Completed An Eye-Opening Harvest (Nolan/Inoadar)

[Irriari]

A few birds flew to the skies, disturbed by something in the forest below. Concerned, Irriari flew closer and peered down into the area below. Torrel has gotten off his horse and was collecting something from the side of the tree. While her curiosity urged her to land and explore, she knew that she would serve them both better as a pair of eyes in the sky. Now that she knew Torrel had stumbled across the mystery reagents, she could ask him about them once they made it to the pond.

Irriari ascended skyward and stopped in midair, pumping her wings to keep herself aloft. She turned her head slowly left and right, ever worried that she would find something behind them that would prove to be deadly. Seeing nothing out of the ordinary, she flew towards the pond.
When they arrived, she hung her pack from a branch halfway up a sturdy oak tree. The branch was strong enough to hold her weight as she rummaged through the pack for a few vials. After considering the glassware in her pack, she settled with a large vial, two small glass jars, and one medium jar.

She held them up to Torrel for his inspection,

“I tend to use jars of this size for the mushrooms I find around ponds and lakes. I usually find a large number of mushrooms around these ponds, as long as there are shady areas for them to grow under. I suppose we could look for mushrooms first, and then see if we see any plants or anything else as we walk.”

They patrolled the perimeter of the pond, while staying away from the water. A large oak tree caught Irriari’s eye, and she walked over to examine it. The tree was larger than any of the other trees by the lake, and it cast a large shadow over the surrounding area, providing much needed shade to small animals that sought respite from the sin. The zith clawed her foot through the soil, noting that it was moist and dark, with plenty of decaying leaves interspersed throughout. At first sight, the tree seemed to be void of any mushrooms, however, as she circled the tree, Irriari noticed the side that was facing away from the lake had a small collection of brown capped mushrooms growing from the side of the bark.



She beckoned Torrel over and pointed the fungi before removing the largest one she could find. The coloration was similar to the brown pebble caps she had found in the stone forest, but these mushrooms lacked the dotted surface that was so distinct with the pebblecaps. She ran her fingers along the edge of the cap, and was surprised at how feathery it was. Most mushrooms that she had encountered so far had caps that tucked under to meet the gills. Shifting her attention the stem, Irriari noted the warts covered the lower half of the stem, though no warts grew at the top. Having never seen the odd bumps before, Irriari looked to Torrel for answers.

“Have you seen these before? I don’t know what type of mushroom it is, or what these bumps are. Maybe the bumps signal something about the plant?”

Stumped for the moment, Irriari picked the eight mushrooms that she saw and offered four to Torrel.

“Maybe I should invest in a book on mushrooms. Even a zith can match diagrams to plants.”

Irriari chuckled at her own joke, but then frowned as she realized she still wouldn’t be able to name the mushroom without being able to read. Stupid human scribbles.

[Inoadar]

Inoadar nodded, "Yes, I've brought a number of jars and vials as well." He was enthused to find Irriari speaking of her experience with mushrooms. 'Fungal' was one of the families he was intending to expend his knowledge of during his upcoming session at the Institute of Higher Learning back in town this summer.

They walked around the pond, looking for signs of root and fungal effects that might indicate toxicity levels of note. Inoadar wasn't looking at the edge of the water yet, though he was already familiar with a certain type of fern that gave up a fluid that served as base for an antitoxin. It grew in Lake Ravok though, and he didn't know if it would grow in this pond. It's ecosystem was so enclosed compared to the great lake. But the general climate was the same, regardless of the control Rhysol put on the weather back in Ravok. Perhaps there were other ferns in this pond.

Speaking of the weather, Inoadar found the shade from the massive tree a welcome relief. As Irriari scratched a furrow in the ground, revealing rich topsoil, Inoadar's gaze caught movement on the surface of the pond. At first, it seemed like a trick, since every time he looked directly, there was nothing to see. But finally he saw some insect streak across the surface leaving a tiny wake behind it.

