Solo Blood Chaser

[Fallon]

50th Spring 514 AV
21.38.16

It hurt, it all did. The cool stone pressed against her cheek, her mind swimming as things flickered into life. Fingers twitched, the feeling of mud clinging to her shins. For a tick she laid where she was, still and unmoving within the dark, the taste of blood within her mouth. For a moment her lips pursed, the dulled ache growing piercing within the side of her face. A ginger touch, a wince to the swelling beneath her eye and a sharp intake to the air. Her abdomen throbbed, she could feel the black bruising already rising up to the surface as she came too properly and the chaos of the scene opened itself out.

Blood, mess, a rip into the form of a dead man opposite her - tulwar still embedded into him. It was quiet, no noise, a silent scene. There was a spit of saliva, her hand pressing against the wall as she raised herself, a foot searching for solid ground. A blink, a blur of colours as she found consciousness and grasped tightly onto the hilt. A clench, her head looking around as she tried to remember what had happened. She was ambushed. Brutally attacked and yet left alive. Zandelia was with her too. Pulling the blade free she staggered, a slow seeping realisation making itself known. Where was she? Where was Zandelia?

Shoulders pressed against the alley wall, her voice croaking, "Web? Are you... where?" She paused, a long inhale as she held onto her side. Her fingers gave a pat across herself. The tulwar, the ragged coat, the kukri - her fingers hovered over the empty sheath of the smaller blade, her fingers only wriggling at air. That was gone too, "Web? Zandelia? Are you...? Zandelia!" A step forward, firmer than before as she turned her gaze. No, she was definitely gone. Or at least, not in the immediate area.

She gave a pivot, eyes turning about as she staggered from the scene. The past replayed itself, coming alive as she saw the tell tale signs of scuffles and fighting. The tulwar was slid away, a pause as she continued to try and come to terms with what was before her. Zandelia would not leave her alone - not unconscious at least. Even she knew that. She heard the screams and shout, the roaring cry to attack and stun. The struggling, the ripping of the kurki from her flesh, that knockout blow across her temple, that gasping for air. And the woman being dragged away.

Fallon's knees buckled beneath her. The weight of realisation bloomed within, her hands pressing against the floor. Eyes were wide, lips trembling as she tried to find composure. She swallowed, a clench upon the earth as she tried to focus her thoughts. They had taken Zandelia. No, it could not be the case. It would not have happened. Ever. She must have gotten away, escaped and hid. Fallon could not have blamed her for such a thing, she would have done the same - more so if the attention was directed to her.

Danger. She must be in danger. Or hiding. Or both. There was a grunt as she caught the glimpse of the eye patch discarded upon the ground. Reaching out she took it, fingers curling around the leather material before she turned her attention away - searching and looking for a clue. Prints, feet, dragging, there was a scrabble up to her feet. Quick steps, eyes darting as she saw the struggling feet and patter of blood. Where did it go to? Where did it lead? Emotions turned and convulsed, rising and falling as the staggering steps turned into a full pelt run. There was no pause, no skip of a step as she ran. Chest rose and fell, adrenal and panic rising up from her very pit and coursing its way through. She had to find her, now.

A skid and a stumble. Awakening limbs were spurred into movement, bruises and hurts stretched and strained. Scrambling, running, her eyes darted on through the gloom, chasing and following it into the night. Blood filled her senses, the pulse reaching up and consuming her. Hands traced, the clatter of steel within its sheath as she raced forward. Shoulders barged past those in the street, a slide as she felt the toes press into the ground. Footsteps covered footsteps, a trail of feet smothering the path she sought. Air burned in her lungs, urgency consuming and smothering her.

Where would she go if she was in trouble? Where would she hide? Her throat constricted, that sickly taste forming within her mouth. She was a fighter, not a runner, she knew that now as her body complained throughout its aches and her mind spiralled through the knowledge. The tents? The docks? To hide away in some bar? Eyes blinked as she crashed into a local, a flustered leap away within a mere breath and a hurried apology she was off again. She could not stop. Not now, not yet. Not until she found her.

[Fallon]

22.17.28

There was a skittering as she found herself at the tents. Sweat clung to her frame, the heavy breathing within the dark filling the silence. There was no light apart from the dulled glowing from distant tents, the licking of dying embers within the night. For a moment everything was still, her form breaking to a crouch as she skulked about. With a trembling whisper she managed to speak up, "Zandelia? Are you here? Web? Hello?"

It was only the silence that remained. Her heart stuck itself into her throat, her form sliding around the camp. For a moment she parted the canvas entrance to the woman's tent, her eyes blinking into it and seeing only darkness and shapes upon the floor. Near empty in comparison to Fallon's own. For a moment she paused, a knotting of fingers into the fabric as she stared into the blackness and then pulled back. A shudder, a sharp inhale as she pulled away, and turned her attention to her own. A foot stepped in through the darkness, a series of blinks as she caught sight of the blur of white.

