravity of the situation was yet to hit her, but their numbers were few and their enemy great in number- if Calidus himself would not put his life and servitude to the Lady Dira, then Altaira would follow the example.
‘Trust, trust, trust. A battle such as this cannot be won on one’s own, that much we know already.’
It was a concept she knew some of – dozens of faces and hundreds of words parted. There were a scarce few people that Altaira could trust wholly, and even then, it was each to their own tasks. She trusted Whisper and Duncan and her brother to follow through with the task to be done, she trusted their resolute and their burning desire to see the issue dealt with. She trusted the knight she’d met to continue with his work, with his stone green eyes and winsome smile. She trusted the Mistress Blackleaf to remain as she were, and that Aoren would be safe on his travels. But it was only Oriah and Millicent that she’d trust with her own life, and they who she’d risk her own at great lengths to protect – and she trusted they to do the same for her.
The shape and form of the earth below shifted and changed, and the kelvic took to the slight adjustment with a breath of ease and inhuman fluidity, the creeping of a smile settling on her lips as she noted how far her thoughts had settled her. As the part came to a stop, and her brother spoke words of disgust, the prickling on Altaira’s right hand once more flared. Taint, that was what her brother had opted to call it – she could feel it too, though not the same as her elder, she wagered. What she felt was something far more eerie, shooting off warnings in her kelvic mind as though gaunt birds of prey flew overhead.
Words and warning and a task was set, Altaira nodding her head gravely as she took in what she and Oriah were to accomplish- Distract and lure the chained ones towards the rest of the party, where hiding in the thick and undergrowth of the woods would serve some element of surprise enough to easily dispatch the foul beasts.
Three heavy breaths left her, eyes flitting wildly between Oriah and the chained ones, and her mind was set. Fight or flight was an instinct that caused her mind to halt and blunder on the best of days, but it did not come without its gifts- she could run and move with an inhuman agility, able enough to switch her mind from standing ground to fleeing in short than an instant, and she took no shame or mercy. "Oriah," she mused, almost humming her dear friend's name as she scanned the battlefield. There were as many as her brother had said, 5 sickening creatures limbering around the wretched gates, their expressions vacant and bodies foul and ghastly.
"Go right, and good luck," the words slipped off her tongue more so a suggestion than a command, the kelvic already passing through the tree line as she attempted to place herself as close towards the creature on the far left as she could manage. "Confuse and draw, harm of kill if possible." She gave a curt nod of her head, attempting to link together both those that dwelt at the gates and the two who were to linger behind while she remained in the Benshira's view, before home to dear Dira that they'd manage not to die.
The closer she drew the more she took into account- the look of the enemy and their numbers, how far they were spread out and if there were any others in sight. She also paid much mind to how Calidus and Whisper were hidden, how the trees gave way and what would be the best way to draw them out, in constant search for Oriah as she hoped the squire knew her well enough to react how the kelvic wished.
Her mind was a flurry of thought and tactic as she summoned what she could from childhood and home. Her little childish war games were not on nearly a level so serious, but she felt the tricks and tell could work a trick and favour, and soon enough found her gaze locked on the enemy as she inched herself back. Calidus was a strong man, of that she had no doubt, though she knew little of Whisper and was not too certain of Oriah. One each for herself and her friend, three for the other trio. Was fair, no?
Altaira held her breath and stilled her form as one of the gaunt ones drifted further off in her own direction, vacant look apparently taking some extreme interest in a short sound that rattle a dozen meters from the kelvic. Ticks felt like chimes as it limbered by, some shallow, wheezing sound leaving its body as it moved, bloodshot eyes all the more defined from such a close range, and the sheer look of its gangly form sending a vile hatred through Altaira’s skin. But there was something wrong about it, she thought. For a creature that gave off such a wretched look… it looked like it could fight, move quickly and hold strength in its limbs- unassuming and disarming, far brighter than she’d given it credit for. ‘Lady Dira was right. Of course she was.’ She’d have to be careful with it.
She gave it time enough and more to pass, then sending a look across to the other four as they each moved and roamed around, before a piece of gnarled stick caught her eye, and she found herself pushed to the cheap tactic of misdirection. She gave herself a moment, then another and another, before pressing herself from her somewhat sheltered hiding place and tearing the stick from the earth, drawing it high as though it were a dagger and throwing it some half distance between the other trio. The only thing apparently seen by the close by scum the movement in the main group’s general direction. A shudder split her spine as worry took hold, a fleeting moment lent to wonder what it was that had taken their attention before her throw. ‘Let it be a fox or hare or feathered friend. Not Oriah. Dira, not Oriah.’
