Taken my knocks. (Solo)

[Corvus MacCallum]

Some say that pain keeps you alive, its that feeling that takes hold in any injury to remind you that your still breathing, the fear of it and dodging of pain is also a primal instinct that has saved many lives. Others find pleasure in pain, wether the giving or receiving, depending entirely upon the individuals kinks... it can be a signal that new life is entering this world, that some great heroic feat has been achieved... but theres one more very important fact about pain...

"HAARGH!!"

... it fucking hurts.

"Haa... haaa... urghn... oh godammit..."

The Highlander was Corvus MacCallum, a monster hunter who had just laid claim to his jobs title once again, what lay before him was a Granite Dragon, it laid there utterly devoid of life, the warriors iron slammer jutting out from its skull though only the handle, with the finishing move he had impaled that entire length right through the dragons head and into the ground that bore it. These dragons were not natural life but instead created by over-zealous wizards and their twisted experiments, as such it was worthless to Cor as a trophy... the fang he had ripped out earlier was now falling to mere soil and chunks of stone, the dragons features melting as the charm held by its life-force disappeared. No hide to skin, no fang for a reward... this was nothing but good karma in a way... but the beast had certainly left its marks upon him, claws of the hardest hewn stone had torn and ripped at his body, the white t-shirt mere tatters, clinging only around his right shoulder.

Vast rents in his skin covered the toned back, marked along his chest... one particular blow had sliced through his shin and all were slowing their flow, it was sheer adrenaline that was currently keeping him awake and he'd need every drop... to fall here would be to tempt the various predators of the wild, rising from his knees the Wolf-man cradled his dangling right arm, in one sweep of its tail the grass coated dragon had popped it right out of the socket and every motion, even that caused by his ragged breathing caused dull pain to shoot right through to his mind.

He had to save all the energy he could for the trip back to civilisation, tail hanging limp and his feet scuffing harshly against the ground, an ill-balanced lop towards his blade, blurred vision being darkened completely as his eyes were forced shut when his left arm moved from the right, leaving it to swing and hang there against his side. One by one those worn out fingers wrapped around the simple handle of his Slammer blade, he would refuse to fall... this would not be the end of him, some simple creation of a demented wizard would not put him to the earth where it had spawned.

From between those blood stained fangs came a scream unlike any had heard outside the village of Danube, Highlanders were far too prideful to let their pain show when among other species, but he wasn't around others of his kind... nor others in general. He was alone here... some unremarkable hill in the middle of those vast grass-lands, he was free to let his pain ring true, a part of his mind pleading the noise would cause any predators looking for free meat to be scared and dart off. What had brought forth the scream was pulling his sword out, bruised and cracked ribs compressing against his innards, right arm swinging violently from the momentum of his body, sliced up muscles stretching and straining until finally the blade came free and rested on the ground next to him.

"... fuck"

There was a moment of complete silence in the Highlanders mind, but still that pain throbbed through him, he was alive, he would stay alive... but he need to let the body heal and it wanted to heal through rest. On impact with the ground he felt that horrible thick, sticky fluid pass through his nose, had hit the soil too hard. Forcing his good arm outwards the beast scrabbled and clawed his way through the dirt, dragging his body with him to rest upon that blade, the cold of the iron flowing through him, waking up those weary muscles. Gritting his teeth he gave a hard thrust of his head against the flat surface, he needed more pain, he could not let his body tempt him with thoughts of rest until he was safe.

Coughing as he rose up a dribble of blood flowed from between his lips, pushing himself up onto unsteady knees, shuffling from the trustworthy taker of lives he called his sword and grasped for its handle, pulling the thing up with him and then driving its point lightly into the ground... forcing his weight upon what he had forced through many opponents. This sword had been serving its purpose thanks to him, it would now return the favour and restore its owner to his purpose.

[Corvus MacCallum]

For any hunter it was an unusual track to witness... like some being dragged along the ground by a single footed, thin metal beast. Foot-falls marked clearly from the heel but then the further you got to the toes the more they stretched along and then softened as the foot lifted and then slapped back down to the ground again. Divets and chunks torn from the earth by the landing of his blade each time, spaces growing more and more uneven as the track progress along... then a change in the pace, a violated stone, a large chunk snipped out of it by a rough impact, the foot-falls end, one far larger taking its place as something fell. The hill was steep on this side and that form fell judging from the flattened grass and blood marring the greenery.