Orvin was laying there, sprawled across something with a heavy pant, the distinct scent of blood and death upon the air. For a tick she froze, eyes staring down onto the beast as he rose and looked upon her in the gloom. A whine, a happy bark followed by a tell tale nudge to what he had claimed. Large, dark, humanoid in shape and distinctly not moving. There was a rattling breath as she hesitantly approached, her form crouching and feeling for the lantern in the dark. Sparks flew from flint and tinder, the quick flashes as she encouraged the wick to ignite. It bathed the scattered tent into a glow - the shapes dancing upon the canvas and revealing what had been left there.

Even Fallon flinched when she saw the dead man that Orvin had taken the throat out of. Her eyes widening as she tried to take it in. For a moment she paused, her lips trembling as she took it in. A stranger in her tent, and a dead one at that. There was an exhale, her eyes looking down and across him, a multitude of tired blinks as she tried to understand what was going on. She remembered the fighting from earlier, the pulling apart and separation of the two by force. The dark shadows and moving shapes. No, it could not have been a simple mugging, nor a murder - it began to slowly come together now in her throbbing mind.

Fingers pinched against her brow, her eyes turning to look at the discord around her. And it was perhaps only then that she realised that it was far from safe here. Her own place, the space she called her own - even she could feel the rising sense of danger from within. Eyes flickered down to Orvin, her form becoming animated as she moved about the tent. Fingers grasped around her studded armour, buckles snagged and pulled as she grasped upon her equipment, the blades shifted into position as she moved round. Weapons, her tools, she needed them, her mind constantly turning over in her head as to what was of value.

She ripped her back open, the empty contents - apart from her books - welcoming her as she moved about. The black cloak was thrown around her shoulders, her fingers grasping upon Zandelia's own and then moving it towards her. There was a pause, a long inhale as she rubbed the material between her thumb, and then quickly she stuffed it into the bag. The quivers were condense down into one, the arrows quickly being strapped to the side, the short bows with it - they would only be more of a hazard to fire off in the dark.

[Fallon]

Lips trembled, her brow creasing together as she tried to focus. Calm, she needed to find a state of calm. To panic now would only put her into a state of jeopardy, and that would be useless for everyone. Fingers knotted into Orvin's fur, her other pinching the bridge of her nose. When did it all go wrong, where did it go all wrong? Who would attack them, their reason to split the pair of them up? Lips were licked, her fingers reaching out to pull the wool tunic into her pack. Faster, she needed to move faster. It was not safe here.

Something snapped behind her. Orvin answered it with a husky growl, ears pricking up and eyes staring as she paused. Form rising she lifted the half filled bag onto her back, the arms slipping through the straps. Something was not right - she knew that now. Weight shifted on her feet, the black cloak being hugged in closely against her. For a moment there was silence, her eyes flickering to and fro in the gloom. Her hand hovered over the tulwar, caught in a waiting half crouch for the source to reveal itself.

It came as a rip. Steel sliced through the fabric, a team of bodies swarming into the tent without a moment of breath. Torches aflame, bright and flaring within the darkness. A snapping snarl, a song of steel as she drew the tulwar out and around. Shouting, clashing there was a grind of metal as she tried to hold onto her load, the change in weight throwing her off. There was the kick over of something that quickly crackled into flames. A hiss, she barely had time to sidestep the oncoming blade that swung at her. Another attack, a warning almost in the way they screamed.

”You’re dead! You’re dead! Don’t try to find her little wolf! Or else you’ll lose your head!” She felt the heat, the quick burning of fabric and fuel crackling within her senses. That burning ochre and the howling cry of Orvin next to her. And it was with such movements that the mind grew conflicted. Danger, she sensed the fear, the urgency to pull away and fight. They were here to kill, not to just lay their threats upon her head. Ever and it was perhaps with that as an incentive that she spurred herself onwards. There was a crunch as she collided with one of them, those mere ticks allowing the scene to twist and turn outside of her control. She stumbled, that deep inhale of smoke. A blink, she watched the shadow of one of the attackers close on in, the roaring fire leaping up and around their form as they closed in.

She scrabbled, fingers barely clinging onto the tulwar hilt, the other pulling the bag round. Arms raised up around her face, a blind charge forward outwards. Cool air hit her next, legs staggering as the dark spring air. Fingers snagged onto her hair, a firm yank back as she was grabbed by one of them. A pull in the dark, it was hard not to follow after the rough jerking of movement as she was dragged back. Teeth bit at the air, pulse quickening and an angry snarl reaching up into her throat. She watched the form of Orvin pause somewhere in the distance, his hair bushing out as he looked back. The blade swung round, grip tight in retaliation to her halting. She needed to get away, she needed to escape from the world that was crashing around her.

A moment of freedom, she did not wait, she did not dally as the grasp was released and the heavy steps escaped into that of the night. And all the while, the jeering shout echoed out into the night sky, ”Better run little wolf! Less you burn! Run! Run! Run! Spineless coward!”

Burned articles :

For reference mainly.

