[b]Kilaro Rock, Seusebi camp[/b]

The smell of blood and the soil upturned by the dancing and grinding of battle-shocked Satyrs and man turned in the air as the darkness glistened and glittered with the dancing and parrying metal of spears and knife. The crashing of metal and rock rang out in the darkened fire-lite night as the two princes darted through the madness of battle. Shouts echoed from the darkness, seemingly falling from the sky itself, sounding as if even the Gods were angered at the blasphemy below.

([url=http://youtu.be/-u3Ux6ky57Y]Action Tiem[/url])

Cowering against his side, Rwan clung to Niyo as they skirted through. Carefully keeping an eye as to where the worst of the fighting was. But everywhere there was fighting. Masked assailants throwing themselves down on the servant retinues who fought with only their own fists and rocks. Their faces torn between panic and fear as they took poorly the puncture of the knife, flaying the skin of their arms or skewering their bellies.

Thrown into a fury the Seusebi's guards charged among the battle, breaking across the heads of the attackers and sticking their guts with their spears and thick wood frame and hide-dressed shields. Skewering the lightly armored humans into the dirt they trampled them with their hooves, cracking their heads open as effectively as it would be to hammer them flat with a stone.

Lean-tos constructed of sticks and leather sleeping bags had been tossed about the trampled grasses by the battle. Broken red standards lay lopsided onto the ground. Fires burned hot and columns of smoke rose thick into the air.

Niyo and Rwan weaved quickly between the wreckage. The prince's spear bit out quickly at the assailants. He was swift, as were the rest of the guard as they prowled across the dark battlefield trying to put the violence to a rest. Like they, he moved quick. Gangly Rwan trying his best to keep pace.

In the thick fog of battle he nearly them both into the thick burning pyre of a tent, collapsed in their path and smoldering, coughing up a thick cloud of dark smoke the shrouded his vision until it was too late. Seeing this, Niyo's heart jumped and he snapped to the side, throwing his hooves to the side and trampling back across slick Earth. In his panic he felt his weight lift off from the ground. Rwan screamed against the fur of his legs as they both spilled down. Falling with a splat into the mud, covering themselves in muck and blood.

From the boiling remains of the tent Niyo turned to see the silhouette of a charging figure. Charging over the burning wreckage, his feet lifted as he lunged over the burning timbers and cloth with a heavy bronze club raised over his head. Fire and smoke drew deep bands of light and dark across his dark scowling skin as he pounced on them like a pouncing lion. His robes torn and frayed so much so, he was close to being naked. A primal ecstatic urge to kill burned in his eyes, his muscles tense as he flew.

Niyo didn't have a moment to thick. Quickly, he grabbed his brother by the shoulder and they both rolled to the side as the man splashed down to where they two had laid. The slick mud splashing as he landed, and the tortuously bladed mace splashing into the earth where the two princes had laid just moments ago.

The attacker roared furiously, “Bastards!” he screamed, hoisting the weapon over his head again as his bare toes clenched the mud under his feet, turning, “You both!” he roared angrily, peeling the club out of the sticky bloodied mud.

Before it could so much as raise to his shoulder Niyo hooked a hoof about, turning in the viscous mud and catching him in the ankles with a sharp hard turn of his hoof. With a loud crack the man spilled back, tripped over. With a splash himself he fell to the ground, his mace falling out of arm's reach.

The prince's heart beat fast in his chest. The man was quickly stirring in the mud, turning to pull himself up. He had to do like-wise, grabbing his younger brother by his hair he pulled them both up. Rwan yelped in pain as his he felt his scalp being pulled. But there was no time for thinking about it. Fires burned at their back, and a would-be killer was scrambling to his own feet.

Throwing his brother aside Niyo turned about, spinning quickly and reaching for a spear that was not there. He felt a great rope tug at his chest as he realized he had lost his weapon. A staunch fear boiled in his chest and filled it with lead. Then with the force of a ram a black fist pelted him across the face and sent him spilling again to the filthy ground.

