Quest A Hunting We Will Go

[Razkar]

There were no words. No barked orders and frantic commands. They weren't needed. They were, in that narrow context, of one mind and objective. Six eyes flitted upwards constantly, lips unmoving but restless, wishing, hoping-

And then they were answered. One great eye broke from the clouds and peered down at them... was that balefully? Lovingly? The light that set the endless grasses alight with sparkling silver was surely affectionate, but it spoke of midnight rituals and blood greeting morning dew, as well.

Razkar had no doubts. He turned grateful eyes up to the fat and happy round one above them, and nodded.

"My thanks."

A mere chime later they are a-horse, leaving the still-smoldering fire behind them. The Konti was the head of the arrow they made, Razkar on her left, the Akalak her right. She knew the way and they followed wordlessly, hanging on tight to their reins, both unused to horses and riding more out of endurance than skill.

And, at least in Razkar's case, with only one hand. His left clutched the reins but his right was filled with his gladius, held low but tightly, moaning vibrations from the Malediction-worked hilt rippling up his tattooed arm. He knew he should use him bow... but that was simple logic. Zith flew, so had to be taken down before they could be killed. But could he fire accurately from a horse? Could he notch and draw and fire with one hand?

No. If the Myrian would worship tonight, it would be with swinging iron, not darting steel.

His bones and insides jolted with every gallop, but his lips moved ceaselessly. Incantations. Prayers. Hopes and promises and one steady litany above them all as they followed the Konti across the grass and into a cauldron of combat.

Watch my works this night, my Goddess-Queen... guide my hand... and Dira, my blades...

[Riaris Dovukalis]

The Akalak was drawn from his meditative state when the others began to move around. It appeared that they had gotten what they wanted, and they would in fact ride again. They were off to join with the main group and fight and destroy every Zith in sight. He wanted this, and if he had just way they would be rid of every Zith and wipe the race off the map.

Yes..now is the time.

Riaris couldn't be more pleased, on the trip as hold, he and the Myrian had spent a lot of time just standing around and waiting. The trip didn't become more interesting until the snarl wings showed up, and then the Zith next. He was more than ready to fight again, he needed the battle and the blood shed.

They will all learn of my wraith.

The Akalak rode hard and fast along with the others, he ignored the roughness of the ride and concentrated on the fight to come. They would see more battle and before it was all over, Riaris would have more glory to claim and stories to go along with it. Riaris smiled, he would also bring a smile to the face of Krysus and that alone was worth dealing with a horse.

[Traverse]

oocApologies for the delay on this, wanted to make sure it was all pretty and neatly laid out for you two!




Leth hung high in the sky to guide the riders' way, but aside from the shimmering brilliance that created a reflective light upon the tall grass that parted like weak willed humans before the onslaught of horse hooves, it was utterly, completely dark.


Until...


Suddenly...the flickering orange of torches began to appear like large fireflies upon the horizon.

It began as a single fluttering light, barely discernible save for the gaping maw of black that surrounded it, but as the horses galloped closer, three pairs of wary eyes could see a sea of orange intermingled with the grass, the lone defense of light in a night filled with a nocturnal enemy

The nearer they drew to the light the nearer they drew to the faint sounds of battles, brays of horses intermingled with inhuman screeches which may have been the monsters' war cries.

The pumping and beating of wings as well as the clash of metal upon metal created a symphony reaching out to the three volunteers, and as the horses picked up on the action, the final sprint seemed accelerated, well trained mounts heeding the purpose of their upbringing.

It was complete chaos.

It was clear that preparations had been made in the daytime for the inevitable nocturnal assault. Staves thrust upward toward the sky, surrounding each pillar of flame in order to dissuade those with intent to darken the arena which had been created for the battle. This area was a mass of trampled grass, and within its circle of light, Zith, Akalak, and Drykas alike were caught in a tumultuous battle.

Like a streak of silver Linoa was off into the fray, disappearing between a mounted Drykas, using a long spear to combat a Zith in flight above the ground. It was hard to say if there was a particular destination she was trying to reach, but a healer of her skill would certainly be needed in the battle.

Which left the broad Akalak and the stoat Myrian warrior to pick their targets and join the fray.

