[center][h2][u][color=9e0b0f]J A C K A L[/color][/u][/h2][/center]
[center][i][h3]“A Caged Dog”[/h3][/i][/center]

The hum of the shuttle was like the throaty growl of a beast. Head tilted slightly, Nym could feel the adrenaline building. Growing inside of her, it took with it all her giddy and carefree attitude from before and locked somewhere safe. She doubted she would see it again for a while. As the shuttle dropped to touch ground, Nym grew anxious. Not at the danger she would face, but at having to bottle the energy that was threatening to take over. The collapsible bow came into her capable grasp and with swift hands, it locked into its opened position. 

[i]‘Let us out,’[/i] she insisted mentally, watching the exit. They’d hardly touched ground but the waiting had felt like an eternity. Her gaze didn’t even flicker as others spoke around her. She tuned them all out. The doors began to open, bodies rushed the exit. Head lowered, she followed suit. Unlike most knights, she would find a way of setting herself further back. The cries of battle already well under way, the sounds of death made it hard to think clearly. 

Nym hissed in a breath as she narrowly dodged a projectile. The sounds of an explosion behind her as it made contact didn’t manage to steal her attention. Instead, she pulled the string taught and allowed it to brush her lips, she released and sent the arrow flying into the throat of the offending party. Nym was over him the moment that he dropped, ripping the weapon from its lodged location to reuse. 

A cry headed her way, she pivoted. Nym identified the enemy, then drew and released. Rinse and repeat, like a machine with a singular job. Ad nauseum. Continue. The only real issue with wearing as little protective gear as she did was that she had to be significantly more careful than most. Hyper awareness was hard to maintain when constant stimuli surrounded her from every angle. It made movement much easier, though. 

“Kid!” 

When a strong grasp circled her waist and pulled her back, the woman writhed quickly. She slipped from dark and oversized hands with ease only to take aim upon a friendly face. “Crux?” she realized, immediately taking a scope of their surroundings before turning to face him once more.

Instead of answering, he slammed his helmet into an enemy mage. Then again. The helmet now covered in blood, she watched Jaxon shake his head animatedly in frustration. She handed him the scarf she’d been using as a dust mask while she readied her weapon. As he wiped away the mess to see once more, he finally spoke. “You go deaf? Or just have selective hearing?” he asked, sounding rather unamused. He must’ve attempted to get her attention and she’d ignored him.

“I’ve got two names. You can use one of them,” she shot back with a smirk. 

“Get it together, Jackal. No laughing matter unless you want to leave here in a box,” he insisted. “Not like where we’ve been before,” he added, rotating the sword in his right hand.

“Selective hearing. I’m not blind,” she fired back without hesitation. “What an honor, I get to fight alongside my hero,” she joked, the last word coming out strained as she released an arrow. It stuck in the armor of her target but didn’t otherwise affect them. “Shit,” she cursed, pulling another back against the string.

Nym didn’t need to look at Crux to know he was disappointed. So far she had shown him nothing impressive. “Be a good dog, show me some teeth,” he encouraged lowly, his head lowered as he lifted the oversized blade.

Clenched jaws made it hard to speak but Nym answered just the same. “Yes, sir.”