Closed The Reaping (Jax)

[Razkar]

66th Day of Winter, 513AV
Sunset Quarters
10th Bell

After five dawns, he felt confident enough to let his employers know that the deed was done. Tarak had given him quite a thrashing, even by his standards, and though Myrians healed quickly, Razkar didn't consider it "healed" until he could do everything he did before he got battered.

Day Five, and he wasn't peeing blood or wincing every time he stood up from a chair. Good enough for him.

He sat at his - well, their - with a page of parchment torn from his journal, his quill scratching carefully across it... and something that purported to be a pigeon staring at him with dead, glossy eyes. A "gift" from his employer, allowing him secure communications back to Zeltiva.

A golem, was what the Nuit had said, but unlike any that Razkar had heard of. He'd always thought they were hulking statues made of clay or stone, with burning red eyes; unstoppable and soulless. He'd never expected one to be perched on his desk, patiently waiting for... whatever.

It didn't even seem alive. Every few bells it would make some noise, but it sounded more like boiling steam gushing through a pipe that an honest, biological coo. No blinking, no tilting of its head, no pecking. Just waiting. Watching.

Your problem has been solved.

The Myrian was new to the shadowy world of espionage and assassination, but he knew enough that you didn't use names, and you didn't give too many details. Not when you had something... tangible.

Razkar fastened the paper to the pigeon's unresistant leg, and then tied something else to it: DuFarro's necklace, still scorched and blackened in places, but the symbol had been cleaned by the Myrian, and that would be enough. Once he was sure his evidence was safe, he picked up the bird-

Gods, it's so cold.

-and took it to the window. He thought he felt some glimmer of anticipation flush through those ceramic wings. He hoped it was excitement, some vestige of emotion, and not just the tensing of a piece of machinery readying itself for its purpose.

"Go back to Ignotus Everto, your master," he said slowly and carefully to the carved face and dead eyes, "Go with speed... and with care."

With that he threw the construct into the air and wings snapped out, flapping awkwardly at first but within ticks it fluttered, flew, glided through the air with a tireless monotony only a machine could truly possess. Razkar watched until the plump little fake had shrunk to a dot on the horizon, wheeling west... and then was gone.

He felt the breeze on his face, the frost in the air. There was... finality, in such a feeling. But Razkar had been a warrior long enough to know a battle won did not mean the war was over. The Dragoons and their masters would have been raging throughout the city, bent on discovering who had humiliated them so. Infiltrated their most secure compound, slain their men, butchered one under their protection and even set alight his hiding place.

Not to mention the Akalak. He doesn't strike me as the type to let a defeat go unanswered...

But Razkar shook his head and swept his cloak around his shoulders, satisfied the ache in them had subsided. Being throw around by the hulking Tarak and the djed-warping Anar was... unpleasant, but ultimately rewarding.

Not by much, though. Half of it goes to that boy.

Which reminded him: he had an appointment to keep, at the Riverside Isle Park. Jax wanted another lesson from the master brawler, and as long as he was compensated, Razkar was happy to oblige. A good spar was always its own reward for a Myrian, victory or not, and after the fuss Merv had kicked up, both had elected to find a new location.

Somewhere open, yet private. The Park would do nicely.

A few chimes later the Myrian strode from the front entrance, tipping a nod out of habit to Jilene before slapping himself at the temple for the tenth time.

She's blind, you fool! Break the habit!

The Myrian cut a strange and fearsome figure as he walked away towards the park. His watchers were grateful for that: it made him easier to follow. A pair of street rats detached themselves from their corner, picked up their begging bowls and began following him at a distance.

[Jax Bradshaw]

66th of Winter, 513 AV
10th bell

Jax's eyes opened slowly as he awoke from his deep slumber. He fell asleep at about the 21st bell after going for a jog around the town to keep up his fitness and stamina after the goings on in the previous few days. Should the need ever come, running would come in handy if the Dragoons ever did find out who perpetrated the crime at the Gated Community.

