Gonna keep an eye on this. Maybe CS tomorrow.
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A Spiny Ant
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Arrows slammed into her, bolts of pain hammered into her flesh, but Atzi was no meager deer, no mangy wolf. She was a force of fury all on her own, and every shot that struck only furthered the flame within. After all, in the short-term, any arrow that didn’t kill her was not worth considering.
Atzi rose up the hill with a flurry of kicked-up snow, hardly even registering the strange garbs of her foes. Padded armor? What of it? Masked faces? What of it?! They were enemies enough, bastards that tied up the pet of a dear friend and tortured it for days on end! They were unknown figures in richly-colored garbs and possessed by ill intent! For all she knew, they were responsible for the disaster that befell Dawn recently, for the misery and the chaos, the immeasurable losses that everyone sustained and the emotional labour that weighed down on Achel!
“Don’t FUCK with me!”
Three charged with blades drawn, while two stepped back, nocking their arrows back for more shots, but Atzi was already upon them. With one swing, she tossed her cloak upon the closest, before clenching her fist and delivering a haymaker right in the tangled man’s face. More pain shot up, microfractures in her knuckles, but she felt too, the glorious sensation of cartilage rending, of teeth, of bones snapping. He flew back three meters, and did not rise back up. The other two paused at this display of ferocity, but with archers at their backs, they couldn’t exactly retreat as Atzi rounded upon them, the lioness baring her teeth!
Blades glistened in the dying light, but sharp weapons did surprisingly poorly against a blunted instrument. She met the first one straight on, slamming her wooden club and letting the honed edge of her opponent’s blade bite deep into the edge, before a flick of the wrist disarmed him. He stumbled back, stance thrown wide open, and before a recovering could be made, Atzi’s foot swung out and up. There was an audible crack as his testes were pulverized, and he lurched forward, collapsing as vomit spewed out from the sides of his mask.
But Atzi’s single-minded focus allowed the remaining fighter to circle around her, lunging forth with his blade while the archers finally seized their opportunity, releasing their arrows in unison. At this range, it was impossible to miss such a large target, but even then, they would aim at center mass, to maximize the chances of striking an organ. It would, indeed, be fatal.
Fatal, that was, for the one behind Atzi.
Snow exploded beneath her feet as the woman leapt upwards, drawing her knees up against her chest as the arrows barely grazed past her legs and slammed into the fighter behind her. One in the chest and another in the arm. He fell back a couple steps, letting out only a gasp, before Atzi landed on top of him, sending him definitively into the ground.
And, well, if he’s already dead, he may as well be put to use.
With the frontline cleared, she wrestled the corpse out of the snow and thrust it in front of her, creating a shield of flesh as she rushed towards the remaining two archers. With all luck, Vammy could clear out the five that targeted her, but even if the demon didn’t, that was fine. The barbarian was going to run the riot and get her ten pounds of flesh, no matter what.
The night air blew past Klava, humid scents of shore and steam whisking away the smell of alcohol as she twisted out of one window and then up into another, just in time for a dining room table to be flung towards her. Food waste was terrible, and tossing furniture out into the waters below essentially counted as pollution and illegal dumping. Verdict? The rodent was a bitch.
“Snowball Stunner!”
As her sashes latched around the edges of the window, Klava’s left arm crossed her right, her Instrument glowing ever-bright with the consumption and transformation of atmospheric mana. She pulled the tablecloth out of her way and jabbed her beloved blade forward. A melody thrummed, and then snow swirled out, striking the flying table with a tightly-packed ball of snow, sending it back to the one that had flung it to begin with. With any luck, it’d cause enough of a pause that would allow Klava to secure her landing inside the penthouse.
And after that? It’ll be a good time to improvise.
The sun had yet to rise. The moons have already fallen.
It was pitch-black, an inky, consuming darkness, one that teased at the imagination, one that questioned the nature of reality and perception. There were stories, after all. Of staring at one’s reflection in darkness, and of watching that reflection distort into the visage of an individual past or future. Of revenants and blood-drinkers, lurking in woods as silent as predators, seeking a warm pulse, a frightened heart. Of Fendel’s phantom itself, a curse upon the light that could only exist in that hour before daybreak, struggling in vain to exact vengeance before light defined shadow once more.
But for Rossweine, the pitch black was the depths of a lake. It was oblivion and unbecoming, where even a prince could melt into the aether, dissolved into nothingness. Below his feet, dew-drenched grass snaked around his toes. Between his fingers, the burdens of two wooden buckets cut past the flesh and weighed on the bones. And held in his eyes was the very substance of reality and imagination, where even when wide-open, he could see the wireframe of his visualizations, imposed upon the blackness of reality. The wind brought with it the smell of spring and pine. The water sloshed back and forth, scents and soap agitated. Now, and only now, a courtyard could become refuge.