Luck was in her favour, and another slither of wood litter was not too far away, this piece kept and taken for the use of the kelvic herself- she could take one of them down, surely? Her breathing quickened and she shifted back slowly and sharply, thankful for her dark form and clothing as she fell into the pooling shadows, leering at the creature that had slightly separated itself from the pack before her own stunt managed to isolate it more so.
A rhythm of hunting then took over her, inching towards her prey as she spared the shortest back looks to check the situation that played on behind her. Satisfaction came none too soon, Altaira almost too caught in thought to notice the way that two red eyes were fixed violently her way, the gnawed lips of the being curled into a vicious snarl, and ragged body half twisted and turned as it began to move her way.
‘Petch’
Her hands slipped to her loopholes, fingers fumbling first for one of her throwing daggers as she shot into action, bringing the blade up before allowing herself a moment to aim and shoot, the sub-par throw managing a more of a scrape than a hit into the chained one’s right shoulder. Her gnosis writhed on her hand and instinct took over, her left hand then seeking her punching dagger as she moved to meet the creature halfway, eager to increase the distance between her own little fight and whatever was going on behind her. Shoulders rolled and body half stretched as she pushed herself through the trees and undergrowth- hoping for dear Dira that she was at a less disadvantage fighting in trees than he was.
For a moment it looked as though it was going to used her own blade against her, the being near cloaked in the darkness of the undergrowth, but instead it merely ripped her blade from its flesh and dropped it to the ground, its twisted look wolfish and keen. The stance it then took hardly a stance at all, the kelvic all too happy to use her own experience to the best of her own knowledge. ‘Better without weapons, then? Confident. Or cocky. Slow, stupid? Its foul and rotten, perhaps little to lose. Desperate?’ From what experience she had with the punching dagger, its use was a simple enough tool, the hold something that came so natural it was the reason she’d bought it in the first place.
It was a blade that she could use with her unarmed combat, that was said would put the weight of her punches behind it, and hopefully be the sharpness that she required to make a kill. A weight sat on her chest, and she narrowed her gaze as she all at once tried to tune herself to the world and solely her enemy. An instant of hesitation came and passed, and the chained one then moved with the all the speed that she'd hoped it didn't have.
It rushed her with a low growl, quiet enough that the kelvic spent little thought to the possibility of the other foul creatures hearing it- more so due to the distance that they’d by then gained from the gate. Her footing was somewhat slower and off than she’d have liked, drawing back and giving her body an awkward twist as she cleared herself from the vile rot’s punch, the hard and fast travel jarring her body with a lagging ache.
The weight it put behind the swing forced it to continue through, stance not allowing balance to be attained quick enough to turn and shield from the kelvic’s own assault. The position of her blade and inexperience with its use had her fall back on unarmed by instinct – using the hard of her right elbow as she gave a violent attempt to floor the sluggish creature before its balance and footing were found. It wasn’t an action so much as fruitless as it was mediocre, the enemy quick enough back in its game and in the midst of swinging another downwards hit, the sideways stance and hold on her dagger causing her to take the hit to her right shoulder.
As her shoulder pressed back with a jar of pain, her right foot retreated and left hand come forward in an awkward placed arch, slashing down at the still extended enemy arm before completely clearing herself of its range of attack. The yelp of anger of the nuit at the sight of its deep wound pleased Altaira to almost a sickening degree. She took advantage of its breath of disorientation spent on injury assessment to lunge for another awkward strike, burying her blade into the soft flesh of its gut before a slash at her chest had her almost pull back.
‘The heart or the head, wasn’t it?’
It moved for what she assumed to be an attempted knee to the gut as it took pinching grasp on her shoulders, and she barely managed to push her body far enough from its range to escape with little contact before shoddily twisting and reburying her dagger where she thought its heart ought to be.
Another yelp, another growl, the pressure to her shoulder sharply increasing until her gaze watered, then nothing. A tremor rocked her body and she drove the dagger in further, before the body stiffened and fell limp, and her breath and adrenaline ran so quick her mind spun and knees near buckled. Oh, she could do it all again.
The sounds from the party shifted her mind back into coherence, and she near started off towards the group without her blades, ripping her punching dagger from the beast’s flesh before jolting into further movement. She started a short search for her throwing, the glint of the cold iron catching her eye before a dread as to the health of the party took hold, outright ignoring the blaze to the flesh on her shoulders and chest, and blinking the remnants of tears away. Pride took its toxic hold, and she tread upon the rotting corpse as her feet padded towards the group, a light run breaking as she ducked behind a tree to check the scene before rushing in, taking hold of her throwing dagger inher main hand.
