Swamped

[Sama'el Sunsinger]

57th Fall, 512 A.V. Sama'el was not in his body. Bigarren stood nervous watch over the physical shell, occasionally nudging the cool face where it lay upon the ground. They had taken cover from the rain under a copse of low, gnarled trees in an otherwise flat landscape. There was something about the rain that was making the Sunsinger Striders nervous, but Sama'el had taken the big stallion out alone to make a much needed repair, leaving Ronan and Mealla to watch over the Pavilion. Even after their earlier efforts that season, the Web was not as robust or connected as it had been before the Storm. As much as he valued their assistance, he was a far better rider with greater mastery of the Web than his two apprentices, and he could do his work better knowing his Pavilion was protected. But while his body lay motionless, barely breathing, his astral body had risen above the copse of trees and was pulling disconnected scraps of Webbing together and linking them into a new node, spinning out the stuff of his own soul to recreate what had been, or improve upon it. As he wove this new weave, his Inavalti was activated, his soul singing praises to Syna all the while. He saw this location from above, and his Vision swung around in an outward spiral to the edges of his ability, and then back, tying this vision into the weave so that any body on the Web could get close and feel the tug of this Vision, leading them to where he would lay another Origin down. The greater part of the work done, he lowered himself through the trees, halfway merging with his body that he might key into his other abilities more easily. With great concentration, res began to seep out of his prone body to sink into the earth below. He found a stone of sufficient size and let his res collect about it and merge with it. When he ignited the energy, the stone began to ooze there beneath the ground, just enough that with delicate control of his Fire, he could etch crude runes into it, those that marked it as if with his signature. When he had them there, he split his concentration between holding that form with his mutable Fire as it cooled enough to solidify, while taking those combined strands of the Web and tying them into that stone. When the stone had cooled sufficiently, and the node of webbing seemed secure within the Origin, he climbed back into his body, tingling from the crown of his head to the tips of his toes. Bigarren was nibbling on his hair, and he laughed wearily, kissing the horse's velvet nose to assure him that he hadn't died, and then sitting up, a little dizzy. This was when it helped to have an apprentice handy; Mealla could have guarded him in his vulnerability, perhaps been on hand to help him in case he overextended himself, but Bigarren was a good guard, and Sama'el had long ago learned to be self-sufficient. There was heat emanating from the ground below, seeping up from the sunken Origin. This was good, driving away some of the wet. "We'll have to spend the night here, Biga," he told the Strider. "All this rain has wrapped us around in swamp. Hopefully in the morning, it will have dried a bit -- that is, if it stops raining -- and anyway, we can't have you breaking a leg in the dark." It was getting dark, though. At least here they would be somewhat drier. The chill of Winter had begun to permeate the air, especially after three days of unending rain. He gathered some dry sticks for kindling and fashioned a little tent of them. A Fire-starter like him didn't need to bother with tinder or even the kindling, really, but the kindling would burn longer than mere chaff, and fuel was often scarce in the Sea of Grass. He wasn't sure he would be able to find any branches sufficient for a cookfire, but he wanted them dry, at least, to preserve warmth and prevent any sort of infections. He pointed at the pyramid of sticks, finger slowly churning the air. The Fire answered his call again, smoldering red res snaking down and around the kindling and then slowly igniting it. Sama'el pulled food from his yvas bag, found some larger branches that were dry enough to burn without magical help, and settled in. When night came, his little fire was still crackling under cover of those trees, and sleep came to him.

[Bloodfight]