Irriari had gone to the far side of the tree for a few moments and now called him over. When he arrived she directed his attention to a small clump of mushrooms growing from the bark near the base of the tree. There was a smell that seemed out of place, but he couldn't identify what it was or why it seemed odd. he dismissed the thought as Irriari asked him if he'd seen them before.

He gave a regretful smile, "I wish I could help, but fungus-based toxins are one of the types I was going to begin serious study of when I attend the IHL next season." She offered him four of them, and he gratefully accepted, equally curious about the bumps on the stem and the lack of them on the cap. That reminded him of the shelf-type fungus he had broken off the tree trunks back in the denser part of the forest. He dug them out of his backpack. "They are not exactly sized to fit in jars, so I've only got them wrapped in linen. I don't have any idea if they yield anything practical, I'm just grabbing samples of everything for my classes." He offered her a wrapped wedge of the fungus.

"I've seen some spiders on the water there," he mentioned, jerking his thumb in the direction of the pond. They found a variety of water spiders, of all different color combinations. They were so light they ran along the surface and Inoadar had his doubts that any of them were of sufficient potency to affect a man with more than an itchy bump. But they took the time to gather them in jars by curling paper in one hand like a fan and holding it down to the surface to block that path on the surface. Then by uncapping a jar and dipping the bottom in slowly, and then suddenly letting the brim dip, catching the little arachnid in the flow of water that surged into the largely submerged jar. The caps were promptly snapped on and the jars were slipped into the backpack.

The water was reasonably clear and Inoadar was able to see that there were no similar ferns as he had found back in Lake Ravok. He turned to Irriari, "Well, shall we continue on?"

[Irriari]

Irriari found herself wishing that she knew enough about poisons to take focused classes at the Institute. If they accepted her as a student, she was sure that the teachers would laugh at her poisons and dismiss her as a lost cause. The majority of humans found her race to be unteachable, due to their lack of literacy and tendency to erupt with rage when confronted with failure. Irriari sympathized with the few members of her colony that had tried to learn different how to use different weapons from the slaves who had knowledge of them. It was difficult to focus when the humans were such bad teachers. More often than not, the slaves went off on tangents about the history of the weapon or how to care for it-neither of which mattered to the warriors of the colony who were just learning how to hold the weapon properly.

Looking back at Torrel, she nodded. She hadn’t expected him to know much about the mushrooms of the Wild Lands anyways. Once she sold some of the poisons she had created recently, perhaps she could buy a book on mushrooms.

“Do you have any books on mushrooms or plants or anything? I have one on philtering that I bought at the Black Tar. Still, naming mushrooms myself and trying to identify whether or not they’re poisonous is just… bad.”

Irriari grabbed the linen wrapped fungus and thanked him before following him to the waters edge. Torrel made quick work of catching the spiders than ran along the lakes edge and she smiled at his resourcefulness. The one time she had tried catching a spider in the tunnels, she ended up killing it out of frustration. She couldn’t separate the bits enough to add it to the poison she had made, and since then, Irriari had vowed that she would find someone else to catch spiders, if she ever found herself needing them.

Torrel suggested that they continue on, and she agreed. Irriari flew back to the tree and placed the linen and jars back into her pack before repositioning it on her back.

“I’ll fly above you like we did on the way here. If I see anything interesting, I’ll let you know.”

With that, Irriari pushed off the branch and ascended into the darkening sky. The flight gave her time to consider the partnership that had developed between Torrel and herself. Though she was still far from trusting him, he was one of the more likeable humans she had encountered. The way he had spoken about Nyka and the elder he had slain reminded her of her own race. Most importantly, he treated her with the respect that was given to a warrior of equal standing.

Irriari flew lower to inspect a dark spot within the woods that was five hundred feet ahead of Torrel. Thankfully, it was only a fallen tree that had been covered with moss and leaves. As she turned back towards Torrel, she heard a panicked noise coming from his horse. Irriari landed quickly and ran to Torrel while pulling her shortbow off her back. When she reached Torrel, she intended to lecture him on the pointlessness of horses.

OOCSo, wolves?

