|
Post by Ladd Russo of the Russo Family on Nov 29, 2010 21:39:37 GMT -5
"The two are coming," Rid announced. "One seems sick." Lareg and Adra looked up, the latter pulling Devshiva's head out of the water briefly.
"Why would they come?" Adra asked, shaking her head with a laugh. "Lost puppies want to see their revenge?"
"If they want to watch, let them," Lareg said with a shrug, his anger twisted into a frightening smile. "Anything else they want to say can wait. I have waited too long, watching him deny himself like he has so much damned self control, like these bastards deserve any of it from us. Children, healers, women, so superior because they can't pick up a knife, and Devshiva with them for putting his head to the mud so that they won't dirty their damn feet, so noble," he hissed.
He took his knife, noticing that Devshiva's one hand still held his mask in a nerveless yet iron grip, locked to it. Well, he wouldn't need those eye holes anymore. Lareg rose the knife, to blind the other eye.
|
|
|
Post by Arual on Nov 29, 2010 21:49:14 GMT -5
Whitte could feel the moon, somehow still there for the new day until the sun came full in the air. Maybe he could get more controlled now, rip out Lareg's trachea so he can scream and beg without the pleasure of speaking. When the two both reached Devisha, the young man knew that Lareg probably had intell that they were approaching.
Then perhaps it was time to bring something new to the table. "Dodger.....I'm sorry I have to spring this on you....but try not to panic." Whitte was a wolf now. All shades of brown in his coat, and golden eyes. Something in his eyes, though said it was certainly him, and not a dream. His muzzle turned forward, and went out to attack Lareg and the others.
|
|
|
Post by Señor Sunday Friday on Nov 29, 2010 22:00:40 GMT -5
Dodger collapsed at the sudden loss of support and a bit of shock, his eyes looking towards the wolf and his mouth was slightly agape as he sat there like a fool in the murk. A shifter? He was surrounded by users, illegal users... not so much as surrounded, he guessed but this person was keeping his gifts all to himself, not for the benefit of his people- people who needed his help? It was infuriating and went against a good number of sensibilities he carried and that was a hard thing to tackle before returning to the present. Out here in the middle of a swamp... in the middle of nowhere... where were his people?
|
|
|
Post by Arual on Nov 30, 2010 10:12:46 GMT -5
With a large growl and snarl, Whitte jumped into the scene before Devshiva could be hurt. He snapped at Lareg's arm with the knife in it, teeth sharp and claws sharper.
I would back off if I were you!
|
|
|
Post by Ladd Russo of the Russo Family on Nov 30, 2010 15:49:20 GMT -5
If there was one thing that the hardened, gore-encrusted souls of three lifelong guerilla soldiers of a swamp would not expect, it would be for a person to become some sort of demonic dog only after days of abuse and rush at them. So it was natural that Lareg hesitated by offering a religious exclamation before fangs tore a signicant chunk out of his considerable arm.
"So Death sent someone to collect us for this. By the Keeper, I knew it was wrong, I know it's wrong," Rid muttered, backing up. "Keeper in Heaven, forgive me... She's just everything that I see. I don't want to lose my eyes..."
"What are you talking about?" Adra demanded harshly, drawing her knife. They had left their spears at camp. Rid shook his head a few more times, eyes wide behind that mask, and then he fled into the swamp. "Damn it, Rid!" she said in deep disgust. "Come back!" But there was no answer. Adra had seen of shapeshifters before, she felt no reason to consider this divine intervention.
Lareg shouted in pain, knife dropping, and Devshiva fell back under the water again as Adra ran to join him in flanking the wolf, both of them raising up nearly no splash, methodical.
|
|
|
Post by Arual on Nov 30, 2010 16:18:04 GMT -5
Whitte had no enjoyment to sink his jaws into their flesh, being first and foremost a human; however, it was necessary, and he did it anyhow. Besides now it was his life just as much as Deshiva's or Dodgers. the wolf went into the water, and tried to pull Deshiva out as much as he could before anything else could happen to them both.
Whitte went on the defensive in his turn around in the matters of Lareg and Adra. Another snarl, fur on edge, and stained red teeth from his attack on the elder soldier. They could try to get him, but it would take some heavy damage to bring this wolf down. The later in the day, the better it (to Raegan) looked their chances were of getting rid of the other two soldiers.
|
|
|
Post by Señor Sunday Friday on Nov 30, 2010 17:30:12 GMT -5
Dodger made his way through the murk, misery engulfing his senses as his cleanliness became a memory once more and he wrapped his arms around Devshiva, if anything- he was more terrified of the shifter than of anything else here and he showed this by beginning the arduous effort of dragging both himself and the one-eyed man as far as possible from the altercation as quickly as his feeble constitution might have let him which wasn't at all as quick as he might have liked. Still, he pushed onwards quite nobly, getting an entire distance of an insignificant two feet with considerable effort and energy.
Dodger didn't have the want nor the means to fight, he was a lover- not a fighter and he didn't find any outlet in this situation requiring his talents. So he continued to occupy himself with the task of dragging two useless bodies to safer landwet.
((It's wet... and it's LAND! I'll call it... LANDWET!))
|
|
|
Post by Ladd Russo of the Russo Family on Nov 30, 2010 22:07:12 GMT -5
(Because apparently I cannot work on an essay for more than ten minutes. T.T)
Devshiva knew it was the songbird that was taking him away. To exact his own revenge, no doubt, though Dev in his more lucid mind had not believed him the type. Perhaps just to kill him, if not to mutilate. He could move his feet a little. His arms were weights, immobile. When he opened his eyes, the world swam--sky, reeds, water, Dodger, hiccuping up in down as he was dragged--around the agony of the hanging one, which saw only red. Finger, his finger twitched. Limbs felt full of burning sawdust, packed and smoldering. His other hand flexed and then gripped the mask it held compulsively. Not that he could fend anyone off in this situation, but he was human, he would fight for life while he still could no matter what the chances.