From a brief observational stand point it seemed that there was a definite tactic to the Zith attack. Quite a few of their number remained aerial, with bows, slings, and even...magic, to use as projectiles against their foes, while others swept down upon the mounted combatants, often times attempting to maim and weaken the mounts of the Kuvay'Nas and Drykas, but it wasn't as if they volunteer militia hadn't prepared for this sort of distance disadvantage. Many of their number carried long spears and ranged weapons of their own, and if watched carefully, several Akalak seemed to have grappling hooks they were using to physically pull down their winged adversaries.

Of course, most things were hard to see in such mayhem.

oocAlright, have at it! Feel free to rp out your battle to your heart's content. You can manipulate Zith and fellow warriors in equal measure, though I would ask that Linoa be left, as she is an 'in case of emergency' only NPC, lol. I'll be posting little curve balls for you every few posts, so keep an eye out!

[Razkar]

Fire and steel and blood and death awaited them. They poured from the sky and soaked the ground. They flashed in the darkness or by the dancing light cast by massive torches. They came with screams and oaths from the throats of men, Akalaks and monsters. Wherever the three riders looked, the clearing was awash with those four avatars.

Here, a Zith swooping down to club at a pair of Akalaks who had dragged down one of its kin from the skies, one of them brained almost senseless even as they stabbed and hacked the snarling creature as it writhed on the slick ground.

There, a Zith that cast fire from its hands on glowing balls, twisting and flapping as Drykas archers harried it with arrows.

A low-flying Zith impaled on a thrown spear, screeching hate and agony into a blood-lit night.

A Drykas carried up screaming into the dark by two wing'd demons, then simply dropped to crunch and shatter and die with staggering force.

Akalaks slashing upwards with lakan, sword, ax and spear. Drykas hunkering down and picking targets, faces grim and focused as they drew, aimed, loosed, drew, aimed, loosed...

Razkar grinned with ecstatic ecstasy, the sounds and stench and sights of true battle intoxicating him. His gnosis burned so hard now in the presence of war that it almost howled, screamed, roared-

-until the sound burst from his own lips, foam and spittle flying as he spurred his steed onwards, gladius unsheathed and his cry echoing to the heavens and beyond.

"FOR MYRI!"

He plunged headlong into the massive fray, dozens, scores of fighting figure around him. Something flapped with a whoosh of air beside him and he hacked upwards and across, spray of black blood arcing across the air and something screeching as it went down to the ground. The Zith noticed him, though, and he knew he was not horseman enough to fight from the back of Trikken, faithful as the mount was.

So he looked quickly, eyes flashing-

-until he saw a Zith rise from the ground, turning to him, slain Drykas before it and bloody ax in its hand-

-and with a roar Razkar jerked his feet from the stirrups and hurled himself sideways off his horse, ax flashing down as he did.

The Zith hissed in surprise as two hundred pounds of half-naked, tattooed savage flew towards it as if it too had wings. Mouth wide in a blood-maddened scream, Razkar's ax was already moving down as the Zith tried to raise its guard-

-but his ax hacked through the wooden hilt of the weapon, Malediction-worked blade smashing through the cheap, looted Zith ax with ease-

-and cleaving deep into the beast's chest cavity as it kept going.

Myrian and Zith landed heavily, Razkar landing on top of it as the gasping, blood-coughing creature toppled onto its back, still gripping its ruined weapon. With a snarl Razkar straddled it, ripping his ax free and hacking down one more time, splitting its skull in two then rising to his feet, unsheathing his gladius with black blood already smearing his chest.

So many. Above and down here. So many for you, Goddess-Queen...

Without pause or target for the moment, he moved. To still and hesitate in a battle so chaotic - any battle, in his mind - was to invite death, and he sought it for others. Hands filled with his weapons, he was more like some feral animal, loping low, eyes wide and glaring, seeking, seeking-

As a Zith screamed at him from his right, landing heavily from the sky and swinging a mace as its feet hit the ground-

-only for Razkar to duck under the swing, slashing upward at its wing as the mace passed overhead, ruining that flying limb and evoking a howl of agony, Zith trying a backhanded blow instead-

-but Razkar swayed away, stone-headed mace passing before him, momentum keeping it going, opening up the Zith's chest-

-and he burst forwards, gladius thrusting, burying it deep in its stomach-

-hand ax slashing horizontally and high, slamming into its neck until he felt the jarring impact of the spinal column and the light died in those dark, monstrous eyes-

Razkar ripped his weapon free and darted onward, not even waiting for the body to fall. But before he took ten steps a shadow loomed over him and he turned-

-too slow.