The Highlanders fangs were bared, but not in anger, in just sheer desperation of breath, swallowing down each chunk of air from the sky above him, everytime his chest inflated with air he felt nothing but sharp pricks of pain lancing across his form... cracked ribs definately but thankfully they hadn't come free otherwise he'd be truly fucked. His right arm was now truly useless, just far too overloaded by pain from his rolling... fresh cuts were criss-crossing or adding to the general coverage given to him not an hour before by the dragon that now lay as nothing but compost... in a rather literal sense. Taking a moment to open his eyes the pained breathing became a sharp in-take, not for any extra injury but that bloody sun was too damn bright!... it was also red in one eye, growling at the possibilities he clutched using his one good arm, now with a broken pinkie... to fidget about for his water skien, popping open the lid and letting it pour onto his eye, clearing the blood from it.

I am not going to be called Blinky the slayer!

It seemed an odd thing to say but it was an established custom that Monster Hunters got nicknames resulting from their injuries, Blinky was the one given to those who had lost sight in one eye instead of lose it, currently his nickname ranked around Torn or Shredded. Still, there were solutions to that, a Highlander was designed to be tough and survive anything... bit of morale boosting never hurt. Struggling to close up the skien and jam it back in his pack the wolf-man took time to consider his situation... along with asess his fresh injuries, gonna be fun to remove those splinters... joy... left ankle was sprained badly but he'd just have to force it to be walked on, neither were broken though thats good, didn't feel any leaking inside so internal bleeding was out, just may scrape through this yet.

Still far too much blood had been lost in that little trip, out of the usual seven pints he probably had four left and that was dwindling thanks to those new marks. A Highlander heart is a remarkable thing, bigger than a humans and far stronger, a heart attack was not something that ever came up for these types... it can also be a downfall during casual injuries though, since it pumps the blood that quick cuts and scrapes are fed very quickly unless theres a lot of adrenaline in the system to get the body reacting as fast as the beat... thankfully his whole form was tingling from the stuff and that was his best chance of surviving... to, hold the buzz so to speak.

It was not a quiet or graceful rise to his feet, but then thats quite tricky when your bleeding like a stuck pig. He had only just avoided being whacked in half by his slammer as it sailed above him on hitting an almost natural ramp of stones. Sprained ankles were never fun, even at rest but they were a right bastard on trying to walk with them, his uneven pandering definately not doing his jangling and swinging right arm any good. Bit by bit drawing closer to the weapon resting inside some century old trees trunk, only a fragment of bark really holding it in place... thats gonna be a right git to yank out.

Had to be done though, gritting his air frozen teeth the injured mass known as Corvus lept at his sword handle, using what little strength he could muster, along with the general weight and speed of his frame to pull that massive monster crushing blade free, a wet splat of fresh blood streaking across the blade as it swept in front of him. He had twisted too far with that momentum, something had poked against another and discovered there were no brakes... nothing vital or he'd feel that emotion of being rightly screwed over, but he needed to find a professional healer, just sitting in the woods and dipping in the river wasn't going to cut it.

"... Buggering shite!"

We should all be allowed our out-bursts at the less than pleasant times, helps with stress levels.

[Corvus MacCallum]

One nice thing people don't give grass enough credit for, they do a remarkable job of cleaning your feet when theres a fair whack of dew, something to be grateful for when you've been limping with half a quarry between your little piggies. Scuffing his way through the clearing Cor could only grumble and grit his teeth to bare all this... every scrap of wind felt like it was trying to keep those wounds nice and open, like an irritating mother would fix your jacket or tug on your shirt collar... he didn't like it then and he sure as hell hated it now. This was the aptly named Raxden plains... even to a nature lover like Corvus this place was very bloody plain, he'd wandered through many places, countries and even a continent in his trip to Scara Brae... but nothing stood out here and he had no idea why.

Just looks like any other place but... with less

The town he had gotten this slaying job wasn't much better, small houses, dull people... there wasn't even a good bar brawl for frigs sake!... in fact it was pretty suprising to hear there was a monster slaying job in a place so, dull. The normal kind of beast haunted towns are full of silent people, cowed down by the sheer oppression thick in the air, the people are thin and overworked trying to feed themselves after all those monster attacks. That place was disturbingly neutral... had a bad scent too, there just weren't... enough, enough scents that is, oh sure theres the hay, whiff from the fields and even the odd fragrance of mead... but what about the people.

