Closed Coming Home (Scorn)

[Massacre]

Massacre frowned as Scorn flew off. He might have suggested something else, or tried to elaborate on her plan, but she was young and impatient, and she carelessly flew off around the camp. Massacre had lost tribe mates to carelessness before, but it was too late to do anything about it now. The older zith also took flight, swooping around the camp until he was behind the human that was cooking. The Zith never understood why humans cooked their meals. Even the spices they used would probably taste better on raw flesh. There was just no beating the fresh taste of raw flesh, however, with or without the fancy spices the humans so loved. Massacre was not there to inspect their cooking, however, though he could smell whatever was in the pot. The Zith slowly began to creep up, getting as close as he dared, even as the larger human began to investigate the noises Scorn was making. Her plan was bold, and risky, but if they were lucky and things went well, it would work. As the large human left, venturing into the darkness in search of the noise, Massacre darted up behind Kayden.. though darting was perhaps the wrong word. As quickly as he could, but taking care with each step, the Zith approached from behind. When he was within arms reach he quickly stepped forward and attempted to put a hand over the chef's mouth. If that worked, his other hand came up to tear at the man's throat with his claws, hopefully silencing and killing him all in one fell swoop. If anything, the larger man would turn at the sound, giving Scorn her opportunity to strike. If the man did not turn, Massacre would pull the man back into the shadows and quietly drop him, before moving back up to help Scorn with the leader. This was all assuming everything went smoothly, of course. If Massacre was discovered, then he would attempt to kill the chef and the leader as quickly and quietly as possible.

[Scorn]

Scorn was nervous that she'd attracted the wrong prey--the leader no less, by the looks of it. She also did not like the look of the giant claw he held in his hand. She would have to disable him before he could use it. She only hoped she could. She froze when he looked directly at her, her heart thumping wildly. But she could hear Massacre sneaking up on the one by the fire, so she mustered her courage. She still had to prove herself, and that would never happen if she let the older Zith rescue her. Scorn locked eyes with her prey. She waited until Massacre made his move. If her prey turned, she could attack it from behind, raking her claws across the back of his neck in an attempt to sever his brain from his spine. Otherwise, she'd target his sword arm, latching on with claws and teeth, while she clawed at his belly and genitals with her feet.

[Massacre]

Massacre could feel his claws tearing through the supple flesh beneath the chef's chin. He could feel the blood burbling out and dampening the fur on his hands. The Zith yanked back, pulling the chef off his feet and began to drag him back into the darkness. It was not the stealthiest kill, though the Zith tried his best. Still, the sound of the ladle dropping, and the fresh corpse dragging across the gap could not be masked. Startled, the leader of the group turned and began to speak. "Be quiet, Kayden, I think there... Kayden?" Kayden was gone. Though he had not been as silent as he wished, Massacre was strong and quick, and pulled the chef out of sight before the leader turned around to see him. Only the ladle, and some blood that would be hard to see in the darkness for a human, remained. "Kayden? What are you playing at? This isn't funny." Garis nervously gripped his weapon, his eyes darting around seeking out the shadows. Massacre hid low behind a tall stand of grass, waiting for Scorn to make her move. She needed to act quickly, before Garis alerted the other pair of humans. If she could take Garis down silently then they could take their time with the mating pair and have some fun with them. Massacre's mind was already running through ideas of how he could play with the humans before they died.

[Scorn]

