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Post by Ladd Russo of the Russo Family on Jan 3, 2011 1:13:52 GMT -5
"You know of horses? They are about that size, though they are more like cats. They are smart. I doubt anything else around here is big enough to catch their interests." He said this all briskly, quickly, trying to match their accent so that they could better understand him. He had his makeshift spear, which was to say a sharpened reed that had about a decade on it. And he had a sharp length of slate that he had used to cut the otters.
When he saw Dodger was still empty-handed, his one eye widened. "Have you not a weapon?" he asked, offering the length of slate. Hopefully Dodger knew how to use it, but otherwise it would be a decent last defense. His 'spear' was a temporary thing they often made a dozen of in the guard. It would likely start to splinter after the first few stabs.
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Post by Arual on Jan 6, 2011 21:07:28 GMT -5
"Just delightful." Whitte muttered sarcastically, clenching his teeth as he put his legs into fighting stance despite the right's injury. He turned around when Devshiva mentioned the lack of defense of Dodger's part. That wasn't good. They were getting closer too.
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Post by Señor Sunday Friday on Jan 19, 2011 0:14:45 GMT -5
Dodger took the length of slate and nodded a thanks, holding it and trying not to cut himself. He missed his knife. "Any weak spots?" he asked, looking around with wide eyes trying to find where exactly the creatures were going to be coming from and what they would do first. He figured it couldn't possibly be worse than anything in Vundarst or the outlying countries but that would have been a comfort if he had actually fought something there before- one time their caravan was attacked by Night Shriekers and sure, he was there but he didn't fight anything and he actually didn't see anything either. He heard it though. He couldn't hear anything for days and for months afterwards his ears were ringing. They lost two men and a horse in that attack.... he wasn't even thinking about the supplies that were ruined.
He sorely hoped these creatures wouldn't be like that. He really, really hoped that 'as big as horses' or whatever was an exaggeration. And in a note- this isn't cowardice, it's a healthy sense of self preservation because not everyone is suicidally 'brave.' (see: stupid)
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Post by Ladd Russo of the Russo Family on Jan 21, 2011 19:02:19 GMT -5
When they came, they were like tigers. Gigantic cats with snowy-white fur, their faces skinny and fierce with large yellow eyes. There was some evidence of adaption to the watery environment, however. When their claws shot out from their paws, a tough, skin-like membrane retracted back from in between the toes of their large, mudstained paws, reminiscent of a frog. The tails were long and thin the way a sword was, and their large ears were curved back down their skull and attached to their necks, making their openings a narrow slit. They circled silently, no communication needed now. There were three of them, and surprisingly, a man behind them.
His hair came to his waist, but it was a muddy tangle that had little hope of ever being brushed out. His face was a rictus of a grin, eyes full of hate. He spoke something strange, and the Redsetters attacked, one for each person.
"The man is commanding them," Devshiva said in surprise. A remnant from a long past war. "Try to avoid hurting the animals if you can. He is our target."
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Post by Arual on Jan 23, 2011 19:31:52 GMT -5
Whitte had looked around, searching for a man past the dogs as they came charging through the grounds. He then saw him, and his arrows immediately flew as fast as he could string them up and let them go. One aiming for the dog in front of him if it intended on getting too close.
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Post by Señor Sunday Friday on Jan 23, 2011 22:44:03 GMT -5
You know, somehow the beasts seemed like much more important threats at this point- didn't it make more sense to get rid of the things with teeth and claws first? It would be a lot easier to kill a general if his guards weren't there... you know, general thought process and he didn't know if he had the time or capability to fend off these creatures and kill this man at the same time. He didn't say anything of course, he continued with his holding the weapon out to defensively and made absolutely no efforts to get the man. I mean, really... there was this... thing or whatever to deal with! What? I mean really.
He was a lover, not a fighter. >8I
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Post by Ladd Russo of the Russo Family on Jan 24, 2011 0:20:05 GMT -5
It was strange fighting with them. Usually he worked either alone or with a highly qualified group of people. He was not used to the middle ground, nor was he sure he could get them through this alive. His luck was going splendidly, which warranted a grim smile.
"A Papertongue, a Sarnian witch that can control animals," he told them. Information was the heart of a fight, and he realized they might not know much. "Let's say we deprive him of that tongue," he added stoically, since it was sentences like those that motivated his usual men and women, and that struck fear in the fools who sought to sow dissention in Floht.
The dark haired, wild-eyed man appeared to have totally lost his wits, however, and did not seem intimidated. One of Whitte's arrows pierced his shoulder, and he stumbled back, now breathing heavily with pain. The creature about to slash at Dodger instead leapt over him with a mighty splash and attempted to hurt Whitte who offered such a threat to the man controlling them. The other one had shied back from Whitte's arrow and looking at him with a new distrust. Redsetters were fast learners, which is why they usually avoided people. Devshiva played a circle game with his, keeping his reed-spear low and moving readily to each of the cat's steps, making it wary.
He needed to get past it... "Don't hurt the animals!" he said again.
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Post by Arual on Jan 25, 2011 20:26:00 GMT -5
Whitte had a bit of trouble with that demand. "Easier said than done!" he struggled to say as the beast tackled him. He tried to roll out of it, but with his leg, the chance was slimmer than usual. How could he not hurt it and get away? This was hard.....and heavy!!!
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Post by Señor Sunday Friday on Jan 25, 2011 22:38:35 GMT -5
Now they were focusing on Whitte, advantageous for him most certainly. He made his way across the wetland set before him, doing his best to make headway to the man, his feet slipping in the mud and honestly making him look like a sorry excuse for a fighter, his eyes narrowed at the strange attacker. As long as he didn't have to worry about those creatures he would be okay.
As long as Whitte and Devshiva kept them occupied it would be okay. It would all be okay. He would be okay. Alright. He got this.
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Post by Ladd Russo of the Russo Family on Jan 26, 2011 17:07:41 GMT -5
"Back! Stay back, demon! Son of the Holder, back you now!" the man snarled as Dodger approached. It was lucky that they were fighting someone obviously deranged, since the fact that Dodger was hardly armed and spattered with mud did not seem to intimidate him any less than a creature of the damned set afire and screaming. He had no weapon, and he appeared to be wearing some kind of robes thrice tattered and dragged through grime.
"Easier dead than done," Devshiva said, laughing sharply. Seeing Dodger, he concentrated his efforts on helping Whitte while trying to keep his own creature back. Moving quickly to the side, he whacked the one on Whitte with the side of his thick reed, making a loud sound and distracting the creature as it looked up to assess another threat. Unfortunately, the other went for Devshiva at this point, and his swipe missed badly, allowing a wide swipe to throw him into the muddy water. He rolled before it could pin him, feeling fire sear down his arm where it had snagged him, taking flesh with it. Things were... harder to place with one eye. The empty socket ached with renewed vigor at his concentration.
The last redsetter, called by the crazy man, left the group and started running for Dodger, though it was slowed a little by a tangling vine.
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