The Zith slashed down and he barely bent his knees in time to avoid having his head sliced off, but even that was enough for the short sword to rip a ragged line in his shoulder. The Myrian screamed his pain and anger as the swooping monster carried on, wheeling around for another attack, a partner appearing at its side.

Razkar growled and readied his weapons, standing his ground as both of them-

-no, one of them! An arrow caught one in the side, some lucky Drykas archer living up to the name his people had for archery. With a yelp of pain it staggered, or the aerial equivalent of it, smooth flight wobbling, unstable, veering away as the first's head snapped around, barking some question or warning in its own tongue-

-diverting attention from Razkar, who saw an opening, raising his ax and hurling it towards the fast-approaching monster.

Now it was too late for the Zith: too late as it turned back to Razkar, seeing the ax leave his hand and spinning towards it. Too late to duck or dodge or change direction as the flashing weapon smashed into its left wing, ripping a hole through it and lodging in its side, flying headlong without control, savage before it getting bigger and bigger-

-and then gone, for Razkar stepped to its side and raised his gladius with both hands, bringing it crashing down in a flat vertical arc as the Zith finally reached him-

-taking its head off in midair with that single swipe. The body continued on, wings still flapping gamely even as the head shot down from the impact, bloody stump raining black effluence on the ground-

-soaking it, softening it for when the headless carcass hit the ground and lay still.

Razkar's face was a mask of demonic, warmongering delight and he rushed on. Adrenaline and gnosis-energy coursed through him, laughing up and down his veins as he reclaimed his ax and stalked on, seeking more enemies, challenges, victims and victories.

Fire and steel and blood and death in the Sea of Grass. Life was good for the Child of Myri.

[Riaris Dovukalis]

The time had finally come, the moment, the fight that he had been waiting for was finally upon them. Riaris could feel it, he could sense it even before the first of the flaming beckons could be seen. The Akalak leaned forward more on the horse, holding tighter so that if the beast sped up even faster, he wouldn't fall off. There were many on the battle field, other Akalaks, Drykas and Zith all battling each other. Luckily for the Akalak, they could see better in the dark, so even as the Zith few away from the lights, he could still see them.

It was a great moment, and with so many Zith around, he couldn't imagine how much pleasure he would gain from slaying them all. But for the moment, Riaris followed the konti healer deeper into the battle, passing the other warriors and even jumping over the bodies of those that had already fallen. He had no idea where she was going, or if she did either, but he was cut off from her, when two Zith swooped down at him trying to take off his head.

Riaris ducked the attackers and clung to the horse to protect his head. He quickly grabbed the reins and turned the horse around. Just then, he felt something and slipped his lakan from his belt and in the same moment, the horse suddenly shifted and kicked to her rear where it slammed her hooves into the chest of a darting Zith. The Akalak smiled, it seemed the horse and he had the same thought...sort of. A smirk rose across his face, and he spurred the horse into motion and turned it again where he could reach out and and slash the throat of the Zith as it tried to stand up again.

Horse riding with one hand was tricky, but Riaris wasn't thinking about anything other than destruction. He spurred the horse into a trot first, before having it speed off again. Riaris leaned low and to one said where he could slash out at any Zith that came close to him. His blade slashed and stabbed into the night, and in return the night spit blood and guts back at him.

It was glorious....

Suddenly as Riaris slowed the horse to try and turn it again, he was tackled from the horse and knocked to the ground. The Akalak stumbled to his feet, at first a bit groggy and searching for what hit him. He was surprised to see the body of a bloodied Drykas laying near his feet. Was this what hit him? He scanned the area and narrowed his eyes when he saw it. Not too far from where he stood was a Zith almost as tall and big as he was. Riaris glared at the beast and started to move towards him. This was his night and he would send them all to the void, one after another.

Both warrior's charged each other and took a swing as they drew close enough. A quick block and they both ducked and spun around the other. The Zith wielded some form of short sword against Riaris' lakan. He frowned and darted in again, swinging his lakan against the short sword and planting a knee into the ribs of the Zith. The Zith bucked and swung out catching him with a back hand. Riaris stepped back a pace, and had to quickly jump back further to avoid the sword.

[Traverse]

oocApologies for the delay!

Razkar

The ground was slick with fluids of all kinds, and the cries and screams became an insurmountable din for all who became embroiled in the tumult. Truly this was a glorious moment for Myri, even if all but one of the participants of the battle were barbarians, far from the glorious light of Myri the Merciless.

