Scents.
They wafted through the air, a multitude of aroma's that were far too faint for a human to wind but as sharp and rank to her as they would be if someone had slapped her in the face with them. Some of them were soft, calming scents she associated with the earth and with the wilderness.
Others - most of them - were sharp and angry, jagged like briars and thistles. They stirred ancient instincts within her that terrified her...or would have, normally.
Pain. Her head hurt. Her wrists hurt, as did her ankles. She was hanging by her arms and legs, lashed to pole so tightly that the circulation in her hands and feet had been slowed, so that they were ice cold to the touch. She could feel further pain as her body struggled to repair the damage done to them by the abuse, and it was like knives digging into her flesh. Her senses were returning to her slowly, her sense of self and of her surroundings. Her captors had not struck her again this day, and so....
The snap of breaking twigs, and the sound of many feet. Her senses were razor sharp, normally; now, after all the abuse, they were dulled a touch. She did not need them to be sharp in order to hear people so close by, nor to scent the armor and sweat, the unease and the determination in them. The scent of horse was particularly strong.
With the scent of horse came the thought of food, and then hunger descended upon her, savage and unrelenting. Healing required energy, and she had little to eat for several days now. Every blow required more sustenance to recover from, and none had been provided.
Hunger.
Hunger. And, riding just a little about that, fear and anger. Her thoughts were not orderly, not like the men that were near to hand; the higher functions of her mind had seemingly descended into the darkness, leaving behind only animalistic instinct.
Panting as she sensed something come close. Breathing heavily, waiting for the blow...and instead, it was words. Words spoken quickly, words that she had a hard time understanding. Her mental state had slipped, and the beast that her creators had desired was now settling in behind jade eyes that flashed to yellow and back again as though she were blinking.
A low sound, deep in the back of her throat...a keening wail? Or perhaps...
A shriek of pain cut through the air. Her thin limbs strained, the bindings holding feet and legs growing taught, cutting into flesh and setting blood to flowing before finally failing, snapping with loud
pops even as the girl hit the ground. She writhed there for a moment, the pain of her wounds and of the healing, the savage hunger....the hunger....
The hunger.
She rolled onto hands and knees, staring at the man before her. Her eyes were yellow, not green, with the pupils slit like a feline. Her mouth hung partly open, and instead of human teeth, there were long incisors and rows of sharp fangs behind them.
With a snarl, she darted at the nearest animal - the captain's horse - and lashed out with a beclawed hand. She moved lightning fast despite her state, and she struck
hard. Blood flew as her claws tore a chunk of meat from high up the front shoulder of the beast, and the force of the blow snapped a bone deep within and sent the animal - at least a thousand pounds - staggering to one side.
Careless of any immediate retaliation,
Maranae took the piece of meat from her hand and began to eat the bloody thing raw. It took the span of a couple of seconds for all of this to happen. The scream of the animal was piercing so close, but she ignored it as she swallowed and went for the rest of the horses, running on all fours with remarkable speed. The beasts shied back as she snarled at them, and before there could be any meaningful reaction, she had leapt onto the rump of another animal, savagely tearing through hide like it was paper and shredding the muscle beneath. She managed another mouthful of the shrieking beasts' flesh before it kicked her free, and she went flying through the air to land maladroitly in the undergrowth.
With a feline hiss, she spun and bolted away, heading - incidentally - straight into the growing fray at Alexia's camp.
***
No plan ever survived the first arrow leaving the bow. Often, the plans were defunct before even setting foot on the battlefield. It was a tenet any soldier would know and understand, and keeping such things in mind was what kept you alive.
Alyse had drawn a bead on Syvis again, tracking the woman unerringly. She was about to loose when a movement caught her attention out of the corner of her eye; instinct made her turn, bow and all, to face whatever it was. What she had been expecting was nothing; what she saw was a dwarf with a crossbow. There was no time to react; she loosed her arrow at him just as he pulled the trigger, spinning away and knowing it was too late. The arrow sailed over his head; it had been poorly aimed.
His did not. The heavy bolt lost a great deal of its force breaking the links of the chain vest she wore, and even more piercing the leather vest beneath. Still, the range was short, and the bolt slashed into her right breast, scoring along two ribs before stopping. Hot blood immediately began to run under her armor, and the pain was intense enough to take her breath away. She staggered backwards several steps, both from the force of the hit and from that very pain.
Cade had no idea what was going on with his sister. He saw their mark slammed to the ground by her sorcery, but the creature - whatever it was - had not been stopped by that. The scene was getting awfully hot, now; there were so many enemies to keep track of and there were just him and Alyse. The fight wasn't over yet, though.
A single syllable, and another rune glowed and faded from his leathers. The spell was really little moe than a cantrip, but it was useful in his line of work. As
Ceridwen and Alexia were both visible, he had marked both of them. He could find them anywhere they went, so long as they did not get more than a few miles away. This allowed him to turn his attention to the others; the original intention had not been to kill anyone, but matters had gone more than a little sideways.
A series of quick syllables, words of power in no spoken tongue. He could
feel the pull of magic as he invoked this particular piece of magic; it was one of the more powerful spells he knew. Almost immediately, Cade became a series of ever shifting images. His apparent position seemed to shift left and right, up, down, back, and forward by as much as a couple of feet at a time before moving to a different position. It was illusion of a higher order, designed to make up close fighting very difficult and make shooting him with ranged barbs nigh unto impossible.
Alyse, seeing that Cade had done this out of the corner of her eyes, hand clutching her wound that bled freely...ran. She was exhausted, but was capable of a good turn of speed. She needed to open the distance between her and Dulthir, and keeping to the trees made it exceedingly difficult for him to get another shot off - not that he would be able to do that quickly.
Cade moved in to engage Elliot and Syvis, heavy bladed knives held low and ready as his form seemed to shift about in a maddening array.
