-
As Breaker became more familiar with the dark forest's sounds the strange noise he had heard off in the trees bothered him more. It did not fit with anything else he'd heard, and he sensed that the Fae had heard it as well. Ever since the strange scraping was heard her ears had been ever so slightly laid back. Josh had seen similar looks of caution adopted by the kitsunes that occupied Akashima.
"Over here, Milady." Josh said, striding quickly back to the water's edge and beckoning the Fae to join him, "my name is Joshua Cronen, by the way, but most folk in Corone call me Breaker." He waved his hands over the water and the ice floe that had served as his bridge to the shore became steam and twisted into a tall round table before freezing again. The table settled on the ground between the unlikely pair. "A surface for your reading," Josh offered with a sweep of his hand and a bow.
When heightened by close focus Breaker's senses were sharper than a wolf's, and the more he paid attention the more he heard from the darkness. There was movement in the trees, and in the underbrush a little further out. Something big was moving along the ground, still far enough away he could not tell what it was, but too close to his perceptive ears for silence. Whatever - or whomever - was moving through the trees had an aptitude for stealth, but there was only so much a climber could do to muffle the scrape and grind required to stay aloft.
Josh had drawn the Fae to the water's edge not for the sake of the ice table - he could have conjured that anywhere. He wanted to be close to the body of water in case he needed to defend against a sudden attack, and because Jake would be porting in to the same spot in a little less than an hour.
The scuffle of movement in the underbrush came closer, loud enough that the Fae's pointed ears might capture the echo. Josh leaned close to the blue-hued female and whispered.
"Do you have friends out in the forest?" For the sake of the lurkers, he hoped so. Although outwardly the warrior appeared calm, his mind was poised on a tightrope between stillness and action.
-
First and foremost, she made sure to pick up her flute before joining the male by the lake. Her keener ears trembled slightly as they picked up the unmistakable sounds of unknown assailants drawing closer. But, more concerning by far, was the all too familiar sense of dread that began to settle in her gut.
It’s presence was still faint and heavily obscured, but the intangible, greedy pull on her essence was unmistakable: Iteior eid Spuaic. Her ears pressed as flat as they could against her skull as she cursed quietly in her own tongue, fighting against every instinct she had on the inane assumption that--somehow--this strange-but-powerful male would help prevent her untimely annihilation… surely. “No, Joshua Cronen,” she finally answered him, in a miraculously steady voice, “these are no friends of mine.”
“And I am called Jarilo,” she added as an afterthought, pronouncing the ‘J’ as a ‘Y’, “though, we can get to know one another better, I’m sure, once we have fled from the Spell-eater that comes.” She couldn’t help the fear that started to creep into her voice upon mentioning the Spuaic aloud. It was one thing merely to contemplate one’s demise, but to give it the power inherent in speech was something else entirely. Urgently, she asked him, “Can you remake the portal you used to travel here? It draws closer.”
-
Fortunately giving voice to the possibility of one’s destruction, nay of the consumption of one’s very essence, did not summon the creature so named to the present locale. It was a creature of formidable size, strength, and power, but not one that could be summoned by the mere whisper of its name.
It was indeed ambling closer.
Fortunately for the three of them, this particular Spell-eater had been domesticated, through training & the removal of its second tail, meaning that it was hindered by, and a hindrance to, those that controlled it; at least to a point.
All these thoughts, along with a hundred others, passed through the half-orc’s brain with all the speed of a thunderbolt. The anxiety that always came right before combat being further compounded by the fact that the pair of them had moved near to the river, meaning that the Fae was more than likely aware of the Spell-eater’s presence. He remained where he was, crouched, and well hidden, as he dawned his glove, removed bow and three arrows, and finally a small flute especially designed to communicate to ravens, it was time to put part of his plan in motion, even if it wasn’t entirely necessary.
T sub rx or P sub ge, sub argument thirteen lines
twelve… eleven… ten
Sliding the flute under his veil he started to play. To the uninitiated, or those incapable of understanding the speech of ravens, it would sound like the incomprehensible squawking common to the species. To someone that knew the language, then they would hear the warning.
By sun and moon and sky, hear now my cry.
By rock and river and old tree, hear now my warning.
The eater comes, the eater comes, northwest on wings and legs quickly run.
The eater comes, the eater comes, to catch bird and mistress and have some fun.
Northwest with speed now, run, run, run.
The raven would know, he had called on the ancient oath common to all avian kind, and while not one of them, this one should know the truth of his claims.