Wooden Tulwar
Simple Coat
Simple Pants
Simple Shirt
Simple Boots
Felt cape
Leather Hood
Ramie Shirt
Lantern, Hooded
Oil (1-Pint Flask)
Tent, One Person
Bedroll
Blanket, Winter
Tent, Four Person
Brazier (simple)
Coal
Toolkit, Cook/Chef
Strong Rations
Tea leaves
(Corns) Wheat
Ale
Currants
Honey
Beef Jerked
Food Rations
Water Skin
Eating knife
Iron Cup (x4)
Iron Kettle
Iron Cooking Pot
Quill
Ink (1 Oz. Vial)

[Fallon]

51st Spring 514 AV
20.49.38
The Pig’s Foot Tavern

Fallon's fist slammed upon the bar top, "Stop petching with me Merv!"

The patrons either side of her paused, heads snapping around to stare at the sudden outburst. Her brow creased, a swallow as she fought for some composure. She was panicking, she knew she was. There was a ragged inhale, a tremble as she lowered her gaze. She could barely think or bring coherent thought together, her mind caught and trapped within all her nagging fears. It was a nightmare in its finest form - everything par what she could carry had been stripped from her, and thus she was left empty. Teetering upon the edge of sanity.

Orvin released a wine, his nose pressing up against her leg and then the bar. She felt the cold gaze of Merv rest upon her, treating the woman with the contempt she deserved. Inhaling she raised her gaze, and her hand as if to silence him. Fingers clenched, a rough exhale as she tried to come to terms with what was going on, "I just... just... I just... Shyke." The cushion of her palm began to ache, a dull throb travelling through. For a moment she tensed, head bowed as she tried to gain some comprehension of what was going on. She could not look at Merv, not properly at least. Zandelia was gone, she knew that much. The place they called their temporary home had gone up in smoke - destroyed with everything that remained inside. Fear had replaced common sense, and it was since then that the girl had not stopped running - frightened almost that she would meet the earth in an instant of pause. And because of that, she had kept running, not knowing exactly where to go to until she finally came face to face with Merv.

And from there her walls had trembled, and teetered before the man that could not help. She was frustrated to say the least, strung up and not sure where to go now. She was not good when it came to picking up information, she lacked the resources and competent abilities to do so - unlike Zandelia who seemed to be able to summon it up at the drop of a hat. Fallon worked in the past, not the present. And it was only now that such things were beginning to ring home in her head. There was a slow glug, and the slide of a cup towards her. The dark liquid of some dark spirit greeted her, the slosh of liquid from within. Taking it she gave only a glance up from beneath her brow to the man and then gingerly drunk from it.

"Try using your words Bitzer. Where's that silver tongue of yours? Tell me the situation," She heard Merv speak. Her fingers rubbed against her brow, a slowing of thoughts as she tried to bring some rationalisation to the scene. A long inhale of the bitter liquid, rough and settling on her stomach. She was not really sure what to think, or what to say. Sure, she had made demands but was he really one to be trusted? Bull shyke, came the answer to her thoughts shortly after - Merv was out for himself and whatever she had involved herself in was none of his real concern as long as the money kept flowing. She let the drink burn its way down, before she spoke once more, "I don't kno-"
"You do know. So answer it."
"Web. She... was taken? I don't know who by. We got attacked, and now I can't find her. I don't know who wo..." Fallon's words fell away at that point. Her brow knitted into a line, her eyes glazing over as she chewed upon her lip. It could not be him, no. To betray the mercy that was given, to strike back and gain a petty revenge? Her throat constricted and she shook away the thought, "I don't know where to begin. I jus-"

There was a clatter as the door open, her gaze peering over her shoulder towards however had just entered. For a tick she thought nothing of it, watching the men pile in and their forms swagger about. A loud jeer, the friendly banter that was often seen between comrades in arms. Eyes only flickered briefly, a chew upon the lip before she turned her attention back to Merv, ”I need you to do something for me… easy task.”
“I don’t do favo-“
“This isn’t a favour. Think of it as insurance,” There was a heave up of the bag onto the bar, a low clunk of weight as she slid it across to the man, ”I need you… just look onto this. Please. If… If I don’t come back by the end of the season it’s yours. There’s… a lot in there. Important stuff. Merv..?” She gave a sigh, ”I need this. There won’t be any trouble for you. Promise it.”
“Your promises better be good.”

[Fallon]

22.17.52

It was by chance that she managed to recognise the faces of one of the men. The same expression worn on his face, one of pleasure at extracting torture upon an individual as when he had a girl upon his lap. And, it was by an even greater chance that she watched the very man get up from his seat away from his comrades and outside into the cold – a low grunt upon his lips of ”I need a piss.”
Fallon only slid her gaze over to Merv, her form gently rising upwards as she gave him one last regarding look, ”I won’t be back until this is over. All of it.”

There were no words after that, only the steady rise from her stool. Eyes preened upon her target and it was only as he made his step through the door into the city proper did she make her move. The cloak hood was pulled up, eyes falling behind a shadow of black as she stepped out into the night. There was only the turn of the head as she watched the man lurch away, staggering to the alleyway behind that of the Pig’s Foot. From there only a series of grunts escaped, followed by the squelch of feet upon the earth. But that was not of her concern now, she needed answers and she was going to get them no matter what.