Travelling in the rain was the perfect time to clear ones scent, or mask a trail, as the watery droplets fell in massive showers upon the stormswept grasslands. The ground was litterally turning into a pasty mud where the grass wasn't growing, battened down, or being bogged out. The flooding of a tent was to be expected, waking Bloodfight up rudely to see he was laying in water and his backpack soaking, sitting idly next to him; jolting up, he began to repack his water logged camp up with the urgent need to find higher land, or something that wouldn't wash him away. The tent was being whipped around as he dissasembled it, the flap of the matirial and the jerk and pull of the ropes flattered his ears. One gust nearly made off with the wind battered tent if it hadn't been for Bloodfights reaction to grab it, pulling it down, into the water and folding it up as best as he could. Taking the roped pegs that had been used to keep the tent in the ground and depositing them into the backpack along with the soaked tent. Picking up the body pack and hefting it around his body, he shouldered the backpack next, and slid the other strap onto his other shoulder. Holding onto the sack which held his only hope for a meal firmly in his clawed hands. Hunching over, Bloodfight began to move, trying to stay closer to the ground in hopes of avoiding being thrown back by the wind. Cold seeped into his bones as he moved despite his furry body, heavier because of the rain, the downpour mixed with the soon coming winter season made a chilly combination. He had little to no vision, so he had no idea where he was and could only hope he was wandering in a direction that didn't lead him to death. This is bad, Bloodfight thought to himself as he tried to glance up, only to be pelted in the face with rain. Why hasn't this stopped by now? He questioned, naively, not truely understanding the danger of being out in the open. The sky seems angry.. He peeked through his perephrials, up towards the sky he loved to gaze at during the day or night. Maybe- There was no time for that thought, his right foot submerged into muck and engulfed it to his calf, taking him by surprise and sending him backwards flailing. Letting a sharp, stuttery zith scream of rage out as he frantically began pulling himself up to the firmer part of land he had been formerly walking on and dragged himself away from it. Had he lost anything? Dropped anything, he checked his hand where the sack should be and fretted over it- it was gone. Anything that was on his back, or strapped firmly to his backpack was still there, but his shrooms were gone! Scanning around, he strained his eyes in attempts of finding the sack. His hopes hadn't gone unanswered, through the rain, he caught glimpse of the silhouette of what could have been a sack. There was also a flicker of light, he had managed to throw it in the direction of perhaps someones camp? Bloodfight made his way carefully through the swamp, jumping from firmer looking ledges of land to other ledges of land that could support his weight; avoiding contact with the swamp again. But only if he could see the small looking swamp islands, it was a slow and tedious task but he finally made it to where his sack would be and promptly picked it up with a relieved sigh. Now he was glad he had accidently thrown it, he was close to a camp, he could see the fire despite the sheets of rain messing with his vision. Getting ever closer, the shower of rain in his ears, the chill in his bones, he saw what looked like to be the form of a man sleeping in a thicket of trees. Looking to the sky and around, through the branches, there was a horse as well- so it's a travellers camp.. Bloodfight mused lightly over the founding; and it seems the owner of the camp is sleeping. The fire was inviting, and the area was great for camping, maybe Bloodfight could drive the traveller out or kill him for dinner? What of that horse as well? He wondered, his mind coming to a quick decision. Kill him, kill the horse, steal the place, have a happy stomach. Sounded like a great plan to the mixed blood. Setting his bags down, but keeping the body pack on, Bloodfight snuck through the thicket of trees closer to the man until he was at lunging distance, perfect for the element of surprise, before making a charge to sneak attack him with his claws outstretched and ready to taste flesh. Well! : This turned out to be bigger than I expected. >_<; Sorry for useless information.

[Sama'el Sunsinger]

The rain dampened telltale odors, and the sleeping Drykas had had his sense of smell cursed away anyhow, but horses were not exactly at the top of the food chain, and so they were quite alert to dangers. Well-trained, Bigarren whinnied a warning even as the the halfling sprang. He always slept lightly while on circuit, but it was still difficult to go from dreaming to battling in an instant. What he saw was a strange beast, vaguely like a Zith, with teeth and claws. He barely managed to catch those wrists after much scrabbling, his knees coming up to prevent being pinned down, but he was not a wrestler, and for the briefest instant he berated himself for never following up on his demands that he and Ronan train in every sort of combat they could think of until they were the doughtiest warriors among their people. Bigarren made a few half hops off his front legs, wanting to lash out as he had been trained to do, but smart enough not to endanger his rider. He wrestled to the best of his ability, which was to say, he wasn't a weakling, but he wasn't exactly trained for any kind of expertise in combat without weapons. If only he could manage to reach his dagger, he might end this fight once and for all.