But that one warrior acted as her beacon in the fight, for there was nothing that brought one back to the savage jungles of Falyndar so much as the stench of erupted bowels and the metal tang of blood in the mouth. Simply glorious.

As the Myrian hacked and slashed his way through corpse after corpse, a snicker was drowned out from above him, twin Zith watching the fight from up on high.

"They bleed like pigs." The sister chattered happily, voice squeaky and high in their strange percussion language.

Brother grunted. "But we bleed too." Sister snorted, it was clear she didn't much care for the blood of their brethren being spilt...already quite high on the death and gore. Sister had searched for the perfect prey, the right one to harass and taunt, to make the sweet smell of blood all the more potent as the blood lust coursed through her veins.

She knew him the moment dark eyes saw him split open a skull and lap the blood off the edge of his axe.

He would feel the sharp stone swung from a sling vaguely on the back of his shoulder. Not because of the wound it gouged there, but because of how bloody cold it was...icy. Everything else was so hot, but that stabbing pain seemed to sink into his veins. The ice covered rock bounced into the darkness of the ground and a high pitched banshee call heralded Sister as she dove down, barely out of reach and pelted a hail of razor sharp icicles upon the amassed battle. That her weapons shredded Zith wings just as easily as Drykas mounts and Akalak flesh seemed not to bother her, and in a flash she was up in the air once more...but she had eyes only for the half naked human in their midst. He would be hers.

Riaris

The strangely large Zith, leered at the Akalak. He was used to these strong creatures who preyed upon his brethren, thinking themselves so strong and powerful...yet here he was, standing and showing that he was just as strong, he had done it before and he would do it again, here amidst the flailing torchlight and screams of his people.

Show just who had true strength in such a battle.

His sword was not some cheap item taken off the average merchant, but a great hulking blade of a dark tinted steel. The hilt seemed to be made from bone and steel, two elements woven together to make a truly barbaric looking grip, made for a small giant and nothing less. Perhaps it was the only reason the Zith possessed such a cruel looking weapon, for only someone of his size amongst the Zith could wield it.

And wield it he did.

The swoosh of air followed by the powerful swings of the blade seemed to cut through the night itself, and a pearl white grin hung in the Zith's mouth as he advanced on Riaris, one swing after another making to push the Akalak back out of the ring of torches into the pitch black of the Sea.

The fight was sure to be a good one, even and well fought to the last bloody stand, but fate seemed keen to make the hulking Akalak wait for his prize just a little longer, as a piercing cry that came from no Zith throat cut through the air.

The large Zith turned, and some cry summoned him back, albeit reluctantly into the air, a look of promise meeting with Riaris before he vanished into the night sky.

For a moment, a swathe was cut through the flailing bodies, and down that path lay Linoa, her and her mount surrounded on all sides by eager Zith, staring hungrily at the elegant Konti. A small wall of summoned flames were her only defense, and she stood straddled over a body, though of whom, it could not be said.

And then Patience was snorting next to Riaris, her muzzle shoving against him roughly, she seemed to like being on the outskirts of a fight no more than he.

[Razkar]

"The petch...?!"

The freezing slash was opened on his back and Razkar whirled around in confusion. Chaos was thick in the skies, with bat wings and screeching calls, and he knew the blow had to have come from-

There! A swooping Zith that sounded female, voice a shrill, sadistic staccato over the din of battle, unleashing gleaming bolts from her sling... and accurately, as the Myrian had discovered.

He growled but felt a twinge of unease creep up his sweating spine. This was why he so hated fighting the Zith: once you found one that could use a distant weapon well, they were free to swoop and soar and pick you off from the safety of their skies. He cursed himself for letting his archery slack off so-

Petch it, no other option!

Razkar bolted, and he had to admit, he didn't feel much shame. Only fools and madmen fought where they could easily be cut down, and he had no plans to die so far from Falyndar. Screeching laughter pursued him along with a hail of icy projectiles that smacked into the grass and tinged! off fallen armor and weapons. Razkar grunted as he felt two of them rip into him, one grazing his right thigh-

"Fuck!"

-another gouging a chunk of flesh from his ribs large enough to send an arc of crimson soaking into the grass.

Razkar faltered, went down to one knee, and heard that triumphant keening above him, circling, crowing, enjoying his pain, an enemy so strong reduced to a rabbit under a hawk.

Just what he needed. A bit of fucking incentive.