The blue-haired male pulled off his sheets and swung his legs around off the bed, onto the wooden floor below. Jax froze up almost instantly as he took the blanket off. He forgot to put the fire on after becoming so tired after his exercise. He slid down to the bottom of his bed and picked up his shirt, pulling it over his head, before getting dressed in the rest of his clothing.

The table across the room from Jax had some remnants of last nights meal, which Jax quickly wolfed down in an attempt to combat the hunger he was feeling after just waking up and eating little to none of it the night before. He didn't want to feel ill during his run and throw up on the side of the road. Some of the bystanders might have been criminals and robbed him in his one moment of weakness.

Jax stepped over to his front door and grabbed his coat from the nail on the wall he used as a hanger. He pulled it over his shoulders and did it up, tightly. Jax then got on his shoes and tied them up before opening his door, stepping out, shutting it and locking it.

He put his hands in his pockets and continuing off left, going on a walk since he had nothing better to do that morning. Two members of the Daggerhand were leaning on a wall, no doubt talking of what to do after one of their generals was killed by an unknown assailant...

Shyke! I was meant to meet Razkar in the park!

Jax turned back around and hurried off in the direction of the park, the snow crunching under his feet. The two Daggerhand soldiers watched Jax with an odd stare, probably wondering what he was doing walking in circles.

I'm a God and it's judgement day.

[Razkar]

He was content with his progress, and looking at it from an outside perspective, he was quite proud of himself. He was sitting in the grass in the Park, skin crawling as the icy wind swept over him, legs spread apart, and his hand went down between them, palms flat on the ground next to the inside of his thighs and he pushed-

His arms straightened. His legs remaining straight, but they and the rest of his body were now hovering off the ground.

Right... now the hard part.

Willing his face to remain stoic, forcing every inch of his being into maintaining that mask and not registering the pain, the Myrian tipped his upper body forward, spreading his legs wider at the same time, arms bending slowly, shaking, taking the fresh weight from a strange angle...

... and soon he found his body almost horizontal, legs to his sides, thighs and muscles burning, pleading with him to stop-

-and so he drew his legs backwards... further towards Syna... pulling them together even as his breathing became fiery knives whenever he inhaled... until with the tiniest of smile... he found that he was doing a handstand.

Good work. Now, push ups.

Body upside down, Razkar began bending his arms until his forehead touched the dirt... holding it... then straightening his arms again. The plan was for three sets of ten, but he was halfway through the first set when-

He saw a human boy walking on the grass that covered the sky; upside down, actually, with half his face smeared by stylized red ink.

"You... are late."

The Myrian let his legs fall back, knees tucked in a little so he could land on his feet, snapping up into standing position.

Gods, I think my balls are in my arsehole.

"Not a good... start." He managed to rasp out, wiping down his face with a patch of his cloak, long-dried hair from some dead and devoured human serving him in the queerest way, "I said tenth, and here it is... almost eleventh."

The Myrian looked back down from Syna's position, stern countenance etched onto his face. He looked the boy up and down and crossed his arms, now bereft of his weapons harness, sitting to one side along with his cloak and rucksack. He bent down and took a long pull from his water skin, then tossed it back down with a sigh.

"Right." He said bluntly, cracking his neck from side to side. "Let's get-"

And in mid-sentence he burst towards the boy, spinning on he left foot, right leg spinning around at head height, seemingly aimed to decapitate the kid-

-but Razkar wasn't going to bet it all on one blow. The boy wasn't as clueless as he looked, and in case he avoided his blow-

-the Myrian would keep the spin of his body going, both feet hitting the ground, legs bent, his back to Jax for a blink-

-before his left elbow jerked back, hard, aimed at Bradshaw's jaw-

-right fist already cocked and read for when he turned back to face him, ready to deliver a short, sharp straight into his breastbone.

The crowd was there unusual, curious as he to see if his gamble paid off. Among them, though, were a pair of beggars paying a good deal of attention. The other street trash eyes them oddly, for they were just that: odd.

Boots were too clean. They had no sores on their faces, blisters on their hands, the leather skin of men whose bed for years had been cobbles under the elements. These men were something else... and the youngest turned to his partner.