His toe touched the trunk of a tree. He raised first bucket. Closed his eyes.
Scented water drowned him; clear water cleansed him.
The lake remained still in the night and the cold. The lake was the reflection of the self.
…
It was little matter, retracing his steps to the front of the barracks. He had wrung the water out of his silk nightclothes, and it was dry when he stepped into the commons room, the redness of his skin fading away at the small flames that lit up the area. He smoothed his damp hair back against his skull. Ever pristine, ever majestic, despite, or perhaps because of, his simple garb. Pine undertones colored the scent of snow, and he scanned the other early-risers. Signar, Julian, Dot, and another only vaguely familiar, bearing the complexion of the people of Valefor.
He let out a breath. It was too early, Rossweine decided, to necessitate any performance. Signar and Julian would be better at ease with simpler language, and Dot’s behavior during the dinner last night left enough indications that the Light-Blessed held some sort of grudge, some disdain, against himself. As for the newest amongst them…
It was too early to care. Daylight and activity would better reveal character. Nathaniel would be up soon enough as well. Perhaps Kai and Zenshin as well, going by the air of nerves and excitement that had driven the others out of bed.
“Good morning, Signar, Julian, Dot, Elon. I will be breaking my fast now.” For all their efforts last night, being the last squad to be called up summarily meant being the last squad to get a table, and thus being the last squad to get food. “Join me, if you care to.”
It was early, but there would be food regardless. Early as the others had risen, the staff rose earlier still. That was the case, is the case, and will always be the case.
If not for Vammy’s warning, things would be different.
Different, but perhaps only in circumstance.
Bowstrings thrummed, and Atzi imposed herself before those that she sought to keep alive, red eye alight with fury that had an enemy. Her wooden club caught three of the arrows, staccato thumps felt in her hand, and two more scattered against the boulder behind them, snagged upon the cloak that she swung up to intercept. She caught the sixth shot in her left forearm, letting out a roar of pain as adrenaline surged in once more, that miracle drug that grant strength to the fatigued, relief for the pained.
The first volley passed, but any archer worth their salt could fire the next within seconds. Hiding behind the boulder just meant they could better organize and maneuver, corral and flank. Running away was worse; it would be like being asked to be shot in the back or hunted down for hours on end. There was, as always, just one route ahead. As with wolves, as with bears, as with monsters, as with humans, she would fight until she died. Atzi grit her teeth and clenched her left fist.
“Vammy, cover!”
And with a lion’s roar, the wild woman charged forth up the incline, prepared to snap their bows and break their bones.
It was a corpse, but at least it had the courtesy to look presentable. Bleached bone shone white in the shafts of light that still managed to penetrate the dilapidated roof of the facility, all signs pointing towards a Warped that possessed an exceptionally sharp blade or some sort of pressurized projectile that emulated an edge. It was humid enough, at least, that some waterjet-spewing plant monstrosity was an option.
Or a turtle.
"Found a dead 'un," Xuan-Yu spoke in comms. "If whatever killed them was still here, Dulac, we're dealing with a real keen fellow." The birds were silent, but he had not heard them fly off either. Was it danger? Or just surveillance? The man reached for his Stinger Blade, drawing out the cloaked weapon with nary a sound. "Pick up anything from those leftovers?"
“A shot sounds lovely,” Klava chimed, leaning over to swipe a bottle of gin and orange juice from behind the counter. She filled up her own shot glass with it until it was up to the very brim, and then downed it in one go. Lovely stuff. One had to fill their bellies up with fire before fighting a pyromaniac, after all. She let out a sigh, then extended a hand out to her partners-in-crime.
“Won’t have time for timing it properly, so we’ll just go in as soon as possible.” Her gaze turned to Gale expectantly, waiting for the Flight spell to be passed over. If it didn’t though, it was no big deal. “Let’s rock n roll this shit up.”
The bouncers were coming soon, but Klava herself had already hopped off the stool, readying herself for a quick, magically-assisted exit-ascent-enter. Upon reflection, it may have been a smarter idea to have talked all this out before entering the nightclub, but hey, it was all good. What was another fire at a nightclub, if not panic at the disco?
Before the two set off, Atzi made a tired grin at Vammy’s remark, her large hand reaching back and mushing up the corrupted elf’s hair.