A dip into shadow, she caught the faint outline of the man. Head resting upon the wall to maintain some sense of balance, the faint sound of water escaping onto the earth below. Fingers wrapped around the hilt of the tulwar, a slow rise and fall of steps as she tried to make herself as quiet as possible. Avoid detection, blend in, and then strike. The blade was drawn first, her weapon that she had to use. There was only the muttering of slurred curses as the hand reached up and planted itself upon his shoulder. Fingers gripped, a firm yank down towards her with all her strength. A yelp of surprise was quickly silenced when she brought the round pommel of the tulwar round to his temple.

Releasing him she watched him stagger. Rage built up within, angry, red, the pressings of that lacking control rearing its head. But that did not matter right now, she wanted answers. And that was exactly what she was going to get. He scrabbled, and it was with the rising of a foot that she gave him a kick down. Muscles stretched, a firm jab into his exposed back, the snarls trembling and quivering upon her lips.

”Bastard,” came the gravelly growl from her throat. She pressed her foot down properly on him this time, the tulwar arching round to stroke against his face. For a moment she simply continued to press the weight into his back, knee grinding against his spine and the warning press of the tulwar edge against his cheek, ”Remember me? The little wolf?” Hot breath breathed onto his ear, the pressing back of anger for a more common sense driven approach. Grip holding strong, she held the incentive to talk close as his drunken tremor started to beg for release. No man wanted to die after all. Sucking in her air she let the edge break the skin, and then withdrew it, ”You’re going to answer my questions, then I’m going to get off your back. Got it?” Already he was beginning to struggle, an attempt to press himself up and shake himself free. Fallon pressed the blade in once more, dragging it down this time from the cheek to the throat. It was there that she held it, her feral gaze sweeping in to stare upon him mercilessly, ”Or do you fancy your blood upon the floor? Now, who sent you?”

She could see the weighing up of options in his head, the long pause as if he was considering to take her seriously. The incentive pressed, the eyes locked within the darkness. She felt the press, lip twitching as her gaze bore in. Somewhere in the back of her mind did she feel the burn, the inner energy reaching up to her mind. Fury burned, that angry threat swimming in her emotions, lips barely breaking as she held the gaze. For a moment the whole world dipped behind nothing. It was just them within their focus. Eyes blinked, the lean in, the upholding of the gaze within the darkness. She felt the lean – you WILL tell me! FEAR ME! – all consuming as she felt the emotions and wrath pull. It came up from her very pit, dark, sticking and swirling. An internal energy the dug it's claws as it laced up the inside of her throat and into her voice.

”ANSWER ME!” Force reverberated within her words. An order, an instruction. Fear, destroy, control, and demand. She pulled her head away at that point, a flurry of blinks, a rushing throb setting its way in. The world came back, and it was with the trembling of the man in her grasp. For a moment she simply blinked, wrath hovered there, the man caught within his own fear as he spilled forth his answers, ”A man! A man at Tall Johnny’s! Promised us good coin! Get the Bitzer bitch!”
“Who?” She growled.
”Sansom!”

[Fallon]

52nd Spring 514 AV
16.22.46
Tall Johnny’s Casino and Cage Fights

There had only been a few opportunities in which Fallon could lay her head down to rest. If it could even be called rest. Among the hustle and bustle of the waiting crowd, the humming of voices and bets. Her shoulder pressed against the wall, eyes closed in her lean, the full hood brought up around her face. This was another moment where she had managed to gain some pause, a low exhale as she let the moment of sleep be shaken off. A pinch upon the bridge of her nose, the eyes flickered as the found a state of consciousness. For a moment she simply stared, the mumblings of a groan upon her lips and the faint growl.

Someone had nudged her firmly, greasy looking however they were. But that did not matter right now. She had much more important things to answer to among the smoke and the crowds. Having never truly graded Tall Johnny’s establishment properly before it was something of an experience – gambling and drink having gone hand in hand, with the supposedly appealing eye candy on show. For a moment Fallon had allowed herself to be subdued in silence, none disturbed her until now – so why was it suddenly an occurrence? And it was perhaps only then that she realised who it was that arose her from such a slumber.

Weight shifted, a push up from the wall as she took the man into her vision. Tall, elegantly dressed and stood out from the rest of the typical Sunberth crowd. Eyes narrowed, a chew upon the lips as she took him in properly. Clean nails, a groomed moustache. The resting of a feral gaze fell upon him, ”You’re Tall Johnny then? They weren’t petching lying about the height.”
There was only a smile back, hands coming together and that charming tone striking her, ”And you’re the Wolf I presume? Or maybe Bitzer? Either way you’re not much of an animal now.”

Lids narrowed at that point, the instinct over riding and the digits resting upon the hilts of her blades. For a moment she looked upon him, that weigh up of size to the other as she considered her next move. There was too many people around, a lot that could easily get in the way. Her eyes flickered to the main doors, a big enough distance away, with the way laying of furniture between her and it. Clicking her neck, she once more turned her gaze up to Johnny. Her lip twitched, the bubbling feeling of annoyance rising up from within, ”How do you kno-“
“It is my business, my property that you stand on. It is my place to know who comes in and who comes out… including those that… look,” he gave only a smile. Charming as it was Fallon could not help but feel that it was laced with poison. He placed a finger beneath her chin, ”Heard so much from a particular… very interesting stuff. Apparently you stole his little girl.”
“She’s not exactly little anymore,” Fallon growled, and then jerked her head away. Quickly, she turned to the task at hand, ”Where is Sansom? Tell me. Now.”

