Fable - Ask Chaos into Opportunity

[Zathria At'Arel]

The town had finally recovered from the raiders take over and settled back into an era of relative mundaneness. People had begun to mill about their daily lives and Zathria had been forcing herself more and more to go out into the daylight hours. Still all-too-eager to take night shifts and patrols, she still went out during the day in an attempt to acclimate.

The sun was just beginning to set when the raiders came. A small band of brave beings who thought to usurp the control of Vyx'aria and her loyalists.

She heard shouts and grabbed her sabers, strapping them on as she emerged from her small hut, eyes settling on an orc - one she had seen around but didn't know - who seemed prepared to stand to the defense as well.

"You?! You know how to fight? Let's gut these raiders," she said, hoping that he was going to follow her into the fray.

Urzak Iron-Hold

 

[Urzak Iron-Hold]

Urzak had been roaming. Exploring, patrolling. Call it what you will. What mattered was the road had been quiet. Too quiet. Now he had come to a town that was also too quiet.

Urzak had learned long ago that silence did not always mean peace. He had been warry on the road and that feeling hadn't left him. It felt like holding your breath. His eyes scanned rooflines and alleys alike.

The sun was setting down behind the hills when the shouting began. Urzak stopped. His nostrils flared as the noise carried. The sharp yells of men who thought numbers made them bold, the sound of boots planting hard against the ground. Raiders. Small ones if the sounds were correct. The stupid kind that mistook a small town for easy prey and in doing so didn't bother to scout ahead.

He rolled his neck once and reached for his axe leaving his cleaver alone for now.

Steel rang out nearby as the clash began. A woman burst from a small hut. She was quick, decisive and armed. She wasn't familiar but she moved like someone who had survived worse than tonight and when her eyes cut to him there was no hesitation only assessement.

Her words came fast and sharp. A sort of invitation wrapped in a challenge.

Urzak's mouth twisted into what may have been a grin. It was hard to tell in the dying light. One of the raiders, a small one, came at him with a rusty sword. He snatched the raider's arm, lifted him off the ground and buried his axe into the raider's chest with a sickening thud.

"I fight." He rumbled, his voice low and rough like stone being dragged across stone. "And I don't like scavengers."

He stepped into alignment with her putting the two of them between a rush of raiders and the street behind them. He planted himself with deliberate weight and intent claiming the space.

A raider broke from the alley with a shout. Urzak met him head on. His axe came around in a brutal arc that turned the raider's shout into a dying gurgle.

Urzak once again planted himself like a wall and now it was obvious he was smiling.

Tonight was not war.

But it would do.


Zathria At'Arel

 

[Zathria At'Arel]

He seemed equally as adept at unleashing death or at least equally as eager, and that was good enough for her for the moment.

She drew her blades - one in each hand - as she hurled herself at the assailants, throwing herself into the fray from the side as the attention of the raiders was on the orc. She slashed into the side of the first warrior - a massive human male with a long beard - and he went down, clutching and clawing at his throat.

Blood poured out and filled his airway as he began to die, but Zathria didn't wait for him to expire. Instead, she moved on to the next, hamstringing him with a blow as he began to limp and spin toward her.

Another rushed at the arc, a massive battle axe in his hands and swinging down in a heavy overhanded blow, trying to split the orc in two.

Urzak Iron-Hold

 

[Urzak Iron-Hold]

Urzak saw it out of the corner of his eye first. The way she moved. Not frantic. Not wild. Precise. The drow cut through the flank like a blade finding a seam in armor. Her motion was fluid and merciless. One man went down choking on his own blood and another was crippled before he could even finish turning. There was no wasted cruelty in it. Pure efficiency sharpened by instinct. It was beautiful.

A low chuckle rolled out of his chest. "Ha." He muttered something like approval. He turned his head just enough to catch her silhouette in motion. A tusked grin tugged at the corner of his mouth. "You move like..."

A roar interrupted him as a massive shadow burst from the chaos. Urzak snapped back just in time to see the overhand strike coming down. It was too heavy, too fast. A two-handed battle axe meant to end him. He didn't have time to dodge or even block. In a moment of pure instinct he dropped his weapon and caught the two-handed battle axe. The haft slammed into his palms with bone rattling force. His boots skidded through the dirt as the blade bit air inches from his shoulder. The impact drove him down to one knee and the surprise caught the air in his lungs.

The raider snarled and pulled back trying to wrench the battle axe free. Urzak surged forward instead. He smashed his forehead into the man's face with a crack that sounded like boulders colliding. Cartilage collapsed, teeth flew and before the raider could even scream Urzak surged up into him shoulder checking the axe aside and crashing them both into the dirt.

The fight got ugly quick. No steel. No room. Hand locked together. Both bodies straining. The raider was strong, stronger than most humans, but Urzak was forged for this kind of closeness. He drove a thick thumb into the man's eye, felt it rupture, and then wrapped a massive forearm around his throat and twisted hard.

The raider thrashed and choked. He beat uselessly at Urzak's arm. Urzak leaned in close, his breath hot, his voice a whisper that sounded like it was drug across gravel. "Wrong street." With a brutal wrench he snapped the man's neck and shoved the corpse aside like trash.

Urzak rose his chest heaving. Blood slicked his hands. He wiped one palm against his thigh and finally looked back toward the drow. His eyes were bright with the thrill of combat.

"That was fine work." He called over the din, genuine admiration in his voice.

He reached down and grabbed his axe and hefted it again rolling his shoulders as more shapes moved at the edges of the street.

"You up for more?"

Zathria At'Arel

 

[Zathria At'Arel]

The orc made quick work of the other man and Zathria hadn't the time to stop and help him if he hadn't. She didn't wait for her own target to finish his turn before lunging in again, parrying his blind swing wide and bringing the hilt of her weapon around to crash into him, knocking him to the ground, alive and conscious, but dazed.

There were more beings moving in the darkness, but she wanted this one alive. She wanted information about whatever new enemy they were up against out here.

By now some attention had been drawn from the village and more guards had begun to pour out, preparing to assault the creepers in the forest.

"Take this man back to the village," she said to one of the guards, shoving the wounded man toward him before turning back to the wilds.

"Make them come to us," she said. "We hold the defensive position here," she said, moving back toward the village. She knew people like this and they wanted easy prey. They wanted to use the element of surprise.

"They'll flee now that the town is waking up," she said, but they would be back. They always were unless you cut out the root.

Urzak Iron-Hold