The question was, was his mistress trust in her winged companion?
seven… six… five…
if she doesn’t then… if she doesn’t then…
Possibilities strung out before his mind’s eye, an orderly procession involving all the ways he could kill and be killed, all the possible actions that could take place and the responses that would see this fae free.
All for thee, all for thee, one that does not even know me.
All about him insects flew and buzzed, and continued on with living, not aware of the drama about to unfold. The cries of beasts, both winged and ambulatory served as the melodic background to his brief moment of readied stillness.
three… two… one.
His spell went off.
It was like striking a violins strings with a closed fist, the discordance of mystical lines that were intertwined with reality so tightly that the sudden release of such a small arcane event so timed to strike against such a convenient element of reality could be heard and seen and felt. The ‘raw raw raw,’ like a pair of threes tied together by their roots spun upon the mountain top by a giant, who had taken to Drakari wind-talking. The regular pulses of wind swept over everything in the clearing, from west to east, with the regularity of clothes on a punched wash line. The ghostly neon green lightening dancing through air and water like a tortured serpent dazzled the eye. While it past seamlessly through plant and beast alike, the occasional brushes against the river disturbed the water as much as a bolder the size of a wagon would.
No sooner as the energy begun to peace, than every beast – winged lizard, bird, bug, and anything that breathed air and could move was racing away from that spot as though the Nether was on them. Still their terrified outcries were nearly drowned by the monstrous clicking purring bear roar that was the n Iteoir Eid Spuaic tortured vocalization. It was more stunned, Drumheller knew than in pain, but it would take time before the drivers could calm the creature down enough to be helpful in the hunt.
All the while their prey could be making good on their escape.
All the while, he could be engaging their forces in hit-and-fade actions, which would be slowly thinning their ranks.
As the initial roars, and a hundred other kinds of rumbles and squeaks and caws were starting to die down, three other sounds, unmistakable for anything other than what they were might reach the supernatural ears of the fae and her two companions.
The first would be that of a woman’s tortured scream, caused by the backlash of her own spell being so violently destroyed. The second was the unmistakable sounds of arrows flying through the air, and the third would be several sizeable bodies crashing through the brush off to the left of the path behind them.
Other startled shouts could then be heard of to the east, a few hundred yards, speaking in frantic Drakari.
-
Every insect in the forest seemed to go mad at once, and then things got truly hectic.
Breaker detected arcane signatures in the forest like sparse Alerian fireworks, sudden and flaring and then swallowed by the night, leaving only a trailing afterimage. None close or significant enough to identify. Something crashed through the woods toward the small lake's clearing, something heavy and huge and full of malice. Josh glanced at Jarilo to ensure she wasn't close to running, but the blue skinned beauty seemed surprisingly stoic. These are her woods, after all. But I'll make them mine to keep us safe.
The pond practically rippled as the trees parted with swords chopping through vines and saplings alike. Two Drakari with bows on their backs thundered into the clearing, having broken from the main pack. Their armor and scales and murderous eyes glistened in the moonlight like different colored radioactive crystals. One drew a dart gun from its belt and fired, the projectile no doubt tainted with poison. The other snatched an axe from the straps on its back and let fly with a beastly bellow.
Josh flowed in front of Jarilo like a performer stepping on stage, and the icy table he'd conjured became water and flowed with him. It formed into a protective shield that rotated in mid air, thick as a broomstick and smooth as glass and sparkling. The dart struck first, and then the shield shattered as the axe struck. But the sharp shards flew only in the direction Breaker intended; straight at the Drakari.
The Dheathain natives ducked and covered, and the unaimed barrage mostly flew past although they inflicted several shallow cuts. The Drakari roared and reared.
Breaker arrived among them like a windswept leaf. He caught each of their sword-arms at the wrist and twisted his torso twice, once in each direction. The hunters fell together, each with the other's sword stuck in its throat. Their blood looked black in the moonlight, seeping through the soil where insects had crawled minutes earlier.
"Stay by the water," Josh advised Jarilo as he raced back to her side, "we'll have an advantage as long as we're here. I can't reproduce the portal now, but my friend Jake will make one in the same place before long. My planned getaway." He grinned, gritting his molars as he scanned the treeline and listened for the lightest footstep. Just because some of the Drakari were heavily armored didn't mean they all would be. "We just have to hold this position until Jake arrives."
Breaker could still here something big in the forest - bigger than the Drakari - and getting closer.