[Inoadar]

Inoadar made a face, "No, I'm afraid I was counting on having access to the library at the Institute for literature on both spiders and fungus." He felt sorry for whoever took on the task of trying to teach her to read. He considered for a moment mentioning his own experience that poisons were often an intuitive thing. He had found that after working with a certain category, you developed an instinct for detecting signs that indicated the presence of toxicity.

For instance, non-flowering vines that had the same green, fibrous sheath as most flowering ones were usually hazardous. As were flowering ones, if the flowers were reddish and in bunches. Roots where the lead tip stopped advancing upon hitting resistant soil and then developed a separate tip out the side. Often these abandoned "buds" as he called them, contained a profitable level of toxicity. He knew there were proper terms for both this type of root and the dead tip. But that was the very point of belief that bookwork had only a limited contribution.

The thing was, it wasn't until you amassed some experience that you could rely on your own intuition. Until then, the book might save your life. In his first research, he'd found two forms of sea slug. They were identical in every way, both bearing numerous antenna-like protrusions from various points. The only difference is the poisonous one had an even number of "spikes" on each side. The defense mechanism of the non-poisonous one was obviously its similar appearance.

This carried into other aquatic forms. It got to where Inoadar would never touch any sea life with an even number of protrusions on its side. He hadn't needed a book to discover another poison based on that pretext. But the book had been the source of the initial recognition.

She seemed to accept his answer with only a moderate degree of frustration and Inoadar counted himself lucky that she was ready to press on. He had noticed that flight improved her mood. She took off and disappeared through the forest canopy. Inoadar was just reaching for Handy's reins when the horse suddenly shied from him. He began to speak softly, trying to calm him when he heard it himself, distant but unmistakable. A wolf howling.

It was answered much closer. Inoadar didn't know if Irriari could hear it. The sound seemed to be at ground level and the forest canopy might be blocking it. Plus which, there was probably increased air current whooshing in her ears up there. He managed to get his hands in mounting position, but his attempt to reach the saddle was clumsy with the horse stepping nervously. It broke into a quick pace through the trees as Inoadar's feet were hanging off the side, his stomach laying across the saddle.

More than once, his ankle was wracked against a tree trunk before he was able to scramble up enough to get a leg over the saddle. By now the howling was even closer and Inoadar had completely lost track of where he was heading, what direction he'd come from and where Irriari was. All he could do was yell "WOLVES!" as best he could while trying to stay in the saddle with his limited training on a panicked horse at a near gallop through dark, unfamiliar woods.

[Irriari]

As Irriari ran toward Torrel and his frightened horse, she let the string of her bow slide down her shoulder to the inside crook of her elbow. The bottom of her heel connected with the mossy ground a second before the front of her foot propelled her forward once more. The forest was devoid of low hanging vines, but the briars that littered the ground threatened to trip her if she didn’t focus on altering her path around them. One time, she had tried jumping over a briar patch and found that her weak legs could barely clear the jump. The bleeding cuts that littered the bottom of her feet encouraged Irriari to leave such stupid stunts up to humans.

The sound of galloping hooves was getting louder, and Irriari saw Torrel’s horse surging ahead, while her companion was barely holding onto the saddle. Irriari moved to the right, knowing that the horse would need a large berth. Her presence could be enough to send the beast into a full out panic that would leave it with a broken leg, or worse. As Torrel and the horse passed her, she yelled out to him:

“Just drop yourself off the saddle, try to roll, before that piece of meat slams you into a tree!”

There was no more time to focus on Torrel or his beast. The zith dropped to one knee and grabbed an arrow out of her quiver before drawing it taut against her bowstring. The first wolf emerged from beyond the oaks and she closed her right eye and let the arrow fly. The bolt flew past the wolf into the woods beyond, missing the creature entirely. Snarling, the zith threw down her bow and quiver. She was slightly more careful with the pack, but it was still dropped from a few feet off the ground. The familiar sound of breaking glass vials entered her consciousness for a split second. Afterwords, there was only herself, the wolves, and the blood sight that clouded her vision.