"Looks like the picture Tarak drew. Scars. Ink. Didn't the others say some kid with a tattoo on his face sent those hay carts down and burnin'?"

His partner nodded, but did not speak, focusing on the moves of their targets. Both were slick, smooth, apparently used to combat... but the Myrian? He loved as a blade would through the air: fast as a blink, certain, and lethal. He'd beat down Tarak, or so people said. If that was the case...

"Send word back to the Barracks." He murmured lowly, not taking his eyes from the blooming spar. "Tell them to send... enough."

"How much is enough?"

"In this case? Too much for most others. Now go!"

[Jax Bradshaw]

Jax entered the park, rubbing his hands together in a futile attempt to generate warmth in the freezing air of the outside. He stuck them back in their respective pockets, after figuring out there was no use in what he was doing previously. Jax shook his blue hair from his face after spotting Razkar, and approached him.

"You... are late. Not a good... start. I said tenth, and here it is... almost eleventh."

"Sorry, Raz, I woke up late."

"Right. Let's get-"

Razkar suddenly burst from the ground and towards Jax. That came as a surprise, although he should have expected it after their previous fight outside the Pig's Foot.

Jax threw himself to the side as the first kick narrowly missed him and went sailing through the air and back down to the floor. No harm done there. But, then the elbow crashed into his jaw, sending a spasm of pain throughout his mouth, and making it go numb for a period of time. After that, came the second hit. A punch into his chest, which sent Jax tumbling backwards, winded for a few seconds.

He steadied himself, forcing his breathing to return to normal once more, and sized up Razkar, but something else caught his eye. A crowd had formed. Jax had to put on a good show. He couldn't afford to show weakness in front of a group of people. That would destroy his reputation.

Jax took a lengthy step toward Razkar before unleashing a foot, aimed at the Myrian's right knee. If that hit, would throw a fist right between Razkar's eyes.

I'm a God and it's judgement day.

[Razkar]

Razkar nodded his approval as Jax recovered himself quickly. Even with a pair of vicious blows ringing his jaw and chest, the boy straightened back up, rallied and got back into the fight fast.

"Good. Very good." He said with a tight smile as the lad stepped forward. "Direct the pain back at your enemy. Leave none of it for yours-"

Then there was a sharp kick flashing for his knee and Razkar slid his body to the side, going from his front facing Jax to standing sideways to him-

-just in time to see his world become a speeding set of knuckles-

-his right arm flashed up vertically, forearm shuddering as he knocked the fist up and away from it's path, sparing his face-

-sliding towards Jax at the same time, left arm inverted-

-aiming to plant his left elbow into the boy's side, under the ribs, hard enough to stagger him-

-and finish him with his body twisting back to the right, facing him again-

-right knee swinging up to slam into Bradshaw's stomach, doubling him over.

They rode hard down the cobbles streets, shod hooves of their mounts striking sparks. The riders yelled and cursed at anyone foolish enough to stay in their way. Few were.

Spears wobbled in steady hands, held upright and out of the way. Shields bobbed on arms and swords slapped against the flanks of horses as the two wings galloped forth from the Barracks.

Wings. They still called them by the hierarchy the Knights had set in place with their founders, though they had fallen far from their shining example. But regardless of the name, the numbers were enough.

The citizenry whispered and muttered, and silently thanked themselves they were not the target of so much trained, armed and armored killing force.

Ten Dragoons rode hard for Riverside Park. They had made their vow when word reached them: that though they were ten against two, each of them would have a piece of their quarry strapped to their steeds.

They were looking forward to it.

[Jax Bradshaw]

Jax felt nothing but pain after both of his attack attempts failed miserably. It was becoming a normal thing whenever he fought with the Myrian. Anything he tried to do was just deflected and pain almost always followed close behind.

As first, Razkar slammed a heavy elbow just below his ribcage, causing Jax to arch over to his left, trying to hold the injured area. Then a devastating knee crashed into Jax's gut, forcing him to double over onto his knees. He knew nothing but pain in that moment. Almost as though somebody continuously hitting him with a steel hammer.