“I’m not going to die.”
And with that they were off again, her muscles rolling like steel cords as she powered out of the cabin and into the woods. Physical exertion shook off the last of the lingering cold that infected her form, and as she breathed in the naturally cold air, the dark-skinned woman could feel herself settling into that comfortable, energetic rhythm again. But comfort or not, the path turned perilous as they got deeper in, and more concerning, the second call-and-response she had with Talien was cut short.
Ominous. Deathly so.
She swallowed her spit, furrowed her brow, and drove away her worries with action, snow kicking up as she ran with ever greater speed, Vammy’s weight doing almost nothing to impede her. And when she arrived at the scene, Atzi stopped.
Pressed this close to her, Vammy could feel it. A heart that roared like a hammer. A heat that built up like a volcano. A rage most murderous, restrained by a body gone so rigid as to have become a stone coffin.
But the moment passed, and Atzi set her companion down before rushing over to the wolf’s side. “God’s above,” she whispered, drawing out her knife and sawing at the ropes. “Tallen, stay with me here, I’ll get you out in a second!” Her sawing became violent stabs, tearing into the thick ropes before she opted to flat-out rip them arm with her hands. Unconcerned with her surroundings, the woman reached into her pouch and pulled out some dried meat for the wolf. It’d do nothing to sate the beast’s appetite, but every bit of energy would help with the recovery.
“Be strong for me, alright? Where’s Maira?” Her head swivelled from the left to the right, trying simply to spot any droplets of blood leading away from the boulder, any footprints in the snow that weren’t her own. “Vammy, do you, I don’t know, sense anything weird?”
There was an edge of desperation in her tone. And yet, it was still off.
Light and Wind, hm? That made things a bit more interesting. KoT was, for one, squaring up to be both their source of major damage, as well as their supporter. It wasn’t ideal, of course, but having a cannon was better than nothing. Gale’s Flight spell definitely opened up more options for a breach, however, and Klava closed her eyes briefly, recalling the exterior of the club, the options she had for getting around. Her sashes swayed to a non-existent wind and she opened her eyes again.
Honestly, the best option would be to just to block the apartment’s door and then burn the whole building down. Call it poetic justice if she needed to smooth over her conscience. They could position themselves outside afterwards and pick Sofron off from the exit points, if the smoke inhalation and physical fire doesn’t take him down first.
That was all manners of fucked up though, so she went for the second plan.
“Alright, I’ll trust you can handle that then, Gale.” She rounded them up conspiratorially, more like three girlfriends sharing some inconsequential, scandalous rumors rather than three Espers plotting an assassination. “KoT and you go up the stairs. Do a knock and all. Diversion away from the window, which I’ll go through with the help of your Flight. It’ll be a double-layered ambush, but if the window doesn’t work, I’ll Blink back to you two and we’ll play it by ear from there.”
She swung back her head and shot a wink at the bartender.
“If no one’s got any questions, let’s stay frosty and hope for a smooth sailing~”
Rising from the wreckage that had becometh the Rimebeast’s body, Atzi clenched her left arm tightly, the effort cracking open the ice that had formed over her wounds and forcing hot blood to thaw the chill within. It hurt, yes, but the pain burned rather than froze, and she turned a gaze too to witness what carnage the demon-possessed elf had wrought upon her own foe.
Well, it was a good thing Vammy was friendly.
Drawing her arm over to the fire to let the heat chase away what fatigue remained from fighting such frigid beasts, the dark-skinned woman pulled up the hem of her shirt, lifting it up to expose her midriff before holding it in place with her teeth. She looped her club back into her belt and then drew out her knife, slicing into the cloth and ripping strips out of it. The bandages weren’t anything amazing, but it’d staunch the flow long enough for her to find Maira and return to the village. Her cloak too had thawed out during this, and she draped it over her shoulders once more, noticing only a bit of dampness on the furred outside. And as for the trail of blood…
Without hesitation, she shouldered her way in and stopped at the threshold. A mangled, half-eaten body, frostbitten and with an arrow through the face. But not Maira, at least not based off the frame. Which hunters were still missing? Which hunters were dead? Was this a mercy kill, or the sacrifice made to escape from two Rimebeasts? Or was it all something else?
Atzi bowed her head forward, lips parting for a silent prayer, then turned her back towards Vammy, kneeling down slightly and slapping the back of her shoulder.
“Hop on. Heard Tallen from the north east.”
There will be time to retrieve the corpse later. Time to apologize for the wreck that the cabin now was. There was no time left to spare though, if her friend was freezing to death out in the woods.
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