Scorn grinned as Massacre's distraction worked. Her claws dig into the back of the leader's neck. She immediately knew that her plan to sever his spinal chord had failed. Not because her claws met unyielding bone, but because the man, instead of promptly dying, yelled loudly enough to hurt her ears. She clung to his back as he swung his weapon wildly in an attempt to dislodge her. Her body was mostly out of his range, but she was still using her wings for balance. His sword swung into one of them, biting a deep gash in the leathery flesh. She let a high-pitched yelp of pain escape, before she was sufficiently distracted by adrenaline and fighting for her life. The time for experimenting was over. She decided to follow Massacre's lead and slit the prey's throat. Unfortunately, her prey saw that coming, and managed to fend off her claw before she could even get close to causing a fatal wound. The man used her weakened grip to throw her off of him. The pain in her wing was making it difficult for her to resist--she wasn't used to being so badly injured in a fight, and her injury was throwing off her balance. Would she even be able to fly like this? She flapped hard, trying to gain some distance from her enemy, and give herself a few ticks to regroup. Her wing was in agony, and she felt unsteady, but she would be able to stay in the air, at least for a while. Unfortunately, this gave her prey time to yell out a warning. "We're under attack!" Scorn muttered foul curses at the prey under her breath. She was supposed to be proving to Massacre that she was a good hunter, not getting bested by her own prey, and allowing more prey to be alerted. She figured she had one chance to make this right, before her reputation as the better hunter was shattered forever. She had enough altitude for what she planned to do. Ignoring the pain in her wing, she prepared for a swoop at the man's head. If she aimed well, she should be able to scoop the man's brains right out of his miserable little skull! But there were too many factors working against her. Her injured wing threw off her aim, and the man was all too aware of her presence, so he knew exactly when to dodge. The nature of the maneuver let her escape into the air before he could take another swing at her, but her failure weighed heavily on her. She would not be able to stay aloft much longer. If she and Massacre couldn't finish this soon, she would have to flee, food or none. Massacre... she hoped he wouldn't be cornered down there. She circled the campsite, trying to keep track of him, trying not to get too dizzy from her wing's slow but constant bleeding.

OOCSorry Scorn's not a perfect assassin ;_; Poor young, inexperienced Zith girl! We may have been a bit optimistic taking on four Drykas with just us.

[Massacre]

Massacre cursed under his breath as Scorn failed at what should have been an easy skill. Petching young Zith, he thought to himself. He cursed again when the man called out in alarm. Even though they were busy mating, Massacre was certain the other two humans would hear it, and as the sounds of their passion ceased he knew he was right. Petch, he thought again. Massacre's eyes darted about the scene. Scorn was flying around, while the Drykas was trying to get at her. The others.. they would come soon enough. The leader was armed, and after a moment of consideration, Massacre reached between his wings and pulled free his own weapon. He was no where near as skilled with it as he was his claws, but Massacre had learned the hard way that it was better to fight weapon with weapon. Unarmed, he could easily lose a hand, but with a weapon he had more of a chance. Massacre rose and darted out at the leader. Unfortunately, stealth was out of the picture when wielding a massive five foot blade, and Kayden spotted the Zith from the glint of fire off his weapon. Massacre swung the sword at the Drykas who quickly dodged out of the way. It was less than a tick before the leader regained his composure and attacked back, however, and darted in with a fast jab of his own. It was all Massacre could do to back away and deflect the blade. Meanwhile the lovers were debating whether or not they heard correctly. They were already intertwined, their clothing and gear tossed aside, and it was hard to focus on anything but each other. Still, the words "We're under attack" tended to get a person's attention. It wasn't until they heard the clash of steel on steel, however, that they fully realized what was going on. OOCGood thing it's only 3 Drykas now, and two of them are naked!

[Scorn]