She watched him tut, his head shaking and his finger waggling to her demands, ”Doesn’t work like that little lady. Bad for business, and for clients. And knowledge doesn’t come free.”
“Answer me Johnny, I don’t have time for gam-“
“Don’t think this is a game,” He gave her another one of those smiles, his eyes looking down to the weapons she was tightly holding onto, ”I’ll make you a deal little wolf.”
“Oh? Will you now? Answer my ques-“
“You’re going to step into that cage. You’re going to prove your worth. Going to entertain and have all those eyes upon you,” his hand extended out at that point, gesturing to the cage where the live ‘entertainment’ was held. Fallon felt her jaw tighten, the wolfish look forming in her gaze. Her namesake rippled on the surface, the low snarl pressing against her throat, ”And maybe… when you’ve done that little wolf, I’ll let you in on what I know.”
“Son of a bitch,” she snarled, the trembling of the guttural tones rising up.
”Son of a bitch who’s going to make a deal,” he extended a hand to her to shake, ”You going to take it or not?”

There was not much choice on the matter, something that was quickly growing apparent. Nostrils flared, the chin lifting to look the man square in the face. What would have Zandelia picked? What would have she done? Hot breath escaped through a grimace, her hand gradually rising to grasp upon the slim hand. A pull in, she gave a snort upon his face, ”Better not go back on your word now.”
“And you better put on a good show.”

[Fallon]

17.12.36

It was at the entrance of the cage that Fallon faced now. The cloak had been taken from her, the form stripped down of the armour – it was supposedly ‘foul play’ to wear it - and left her only with her clothes. Even then she simply allowed herself to stand there within her shirt and trousers, extra layers of cloth were not exactly going to do her much good. She gave a rock up onto her toes, gloved hand pushing the hair back from her face. Clear from her eyes, she sucked in the smoky air and let it rest upon her core. An inhale in, and then an exhale. A level state of calm, an understanding of state of mind. She was tired, she knew that much. Her head still throbbed slightly, but she shook it away. Efficiency was needed. The sooner this was done with, the sooner information could be revealed to her.

Fingers pinched upon her brow, her hands hovering around the blades. The tulwars, and then the reach round to the empty kukri sheath upon her back. A lump formed in her throat at that point, her brow creasing at the idea that it had been lost. Recklessness mixed with that stinging regret. How could she bring herself to loose such a thing? She berated herself on that, and imagined her mentor turning in his grave somewhere. After all, she would have done the same if a student of hers lost something important. Fingers grasped about the non-existent hilt, and then turned back round to the tulwar hilts. They were her primary weapons now, she had to use them. There was a groan as the cage door was opened, and the arena of dirt welcomed her.

”So! Ladies and gentlemen!” she heard the mighty shout of the announcer – Tall Johnny no less. She gave only the flicker up to the large grin upon his face, the challenging stare reserved only for her upon this occasion. Somewhere above the people began to move in, drawn to the prospect of blood sport and pain. The rows of seats were filled, the staff moving about and taking numbers from those who sat there. Her eyes slipped away at that point. Taking a step into the cage she heard the door slam shut behind her, the sliding in of a bolt lock and the halting of her escape until whatever she face laid defeated. On the other side she watched the shape of another slide into view.

”Do you take your bets? Your coin?” she heard the announcer continue, ”In the eastern corner we have the bull of the ring! And in the west, we have our new upstart, Sunberth’s new wolf, Bitzer!” Her lids pinched together, the murmurings of the crowd growing louder. Some cheered and others shouted slander, it did not matter. At least not yet. Eyes turned to the opponent, her lips chewing as she considered her stance. A hum of steel, she felt the weight of both blades within her grasp, and then turned her gaze up to the opponent before her. He was taller than her, slightly more well-built, but that did not mean it was about to stop her. She could still hear the mocking tone of Johnny however in her ears, ”Let’s see how our fighters will do in the ring, begin!”

Her opponent did not take much convincing after that. A charge, her eyes caught the glimpse of a war axe within his grasp – a mighty swing of the weapon with both hands. She felt her shoulders press against the bars, a moment of realisation as to her position, before she slipped out from it. A clatter, a crash and a snort, a scrabble as she saw the man – possessed almost by a spirit of rage itself – carve the axe towards her once more. The left tulwar was the first to swing round, a hook into the arch of the axe, the sounds drowned out by the approving cries of the audience. A screech, followed by a grind, Fallon backed off, the tip waving teasingly between her and the other, her right rising up ready. For a moment she watched the pause, the gentle circle around as she heard the cry for blood within the air. How far did she have to go with this? When would it be classed as ‘enough’?

Fallon swallowed, and quickly stepped round when he came at her once more. A mighty downward cleave, Fallon brought both blades upwards, crossing them to catch the oncoming blow. Feet staggered, knees bent as she buckled beneath the weight, and the begun the upward push. There was a crunch of cartilage as Fallon arched her head forward onto the nose of her opponent. A hiss from the crowd, mixed in with the cheer of delight, the hammering upon the cage walls with glee. Shaking away the stars she staggered, teeth gritting as she pulled herself back.

