Night of Blood (Zith hunting) [Open-see tag]

[Ryndra]

The moment before her attacker struck, there was a peace about the world. For that one fleeting moment, everything seemed to be in balance and the noises of the world had finally fallen away. The world held its breath as it watched, waited for the strike of the wingless hunter. The sounds of the brush moving caused Ryndra to turn.

Ryndra was a fighter and her first thought was always a defensive stance. She had no time to draw her blade as the creature was on top of her in an instant. Clawed hands pierced the soft flesh of Ryn’s upper arm as she was simply not fast enough to bring her shield up in time. She winced with pain, the cuts weren’t too deep but they had drawn blood.

Seeing her attacker caused a change in the squire. Her eyes locked on to her opponent and she forgot the world around her. Pushing outwards with her shield, she attempting to knock Zith back and draw her blade, lashing out with the weapon as soon as she had it in hand. Ryndra knew she could not match the Zith’s speed but she had the advantage of greater range and protection.

Her attack was a simple swing of the blade to judge her opponent’s speed and agility and was followed with a swing from the shield, attempting to bludgeon her assailant back and keep a small distance between them.

[Kadarus]

Kadarus breathed in, a long, cold draught of air, the chill stinging at the raw, tense flesh of his throat, serving to only sharpen his focus. With slow, wary fingers, he folded back several leaves obscuring his view, and again studied the zith's chosen meal. The silver light of the moon flashed upon the face of her shield, and the woman had her head tipped upward, seeming to search the clearing without patrolling the area. Her arm was curled around her body, the hand clutching something - a sword? So, she was armed. The hunter's eyes narrowed, his hand, hanging mere inches off the ground, closing into a fist.

The two stayed downwind - he knew she had done the same, because he couldn't scent here - a practice that was both habit and instinct. It was merely common sense to a predator, though largely unnecessary for prey like this. Humans were fragile and dull of sense, easily spooked by glistening fangs and rustling leaves, as this one seemed to be. His gaze darted around the closest bushes and foliage, but he could see no sign of Astoiredea. Briefly, he wondered if she'd climbed a tree to get an aerial advantage in the hunt. He'd yet to see her hunt with her...injuries, and while he would not admit it, he had something of a morbid curiosity to see how she coped, grounded as she was.

The human's stance spoke of hesitance, unsure of what to do - and without warning, sound, or signal, Astoiredea burst from the leaves, her strong, sinewy body loping across the clearing with the pace of a bolt of lightning. Kadarus stifled a gasp at the beauty of her in motion, hurtling through the air to strike. The smell of blood warmed the world and strangely watered his mouth, the zith's claws slashing through flesh, though he could tell that she had meant to dig the things into another part of the prey's body. The woman shoved forward with her shield, and metal hissed in the cold wind as the sword shone brilliantly in the moonlight, arcing out to return the favor of spilt blood. There was no argument that Astoiredea could fend for herself; she and her kind had raided settlements for years, plagued the akalak, had devoured horseflesh from the Drykas's prized animals. But some strange, silent worry pressed him forward.

Kadarus crept out of the underbrush, a silent, stalking monster in the guise of man, his golden eyes, reflecting the brilliance of Leth unnaturally. He stayed low, almost standing on all four limbs, his fingertips pressing into the soft dirt, ready to lunge in the space of a breath. The prey had not noticed him yet, had not presented any sort of menace to the zith, so he stayed back, silently pacing as the woman turned, trying to stay out of sight.

[Render]

Hunger and pleasure sent a shiver racing up her spine. The smell, the color of the blood made Render’s mouth water, it was so close, just a stroke And it could all come to the surface, just a claw across the human’s throat, or any other major blood passage and then, she could feed and finally be full. A snarl came from her through as the little human shoved her back with a desperate push of the shield, and Astroirdea stumbled slightly, again mourning the loss of her missing wings, they would have been spread in that instant for threat and cushion. The growl escalated into a wordless cry of animalistic anger as the tip of the sword dug into her fur, slicing a shallow furrow into her flesh.

Still, despite the scent of her own blood joining her preys in the air, the zith did not call out for the help of her mate. She could see him crouched low behind the human, his lips peeled back from his teeth, long, sharp kelvic teeth glistening in the moonlight. She could tell he wanted to lunge forward, his body was tense begging to spring forward, to rush into the fry and end this. But one warning glare was all he was given, ordering him to stay, now was not the time, and the prey and battle still hers.