The human inched himself backwards from Razkar, trying to get some time to recuperate and hoping the pain would stop relatively soon. Jax circled around Razkar in an attempt to buy himself some time and find a weak spot in Razkar's body, if there were any.

Jax edged towards Razkar, fists clenched, having taken up a fighting stance. He would attempt to throw his right fist into Razkar's gut before drawing back his left and firing it into Razkar's back, around about where his kidney's were. After, Jax tried a headbutt into Razkar's forehead.

I'm a God and it's judgement day.

[Razkar]

Razkar had to smile at the unnatural reversal of things. It was almost a parody. Many times he'd seen predators - sleek, looming, snarling - circle their smaller, weaker, wounded prey, and knew how the dance would end. But now, it was reversed.

Now the lesser was circling the greater, looking for some chink in his physical armor, and Razkar kept his eyes firmly on Bradshaw's, feet moving him in slow standing circles, imparting his lesson as Jax readied himself.

"Good. Don't rush in against an enemy you know dwarfs you. Watch him. Study him. Find his weakness. And remember, no matter how strong you are, how hardened, whenever you throw a fist, it hurts. But these-" he slapped his elbows and his knees "-they hurt your enemy more, and you far less. Strike with these, instead-"

Then the boy made his move, hurling a fist low-

-and Razkar's forearm swung low, an inward half-circle, knocking it away-

-sliding to his side and avoiding the boy's left entirely, tensing his knee to send a reply his way-

-but Jax was keeping him busy with the first two, it seemed. His head jerked forward and the Myrian's composure was shaken suddenly, face jerking back-

-just a touch too slow.

He spat out some vicious Myrian curse as the human's forehead thunked into his mouth, not his nose or brow. Teeth ground and bit into his lips and gums as Jax's forehead mashed them all together, and he felt salty blood fill his mouth-

-and reacted.

His arms snapped up, seeking to grip the boy around the side and back of his neck while his head was still bent-

-and if he got his grip, jerking his knee upward three times, fast, brutal, looking to put a good hurt on his guts and chest until he let go with the third knee and let the boy stumble back-

-but still smiling. The boy was learning, and-

His ears pricked, after whatever between them happened. The clatter of hooves - many hooves - on the bridge from south of the river. Shouts and coarse oaths from many throats. Instantly the hairs on the Myrian's back stood up; the roving gangs that infested and ruled Sunberth hardly ever came to the Isle. It was, on the whole, neutral ground. Now it sounded like half a regiment pounding over the bridge-

-and getting closer.

"Your lesson is over for now, boy," he said bluntly, keeping his eyes fixed on the mask of trees and shrubs from where the sound was coming, sliding back to his weapons harness. "I think we're about to have-"

The horsemen burst from around a copse of trees, and Razkar's gaze snared them in a single look.

"-company."

Dragoon uniforms. This can't be coincidence. And they wouldn't send this many just to talk.

Instantly he growled, relishing the chance for a fight, but his reason dragged him back from such suicide-

Because that's what it could be! This is not the jungle, where mounts are impractical and naught but one more mouth to feed and beast to grow sick and die. In these open lands, they could ride you down like wheat. Even half their number mounted could do that.

Do not fight them here.

"New lesson, boy!" He spat out hurriedly, rushing adrenaline clear from the way his voice snarled and rasped with excitement. He grabbed Jax from his shoulders and pointed towards a nearby copse. "Fight your enemy on your ground! Not his! Into the trees, and-"

He whipped out his kukri and flipped the heavy, curved dagger over, shoving it into the boy's hand. As far as he knew the human was unarmed, and that simply wouldn't do against armored cavalry.

"-you'll need this. Now run!"

The Myrian didn't wait for a response; he just bolted. The Children of Myri were peerless warriors not just because of their skill and ferocity, but because they mastered their environment. Their enemies came to them, not vice versa. Others would have seen cowardice in his flight - the galling jeers of the Dragoons certainly did - but as Razkar sprinted to the tangle of forestry nearby, he knew better.