Fearless, Irriari charged the approaching wolf. As she came close to it, she dove forward, tackling the beast to the ground. While the wolf fell to the earth as she planned, her positioning left much to be desired. Irriari found herself sprawled to the right side of the wolf, with her left arm laying far too close to the creature’s mouth for her liking. Seeing an opportunity, the beast moved toward her arm and bit down into the tender flesh. Irriari screamed and rolled over, attempting to use her weight to wrest her arm from the creature. While it helped, the simple maneuver was not enough to reclaim her forearm. Knowing that the wolf had jaws strong enough to snap her arm, Irriari used her free arm to claw at the wolfs face, seeking its eyes. Finding her mark, the zith dug her clawed fingers into the creature’s eye sockets, tearing and mauling at the unguarded meat she found within. Howling and spasming in pain, the wolf released her arm. The zith looked down for a fraction of a second to catalogue the extent of the damage. Puncture marks littered her arm where the wolf had bit down. Some of the wounds were larger, as her movement had caused the holes to tear and widen. Ignoring her arm and the pain that radiated from it, the zith scrambled to her feet and jumped on top of the struggling wolf’s ribcage. She jumped again, making sure the bones cracked and punctured the animals lungs before she moved back toward her shortbow.

Howls resounded through wooded area, echoing off of the trees and rocks that were scattered throughout the forest. Irriari knew that the other members of the pack would be closing in soon. The canopy cover was far too thick for her to take flight, and she worried that the horse had harmed him after all.

[Inoadar]

It infuriated Inoadar to be leaning hard into his horse, Handy's, neck, with his arms wrapped around it like a complete novice. He WAS a complete novice, of course, but the humiliation of having it demonstrated so blatantly burned his pride. He was not scared, at least. He simply knew that he could not handle the panicked horse, not with wolves ten or twenty feet behind. He'd turn and look, to see how far, if he wasn't sure that he'd slip off the side into the path of the pack.

He heard Irriari shout something as he flew by her. Something about hitting a tree like a piece of meat. He had been imagining much the same thing as he'd been trying to get into the saddle.

What was worse, he strongly suspected that his clinging grip and off-balance position was hindering Handy's ability to maintain what little distance there was. When the wolves caught Handy, they would catch him. Gods! How he hated wolves! Every petching time he went into the wild, the mangy bastards ambushed him! Fury and impotence initiated a flash of the many times he'd scrambled to win free of the flea-bitten curs. He'd been lucky to poison them once. He'd gone into Lake Ravok more than once. He'd lit oil soaked rags and held them off with his crossbow from behind the flaming barrier. He'd been up trees. He'd dived...from...

Up Trees! Maybe that could be done now...If he could get off Handy's back, the horse might escape as well. The branches were low enough. But he couldn't just grab one. He pulled out his whip and did his best to time a lash at a stout branch as it came overhead, loosening his grip in anticipation of letting go to empower his swing...

He wondered if he'd ever missed a shot so badly. Time slowed as he felt his legs slip and his inertia pull him off the side of his horse as the ground slowly rose to welcome him to the grave. As if to confirm the laughter of fate, the howls of the wolves seemed to add a grim coda to the soundtrack of approaching doom.

He didn't know whether to call it luck or not that his initial impact brought a yelp from the wolf just reaching Handy's right flank when he landed on it, slamming its nose into the dirt as Inoadar bounced off of it to tumble a good twenty feet to a stop. He triggered every weapon he could as he tucked himself, hoping his mail shirt would frustrate the wolves fangs long enough for a miracle to occur. Blades popped out the front of his boots and spikes popped out of the neck of his Nettle Cloak. He tried to reach his dagger rather than giving his wrist the twist to bring similar spikes to bear there as well.

Jaws closed on the wrist and he knew it would have been crushed had the spikes not been attached to a reinforced band of metal for stability. There were still a couple of teeth that got between the edges of the metal band and the end of the chain sleeve. He tried to make the mechanism work as the wolf shook his arm, but it was now kinked beyond function.