With a snarl he jerked his head around, back and forth, searching for something, anything-

And found a Drykas crouched over, vomiting blood, shortbow in his hands-

"Give bow!"

Rheumy, unfocused, fading eyes regarded him with something between fear and confusion, slick hands holding grimly onto his precious bow, all he had left. The shade in front of him had to be a vision, a nightmare, some herald of Dira come to claim him for the next world, but it couldn't have-

-Razkar snarled and a crashing forehead ushered the Drykas into the next world, instead of some ethereal Valkyrie.

"Needs must, barbarian," Razkar muttered, fumbling for an arrow, notching it, eyes scanning around for that swooping creature, "And your need is at an end. Mine, one the otherFUCK!"

A larger shadow swooped down, a male, judging by the grunt that it let out as it sailed over Razkar, something between a club and a sword slashing down towards him-

-which he barely avoided, dropping flat to his chest as the shadow passed over him, swooping around for another pass.

Not going to get too many chances.

A glimpse. That was all he'd get, even with the massive torches lighting the sky. Zith were fast as hawks and the fact they were twenty times larger didn't really help; especially when they were throwing and shooting things at you.

But Razkar got one.

"Myri guide my hands... and Dira my blades..."

He whispered the words as he saw the female come to the end of her swoop, maybe... fifty feet above and in front of him. Her sling was swinging in a blur next to her, fresh stone in it, but she needed to turn to face him, head to almost stop in the air-

-he peered down the arrow as he raised it, closing one eye-

Until the grinning Zith was directly in front of the hovering head, and when he breathed out... he felt his Gnosis burn... felt his muscles still and his hands cease their tremble.

Razkar let fly, but before he got a chance to see the results of his gamble, a roaring male slammed into his back on the wing.

[Riaris Dovukalis]

Riaris could taste the blood on his lips, the back hand by the Zith had been quick, and barely touched him, or so he had thought. This beast was mighty, and his strength seemed beyond that of any normal Zith that Riaris had ever seen before. But the Akalak wasn't afraid, something else gripped him and caused his blood to boil and his adrenaline tor rise. Such battles were to type that he dreamed about. Riaris could feel his muscles tensing, his eyes widening , and his fist clenching tighter around his lakan. The Zith attacked again, using his longer reach to his advantage and Riaris could only jump back to avoid the viscous strikes.

Krysus would indeed be pleased, the death of this huge Zith would surely put a smile upon her face, as well as the deaths of as many as the Akalak could claim. Riaris felt alive and on fire, no sickness, or soreness would bother him now. Even the spilling of his own blood would be a release of pleasure compared to the pain his cursed caused him when he didn't follow through with his oath daily. But it seemed the fight would have to wait, a loud scream called the Zith off, and for the moment that voice was more important to them both than their fight. With the Zith flying off, Riaris turned to find Patience behind him, still alive and ready for more.

"Good girl.."

The Akalak pushed himself up on the horse again and headed off towards the direction of the sound. Riaris had been lost amongst Zith for a short time and hadn't seen Razkar or Linoa. He tapped at the horse's body with his boots to urge it to go faster and reach their new destination before it was too late. Looking up into the eyes, his special vision allowed him to see into the night. The Zith were still soaring high, but many were heading in the same direction as the huge Zith had went. Riaris followed along as fast as he could until he found the hoard surrounding a wall of fight.

Riaris could see the Konti hiding inside the barrier of fire, but who was with her was a mystery. For the moment, he put that aside and went to aid the woman. Lakan in hand, the Akalak roared as he charged in. The Zith turned towards the massive horse and Akalak that forced it's way through hacking and slashing at them. How dead;y his blows were didn't matter, his aim was to get the group from around the Konti and hopefully following him.

The Akalak raced in a circular pattern around the fiery wall slashing and hacking at the Zith as he did. The war horse fought as well, kicking and stomping on anything that got close to them. With one round taken, Riaris turned the horse around and went through a second time. The Zith were following him now, but many were still at the fire wall, he needed to get more. On his second turn into the crowd, the Akalak pushed much deeper and right into the heart of the group. Some of the Zith took to the air while others remained on the ground to fight.

Two Zith, smaller in size swooped down from the night and landed upon Patience, swiping and clawing at them both. Riaris could hear the cries of the horse as he felt his own body being ripping into. A tight, fist slammed into a Zith and the Lakan slashed at the other. Finally Patience reared up in anger and they all fell to the ground with a loud thud. Luckily the horse had landed on one Zith and crushed it's legs with her huge, heavy frame.Standing up, Riaris found himself in the middle of raging Zith, but he nor his warhorse were going to back down.