Swinging the blades round in a broad arch together she slashed, a pivot round upon at the same time. Momentum, she felt the tips scraping across the flesh. A cheer, a shout for more as the gashes formed into the opponent and he backed away. It was only then that her eyes glanced up to the one who brought this all together. A sharp glaze, she heard the angry shout in reciprocation. She felt the wind being knocked out of her, a stagger backwards as the adrenal rose. That slender hold upon her began to fray, the anger beginning to well up within.

She just wanted Zandelia, was that such a crime? She just wanted the woman safe no matter what. To hold her, to free her, to cut away the nightmares that would have plagued them both. An elimination of a threat, to serve as that shield between her and the world. To be her wolf. Fallon felt her thoughts tremble, the back lash of a strike crack into her side. A wheeze, the taste of iron rising up into her pallet. She had failed though, and all that was left was the clawing redemption. And it was with that, the mind began to snap.

[Fallon]

It came as a roar. Angered, blooded and feral. There was a broad slash of the left, the mental shifting of chains that slid away. Eyes widened, lips peeled back to bring out a snarl. The crowd gave a hoot, the response to the mental unshackling that was occurring. Hot breath whistled between the teeth, the eyes lifted to burn upon the opponent. Adrenal quickened, the beating drum rising up within her pulse as she stared. Hungry, feral, there was a quick step back onto her left, form creasing downwards only to recoil back at him. There was a broad slash, a shout of surprise as she threw herself.

Harder, faster, swifter, stronger. The right tulwar swung, the blade singing through the air as she swiped upon his thigh and curled her way around him. The form swayed, right foot, followed by the left foot. Those quick encroaching steps with nothing but the thought of blood upon her mind. Somewhere beyond the voices begun to fade away into little more than a wave of noise. Lost and unable to truly mean anything. Dirt was kicked up, a snarling snap breaking out as she bounced back from a feint, steel claws bared at the man.

There was another crunch of material, the downward hack of her blades being caught within the shaft of her axe, a wriggle of steel and wood before she received a boot to the gut. Once more she was pushed back, her eyes wide and burning, her breathing quickening as she glared. It may have pushed her back for a tick, but that did not mean it was going to work completely at separating her from the fighting. There was another shout, both hands grasping the axe shaft to swing it round, the light and unarmoured form forced into taking a leap back. Rocking upon her heels, it was her back that straightened out, her knees bending in response as she weighed the man up.

Her form slinked, teeth bared and that wolfish look glaring back. Eyes locked and held, the mind spinning as it turned to just him and her. There was no one else in the cage, there was no voices beyond cheering and shouting in glee. It was just them, completely and utterly with no one to stop her. Behind him was more answers, behind him was a way forward in her hunt of the woman. All she had to do was eliminate him, the quicker, the better. Teeth flashed, the form slinking and sliding around - prowling almost as she circled her prey.

A quick step in, the cold fangs begun to close in - meeting and grinding against each other. Blades blocked, pulled back and twisted in the grip. Back held within the slick grip of the leather. Eyes burned, a pull black as she focused on blocking the oncoming blows. Space was made, the cage wall meeting her shoulders as she stared out. A rumble clawed up, the throbbing of an energy as she stared him down. The gaze met, a firm step forward as she held it. Deeper she sunk, holding, locking in every sense of the word. A hiss escaped from her lips, the front of her head beating into a dull throb as she glared and took him in for all he was.

She felt her will tremble, growing louder and more deafening as it rose up from the inside. The inner core burned, the wrestling for control as it sunk into her existence. There was a deep inhale, rattled almost before she released a snarling snap. Toes twisted, she sprung forward, blood lust consuming, the beat of energy as she felt within. Blinding and intoxicating in every sense of the word. The howl escaped between the teeth, her target locked onto as she released that battle cry that vibrated out with it. Everything strained on that moment, the battle closed in and blinked between moments. The sting smothered her face, sinking in and refusing to budge, but the thought was there, the battle the raw instinct settling and gripping on with the dark internal suggestions directed to the man. The mind and energy screamed 'fear me', the tongue lashed, "DIE!"

There was only whimper of noise in comparison as she came upon him, pure fury commanding her every move. Edges sunk their way into flesh, eyes burned as she smashed their foreheads together and the ground swiftly made its approach. There was a crack, a gurgle and a spray, the throbbing sensations making their way known in ugly ways, the loud thud as both bodies met the ground. Her own head even met it, sending a piercing message of pain through her mind. Tulwars were still impaled into him and it was only the silence of the crowd that met her now.

Blood had smeared itself across her face, the dull earthen floor greeting her as she rolled off and onto her back. Her eyes stung, blinking and feeling as if something was stuck in them. Grit, grime, it was the back of her hand that lifted as her head swum and promptly rubbed at the sensation. It was hard to focus, the hushed voices and the subtle sound of urgency existing somewhere beyond. The pulse was still fired up, her teeth bared as she was ready to snap. It was a hand that pulled her up, a firm grip that tugged her to her feet. Her head swum again, blinking between a haze of red that had accumulated before her eyes.