Scorn's heart leaped into her throat when Massacre's blade rang out against the human's. Too late, she understood her father's warnings. She should have been more careful, and now Massacre was in danger. He seemed to be holding his own for now, but if the human's comrades joined the battle, the Zith would be too outnumbered. Scorn knew now that she was no match for a human with weapons, and she was already injured. Unable to stay in the air any longer, she landed softly, not far from where the other two were coupling. She pulled her wings tight against her back, so that she wouldn't accidentally jar the wounded one. The woman had heard the shout and was trying to pull away, concerned for her comrades. The man seemed more interested in continuing their mating, not taking the potential threat seriously, but the woman hushed him and strained to listen for the sounds of battle that Scorn could hear clearly. "It's probably just Garis and Kayden arguing again," the man insisted. At this rate, the woman would not let the couple be distracted for long. They were still distracted by their mating haze, but Scorn could smell a trickle of fear rising in the woman that the man's persuasion was failing to quell. Scorn crept through the shadows, taking advantage of their multiple distractions and trying not to make a sound. She caught the glint of moonlight glinting off something not too far away. In a haphazard pile, a couple of gleaming metal claws, much like the one which has just cut through her wing, sat among what looked like the discarded false-skins that humans often wore. Scorn realized at once that she could not allow the mating couple to get their hands on those giant claws. She crept toward the pile. Suddenly, there were several piercing whinnies ringing through the air. The nearby horses had noticed the Zith sneaking about, and with them sounding the alarm, the mating couple could hardly fail to notice her either. Both began shouting in a language Scorn could not even begin to recognize. She broke into a run, scampering for the pile, the entirety of which she scooped up into her arms. She then turned and ran, in a direction away from the sounds of Massacre and the leader human's fight. If she were going to be chased, she could at least try to separate the prey from its herd. It was difficult though, running on her legs through the grass. Her wings kept wanting to unfurl and lift her away, and only the painful twinge reminded her why that had to be a last resort right now. Furthermore, the junk she had picked up was awkward to carry, jutting out at odd angles and trying to fall out of her arms. She could hear shouts behind her, and pounding of hoof-beats, too heavy and in the wrong pattern to belong to the two-legged ones. She would never outrun something with four legs, not on land, but she knew somehow that she could not let them reclaim what she had stolen. Not too far in front of her, she spied one of the plains' rare trees, sticking up conspicuously from the landscape. She pushed her legs towards it, forcing them into a repeated, circular motion: bend knee, push off ground, land. Her muscles ached and her breathing had picked up, but she was almost there, though she could hear the hoof-beats coming ever closer. As she neared the tree, she let her good wing unfurl. Then, she jumped, flapping hard. Flapping with one wing was never exactly a stable experience, but she only had to hit somewhere in the leaves. She only had to fly up, not straight, and not very far. She crashed into the foliage, some of the lighter articles falling from her arms to land on the branches below. The Zith found herself wedged between two branches, bruised and battered, and barely able to move. The hilt of one of the metal claws was digging into her side painfully, but she dared not let it go. She could hear and smell the humans and their hoof-beasts circling the tree below, like wolves trying to flush out their prey.

[Massacre]

He wasn't as fast as he used to be. Age did that to a Zith. The man he was facing off against was young, strong, and better with a sword than Massacre was. But the Zith would not give up. He could be fast when he needed to be, he wasn't that old. He was in his prime, or at least that was how Massacre saw it. Grunting with exertion Massacre struck back, his muscles tensing as his sword connected with that of the Drykas. Massacre put a lot of weight behind the blow, and along with the weight of the weapon itself, it send the Drykas staggering back. Massacre did not hesitate. He couldn't, not if he wanted to get out alive. He had to take the advantage while he had it, because if he lost it there was a good chance he would never get it back. Massacre moved forward and chopped down at the Drykas with an overhand strike. The blow would have driven the man down to his knees, but instead he dove to the side. Massacre didn't waste any time. As soon as the man was airborne the Zith dropped his sort with an angry hiss and dove after him, the claws and on his hands and feet outstretched. Before the man could roll back to his feet Massacre was on top of him, knocking him right back down. Foot claws raked the man's legs while Massacre struggled with the man's arms, keeping the weapon out of play. Massacre kicked and raked and the lower half of the Drykas became a bloody mess. The man cried out, punched Massacre in the face and managed to knock the large Zith off him. When he tried to stand he found he could not. The damage had been done, and Massacre had effectively crippled the Drykas. The Zith rose to his feet, circling Garis as he defiantly swung his weapon to keep Massacre at bay. His legs were ruined, but his arms still worked. Massacre licked his lips, and glanced over at the fire. The man's gaze followed the Zith's, and his eyes widened. Massacre walked over and grabbed the cool end of a burning log sticking out of the fire, holding it menacingly before him. He would have tossed it at the crippled man, burning him alive, were it not for the sounds of distress coming from the other side of the camp. Massacre's gaze was averted, spotting Scorn fleeing from the two Drykas on horseback. He glanced back at the crippled man.. he wouldn't be going anywhere, and Massacre could toy with him when he came back. The Zith dropped the log back into the fire and ran over to his discarded bow, snatching it up and taking to the sky. By the time he caught up with Scorn and her mounted pursuit she was already up the tree, and the Drykas were circling below. Perhaps they did not know Massacre was there? He was only slightly better with his bow than he was with his sword, but he could afford to risk it. The pair of Drykas were naked, and unarmed. As long as he stayed airborne, they could not harm him. Massacre pulled out one of his arrows, one of the special ones he'd gotten from the large ape people seasons ago, and nocked it to his bow. The arrow was coated in a sleeping toxin, enough to knock out a full grown Jamoura in only a few shots. Massacre had no doubt that it wouldn't put a human or horse to sleep, he just had to make sure not to miss. Circling around, Massacre followed the path of the riders until he thought he had a clear shot, then pulled back the bow and fired.