[Bloodfight]

When contact was made, Bloodfight was all flail and claws, fighting for the dominance of his surprise attack. The man put up a fight and was able to grab onto his wrists, pulling his legs in and definitely keeping Bloodfight from pinning the man down, but in turn it messed with the balance of the duo. Petch that horse, messing with my surprise attack! Growling in frustration and hell bent on clawing the mans face off he jerked his wrists to and fro, feeling the knees digging into his gut as he pressed harder down on the man still not able to keep his victem pinned properly, feeling extremely wobbly in turn. The weight of his body pack filled with mizas kept them on balance for the most part, yet with but a single motion, he could be kicked or pushed off by the man. Bloodfight started pulling upwards with his right wrist, using his shoulder and lower back muscles and wrenched his hand away from the mans grasp. The briefest of lightening flashed with the slow rumble of thunder, as Bloodfight then curled his hand into a fist as he arched his arm up and swung it at the mans face from the side. It wouldn't help him if all predators could smell blood from where they were, it would defeat the purpose of keeping a reasonable camping spot. Who knows what would be drawn to him in the night by the sweet flowing scent of the red liquid.

[Sama'el Sunsinger]

It was all Sama'el could do to keep a hold of those wrists, which kept claws from shredding his already scarred face. He bucked under the Zithling, flopping like a beached salmon, but he couldn't knock him over. It helped keep him off balance, though, and it appeared he was wearing a pack that messed with his center of balance. Finally his foe got a hand free, and he wasn't able to fend off the blow that knocked his face aside and made him see stars. But his own hand was free now, and he was able to pull his dagger free. Despite his training, though, his grip was wonky, and when he brought it up in response, all he managed to do was club the halfling with it. No cutting edges, and he wasn't even sure if he had hit him in a vulnerable place. Bigarren, not wanting to be left out, reared and kicked his forelegs menacingly at the creature mounting his rider. One came dangerously close to his face.

[Bloodfight]

The pommel of the dagger struck at Bloodfights chin and partially his neck, causing him to grunt in pain and release the man, if only slightly. The pain vibrating from his throat, chin, and his jaw tingle, bringing the freehand to cover it. His eyes closed for only a moment, squeezing and willing the pain away for the briefest of seconds before snapping them open in anger. The light of the fire making his golden eyes illuminate in the dark, bearing his teeth and then straight out yelling in his victems face and causing him to punch harder, once, or twice, blindly hitting the ground next to the mans head. Bloodfights freehand then scrabbled with the mans freehand as well, to grab the fist and wrestle the dagger away. Yet the horse got in the way, taking him by surprise as strong forelegs and a hooves came close to his face, Bloodfight swore he felt the wind from it as he reared himself backwards and off the man. Reacting to 'dodge' the horses hooves and legs and bringing his arm to cover his face, while the other hand remained level with his waist and at the ready to strike if someone decided to get close. Retreating from the man and the horse for a split second, scrabbling upwards for better footing as he waited for a retalliation. Maybe wearing the body pack hadn't been such a good idea, travelling while wearing it was one thing- fighting with it on was excrutiating.

[Sama'el Sunsinger]

The blind punches didn't hit him, oddly enough, and Bigarren's distraction got the creature to retreat. Sama'el attempted to kick out with his legs to trip up his foe, then rolled back onto his shoulders and whipped his body to his feet in a small feat of acrobatics. Perhaps he ought to have parlayed, but it was dark and this had been a sneak attack; he wasn't sure he could trust this thing. Was it a halfling Zith? His guts churned and he thought of Dymphna. He could not kill this thing. Thing? No, it looked to be male. But he couldn't trust it standing up. It had claws, but he had his dagger. He rushed the halfling, at the last second dropping his shoulder to take him in the pit of the stomach and slam it against a tree if he was able. The goal now was to knock him out and tie him to the tree. Then they could speak like civilized men.