"And our winner is Sunberth's new Red Wolf, Bitzer!" the voice of Tall Johnny was an echo as she felt her right arm be raised. The crowd went wild, her gaze barely able to tilt upwards without a wince. She felt a clap on the back, steps guiding her out as she staggered and attempted to regain some bearings. She saw the amused faces grin and smile, the occasional glance down to a closer inspection of her face as she stepped. It would be safe to say she was not sure where exactly she was being lead, nor did it matter too much - her head felt as if it was splitting in two, and when mixed with the crying urges of rest, focus became hard and continued to slip between her fingers at speed. The room gave a spin, a major misstep to the left before her shoulder pressed against something - or someone - and promptly slid down it.

[Fallon]

53rd Spring 514 AV
02.17.56

There was a wince, followed by a flutter of eye lids. Shooing the hand away from her face with sluggish limbs, it took a few moments for Fallon to comprehend what was going on. Her mind spun, a blink of colours in the low candle light. Something cool and damp caressed her face, a cloth that caused her to release a hiss as once more the hand returned. It was one of the ladies from the Casino, a focused look upon her face as she dabbed away the blood. Teeth grimaced in a line, her head tilted and changed as the end was dabbed right into the tear duct and smeared away.

That was a point, her eyes hurt. There was confused look from the woman as Fallon blinked at her, directly this time and absorbed her for what she was. Somewhere beyond she could see the faint outline of a very displeased man, his brow having creased and his arms folded over. At least until he simply bent down and whispered within the woman's ear. Another blink and he was gone, a multitude of chimes having swept by in such a simply movement. Her head was turned again, the mumbling of drink and disorder sounding out from somewhere behind the wall. Cheek pressed against the cool surface, her hand rising to push away the hand that pressed. She caught the smear of blood upon the rag, eyes looking about as she tried to take things in. Her throat gave a tremble, aching as she forced out the words, "Petch... what the petch happened?"

She watched the woman pause for a moment, surprised that the mercenary had spoken and posed a question. There was a hiss, her eyes looking down to the floor and the damp rag before finally the woman spoke, "You passed out... Red Wolf."
"Red Wolf?"
"Aye, it's what they all called you in there. Or sometimes just Wolf. Surprised you don't remember." Fallon paused, fingers gingerly raising to rub at her lids and the sore muscles there. Her headache had eased off for now, no longer a discomforted throbbing sensation within her temple. The woman raised a wood cup to her, carefully passing it and explaining her actions, "Was told to give you water when you woke up, something to eat. Johnny said you looked half starved and going mad."
"Nice of him to say so," Fallon grunted. Fingers peeled away and took it, her body adjusting to what was around her. Flooring, sparseness, it was definitely a corridor of sorts. Shaking she took a sip of the water, and met the nervous gaze of the woman, "What?"
"Your eyes, they were... Johnny said..."
"Said what? What with my eyes?"
"They were bleeding... or crying red. Johnny said it must have happened when your head hit the floor or something. They seem alright now thought."

Fallon only responded with a frown, a gentle swirl of the liquid as she gathered her still turbulent thoughts. She needed to move, to think once more on finding the woman. She recalled Johnny's words on their bargain, on the required knowledge to obtain the upper hand. If it could even be called that now, it was more a kin to the chasing of prey and bringing down the hunt in the name of revenge and blood. Lips were licked, the faint beating pulse rising up and growing. Anger seethed, bubbling as she gathered her senses into something more useful. She placed the cup down and focused on pushing herself up, "Where's Johnny? I made a deal with him. It's time to cash it in."
"Johnny, I... think he's on the main floor."

A single nod, a push up to her feet as she found her balance. There was an inhale, a press of something into her open hand, the faint clink of weapons within their scabbards. The rest of her equipment would have to be found also - but she had a strong feeling that it was being kept somewhere safe for now. Arms ached, her body letting out those few complaints as she gingerly tapped the ground. She gave a glance down to the corridor, and then down to the object that was pressed into her hand - a near stale chunk of bread - before once more she graced the main floor. She barely brushed shoulders with the few patrons that were still left to gamble whatever they still held. Her eyes turned, blinked and met the wiry smile of Tall Johnny as she slid her way over.

Leather was thrown at her, the rough armour being placed within her arms without a second thought and left her to juggle it for a few ticks. There was only winces as she pulled it on, and watched the man inspect back in return as she applied her armour. It was finally with a wiry smile that he spoke, "Real wolf eh? Well... we both know why you're here so let's just skip to the end." There was a tug of straps, the worn leather familiarising itself once more to her frame. A forced mouthful of the bread was taken before she turned to her braces - all the while her eyes remained fixed upon the man, looking and searching for answers within his face. Johnny wasted no time, "So, you're looking for someone. Sansom right?"
"That's right," she grunted as she tightened the strap. Her eyes flickered to the black cloak as it was offered to her. Fingers patted upon her weapons, the pulling of the fabric around her shoulders once more as she took the man in. Eyes locked, the internal rise up to seek answers and spur herself on once more, "You going to tell me?"
"Of course," it was that smile he gave that made her nervous, "Some of Sansom's mercenaries come here. By all accounts they're hiding out the castle commons, warehouses way. Don't blame them, good people traffic... other things too." It barely took Fallon a tick to turn on her heel and begin the firm steps towards the exit of the establishment, behind her she could hear him speak up in his smooth tones, "Best be quick though, they said about moving their position soon. Don't catch them now then you'll never get them," Fallon's brow furrowed, eyes burning ahead with ever step that was taken. She could imagine the wiry smile behind her now, "And if you ever fancy taking another spin in the cage little wolf, I'll be more than happy to put you in there."
"I'll think on it," she mumbled as she escaped to the outside world.