[Scorn]

Scorn flinched at the sound of an arrow hitting the ground. She looked up and realized that Massacre was using the flying claws of the humans against them! The humans and their hooved beasts panicked, and another claw flew into the side of the bigger animal. The horse went down, pinning the male underneath. That was all Scorn needed. The only threat left was a single, small human with no claws, which would be no match for Scorn. Abandoning her perch, Scorn leaped from the tree onto the female human's back. The gear she had stolen thudded to the ground, but Scorn was focused on her prey. She dug her toe-claws into the horse's backside to keep from being thrown off, and she grabbed the woman's throat for the same purpose. Scorn heard a sort of gurgly choking sound, and the woman pulled desperately against the Zith's claws, but blood was already running past Scorn's fingers. The Zith was too busy trying to keep her balance on the wildly bucking horse, her grip tightening on a reflex, rather than the sadistic pleasure she would otherwise enjoy. By the time the horse managed to throw Scorn off, the woman was dead. The corpse fell from the horse's back as it bolted, and Scorn landed in a tangled heap, her damaged wing feeling extraordinarily sore. She was startled by a quite loud yell of rage and general anguish, which a moment of searching revealed to be the man who had been pinned under his horse. The man was struggling to reach the sword that had fallen nearby. His fingertips brushed it as Scorn crawled toward her kill. She looked up toward Massacre, wondering if it was safe to begin feasting.

[Massacre]

Things went well enough. He missed his actual target, but hitting the horse worked out just fine, considering it pinned the rider to the ground. And Scorn managed to defeat the other human, which meant there really wasn't much of a threat left. Massacre lowered his bow and descended to the ground, dropping the weapon and turning back to the man by the fire. He wasn't moving anymore, though Massacre could still make out the subtle rise and fall of his chest. He was dying, however, and not surprisingly so. The man lost a lot of blood, and even if he survived he might never walk again. Massacre turned his attention back to Scorn and the pinned human. If he got out from under the horse he might still pose a threat, but it looked like Scorn was going to take care of him. Massacre decided to ignore the man for the moment and instead went to check on the woman. Her horse was gone, and a quick inspection made it obvious that she too was dead. Scorn was thinking the same thing Massacre was, it was time to feast. Massacre licked the blood off his claws, getting a taste before glancing back over at Scorn. He didn't realize yet that she was also hurt. "Can you handle him? I'm hungry."

[Scorn]

Scorn glanced toward where Massacre was looking and noticed that the last of the prey was still trying to fight back. Quickly, she hopped over to him on all fours and kicked the large metal claw away. She giggled at his cry of frustration. She considered what to do with him. There was already more meat than the two Zith could possibly finish; it would be a waste to kill this one too. She wanted to take him with them, to have for tomorrow or the next night. But she couldn't risk him hurting her or Massacre. She crawled on top of the horse corpse and peered down at the man, considering. Her stomach rumbled; she wanted to eat before the meat all around her went cold, not sit here and play with tomorrow's meal. The man grabbed at her with both hands, and she had an idea. Grabbing one of the wildly swinging arms, she pulled it out away from him, braced her foot against the upper arm and kept pulling back on the lower arm until it broke at the elbow. The screaming was loud, but worth it. She quickly did the same with his other arm, reveling in the noise of fear and pain. He wasn't crying yet though, which was disappointing. Her mother'd had a gift for making prey cry. At the moment, Scorn was too hungry to care. The threat was de-clawed for the moment, and she has fresh kill to plunder. She hopped back over to the female and gorged herself, starting with the soft internal organs, digging through the guts to gut under the rib-cage to the liver and heart. When she had consumed the tastier parts, she went for the thighs, which were more filling. All the while, her meal was accompanied by the survivor's rage and agony, but it wasn't until she started on the face, that he finally broke down sobbing. Curious, it seemed that just waiting long enough would get the prey to cry.