Lareg ran at the wolf with a thick reed ripped out of the soggy soil, rushing it in front of him as if it were the handle to a pushcart, to catch the thing by the mouth or neck and pin it down. Adra moved in behind him, jumping up and hopping lightly over his muscled back to slash down with her knife from above. Man or animal, they tended to go for nonconventional fighting techniques.
Shoulders burning back into control, Devshiva attempted to bash his porcelain mask across Dodger's face, eye opening briefly to get some idea of where the man was. Unfortunately, no amount of willpower was really a cure-all for being nearly concussed, and the result was a kind of half-roll where his arm left the ground for a few inches before flopping down again. He expected at any moment for the bard to draw some weapon and finish what he started. His only relief was that it was not Lareg or his often-used Adra.
|
|
|
Post by Arual on Nov 30, 2010 23:02:29 GMT -5
This was a pinch, huh? Whitte growled unhappily as he could hear Adra's footsteps behind him ready to kill him, and Lareg at his front flank. Damn. Whitte ducked to the ground and rolled to the side in hopes to miss it. He did by the skin of his teeth, both milliseconds away from having hit him.
What could he do now? It was hard to think of.......hard to process when they were so quick an opponent. He settled for another deep bite into their flesh and a scratch to the eyes.
|
|
|
Post by Señor Sunday Friday on Nov 30, 2010 23:49:55 GMT -5
"Stop it!" Dodger wheezed, his eyes narrowed as he continued his efforts to get them both to safety, "I should have-" he gagged on his lungs, "-just left you there!" he exclaimed as quietly as he could. This person wasn't saving a nation, wasn't stopping a plague and here he was being rescued... Dodger considered that he should have focused only on saving himself and then came the realization that this pretty much made him goddamn god-chosen, didn't it? Well he fancied to think so and with that as some small consolation he continued his work, "If you don't start helping or at least stop fighting then I'll just leave you!"
|
|
|
Post by Ladd Russo of the Russo Family on Dec 1, 2010 0:17:40 GMT -5
Lareg was bitten again, stumbling back as the claws grated against his mask, getting caught in the eye hole and ripping it off. The man jammed the butt of his makeshift spear at the wolf in response, trying to keep it away and/or stab it, while Adra darted back. She whipped in again like a snake, and that was actually what she had in her hand. Some watersnake was grasped by the neck, and she had no qualms about throwing the now-angry thing at the wolf with a triumphant gasp of laughter. The snake seemed quite ready to bite.
Those words were not the words of someone planning to kill or torture. Devshiva stopped, not sure he had heard correctly, confused. Foreign, that must be it. Keeper knew anythinga bout what they were thinking.
"Why are you...?" he managed hoarsely, trying to get to his feet, managing in a kinda not really way; his balance shot. His eye. Gingerly but insistently he put his free hand to the dangling thing, hardly even increasing what pain was already there. There was blood, half of it seemed torn. He would not be able to push it back in and regain sight, with it so ripped. Confused, the world was still spinning, though in weaker movements.
|
|
|
Post by Arual on Dec 1, 2010 0:22:24 GMT -5
Whitte whipped around to behind Lareg, shifting back into human form and sending an arrow through the snake and sending it nailed to the ground. Again, too close, but enough he had no more than a scratch on his shoulder from the pole Lareg had. *badass moment*
Another arrow went for Adra.
|
|
|
Post by Señor Sunday Friday on Dec 1, 2010 0:30:09 GMT -5
"Because frankly? It's called a-" he wheezed in air, "Conscience. I've seen too many men die to let someone do just that without a trial." he tried to explain as his voice became more and more strained from talking. Still he continued his work, a living carcass pulling the dead-weight of the barely conscious man. This was rediculous, "We need to get-" more coughing, "-out of here." he stated the obvious as one once surmised that if men did not continue talking, their jaws would simply fall off and Douglas Adams was indeed a very informed man.
Anyways.
Today totally sucked.
|
|
|
Post by Ladd Russo of the Russo Family on Dec 1, 2010 0:53:02 GMT -5
Adra dove out of the way, into the murky water, though the arrow disappeared somewhere with her, maybe even hitting her. Lareg turned, stepping back to disengage while he did not know where his enemy was. His eyes widened briefly as he saw he was fighting a man again, and he swung his reed like a bat at him with the strength to fell a tree. Okay, that was an exaggerration, but it got the point across.
"I am of the Border Guard," Devshiva said clearly, as if wondering if Dodger had someone missed the fact. He seemed to be wondering how what the bard said related to him at all, in that 'my eyeball is hanging out and my head is bleeding' kind of way. Which is to say, faintly interested but really putting the subject to the back seat. His feet were finding the ground a lot easier now, much more than empty air and a lurching of his stomach as he half fell, much more solid silt. Now, he was walking.
He moved to a landwet that was nearly landdry nearby and sat down, trying to keep an eye on Raegan's fight, which was just as perplexing and could quickly turn on him. "I... thank you... for your conscience...." he said, flatness of voice alleviating somewhat in an effort to be heartfelt. Sick, the songbird was sick, coughing too much. "Whitte is... helping?"
|
|
|
Post by Arual on Dec 1, 2010 11:43:49 GMT -5
Whitte was thrown back into the trunk of a tree further back despite his best efforts to hold his ground if nothing else. Dirt was spread all over his clothing and his lip was bleeding, as well as a cut on his cheek. Great. This was just what he needed in a swamp full of who knew what. The young man got his bearings back and pulled an arrow onto the bow, and let it fly, aiming at Lareg.
|
|