[Fallon]

54th Spring 514 AV
08.49.19

Fallon ripped off her gloves and firmly placed her hands against the wall. A deep inhale, the suck in of the air as she tried to find some form of mental stability in which to work from. She needed to be able to clear her thoughts and focus, by being able to achieve that it meant that it was possible for her. A clue, an aspect or an idea as to where they went - she could not exactly prowl every inch of the commons or the warehouses. She would be dead by then, or worse. Part of her shuddered at that. Ears twitched, eyes listened as she staked out the ground once more. A couple of the morning shop keeps had given her a funny look as she skulked about, but for the most part she was left alone to her own devices.

Sucking in the air she focused, forehead pressing against the wall as she attempted to tune out the world. She cared not for the looks, she cared not for the voices. If it brought her closer then it was worth it. Any lead would do now, any resounding clue or sign that could be of use. A deep inhale, and a slow exhale, she let her mind dip into a muffled state, the world tumbling and crumbling beyond notice. Lips pursed, the eyes sliding shut as she hummed, touching , feeling and searching with her hands across the wall. It took her walking, the twitching of a dazed state as she searched and shifted. Voices, mumbles, the dragging of a struggling form as it scrapped. Lips trembled, her mind blinking in and out of thought as she stepped. There was a full pivot round on her heel, her eyes turning to look back as the scene around her blurred. People, footsteps, there was that struggle.

It died shortly after and left the mind aching, throbbing almost as she rested her shoulder against the wall. It was draining, more than she expected. It left the hands shaking and the mind trying to filter through. An inhale, she turned her gaze up and onwards once more as she watched the world pass by. Her chest gave a twist, tightening for a moment as she looked on towards the awakening world. Pushing off she looked upon it, studying and analysing the shapes with a dark scowl from beneath her brow. Eyes followed the mental laid path, the flickering gaze as the snippets replayed once more within her .

Grasping. There was a scream, a tick, a clank, a dragging before the people. Eyes looked, following the drags within the floor the path coming forward into her sight - clear, sited, obvious now that it was before her. Footsteps quickened, the tips tracing along, the humming upon her lips as she focused herself. She had the scene, her head sharply turning left to follow what had been sited. Pulse quickened, hands ripping off as the legs became animated. The forced contraction of movement of muscles that complained, the breaths rising up to race. Oxygen was needed, a deep inhale as the feet continued their thundering upon the ground. Harder, faster, there was a glance, the skidding as she moved round into a run - blind and pushing her forward regardless of what was to come.

Which stopped bluntly when the firm hand came round and slammed into her. A barge into the wall, the collision of a fist to her gut, a gasp as the air was punched free of her. Her hand gave a scrabble for the hilt of the tulwar, her fingers trying to grip upon one of her blades and to pull it free. Hot breath pressed, the glint of metal as it was drawn and came round keen and ready to cause harm. Both hands shifted, the point hovering before her gaze, the tight gripping of the wrist as she wrestled it back. She had no time to truly register who the attacker was, the mind was simply driven to survival . A firm rise of the foot, and a kick back sent him back into the opposite wall. A tulwar was drawn, close held and on the defensive.

"Petching wolf!" he snapped, and then lunged, "Why don't you just petching die already!"
It was enough of a clue as to who he was now, her eyes burning as the longer blade came round to meet the smaller. No mercy, no moment of consideration - a roar escaped within the early bells of the city and Fallon was upon him. Teeth gnashed, eyes wide as blade tip met flesh and ignored the blind stabbing motions that came at her - she had the range even in this small space and she would use it to her advantage. She threw herself at him, carving through and sending him to the floor in a heap. The knife was kicked away, foot stamping down onto his hand in anger and the tulwar tip serving as warning.
"Where is she?" came the demand. She gave another stamp, the sound of cracking as she pressed harder into him. He went to rise, and the tip jerked down in response, "Answer me. Answer me now!"
"Petch yo-"
"ANSWER ME!"
"Warehouses! The warehouses!" Eyes sharpened, little more than a curl of the lips into a snarl as she brought the blade downwards without a second thought. Stabbing, a second thrust of the blade, a third as he screams turned into gargles, and a whispering of a hiss, to finally a gurgle of noise. Her eyes lifted, the sides throbbing as she finally lifted her gaze up and onwards towards her new found destination. The warehouses, the final battle, the final march and no doubt a wall of bodies to carve her way through. Lips were licked, and gave a curl as she plucked upon that trembling feral state. Her blades were keen, and her mind was set - there was no going back. For it was now, or never.