With a cracking omph he landed on his back against the sloppy ground. He rose his hands just in time to catch the lunging body jumping onto him.

Catching the man's wrists Niyo was caught fighting the glistening icy blade of a long curved knife as its master held it tight between knuckled red with furious intent. The man's broad face was curled back in a twisted yellow snarl. His nostrils bulged as he fought the prince's grip to bring the knife down to his own neck.

Grinting his teeth Niyo fought back. Pushing with his entire strength against the knife's blade as it shone hot-orange in the reflected fire-light. “NIYO!” Rwan screamed agonizingly from the side. He grit his teeth as he eyes glued themselves to the curved knife. The tensity of the moment was thin. A fragile balance between his own life and he could feel the pressure. It was a dire fight.

“Niyo, no!” Rwan continued to sob from a distance. Though young he was considered adult. And the thick sobbing of his panicked and distraught voice was distressing in itself.

“I-I'll do something!” the younger prince called back.

“Da shit y'will!” the assailant shouted back, peeling himself back from Niyo as he lunged up. His voice dripping with the thirst for blood. The dagger swept back in the air as he charged for Niyo's younger brother. Reaching out he grabbed the man by the torn ruffs of his peeling robes and rained him back.

But he had gone far enough. With a quick whipping of the knife through the air, it cut a cruel arch and cut the prince across the prince's face. He wailed in pain and fell back. In that moment time slowed for Niyo. He felt the pain cut his chest as he watched his brother raise his hands to his eyes where the blade had cut. The blood was thick, just moments after being cut. His pained screams and wails echoed in the night over all other sounds. All others became muted, and so did all sights become snuffed out.

The burning intensity in his chest grew hotter and consumed him deeper. From his groin to his head he felt seething and glowing with intense fury. The man had been drawn back, which no doubt kept him from cutting his brother's throat clear open. But he was scrambling up now to finish the job.

With a hawkish fury Niyo pounced up from the mud. Throwing himself on the shoulders of the man. Balling his fists up he rose them over his head and brought them down over the back of the man's neck. There was a popping sputter as the full force of the prince's strength came down and he fell to the mud. He struggled and fought to throw him off, but Niyo was intent in his aims. Too far consumed with something greater than he.

Again, his fists rose above his head and again they fell in an arch. The man's neck again cracked. And again as he pounded down atop of him. Over and over his hands rose and feel, swallowed in his primal rage. The mud splashed under neath, squelching and bubbling as the human was driven deeper. His body spasmed from the intense assault, until finally stilling. Niyo sitting over top him, legs splayed out alongside him as he leaned to the one side, breathing deep the ash of his own dispute.

“N-niyo!” Rwan sobbed close by. Niyo looked up, panting heavily over the still body of the man between his legs. Sprawled broken nearby, caked high with dripped wet, brown, and red mud sat Rwan. His small hands clutched tight to his face as streams of deep red blood dripped out between long slender fingers. His voice was wet, and sobbing. “N-niyo, I can't see!” he wailed, “I-I can't see! H-help. Where are you, brother?”

“I-I am here.” Niyo said weakly, his voice dry and parse. “Can you hear me?”

“I-I can, but I can't see you!” Rwan stuttered weakly. He reached out blindly with one bloodied hand. Niyo met it and held it firm between his fingers. The blood was warm and sticky.

“I-I-I...” Rwan stammered, sobbing. He wasn't coherent enough for words and his breath stole itself away between bloodied tears and wet sobs. Snot and saliva flowed from his mouth and nose as he sat still in that puddle. He doubt pissed himself, from the smell. But he was all together filthy, and it very well probably didn't matter.

“Come on, I'll get you to mother.” Rwan coaxed gently, pulling himself to his hooves, holding tight his brother's clenched hand. Slowly and unstably he did the same, “She's got medicine to fix this...” he said, hopefully. He looked around him, looking for his spear. But in the smoke, the darkness, and the thick mud accumulating it was unlikely he would find it. Guiding his brother along he sheparded him about.