-
Wotan had been doing his best to stay calm in the face of his mistress’s sudden anxiety, until two things happened to paint the unfortunate picture: the first was Jarilo’s response to the male that was even now trying--so inexplicably--to save them, the second was the abrupt warning from the raven who was not a raven. Both of them spoke of the Eater--and then, just as he was aware of the sharp smell/taste of ozone, the forest around them descended into madness.
Broken magics, he thought to himself.
Sure enough, after the tell-tale percussive wave that sent animals of all kinds fleeing for their lives, he heard the distinct sound of what could only be a mage (female, no less) in painful distress.
And then, two Drakari slaver’s finally shattered their comfortable illusion of safety in person. Stomping and growling and smoking at the nostrils, the disgusting creatures had death in their beady eyes. Wotan spread his wings, ready to launch himself at them bodily, to do whatever he could--what little he could--to give his mistress the time to get away. But Breaker stepped in front of them, like water, shielding them both from the dart that he had missed and the axe that came after.
He heard Jarilo gasp as the reptiles screamed, but Breaker was already among them--from water to wind. And the reptiles were dead soon after. Their blood boiling into the greedy soil beneath their corpses.
If Wotan had lips, he would have grinned at the man that rejoined them. “Stay by the water,” Breaker told his mistress, and he voiced his discordant agreement. He added also that there was one in the forest who had warned him. Some faceless messenger who would require thanks. Likely, the same stranger who had disrupted the mage at her fell work. He watched Jarilo nod at him, but there was no time for more. The Eater was still at large, though--doubtlessly--drawing closer.
Sure enough, he heard the unmistakable approach seconds later.
Below his talons, he felt his mistress tense as she finally switched out her flute for her bow. She should have already had it out, but he could not hold the mistake against her.
“Hopefully, ‘before long’ happens soon,” he heard his mistress reply, as she nocked an arrow. Her eyes glinted mercilessly as she scoured the trees that lined their clearing. He knew she couldn’t see much--given that it was still night--so, he leant his own eyes to effort as well. He was no owl, sadly, but even in the dark, his eyes were several times more effective than hers.
-
Time to move.
He knew that he shouldn’t just be standing there, gawping at the pair like a spectator at a circus act. He was aware that he needed to continue moving, incessantly shifting through the stances that were part of the dance of a hit and fade action. He was both mindful of, and a part of him truly did acknowledge this fact, and still he stood there.
He was conflicted.
At that moment his years caught up with him by the most terrible of means. The sudden flare-up of his feelings, the abrupt intensity of his acrimony, the degree to which his blood was inflamed, it was at once utterly bewildering and entirely natural. At that moment the war song was beating drums in his head in exact time with the beating of his heart, and it was directed at more than just the Drakari.
The ‘Scarlet Sight’ had never been on him so strongly before in all his life.
There were times, many times, of which this was merely one, when he truly felt like there were two halves to his being. His kind was called a half-orc, after all, and many times he felt that the term described more than just the mixed parentage that was responsible for spawning him. One half, perpetually calm, collected, and rational; and the other half that was passionate, at time a bit uncouth, and prone to self-loathing. At that moment the twin elements seemed rioted, chained in place by skin and muscle and bodily organs, each roaring in protest of the other's presence.
On occasion they work together as effortlessly as teeth and tongue, as powerfully as a guided water spray used in mining, as productive as a forge fire.
At others… at others… it seemed as though his nature allowed them to be just close enough to drive each other to toxic rebellion, yet never rightly permitting the chance to make contact; to fight. It felt as though there would be no battle, no resolution. The end result sounded more and more like insanity. So this is the growing time, the period of great internal tempests that was the principle means of developing into manhood.
OH, how he hated it.
“They had not listened.” He silently mouthed.
He wanted to run out there and scream at them to run. That action was an essential primase of nearly all of the most efficacious reactions to this situation. They would become a shifting target that he would shadow, engaging targets of opportunity, when they presented themselves. Periodically breaking away from them to make sudden violent attacks against groups of the enemy to further keep them off balance and keep them from developing a coordinated attack.
Breathe
Of course they didn’t listen, they do not know you, or who you are.
The more rational side’s argument did not seem to help in the current situation, its attempts to oppugn his enraged state seeming to fall utterly flat at the moment. Drumheller’s perturbation, frustration, abhorrence of self at his failure, flowed through the core of his mind; seeming nothing so much as a muddy sulfurous hot spring that had overflown its banks. He wasn’t sure who he was more angry with, the raven, the not man – who he could tell had said something to the she fae, which his pubescent mind immediately hit upon was a suggestion to stay near the water – or himself for not thinking of a better way to warn the trio.
breathe
He did so.
his magic is water based, remember the ice table, recall the water shield, think of what other powers he can manage through water.