[Bloodfight]

Standing, with his knees half bent he kept his hands out and at the ready, elbows bent and forearms acting as a sort of shield in front of him with his fists balled tightly. The claws bit into his palms, but he didn't think to feel it and especially when his 'victem' now on the offence, it was better to be paying attention as Bloodfight watched him, eyes flicking to the horse and back to the man again. As the man would rush him, Bloodfight swung his fist around to slam into the mans head- if the man hadn't ducked at the last second and shouldered him in the gut; Bloodfights wild swing put him off balance and allowed the man to begin pushing him backwards. Grunting from the force, he felt grass, muck, and dirt slide past his feet as he tried to push back with his heels. Grappling the mans shoulders tightly and pushing with his arms to try and push him away from his gut, Bloodfight rocked the mans shoulders to the sides violently, trying to get the man to release; claws digging in further. Then an idea occurred to the mixed blood, what if he were to throw the man? Or at least try to fling him, there was no way he could lift him, but maybe he could use the weight of the man and the force he was pushing into his gut and reverse it to send him flying. It was a far flung idea, but it was worth a try. Feeling his back connect with a tree- pin pricks of sharp pain shot up his back and in between his shoulders, Bloodfight growled into the attempt of throwing the man to the side by turning his body suddenly, working the muscles in his arms and legs, and pushing the mans shoulders away from himself at the same time as he maneuvered his feet to begin stepping away from the tree. If Bloodfight was succesful, the man would have tumbled forwards, if Bloodfight had not been succesful then the man might have made the halfling tumble backwards from the force and onto the ground, quite possibly hitting his head on a sizeable rock.

[Sama'el Sunsinger]

His momentum took the zithling into the tree as he planned, and he heard a satisfying grunt. But the half-breed was stronger than he would have liked, and managed to toss him aside, stumbling a bit until he could recover himself. He tried to rush back before losing the advantage of having the creature's back to a tree, swinging with his dagger in a feint to keep him from getting away, and then attempting a punch the face. Both missed, but he managed to grapple the thing, which looked more human from close up, which was even more disturbing. Bigarren was making a lot of noise nearby, but it was still raining heavily, which would drown it out in case there were other Zith out in the wet. He grabbed him by his strange jacket, trying to knock him against the tree and rattle his teeth, stun him enough to end the violence, but he had no idea if he could get rational discourse out of his attacker. "Let it go!" he shouted in Common. "If you think you can kill me, go ahead and try, but I'll take you with me!"

[Bloodfight]

Bloodfight staggered a bit by the tree, watching him, hands at the ready to grab as well as his feet being ready to dodge any attack. The puny man had indeed fell and stumbled forwards, now getting up, as Bloodfight caught his second wind of breath. The slight throb in his shoulder blades growing as he rolled them, stretching his arms out for the next round and trying to make the bit of pain eb away. The chill of the rain enounciated as the fight wore on, Bloodfight had to push his shaggy hair away from his eyes just to see clearly through the blood red strands. Now the man was up close, the dagger swinging at him in one movement- making Bloodfight react by holding a fore arm up to block the attack by connecting with the mans fore arm as well but the dagger pulled away, only for a fist to come shockingly close to his face. Stepping and jerking himself backwards to avoid the move. Then he felt the grip on his jacket, pulling him, jerking, he was back against the tree now with his head being snapped back and forth with each slam into the tree. The briefest of common entered his ears, the rain making it hard to hear, and the stars blipping up in front of his eyes. Out of instinct, Bloodfight held onto the mans wrists and started pulling himself away from the tree as the man went to slam Bloodfight against it one last time. The move would send the mans shoulder into the tree with the combined force of the mans shove, and Bloodfights weight still yanking on the mans wrists, but the halfling was spent after that. He had to let go of the man, sprawled out on his back before scrambling to get up to kneel on one knee and be ready for an attack if there was one. Bloodfight was tired and he hadn't expected his opponent to be able to hold out this long, and now he was paying for his lack of preperation. The first few words Bloodfight spat out in common back, struggling to formulate them after such a violent shake "You're not" he used his arms to balance himself, the world seemed to spin a bit "You're not worth dying over" His voice was deep and gravelly, if it hadn't been for the rain, or the whole fighting situation, it probably would have been soft- but it seemed to be aggravated and enraged over being bested by human scum. Yet he forced himself up, stupid as that may have been, he was not about to let himself be knifed whilst not standing up properly. The grinding determination to live was strong, he didn't trust the man, and especially after Bloodfight had attacked the man without warning, he didn't trust the man would let this go off so easily "but I'll be petched if I dare turn my back on you now" Bloodfight snarled at him, very, very annoyed now.