No running us down in there, barbarians. You'll have to slow, have to beak up and hunt us. And when you do, you'll find us... just as we'll find you.

[Jax Bradshaw]

"Good. Don't rush in against an enemy you know dwarfs you. Watch him. Study him. Find his weakness. And remember, no matter how strong you are, how hardened, whenever you throw a fist, it hurts. But these-" he slapped his elbows and his knees "-they hurt your enemy more, and you far less. Strike with these, instead-"

Jax exhaled deeply as his forehead crashed into Razkar's jaw, cutting up his gums and lips, blood seeping from the newly opened wounds. The human smiled as he drew blood from a Myrian, one of the most fearless warriors around, again.

"C'mon, Raz," Jax said, a cocky smile appearing on his red, puffy face. "This is getting too easy."

His victory was all too short lived as Razkar grabbed Jax's neck and forced him to double over, and a vicious trio of knees landed themselves comfortable, and very hard, into his chest and stomach. Upon the third contact, the grip from the Myrian was released and Jax tumbled back, onto his bottom.


Jax ignored the pain of the blows, although his body ached like he'd been through hell and back. But, a loud... clacking noise drew Bradshaw's attention away from Razkar and to the source of the sound. Dragoons. On horseback. With spears.

Shyke.

"Your lesson is over for now, boy, I think we're about to have company."

The blue-haired male scrabbled to his feet, inching himself to the side of Razkar. Jax watched as the Dragoons rode hard towards the duo, no doubt ready to cause some bloodshed. The odds looked bad. And to top things off, Jax was unarmed. He'd left his damned Quarterstaff back at his apartment. To be fair, he wasn't expecting to need a weapon today.

"New lesson, boy! Fight your enemy on your ground! Not his! Into the trees, and-"

The Myrian pulled a large blade, a kukri, and handed it to Jax. The human smiled up at Razkar, as a thank you.

"-you'll need this. Now run!"

And with that, Razkar sprinted off, away from Jax and the incoming cavalry. Jax took one last look at the Dragoons before running off after the Myrian. If the Dragoons caught him, Jax dreaded to think what they'd do to him after what they had done to the Gated Community just days before.

I'm a God and it's judgement day.

[Razkar]

They didn't have time for much as far as tactics went; no time to do anything but dive into the bushes and branches.

If it were Spring, there would be more green to hide behind. But now the trees were bare, stripped, skeletal, and their bodies were too thick and colored to hide among them. But their new cover would break up any charge the Dragoon intended, and that was their advantage.

"Draw them deeper in, separate them!" He barked to his student as they hoofed it deeper through the thick snow and weaved around the close-set trees. "Stay by my side! I'll bring them down, you finish them!"

Branches snapped like kindling and several thousand pounds of horse flesh crashed into snow drifts over and over again, shaking the frozen ground, calls and curses of the riders battering out at them like arrows.

But no actual arrows, Razkar noted with some satisfaction, because they didn't think they'd need them. They thought they'd catch us in the open and that would be that.

Then the Myrian spun around, unsheathing his weapons and filling his hands as he did, sweeping his eyes left to right-

-seeing the mass of clanking, snorting, thundering, gleaming armored Dragoons broken up into a ragged line, trying to retain cohesion but losing it steadily, the uneven ground and branches and trees separating them-

-but they hadn't lost sight of their targets. Razkar took a breath, found his gnosis flare into life at the back of his neck, eyes aflame as he fixed them on the horses lurching through snow and foliage ahead of them.

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

Razkar picked a couple, and bolted.

"There's the bastard!"

Neville whipped his head around as Sean cried out, just enough time to see his friend spur his horse onward at the charging Myrian, hands filled with gladius and ax, rushing headlong at the Dragoon as Sean yelled and leveled his spear at him-

-but his fierce joy became horror as the savage ducked to Sean's right, his spear-side, spinning as he went, gladius knocking away the spear in a parry, Razkar going down to one knee at the horese's side-

-and taking off it's front right leg at the knee with a monstrously powerful backhand from that curved, wicked ax. Horse and rider collapsed like a building with its foundations blown out, Sean crying out as a thousand pounds of shrieking flesh bucked and writhed and pinned him down.

