[center][b]Tired and Pissed off, a Hist Story[/b][/center]
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His breathing coming out in ragged gasps, the Argonian's voice sounded even more throaty than usual when he uttered his next well thought out word. 

"Fuck." 

His cable-like muscles were still useable, but they were shaky. He knew fighting half a dozen Kamal helpers was a lot, even with hit and run tactics. Daixanos supposed he should merely be thankful to the Hist for keeping him alive thus far. His curse, however, had been uttered because he did not know how long that would last for either he or his companions. Over the next rise, his fears had mounted when he heard the war cries of something he could only guess was a Kamal. He'd never seen one before, though it couldn't be more frightening than a giant. He could hear Sevine and Rasha'dar cry out. Unfortunately, his bleeding wounds and shaking body would not react in a deliberate way at the moment. 

He had faith in the Huntress, for he had heard tales of her. His respect for her skills was enough to give her the benefit of the doubt, even in such situations. Still, Daixanos was not good with words and he did not fancy the idea of seeing Do'Karth within a week, only to tell him "Yesss, I heard your lover dying over the hill. Fear not, for the Hist will perhaps reincarnate her in a few centuries." 

The Altmer on the ground in front of him groaned, but lay still. Daixanos had hit him quite hard on the head, and the blasted Elf would be out for a very long time, he knew. Speaking of blasted Elves, Keegan showed up out of the dark, at that moment. The Argonian ranger supposed he should be glad. He'd not really spoken a lot to Keegan, but his survival meant there was a chance the others had as well. 

He looked just in time to see Daelin flop down the hill. It would have been comical to see him awkwardly roll down the slope if Daixanos had a developed sense of humor, but alas, it was mostly confusing and, actually kind of ominous. Rasha'Dar and Sevine cresting the rise brought him some sense of relief, though the war cries behind them showed this was far from over unless they fled. 

Fleeing was not something Dax was used to, and Hist be damned if he'd ever tuck tail and run without putting up a fight. He finally felt able to get to his feet, albeit unsteadily. He growled, rising up slowly and wiping some of the blood from his side off his armor, turning his clawed hand crimson. He looked, and indeed felt, just about ready to grab his Axe and head straight back up the hill to fight whatever foe they faced. But... 

He saw the condition of his companions, and he did indeed feel concerned over the arrow in Rasha'Dar's torso. Perhaps a tactical retreat was not something he should feel ashamed of, when it meant the safety of his team. He had to admit he felt a sense of responsibility to them at the moment. 

That did not cause him to lose his yearning to face Kamal in battle. It was one of the main reasons he had decided to stay in this merry band, and he loathed the fact that he had to run on his first encounter with them. He glared daggers at the crest of the hill, daring any Kamal to make it over before his companions were ready to go. His mind caught up with him, however, and he made his way over to help Sevine carry the injured Rasha'dar. He looked over his shoulder back up the rise once more, and made a promise in his mind. This new prey of his would not escape a second time.