I suddenly have a slight inkling towards a possible thought that needs pondering in the slightest possibility that theres a slim chance out of all probabilities that the town was a little dodgy

He might have been overthinking this a tad... but still a lot of the scents you'd expect from a town just weren't there, but in all honesty he was probably just imagining things, paranoid thoughts in order to avoid thinking about...

"AWWW BOLLUCKS!"

... that most of his body got into a fierce fandango of a brawl with a cheese grater and came out second. In fact the only part of him that hadn't been broken or bashed in some way was his spikey hair-style, although it was lending space to a few twigs and the front-most side of a swallow nest thanks to his tumble after the rumble. He continued that slow march through the woods, using his slammer as a crutch although this time being a little more careful about where to stick it... last thing he needed was some soft mud scuppering his travel plans, one more collapse and he might not be able to get back up. Clawing ones way back to town on ones belly did seem such a, unappealing method of transport...

"C'mon need some noise here for me ears... how about an old one heh, still gets the chuckles, how do the Mods practice safe sex in their village?... paint an X on the sheep that kick... heheh, nah no good, urgh the neighbouring kingdom for a bard with timing!"

His vocal tirade quickly subsided, it felt very bad to speak right now, to release and intake air that quickly... something was rubbing against something else and the two weren't of equal softness. Was quite a disturbing thing really, awareness of your squishy insides and their various states of injury, makes you realise how fragile you can be at times, but still he pandered on. He wasn't really depressed or in a bad enough frame of mind to need it but at least there was some hope, pushing past a rather distressed looking willow he could see it, the tower of the church jutted out like a vast... well you know... look I'm not going to say it, just let your own filthy minds work out what it looked like.

Just a little more boyo and we can get ourselves a warm bed with a nice hot woman... nah wait can't use that second one heh, unless shes in town, stranger things have happened... now calloo-calley its time to get the buggering lead out me furry self!

[Corvus MacCallum]

He had no real grasp of time, despite having to force each breath he didn't try to record how many happened per second... the sun was too low to be spotted among the foliage. A highlander had incredible endurance, it let them take blows that would fell weaker species and keep on walking, it would let them walk miles without collapsing of exhaustion... but it had limits.

Oh fuck...

That limit had just been reached...

---

"...rior... ound... ou... ilds"

.... mmmm, ooow...

It was not often Corvus found himself in a warm bed, with soft sheets and caring women watching over him in a practically fawning expression... so this was not one of those times. Instead his bared back was pressing against hard wood, as was the rest of his body though thankfully only his shirt had been removed... he wasn't a creature that had a lot of inbuilt shame but it was never good to wake up in pain with your trousers missing in action. His eyes were open but nothing could be seen, it was utterly black, a few quick sniffs and his slowly unfogging mind grasped at the potentials...

"... grrargh..."

A rather feeble growl, how unlike him... but his throat was dry and had that horrible crusty feeling, blood had gone and dried on the interior.

"Hush now"

A soft voice, well thats nice at least, female too so the chance of it being someone skilled in healing than some bloke looking to collar him were a little more favourable. There was a sudden jolt and Corvus was reminded healing talents often left things unfinished as his back came smacking back against the wood, as did his shoulder and sharp jolts spread through his arm. Had to have been a wagon, or cart... though the lack of light penetrating through the bandages around his eyes... he had picked out the materials scent... would suggest a roofed in transport.

"At least your awake, you've been laid out on our wagon for a day or two, exhausting hobby"

Comfortable tone, saying our and the comment that I'm a hobby... yea older woman heh, now wheres my sword and what the hell happened...

Vocal communication would be out of it until he could suitably gesture he needed water, but still movement seemed a bad idea and the prospect of sitting up considering all the bangs, bashes and cuts from his tumblings led him to just go with simple point and guess attempts. His left hand stretching out a finger and lifting to his head, tapping at the bandages, a pretty simple question.