[Traverse]

Razkar

Sister howled with delight at the strange dark skinned man that had run from her. Running was pointless, he was like a rabbit, no...an insect, and she would slice him up and wear his skin as a cloak in her triumph. Surely the pelt of this monster would be worth something, as she had not seen his tattooed likeness ever before.

A strange purplish glow lit her hands as res seeped up through the skin, it began as water which froze into shards of her ice, the strange liquid holding itself in place in the center, allowing Sister to control the direction and torque of her weapons.

She soared down, the smells of battle wafting through her senses, the glee she felt from the kills mingled with the sensation of creating her res was something unparalleled in this moment, and soon the little insect would simply fuel the fire burning in the Zith's center.

But suddenly she howled, and not with abject joy, but in pain. It was like a large splinter tearing a hole in her wing. The shot had gone straight through, leaving a bloody hole. Sister wobbled, the simple mar in her appendage already affecting her flight, and she howled with rage as her wings beat twice as hard to get her into the air.

The ice in her hands cracked and dissappeared, suddenly a new amount of it, massive in scope spilling out from her palms, wrists, and even her forearms. It began a wobbling sheet of purple that she shaped into a dome, the purple becoming water and freezing to create a crystalline structure...one which she hurled downward directly towards the Myrian with all the force of her ability and gravity combined.

Brother, having come up behind the barbarian with a wicked spiked club, growled in annoyance at Sister stealing his fun and leaped back, wings taking him twenty feet instead of just a few, curious to see how the strange naked male would react.

Riaris

Patience had toppled, too much weight upon her body to perform a simple rear and get back to her feet, but she utilized her position to roll over her two assailants, one ton body doing its work to the helpless Zith faced with the muscle, hooves and weight of the creature they had dared to molest.

The group of Zith seemed like an alarmingly large flock of birds in the sky. The call had drawn back all the but the wildest of their ranks (see Sister and Brother), and they formed a V formation in the sky, diving down like...well practically like an organized formation to dive bomb their attackers. Tower shields were raised from the grounded defenders, by Akalak and Drykas alike to guard from a hail of arrows, rocks and other projectiles. But tower shields weren't a common defense for Akalak or Drykas and several screams rang out as undefended parties fell to the hail of weapons.

But Riaris had his own group to deal with, that resented him for stealing them away from the pretty Konti, who had taken the distraction to work her Healing on the form she had been so protective of.

Patience struggled to get her feet beneath her, two arrows sticking from her flanks as she rose with a frustrated snort, back legs launching outwards to topple a winged form behind her as a new circle of the Zith began to form around the Akalak and the warhorse. Chitters high and low, angry and gleeful sounded, a spear was thrown dangerously close to Riaris's right side. There were at least six of them slowly drawing in the circle, a couple more hanging back...though for what one couldn't be sure.

One lanky Zith with eyes like black coals in Leth's light charged forward with a serrated machete, screaming, and the others followed. It would be a tough situation even for a muscled Akalak and his mount, but just as Riaris would be faced with the decision of just whom to slice up first, a roaring cry went up from behind the Zith and a familiar form, angular but well muscles sliced off the wing of a Zith with a glinting bastard sword.

"Glad you made it brother!" Onithet cried as he began cutting left and right through the horde of the Zith that fell in upon them. A spout of flames went up from the outer ring of the monsters, showing Linoa was there as well...having healed the previously injured Akalak.

[Razkar]

OOCLemme know if you'd like me to edit anything. I think this follows from what you described, but I don't want to godmod or overplay.

"Oh, are you petching serious?"

Razkar didn't know exactly whom he was addressing, but it wasn't just the universe in general. The sky was full of screeching, swooping monsters and he was scurrying around like a rat below hawks, and could the cosmos even the score for him?

No. It was throwing buildings at him.

Well, not quite, but definitely a structure. When the Myrian squirmed around onto his back with weapon raised, male Zith leering down at him with its ugly, fanged face stark by the flames, he certainly didn't expect it to suddenly rocket backwards with a few sweeps from its massive bat-like wings. Razkar growled at him, all but forgetting the female-

"Petch!"

-and he looked up.

"What on..."

The words trailed off in sheer surprise as he watched the Zith literally make something from nothing. Purple and silver light flashed and flowed from her upper body, arms and torso nearly glowing. But this light was being crafted, molded into a dome that seemed to shimmer and shake with life, water given impossible form and color-

-then frozen. And thrown.