He kicked the animal in the side, but it was only a grazing blow. It drew blood, but also allowed a second wolf to bite down on his ankle. He stout leather gave him protection from the worst of the savaging, but each chomp felt as though it was ripping further through. Another jaw closed on his neck, but the spikes did their job there admirably. A brief pain, a yelp, and the beast reared back with a snarl. Inoadar whipped his free wrist, bringing the spikes out, and slammed it into the wolf's leg.

Strangely, he was aware of howling receding in the distance. It seemed that some of the pack had continued on after Handy. He hoped that his fall lifted enough dead weight from his horse's back that it might make good its escape. he also hoped that the wolves pursuing it would be drawn far enough away not to be a factor in this fight.

He knew he could not hold out long. Yes, he'd drawn some blood. Yes, he'd surprised the wolves with some well placed leather and mail. But as he'd swung his spiked wrist across his body, teeth had latched onto his oblique flesh behind and under his armpit. Everywhere the crushing fangs were advancing along his defenses to find gaps and tear flesh. He got a good kick in with his bladed boots and heard a throaty yelp, but a tooth got inside the metal spike band at his throat and pulled him back, shaking and strangling him.

He felt the metal give and the cloth of his cloak tear. He swung his dagger up as the wolf dove for his throat. Pain tore at his ankle and his back as his dagger hit home. The wolf's weight fell on him as it kicked and thrashed in its death throes. One down, but his arm was now pinned and his throat was exposed. Either of the other two wolves would surely notice soon and abandon the ankle and back they were currently ripping into to go for the kill. He knew he had only moments.

[Irriari]

Irriari ran through the forest blindly, doing her best to close the distance between herself and snarling pack of wolves. Trees and foliage flashed by in a blur of green and brown as her feet sank into the earth. Irriari’s eyes moved from left to right as she desperately searched for any trace of the wolves path. The zith was no tracker, so she did her best to look for freshly trampled foliage. Seeing none, she kept moving towards the din that signaled the wolf pack.

Suddenly, she was upon them. Three wolves surrounded Torrel and darted in, seeking to rip out his throat and organs. Though her breath came in gasps, Irriari swore loudly, hoping to distract the wolves from the Torrel. The largest wolf of the group looked towards her, but the remaining two continued their quest to rip through the armor at Torrel’s back and ankle.
Irriari ran forward to the beast that was strangling Torrel. She gouged its side with her clawed hands, digging in as deeply as possible and pulling at the meat and muscle she found there. While tackling the wolf would have given her a far more advantageous position, she feared that the wolf would snap Torrels neck in the process. Snarling, the beast dropped his prey looked up at Irriari. As she was deciding what course of action she should take next, the wolf leaped towards her thigh, seeking to hamstring her. The beast clamped down onto her armored thigh and shook it violently, seeking a way to get past the armor to the tendons below. Irriari screamed as the pressure of the bite compressed the armor into her skin. While the pain was immense, it was far better than being ripped apart by claws and teeth.

She tore at the creatures face with her claws, but missed its eyes. The wolf yelped and jumped backward, obviously surprised at the bloody lacerations that covered its snout. She limped forward, wishing that she had a bladed weapon to cut off the creatures head. Her bow was of little use in such close quarters, and if she would have attempted to shoot one of the wolves, she would have likely hit Torrel. Irriari limped forward, and decided that now was the time to tackle the creature and go for the kill. She leaped forward and grabbed the beast’s neck, pulling it downward with her weight. Irriari hit the ground first, with her knees absorbing most of the pain from the impact before she fell sideways onto her hip. The wolf fell onto its side and did its best to right itself as Irriari moved towards the creatures face. She balled her hand into a fist and punched the wolf’s right eye. She regretted her decision instantly as her fist connected with bone and her knuckles exploded with pain. Her pinky bone snapped inward with the force of the blow, and her vision watered as she recoiled and prepared herself the next attack.

While the beast was recovering from the blow, Irriari attacked it with her claws, ripping at the beasts face and neck until she could feel tendons. She grasped the tendons and veins and pulled them out of the beasts neck, hoping that it would bleed out as she moved to deal with the other wolves.