"Didn't want you getting a headache when you opened your eyes, plus there were, issues and we had to make your injuries seem a lot more distressing, I'll explain to you later, but if you want it can come off"

Would be nice yes

Gave the best of a nod, coughing a few times as the dried blood in his throat flaked apart and slipped roughly down his wind-pipe. But she got the message, from what he could feel of the small fingers and palms they were hands well worn through, rough but strong... a woman thats handled a lot of bodies and fabrics. Bit by bit the pressure on his head loosened up and allowed that messy mane of hair to reach the air, felt good to have a slight breeze working along his head.

"I wouldn't go moving just yet dearie, we didn't have the materials to properly support your arm and that ankles still badly swollen, was exhausting just to fix up your insides, age and magic don't like each other"

Excellent, fucking hate stitches, can't resist the urge to scratch at them...

Bit by bit he let his eyes focus on the scene, it was nice being right sometimes, there was the canvas covering of the wagon... then his head tilted and caught sight of his benefactor, wow... the woman had many miles on her clock. She wasn't old looking, just looked experianced, faint lines marking along her fore-head and cheeks, but the deepest of lines being at the eyes, smile wrinkles, he liked seeing them. Her hair was a wispy assortment of strands peeking from a plain white bandanna, unusual choice for a mature woman, her ears and neck lacked the deep recesses and sags of flesh normally associated with age. She smiled as her eyes caught his and raised one of those well worn hands to wiggle her fingers in greeting.

"Glenda if your wondering and you?"

No answer from the Wolf-man yet, his throat was too dry and cracky, instead he just poked a claw to his neck and then his situation was coming into stark clarity... it took a lot to keep himself from snarling, this woman was captive like him, he had seen her before... the village he had defended by killing the granite dragon wound up attacked while he staggered back. Around his neck was a collar of metal, a loose one but still clamped onto him, he had escaped being chained up fully by his injuries and kept to the medical wagon because of damaged eyes, his condition made up by Glenda.

"...thanks, but... water"

"In a minute dearie try to stay still"

[Corvus MacCallum]

"No insignias I'm afraid, nothing beyond just the outfits"

"Hmm, how about equipment what do they have?"

"Well now..."

It had only been a miles walk in Cors opinion since he had managed to shake his throat loose of all that dried blood, with his vocal chords stretchy and lively again he was wasting no time in finding out just what the hell happened, as it turned out his guesstimation of the town being attacked by slavers. There was only a handful of Slavers, though definately not the regular kind, each wore a white cloak that reached from noggin to ploddin... in regular terms, they were hooded and the cloak reached right to the feet, it was odd though in that each one had many many black markings of swirls and thorns upon only the right sleeve, a little order it seemed.

"... they have swords, not as big as yours but human sized, few had those lances, or were they pikes?... I can never tell the difference to be honest they both look like big sticks with blades"

"Any archers?"

"Never got their names... Oh!... oh no, no bows or anything"

Well thats pleasant at least, can't stand those bloody twankers... wait a minute

"Where's my guff?"

The old healer who had identified herself as Glenda blinked at this, a little clearing up that he was referring to his material possessions, namely the big fuck-off sword and his mismatched set of wrist protectors. Her eyes widened as she explained throughly that Corvus hadn't been stripped of his items, but he had in fact been looted, several of the armed warriors... as expected they were mercenaries of reasonable skill... were now wearing his gauntlet, his buckler and the boss had that lump of iron strapped to his back. Her mouth widened on seeing his arms tense up and start to pull at the clamps bolted into the wood of the carriage, rather hastily done it seemed when they came loose in a sortof... taking the wood with it kind of way.

"I'm gonna fucking kill them"

"W-wait!"

Her whole form cringed on saying that so loudly but thankfully horse drawn wagons were not silent transport in any day and age, particulary against rough, soil and stone road work like this. Still she had managed to catch the Highlanders attention, his upright form still tugging at the metal collar around his neck, but otherwise he was listening.

"Theres thirty of them, they beat down our home guard"

"Good, I don't like being bored"

With a snap of rotting wood he removed the backing to both of the metal shapes clinging to his wrists, the collar was a different matter, but a good deal of force given from both sides popped the pins and let him be free once more... didn't cool his mood down but he was a bit more chipper about the imminent slaughter.

[Corvus MacCallum]

Despite some poor designers very best attempts this line of canvas covered wagons featured several faults, namely at the exit seam there were a few gaps easily expanded by the wind and also allowed those with a leery slant to place a peeper through the accidental portals and pore over any possessions. As it happened these also allowed anyone inside to look out, the marvels of design faults...

