Fable - Ask That Time I Was Reincarnated as a Punching Bag

[Elliot Aldmar]

Elliot went until he found a suitable location for a covert camp. He had deviated significantly from the stream--being that near to water sources was a bad choice for stealth--and he had not stumbled across any of the aftermath left by Maranae in her flight from the hunters.

Where the upland had gotten rough, undulating forest floor and jagged ridges and rocky outcroppings, he found a nook in which two of his sides would be covered by a sheer seven or eight foot drop in the land. A natural corner, and one he could use well. Sightlines to this nook were limited, both by the downslope of the exposed sides and of the trees and growth of the forest.

Elliot got to work. He took off the tent canvas rolled at the top of his traveling pack and began to pitch it. He'd need to go and collect detritus from the forest floor to better camouflage his setup once done. That and to potentially forage or kill some game, lest he be stuck with hardtack tonight.

* * * * *​

Gloria brought a forefinger and thumb to her chin, her back lifting slightly off of the carriage's cushioned seat. Ms. Victoria had not been speaking figuratively. Not in the slightest. What she was describing was a monster, some kind of wretched amalgamation of human, animal, and magical parts. And it was all the more concerning as she described her troubles in securing the beast. If it were men like Hardy and Ommar who were having difficulty in keeping that thing contained, Gloria could have safely chalked it up to incompetence, but this was the bounty hunter Serras Victoria. Serras Victoria. Just what did that beast have to be capable of to evade one such as her? All things considered, Gloria had the easier job. The aforementioned well-loosed arrow or well-placed dagger would be enough to put the outlaw Elliot Aldmar down for good, if capturing him proved to be the slightest bit untenable.

Though the news of one of Serras's associates having a personal quarrel with Elliot was good to hear. That would be useful, indeed.

And of this Elliot? What can you tell me of that bastard?

Gloria crossed her arms, as if trying to contain her irritation and disdain of the man in her chest. "He murdered a member of the Erdeniin Dynasty." She didn't bother to say that he was accused of such. She didn't believe she needed to. Gloria was a woman who took the word of the Dynasty as gospel, and the accusation alone was enough for her.

"For years he has evaded the justice of Dornoch. Perhaps you might think it peculiar that a dark elf mongrel like him could do so, such with how he and his kind are rather unique on the surface. But he is a man who infuriatingly spends quite a lot of time traversing various wildernesses and roads less traveled. All men have their flaws, however, and when he joins with some scum-ridden outfit of mercenaries somewhere, he tends to leave a trail that I can follow. Either that, or the occasional foray into a town like Graniteholme, here, for who knows what--likely murderous--purposes."

A quick summary of what to expect ought to do. "As I've implied, he is a skilled ranger and outdoorsman. He prefers to fight at range and with the element of surprise--as you might expect from a lowlife who murdered an innocent woman. He has also been witnessed using powers of necromancy. The extent of his magical capacity is unknown, so that is certainly something of which to be aware."

Maranae Nahlah

 

[Maranae]

The bounty hunter grinned, an unlovely thing that twisted her features into a mask that was unpleasant to look upon. "He will find it difficult to gain the element of surprise this time," Serras replied. "Eijin is keep an eye on him right now, with strict order to remain unseen and to not engage, no matter what apparent opportunity may arise. I've worked with that skulker for many years, and I doubt he will defy my commands." Unlike Gloria, the bounty hunter did not hold such vitriolic views of men.

That said, she did not particularly care about any in her employ beyond the care for a well-worn weapon, and Eijin fit that bill rather well. A weapon did not turn on its own, after all.

"As it just so happens, I have a new toy I've been wanting to try out. I should have brought it out when we engaged the beast this last time, but I'd not had time to actually enchant the thing. I doubt that Elliot or this monstrosity will be able to withstand it for very long. Not especially when Alyse has it in for Aldmar." The bereaved woman was capable of some truly terrifying things, made all the more terrifying for being reckless and more than likely to wind up killing her in the short term, if not the long.

"Regardless, I do not believe we need to make a formal contract on this particular task. I need no coin nor fame nor glory in regard to Elliot Aldmar; I simply with to bring back the severed head of that red-headed monster to Vel Anir and remove the threat it represents from the world."

The barest breath of wind brushed across the two women, and Serras turned. Eijin had returned from his foray, and was down on one knee, head raised and the faint light gleaming from one eye. "I know where the monster has bedded down, boss. The other one too; they seem to have separated, but they are not far from one another."

Serras looked to Gloria, and then to Eijin. "I think we can make this easy work. In the morning?"