The recitation of previously observed events did help to cool the conflagration of his ire somewhat, but only somewhat. Most of his best plans had been dashed to ruins by his inability to take into consideration that the pair wouldn’t move.
“The not man knows I’m here and wants me to die.” Drumheller mouthed again, “wants the full credit of saving the Fae to be on his shoulders alone.”
It was a foolish thought, and part of him registered the assertion as such. He was cognizant that such beliefs were the fruit of longing and experience and had no bases in present facts. Normally he didn’t care if his accomplishments were praised, or even acknowledged by others. Point of fact he usually tried to ensure that someone else got the credit for something he did right. So, why did he want acclaim for helping the she fae now?
He wasn’t sure.
breathe
And again, Drumheller did so.
The water is how he came here by, perhaps the water was part of his plan for exiting?
If so, then why hadn’t he left already? Perhaps, he couldn’t leave just yet, because of the disturbance caused by the attack upon the Tap lines. That was a valid conjecture at least; it did put the man that was more than a man’s actions in a new light. Still it didn’t free Drumheller from the emotional quagmire, in which he was currently lost in.
How was he going to respond to this? How?
Once again he breathed, trying to calm himself, trying to use the act as a focus to steady his racing heart. The activity was succeeding, he could feel it, and thanks to the activity the answer finally came to him, drudged up from the depths of his mind, like a bit of treasure suddenly discovered in the midst of swamp water.
Use the discarded plan.
Use the Moon’s Defense.
Yes. That was the only viable option here, it was unlikely that he would come out of this battle unscaved, but that wasn’t the point. The core of the matter was to keep the she fae alive, unharmed, and free. The price to himself, so long as he remained alive, and succeeded in this goal, was of lesser significance. He felt a strange emotional pang over that though, which he couldn’t explain either. His personal safety had normally been of secondary concern.
With a considerable degree of conscious effort, Drumheller once again reined in his feelings; he grasped hold of the plan of attack and concentrated his attention, his will, and his thoughts on the fight ahead. He had lost time as a consequence of his loss of internal control, but not so much that he was incapable of asserting a tactical advantage. It was time to move.
It was time to move.
The screaming stopped then, far more suddenly than he expected. That was not good.
He started off at a trot, heading up stream, making no more noise than a breeze through the branches, totally unaware of the trio of Drakari heading towards the Fae and her two companions. Who would be more than Cognizant of the presence of the three hunters soon enough.
-
As long as they keep coming in small numbers, we can hold this position forever. Josh heard the pounding footsteps of more drakari, saw the bushes shake and sway, and then suddenly three draconic beings burst into the clearing. Like the previous two they were well armed and armored, and they nearly tripped over their fallen comrades as they neared the water's edge. Breaker struck as the distraction pulled their attention downwards.
Josh ran a few steps to build momentum and then launched himself into the air, sailing laterally at head height toward the trio of drakari. The two on the outside attempted to draw weapons, whilst the one in the middle followed a more intelligent course of action; it tripped over a corpse and fell beneath Breaker's steely frame. He collided with the two that remained upright, kneeing one in the face hard enough to shatter all the fangs in its maw and knock it soundly unconscious, perhaps never to wake again. He grasped the other's neck between muscular arms and wrenched it to the ground, breaking the beast's neck with a vicious torque as they fell. Breaker rolled away from the four bodies and watched the only remaining beast advance on Jarilo.
I wonder if they're here for her or me, or both of us. Logic seemed to point to the Fae as their primary target. Even if they'd managed to detect Breaker's incoming portal, the idea that some drakari overlord cared enough to scramble their warriors so quickly seemed unlikely. Josh had come to this place to find an important piece of the puzzle that represented the next step in ascension, but if Jarilo represented that piece... she has the look of someone important in their own right. He had remarked upon the Fae's incandescent skin and spiny hair upon meeting her. Although most things on Althanas were not what they seemed, perhaps this female's allure was born of some higher purpose, and not just her exotic beauty.
Josh raised a hand, preparing to tear the last drakari apart with a barrage of ice flachette, but he hesitated. Jarilo had an arrow strung, and ample time to aim and loose. And so he waited, to watch how she would react to the situation. While his hazel eyes looked on the rest of his senses stayed attuned to the surrounding forest.
There's more of them out there... many more. I can hear them. I can sense them. And he could taste the bloodlust at the back of his throat, ready to roar to life like a fire splashed with oil.