Simple four corner march, one guy at the front controlling the horses... hmm those things will be a pain to deal with, I'm not good with equines...

One nice thing that complicated his current situation was that his immediate location happened to be at the back of the convoy, he had been scuffling about a tad back and forth to find out that four mercs marched at each corner of the transports, made perfect sense defensively, prevented any unseen corners. No point trying to fake painful illness they probably knew Glenda was a healer and it would also alert the guards at the front of a changed situation... nah best to do this like quick and hopefully quiet, terrain lent itself well, they had moved off a bare expanse of grass and into some light forestry.

"What are you going to do?"

"What feels natural I guess, don't worry I'll get this sorted nicely"

He passed the aged healer, pointing her to sit in a corner closest the driver, didn't want any errant blows penetrating the back, his destination was one of the peeping holes to get another look at the guards keeping watch on the arse on the wagon, not the best of attention spans, they just couldn't keep themselves looking in a helpful direction. The combat was playing out in his head, they didn't look necessarily tough to overpower when armed with the suprise factor but he wasn't gonna be able to kill them silently, then the ones in front would hear, look back, yell to the ones in front of them, even if they didn't there was this thing about sudden noise attracting a lot of attention. On the plus side these guys whole living was selling off folks so killing the villagers in retribution or discouragement wasn't on the cards, not until it was too late anyway, would only hurt their profits.

The guard on his left looked away, now was the time. Both clawed hands stabbed themselves in the gap between rib and cover of the wagon and pulled open a hole just as his feet began to push against the floor. The Highlanders mass was momentarily airborne, hurtling towards the startled merc, his buddy only just wisening up, paniced fingers worked at the clasp of his sheath but it was just too late. Ribs cracked and a great chunk of blood jetted from the attacked guards lips, Elbow, shoulder and most of the Highlanders weight having smashed directly into his chest, the leather armour doing naught against sheer blunt trauma and the merc fell like the sack of shit he was. With his left arm free Corvus grabbed for the sheathed sword on the warriors hip, shoving with his right side and then with a snap the belt gave way, leaving the Highlander armed though hindered with a covered sword. The other guard had exposed his and charged towards the escapee, bringing his sword in from the side Corvus brought the sheathed weapon in against his arm, using it and the shackles still loosely clasped about his wrists in the hopes of a block, it did work and with a shove sent that weapon bearing arm off to the side. His body worked at a nice pace then, shifting his weight onto the opposite side of his body, pushing forward and then smashing the handle of his stolent weapon into the divet of his opponents neck, quickly followed by his claws pushing into the mid-riff, sinking right into the flesh and hoisting up, shredding the suffocating mercs insides.

Without a constant supply of oxygen, not to mention the pain and shock the sword swinging arm of the merc was easy to intercept, wrenching his hand free from inside those torn guts, sliding his claws along the enemies arm and then smacking his thumb and fore-finger against the weapons hilt, dragging it free from its owners grip and into his palm. Came just in time, another guard had been charging for Corvus, sword high in the air like a paniced novice, guess the rookies got the worst jobs while the veterens were up front with the boss, heel rising, then the sole and finally the Highlander forced himself into a lunge that planted his current broadsword deep into the fresh opponents chest, releasing the handle momentarily to give a hard shove against the stuck challenger and then ripping his blade free again.

The two a fair whack in front of him had gotten a grasp of the situation and weren't... hollaring... to the rest... he couldn't help it, Corvus raised his eyebrow at that particular moment.

Glory for themselves?... or maybe orders not to leave the caravans unprotected, makes sense sorta, makes things easier at least

As if reducing the many problems in his situation most of the wagons actually stopped in their tracks, didn't strike him as a good idea in all honesty but then he didn't have the mentality of a slaver or an unscrupulous merc working for some group, maybe he had to prove that any problem arose, he'd deal with it... or the front of the convoy had came across a fallen tree trunk that was proving a bitch to shift. One quick hop backwards brought Corvus out of range from his new attacker, quickly bringing the sheathed blade in front of his chest side-ways to catch the follow-up attack before battering it aside, then out of his way again... quick guy... then driving his blood-soaked sword up through the jaw of the merc, the entire body just going completely slack when the point sliced through his brain.

Thats four, fifths coming round behind me I'm sure, just twenty five more... great...