The speed of it stunned Razkar, eventualities and possibilities flashing through his mind even as it fell towards him. He couldn't dodge it, that was clear: too large, too fast... and if he missed his jump, he'd end up with the edge of that thing crushing him in two like a shovel would a snake.

With a curse and a snarl up at the burning sky, Razkar dropped to his knees heads down-

-and the world became a freezing, dull scape of white...

There was a deafening thump, like a bowl slammed down onto a table. The echoes and reverberations pinballed around the inside of it and redoubled against his ears, forearms stuffed against his ears as his hands were full. But once they faded, and he opened his eyes... he saw his new prison.

The whirling, chaotic scenes of slaughter were blurred beyond the smoky ice that formed the dome. Razkar stood before realizing he couldn't; the most he could do was crouch, the Zith's construct nearly six feet tall, twice as broad... and with cracks in it.

Cracked, but not broken. Could I break out of it? Well, not a question: I have to, or they'll come back to butcher me at their leisure.

"Not going to let petching ice steal me away..."

The ugly club-wielder smirked and tossed a jaunty, mocking salute at his sister above him, already willing fresh shards of ice into her hands as she beat her wings harder and harder, coming down lower to inspect her trapped little pet. The male's smirk took on a freshly demonic edge as he inspected her.

A useful gash, that one, but with her wing as it was? Tsk-tsk... such damage. Such a blow to the nest. Better to finish her. It would be a... mercy.

The male chuckled at his own delicious hypocrisy, though such a thing was hardly understandable to a Zith. Weak died, strong lived. Her wounds already weakened her, and he was still strong, so it was only logical to him that she would die. Logical and practical.

And fun. Can't forget fun...

He laughed, head thrown back as he saw the blurry, indistinct outline of the insect trapped inside the dome, skittering to and fro under the dome, confused and frightened, most probably. Drunk with his inherited victory, the Zith male staggered over to the ice wall separating them, close enough to feel the freezing steam.

Something... the male. With the club. Close. Need to time this right.

Then the insect stopped... and seemed to... diminish. The male Zith cocked his head, sharp teeth still arrayed in a cocky smile, club over his shoulder. Already warning hisses were issuing forth from his sister, nearly at ground level and lashing him with curses. Well, petch her. He was still strong and unmarred; she always was the arrogant little mage. He peered closer at the shrunken figure, free hand patting the ice and gods below, it was actually freezing to his hand-

Just a little longer... a little closer...

The smile froze. He was expecting... trembling. Even through the ice he would have been able to see that. But the barbarian, the insect, the thing under the dome... it was perfectly still. Crouched. He wiped his hand against the ice, frowning at the idea of such trapped prey sitting there unafraid, galled by it.

"What are you doing, you-"

Some of the condensation was wiped away and the male saw a flash of intense, focused black eyes glaring up-

-at him-

-into his own-

-unafraid-

-and tired of both waiting, an imprisonment.

Petch.

"Brother! Mind your own prey and do not steal mine, lest you find yourself missing-"

The female's guttural threat died on her lips when two feet of sharpened steel exploded from one of the cracks in the ice dome. In the space it took for her to blink her brother went from the leering, towering cretin he always was-

-to impaled on that perpendicular length of metal, tip of the weapon designed for thrusting and stabbing poking out his back, transfixing him as his nervous system fired off randomly, trying to convince the body it was alive even as his heart and lungs were pierced-

Then she heard it. Muted by the ice but rising with power and fury, a stymied and outraged cry of fury-

-that was obliterated by the sound of her beautiful dome smashed and violated-

-as Razkar's other hand bought his ax, augmented with an Akalak's strength thanks to the strange blonde mage of Riverfall, crashing sideways through the ice, shattering it to shards and memories-

-burying in the side of the gurgling male Zith, biting through a lung, ribs, flesh, nearly severing the arm it had to go through to get there-

"Brother!"

-and Razkar's right foot lashed out to kick the Zith away from him, leaping out from beneath the crumbling dome, bleeding, glistening with sweat but breathing icy condensation for a moment, body still adjusting to the frozen climate briefly formed under the ice dome.

Myrian and Zith regarded each other across maybe twenty feet. Then, without a word of sense but a cry that made a lot of it, Razkar reared back and hurled his ax at the female before sprinting after it towards her.