Passing their assailant's weapon, he bent down and pulled the sticky mace from the muck. It was crude, heavy, and unbalanced. But it would have to do.

He held a pensive breath as they wound through, keeping low. His brother, shocked, was unwilling to run. He whinnied and whined in his pain and his sorrow. Beside himself in the darkness that claimed his vision.

“Brother?” Rwan asked.

“Yes?” Niyu responded, stopping to bow low, and peer through the smoke. There were satyr's hooves ahead.

“Will I see the stars again?” Rwan asked.

Niyo hesitated, hopeless how to respond. “Y-yea...” he said weakly, lying to his brother. And himself. Carefully he plodding through the billowing smoke, leading on his brother by a hand.

“Really?” Rwan said. Niyo wished it was hopeful as they moved through the smokey haze. But there was cynicism in his words. A unhampered disbelief. It was grim.

“Yeah...” said Niyo, keeping up his lies. It felt better to keep the young Satyr in hope than it was to not. Deep down it was probably untrue. But as the proverb went: if one lied to his self so much, it will become a truth.

“Bui Niyo!” a voice called out in excitement as the prince cut through the smoke, coming into a clearing guarded by pensive satyrs. Niyo looked to who had spoken, his face fallen into despair too clearly.

“And... Bui Rwan...” the speaker said again, his voice dropping and curling up in disgust. No doubt seeing the heady wound behind the young colt's hands.

“Mami Osowo.” Niyo said, nodding his head at the large overweight chieftain sitting in the middle of the clearing. His thickly furred and stripped legs looked hardly able to lift the flabby bulk of a Afarid, but they did.

Mami was a balding man, and what hair he still had turned to a deep silver halo that crowned his natural pin-headedness. Thick jowls were barely hid by a thin scraggly beard. “It's a pleasure to see you well, all things considered.” he smiled nervously. He looked to his men who kept a parameter around the fat aging chief. They wore no armor, being more hunters than the few professional retinues Niyo's father and mother kept. They stood as if waiting for the lions to come.

“What happened here?” Niyo demanded. Rwan followed up behind him, his shoulder brushing alongside Niyo's arm. He sniffed back the tears and stood listening.

“The Hells should I know.” Mami shrugged, shaking his head, “We were fine off, having food and drink when all the sudden we hear someone scream above the songs. Then all the sudden these human swine were running all over us.

“I and my men fought them back here. But most of them went off running to your mother's tent.” Mami advised. Somehow Niyo doubted he had any hand in fighting. His sausage hands were far too clean for that, as were other things.

“M-mom...” Rwan stuttered.

“The prince looks injurred.” Mami exclaimed, nervously pointing to Rwan, “What happened?” he asked in a concerned voice.

“Someone... cut him.” Niyo said, “I was going to take him to mother's to keep him safe. And now to attend to him. B-”

“My medicine woman, Yoani. She can help!” Mami exclaimed, “Or help to stifle the boy's bleeding and pain until the Seusebi can see to him. Listen, you can still hear the shouts from your mother's tent!”

Niyo closed his mouth, puckering in his lips as he listened to the night. True enough in the direction of the camp's nexus he could hear the shouting. The thumping and clash of metal. “It will be safer to leave him here.” Mami said, “While we have peace.”

“You're right.” Niyo nodded.

“N-niyo no!” Rwan protested, “Don't leave me, I don't want you to leave me!”

“And I can't have you with me when I go into a fight!” Niyo responded, “I will be back for you. When it's all said and done. If not, I'll send for you. But you'll be safe.”

He let go of his hand, gently placing his fingers on his shoulder, “Don't worry.” he encouraged.

Mami hobbled over to the young prince, “The Bugan will protect you.” he said comfortingly, guiding him to the side.

“Niyo, you should go fast. Hasten to your mother's side. I don't know what you might expect. But Moa's grace with you.”

“And you too.” Niyo bowed.