While the woman was perhaps judging the abilities of her ambusher, Render was not; she was hungry, and her stomach cramped painfully, crying out for hot blood, good meat to fill it. Dropping into her own crouch, the zith lunged again - though not in a blind, frontal assault, seeking to maul the human like a mindless animal. She was more than that, a danger, winged or not. The zith landed at the woman's side, at the sword arm, and without pause, digging her claws into the dirt, she hurled herself again, quick as a striking cat. Bits of damp soil fell from her hands in crumbles as she swung again, now looking to cripple as well as to kill. The left hand fell upon the prey's armed hand, seeking to rake the claws across the flesh, to cause enough pain to force her drop the weapon, or to wince, and falter.

The other hand was thrust directly up towards the human's stomach, the fingers folded, the claws a deadly, flesh rending spear point. Leather was a laughable notion to a creature such as a zith, who had many a time torn into the hides of the cattle with which it had been made of. Falling back to the ground, she ducked her head down, beginning to tuck. As she struck the ground, she fell into an effortless roll, from which she sprang from with all of the speed granted to her by intense hunger and natural athleticism, and immediately began to smell the air as she spun around, eager to smell more blood spilled.

[Ryndra]

Ryndra was completely focused on the Zith in front of her. But she was no slouch when fighting one-on-one. Ryndra retreated to a defensive stance once more as the Zith struck forwards. Turning her body sideways, blade horizontal hidden behind the shield. One of the more useful shield stances against an unarmed opponent. It allowed her to push her shield up and strike with her blade from under it.

Ryndra was surprised that the Zith had struck towards her most protected side. Maybe she was inexperienced at fighting shield-wielding opponents. Either way, Ryndra’s reach was longer than her opponents thanks to the three feet of steel blade and she countered as the Zith struck. The sword sang as it cut throw the air and was no longer just a warning. It was meant to bite into flesh.

The Stormwulf’s eyes burned with fire. She was never one to leave her opponent with one attack to deal with. She brought her shield into the mix once more; just as much a weapon as it was a defence. Aiming to hit with the edge of the shield. Ryndra hadn’t the time to notice that her hunger-crazed adversary had once more drawn blood. But the leather had prevented the wound being too deep.

[Kadarus]

Astoiredea chose capable prey, food which was more than a handful for the zith; Kadarus had to admire her ability with her weapons of choice. That admiration vanished in a puff of smoke, however, as droplets of blood, as red as her hair, sprayed into the air as the sword raked across the zith's flesh. Astoiredea merely shrugged it off, but a red haze fell across the hunter's vision, taking another silent, stalking step towards them. His eyes flashed brilliantly with anger - the human's armaments were giving her a slight edge, despite the other's natural grace and agility.

Perhaps Astoiredea could land the decisive, killing blow, given the time. But there was something gnawing at him, something new about the zith - her smell? The way she walked? Something, it was something, that he couldn't put his finger on, that made him just a little more defensive of her. The armed woman was pushing her back, being careful and quick...and yet she still had not sensed the presence of the beast behind her. 'Good,' Kadarus thought, taking another slow, wary step forward, his squinted eyes scanning the woman for the best place for a crippling strike.

The hiss of metal interrupted his steady, methodical planning, however, and he burst into thoughtless action, a furious snarl ripping out of his stomach. He was across the clearing in the space of seconds, darting in from the side. The huge kelvic shoved himself between the two women, one arm curled towards the sky. The human's blade clanged loudly against the plates of his gauntlet, and in the same breath, he struck. Kadarus' other fist hooked in hard from the right, just as the woman swung with the edge of her shield.

He could hear Astoiredea behind him, growling in protest, but he ignored her for the moment. His iron clad knuckles bounced against the edge of the shield, and his lip curled back in a grimace as the force of it shuddered up his arm, making the bones ache for a moment. He gave that moment of pain no attention, just as he gave the human no quarter; the hunter lunged forward, hoping his considerable bulk would throw her off balance, put her furth on the defensive. His eyes, wide and wild, watched for the gleam of metal to arc and dart in, his body tense to dodge, or again, use one of his gauntlets as a makeshift shield.