"Finish him!"

The savage bellowed and then bounded away from the crippled horse and the rider trapped, eyes fixed on Neville, charging closer-

Remember your training! Fight him!

The young Dragoon scowled and swung his mount around, twisting in his saddle to let his shield protect the bulk of him while he slashed down with his bastard sword, using his height to rain down blows.

Razkar gritted his teeth, baring them like a rabid wolf. This was why he fucking hated cavalry. They had so much of an advantage one-on-one. Height, weight, speed over open ground-

But they expose themselves, too. They give themselves more flesh to kill, more body to target. And unlike many of the barbarians, the Children of Myri have no great veneration of horses.

Which Razkar proved a moment later, after parrying Neville's bastard sword and hacking downward and to the side with his ax-

-splitting the horse's neck open with a great rending scream and a fountain of scarlet, gushing crimson soaking and ruining the glistening snow-

"Fuck!"

-and Neville wobbled and panicked as his world shook and bucked underneath him, losing control-

-giving Razkar his opening as his shield was drawn wide, trying to retain his balance-

-gladius thrusting deep into his belly, driving upward, scraping against his spine as it punched out of his back-

-and with a yell the Myrian threw himself back, ripping his blade free and rolling away across the freezing frozen water, just in time to avoid the massive, moaning, dying construct of man and horse as they tumbled onto the space he just occupied-

Get up, boy! You've barely even begun!

-rolling backward until his feet planted onto the dirt and he jerked upright, just in time to see the rest rally and make their way to him, some of them jumping off their mounts to engage him on foot after seeing how willing he was to butcher their steeds.

The Child of Myri grinned and charged toward them, oldest prayer of his people bellowed from his lips.

"FOR MYRI!"

[Jax Bradshaw]

Jax tore through the trees above him and the snow below him, after Razkar. He was beginning to get tired and aching after just fighting with the Myrian to running through woodland with him from murderous Dragoons on horseback with no intent to let them live through the ordeal.

"Draw them deeper in, separate them!" Razkar shouted at the human. "Stay by my side! I'll bring them down, you finish them!"

Jax kept tight hold of the kukri as Razkar suddenly span around and ran in the opposite direction. Towards the Dragoons. He watched as the tattooed being swiped with his ax at the first of two horses, tearing off it's front right leg with a devastating blow. The animal crumpled to the floor, crushing it's rider's leg as it did so, preventing the man's escape.

"Finish him!" Razkar cried as he went off, towards the second Dragoon.

The blue-haired human stepped towards the injured rider, who was groaning in pain and probably desperation, knowing his end was near. He'd done this before. It was easy. Jax knelt down and pulled the Dragoon's helmet from his head. He pulled the chainmail from the man's throat, exposing it. Jax rested the blade of the kukri onto the rider's neck.

"No, no! Please! Spare me!" Came the Dragoon's pleas, falling on deaf ears.

For Rhysol.

Jax pulled the kukri back on the rider's throat in a swift motion. It easily cut through the flesh and down through the blood vessels, causing the crimson liquid to pour from the wound and all over the snow. The Dragoon gurgled on his own blood, drowning in it as it snaked it's way throughout the soldier's armor.

The human reached into the Dragoon's sheath and attempted to pull out the sword, but it was lodged beneath the horse. He moved himself around the corpse and grabbed the hilt with two hands and pulled harder. It budged slightly until... it came free. Along with it though, the tip cut a gash into the horse's back, causing even more blood to spill onto the snow and the dead rider.

Jax heard another clatter of hooves and turned to face another Dragoon who'd spotted the fighting and rushed to help his comrades, although he'd been too late to save one and the second wouldn't last long. Not if he was fighting Razkar. Jax stared down the rider, squeezing his hand around the short sword after leaving the kukri by the corpse. It just felt more... normal. The steed bounded towards Jax at a fast rate.

I'm a God and it's judgement day.