[Inoadar]

It was sheer luck that the moment the beast at Inoadar's side moved to go for his neck, the one that was tearing at his leg, where it was unprotected by either leather or mail, looked up to see what had brought a yelp from its packmate. Inoadar kicked off its chest, and backrolled into a tuck to protect his neck.

The wolf that was seeking his throat found his mail-clad arm instead. It bit down hard and Inoadar could feel muscle tear under pressure and skin being lacerated by the very mail intended to protect it. But the teeth did not sink in. What DID sink in was Inoadar's dagger, into the creature's chest. Not far enough to kill it, its reactions were too fast and its flesh was too tough. It leaped back, and in an effort to retain his grip on his weapon, he was pulled forward onto his face.

The second wolf now moved in to fill the vacant point at Inoadar's soft neck. Fortunately, instinct had prompted Inoadar to tuck his head again and the mail neckline gave him the valuable seconds he needed to grab the wolf's jaws in both hands. It was not to try to spread them apart, it was for leverage to pull his body over the top of the wolf. The wolf squirmed under him and let go to keep its neck from being twisted. Inoadar lifted his feet up to bring his full weight onto the back of the beast and it went down under him with the muffled snap of a broken rib.

The other wolf leaped onto Inoadar, adding its weight to the suffering below. The dagger, still protruding from the animals chest, was a convenient handle for Inoadar to alter its impact somewhat. He spun with the wolfs inertia, using the dagger to direct the wolf around him, where it landed with a short slide backwards, facing him. His spin tormented the injury to the ribcage of the wolf beneath him and it writhed with a snarling howl. Inoadar slipped off onto his knees with the dagger in his hand.

He was bleeding from a dozen points, his leg savaged nearly to the bone, his arm felt like the muscle had been crushed in a vice, he was pretty sure he had two broken fingers and his neck burned with lacerations. The wolves regrouped side by side a few feet away, the fury in their eyes dimmed by hesitation. Inoadar's eyes blazed with rage, his empty hand was a claw, quivering with eagerness, and he brandished the dagger like he could slay gods with it. Fearless hate tore from his throat like a weapon. "COME ON THEN, YOU PETCHING MUTTS!"

[Irriari]

As she turned to help Torrel with the two wolves that were still attacking, Irriari surveyed her tattered right arm. The Teeth marks that lined her arm had been opened to the bone, and torn into ragged gashes in the areas her armor didn’t cover. Blood dripped downward from beneath the leaves and dirt that clogged the inflamed skin. Irriari’s gaze followed the line of her arm to rest on the pinky that was hanging at odd angle from the rest of her hand. For the hundredth time, she cursed her insistence in supplementing her own style of fighting with human techniques. A race with claws was not one meant to punch or kick.

Irriari’s eyes took in the remainder of the makeshift battleground as she faced Torrel and the two wolves. He was injured, and his stance was far less confident than it had been when they fought. He bleed from dozens of spots, though some were far worse than others. Still, he was on his feet and alive. It was as much as they could hope for in a fight against so many adversaries. The wolves were suffering similarly, and the zith wasted no time attacking the wolf that was the least injured. She hoped that Torrel was strong enough to deal with the one that was staying to the edge of the clearing.

Irriari approached the wolf slowly, cursing in zithanese. The creature was cautious, and its eyes moved between Torrel and herself. She had faced the same dilemma before. Should she go for the already weakened one, or the one that was approaching? The choice only had one correct answer, but she knew the choice was deceptively difficult. Chiding herself for wasting time, she dove forward, hoping to find a way to break the creatures spine. The wolf jumped back, and Irriari met nothing but dirt. She forced herself to her knees as quickly as she could manage, but the vile creature was already leaping to her exposed skull. She tried to roll sideways, but her movements were too sluggish. The creatures jaw clamped around her shoulder, crushing the leather armor into the bones underneath. Pinned to the ground on her stomach, Irriari tried to pull herself away from the pressure that was threatening to snap her collarbone and scapula. The maneuver failed, and the zith cursed loudly. If she didn’t react soon, the wolf would be on top of her, and the beast would have full access to her unprotected neck and skull. Screaming, the zith forced herself to her knees, channeling all the strength she could muster into her hands that were pushing against the ground. As she did, the wolf began shaking her shoulder violently, seeking a way to get beyond the leather armor that protected her delicate flesh.