 

[Elliot Aldmar]

Gloria maintained her stately demeanor. The fact that Ms. Victoria already knew of Elliot's location was enticing indeed, full of a churning rush to put into action an assault now, lest the bastard slip away and it be another long set of months before she got so much as whisper of a lead. Truly, this Alyse seemed to be the one right tool Gloria required. While Ms. Victoria was hunting a monster, Gloria was hunting a man, and a woman with a vengeance would be more than sufficient to put him down.

A breeze blew through the open doors of the carriage, and a man--Eijin--stepped into Gloria's view and knelt before Ms. Victoria. Gloria smirked. How dutifully housebroken. He knew his place, and as well he should.

And what he said only further spurred Gloria's urge to action. Separated. Was now not the perfect time to act? Granted, the delay in travel from Graniteholme to the location in question could adjust the qualifier of "perfect" to "less than perfect," who knew what Elliot was doing with that beast anyway, but again the threat of Elliot's escape was everpresent.

Gloria returned a thin smile. "Would it not be advantageous to move out now? While their locations are still known and while they are separated? Elliot is the weaker link between them."

She could have a team ready to go within minutes.

Maranae

 

[Maranae]

"Eijin will allow neither of them to escape," Serras replied. She had no desire to fight in the dark, with the myriad problems that came with such combat. "Me and my survivors had a running battle with the monster earlier today, and need rest. That, and fighting in the dark could go sideways quickly; darkness is as much our enemy as friend, and if our half dark-elf friend has any mettle at all, he will fade away from confrontation and use darkness as cover to escape."

It was what she would have done, in his position. Why would someone fight a stronger foe if they did not have to? Always best to choose your ground and your circumstances if you were going try to go toe-to-toe with someone.

"First thing in the morning," she began in a low voice. "When the sky picks up the first pearlescant glow...that will be the time to strike. I do not know what you have available, but me and Eijin can try to keep Aldmar separate from the beast, and Alyse can assist in taking down your mark," she said. A simple plan, but simple was always far better than elaborate, seeing as the best laid plans seldom survived the first arrow being loosed.

 

[Elliot Aldmar]

Gloria did not know so much of tactical minutia. Hers was administration, strategy, logistics, planning at the large scale instead of the small scale. But the small scale was important, as she had been finding out time and time again with Elliot's escapes no matter how flawlessly all of her preliminary work into an assault or a covert capture attempt had gone.

So, despite how keen she was on apprehending Aldmar and how loath she was on losing him once more, she deferred to Ms. Victoria's expertise. And it was good to actually be able to use that word, "expertise," without due reservation. But enough about Robert.

"I will trust in your judgment. First thing in the morning it shall be," Gloria said.

And, as for what she had available.

"Bodies, Ms. Victoria. Fodder. If enough men loose enough arrows, surely one of them will hit. Or, at least, they will be able to provide protection and opportunity for a capable woman like yourself or this Alyse to kill or capture the outlaw Aldmar and subdue the beast."

Gloria couldn't help but to smile, enjoying in her mind a little taste of the smug satisfaction she was going to revel in once she either came face-to-face with the captured man himself...or stood over his despicable corpse.

Long May She Reign.

* * * * *​

Elliot did not construct a fire. The nook was ideal for its obscuration of sightlines, but it was also small, and there was a chance that the exposed rock of the two sheer walls could reflect tiny bits of light and that such might go unnoticed by him.

It was a hardtack night as well. He figured it best to lower his profile, to not go hunting and to stay in one spot for this night while he was still relatively close to the trade road and the abandoned campsite.

Now he sat cross-legged inside of his lean-to tent.

Closed his eyes.

Began his nightly self-reflection.

And it was focused entirely on the girl and the griffin-talker, and how he handled that situation.

Maranae

 

[Maranae]

Dawn, or at least some facsimile of it. The light in the sky was so faint as to be nonexistent, but that would change soon enough. She crouched below a ledge of stone, right along the bank of the stream that gurgled its way on by. Not very far from the encampment that the trio had used the previous day, before heading their separate ways.

"The beast is not easily killed," she told Gloria. "Stab it through its inhuman heart, and it will go down...and then come back, eventually. And again. And again. And again," she continued.

Three times. She had slain the gods damned thing three times, and three times it had returned to this world, only to flee again. Serras spit to one side, a grim look upon her face. Her sword remained sheathed at her hip, and this time she also carried a bow with her. Elliot wasn't the only one that could attack from range, but she had rather more options available to her than most. With her, there were four nameless men, procured by Gloria Stannis in the name of the Erdeniin dynasty. Nameless men, useful pieces in the great game they played now.

Unlike Gloria, she was quite competent at strategy on both the large and small scale.

"Each time, it will lose some piece of whatever humanity it had before. Each time, it's life will be shorter." It stood to reason that all she had to do was kill the monster until it could rise no more. A task made infinitely easier by the things apparent lack of fear, of death or of harm.