There was no way that she could stand, so the zith opted to claw at the wolves legs instead. As her clawed hand scraped the surface of the beasts skin, it leaped back. With that, Irriari had bought herself just enough time to stumble to her feet. The corners of her vision were lost into blurriness as the pain and soreness of her joints began to muddle the combat high that had surged through her body a few chimes prior.

Careless and enraged, the zith kicked outwards her free foot, hoping to land a hit on the beasts rib cage. As her foot connected, the creature yelped, its jaw snapping towards the location her foot had just been in. Laughing at her ineffectual blow, Irriari moved in once more, knowing that she only had enough energy for one more attempt. This time, she found her mark. The wolf bowled over with the force of her armored body crashing into its side. Her ribs ached and her vision splintered as the air was forced from her lungs. She tore again and again at the animals face and neck. Her claws ripped through the wolf’s delicate nose, and the skin that covered its snout. Heaving for air that wouldn’t come fast enough, she turned her attention to the creatures neck. Her arms shook violently as she twisted its skull and neck away. As the wolf’s neck popped loudly as it broke, and the zith fell to the ground.

[Inoadar]

Inoadar wanted to help Irriari, but he could not keep eyes on both her and the wolf that fate designated to be his responsibility. With classic pack mentality, the two wolves moved in opposite directions. They couldn't hope to flank either human, as the tactic would be meant to achieve against a single target, but they could divide their target's focus.

It worked. When Inoadar heard Irriari hit the ground, he spun to look. Even as he saw the wolf move on her to exploit her semi-prone position, he realized his wolf would be doing the same. Without looking, he dove to the side and tucked into a roll. He felt the weight of the beast impact his legs and throw his roll into a spin. He lashed out blindly with a cry of fury and was blessed to feel his fist connect with the wolf's jaw. There was a loud "clack" followed by a yelp, and his hand exploded in pain as two of his fingers reminded him they were broken.

But pain had always been a motivator for him and a rush of adrenaline powered a stroke with the dagger. He missed the torso, but luck brought the blade across the creature's left rear hamstring. The turn it was going to make to latch onto inoadar's neck fell short and clamped his shoulder. It hindered his ability to wield the blade with that arm, so he switched it to the one with the two injured fingers.

His father's advice about pain flashed across his consciousness...'Pain must be embraced! It must be desired! When you enter battle, you do so knowing there will be pain. If there is not, then you have failed to give your best. It need not be the pain of injury, for you will not always face a foe capable of delivering such. But if not, then it must be the pain of exertion! There is no excuse not to feel pain in battle!

'Then, when you do feel pain, it is of no consequence. More than that, you now feel complete! Every pain is a reward! A confirmation! An affirmation of your right to call yourself a follower of Uphis! You will see the stroke coming and you will laugh at the thought that your enemy thinks you fear the stroke! Then, it will be HE that quails, because he will know that HE would been unmanned by the pain. And he will fear you! And there is no greater weapon in war than the fear you inflict upon your foe!'

Elation surged through him. And his eventual disdain for Uphis and his three fellow Celestials did nothing to diminish his fervor. Let his father have the wretched Uphis. His days of following those failures was over. His devotion still burned in manic retribution, but borne of a different inspiration. Every first syllable of every word accompanied a gloriously agonizing thrust with the dagger. "Petching...Glory...to Petching...RHYSOL...you Petching Worthless...Pile of...SHYKE!"

He and the wolf fell beside each other. Inoadar was numb. Blood was everywhere. His leg was cold just above the top of his boot. He tried to look, but he lacked the energy to even lift his head. He hoped that the gasping he heard a short ways off was Irriari still alive.