If only it wasn't so damned powerful.

She had sent Eijin along with Alyse, and the others. She was unsure if she really needed assistance standing against this particular monster. It was surely strong, and very dangerous...but without a will to fight, it was mostly neutralized by its own unwillingness to act. It was a situation that suited the bounty hunter just fine.

She stood, chain and leather as silent as though it had been oiled. In fact, it had been laced with a temporary enchantment that would muffle any sound she mode, and that of her companions on this venture. A useful spell, but limited in its scope; as soon as she stopped trying to be stealthy, then the spell would fade. Still...powerful. She gestured to the others with her, also clad in the same enchantment, and moved from their position at the side of the stream. She pointed high overhead, toward the crowns on the trees, and made a motion of silencing.

Our enemy is above. Be mindful, be silent.

She knew exactly what it was that she would do when they found the appropriate tree, of course. Timing was everything, though; they needed to wait here until Pneria had dipped below the horizon - a thin crescent of the smaller moon was just visible now. There were, perhaps, a handful of minutes before the moon vanished and signaled the start of this particular operation.

And then a tree would come crashing down, and with any luck she would crush the damned beast in that opening salvo. And this time, she would not be run off by some stranger, would not be denied her prize by another bounty hunter. No, this time, she would keep killing the bitch until she stayed dead.

***

Cold.

She felt as cold as a winter storm, the icy calm she displayed the the world outside only a thin veneer over an icy rage that would have battered cities into quiet submission were it truly a storm. Barely constrained anger pushed against the degree of focus and calm, rational thought that she needed in the upcoming fight.

The man she sought was a murderer, and she would kill him where he stood. She did not know if she could stop herself at that, though, perhaps there would be nothing left of his shattered body by the time she got finished beating it into the ground. She did not care about the others he had killed. Only one mattered, one singular soul that had been extinguished.

Cade.

She moved with purpose through the undergrowth, and thanks to the magic worked on her by the strange Eijin, she made nary a sound. You must maintain your intent to stalk, to sneak up on your prey, else this illusion will vanish and you will be as easy to spot as any other. That was the strange man's admonishment, and she took it to heart.

Bow on her back, unstrung but simple enough to string in a hurry, she instead carried a spear, the tip a wide diamond blade of exquisitely fine craftsmanship. Mythril was expensive, but she had plenty of money. She had this particular head enchanted to leave wounds that would not easily heal; she wished to make her foe suffer as much as possible before she killed him. The fantasy danced round in her head, mocking her with its closeness to reality and yet distance from being made manifest.

Eijin was somewhere out there, out of sight. She moved on, flanked by half a dozen nameless souls. She did not care who they were; the only thing that mattered to her was avenging the death of her brother.

A quick glance to the horizon. Only the tip of the moon remained above the horizon, and even as she watched, it slipped out of sight.

Time. The thought was dispassionate. Somewhere several hundred yards west of her position, an earth-shattering crack! cut through the pre-dawn stillness, followed by the thunderous rumble of some great tree collapsing into the forest, branches shattering and sending splinters of wood, leaves, and dust scattering into the air.

Time to end this. She did not stop her stealthy approach to where Eijin had identified the fugitive to have laid up for the night. Maintain the intent, he had said, and she did. She wanted to get close enough to him to see his eyes widen as she shoved her spear into his crotch, and that for starters.

The image made her smile viciously. Behind her, another shattering explosion of wood rattled through the woods.

 

[Elliot Aldmar]

Elliot opened his eyes.

Something had disturbed his sleep. Woken him up a touch prematurely. There was a ghost of a memory of what it was, what it could have been, lingering just beyond the grasp of his awareness. Try as he might, Elliot couldn't recall what it was, why his body had stirred from rest.

He sat up on his bedroll, throwing the flap of it off to one side. He was inside of his tent, the opening of which faced the rocky sheer wall and as such his view ended about three feet outside. Still, he didn't think it was some kind of light which had disturbed him--he could tell from the particular softness of the morning light that there was not much cloud cover, and thus it was unlikely there would be lightning. He sat on his bedroll, listening. Some sort of sound was the most likely culprit. Maybe it would come again. Maybe not.

It did.

Distant, but fierce. Like a tree bursting, its trunk splitting, as it was felled and came crashing down to the forest floor--that was the character of the sound. What had caused this sound he could not say. But he did not want to stick around to find out.

Elliot had slept fully dressed and armored. He did not feel it to be prudent to allow himself comfort and relaxation, what with the girl's story of hunters and that trade road and the abandoned camp. All factors to be taken with due consideration. And that consideration would save him some time now.

He reached for his Bow. Pulled it close. Then he reached for the quiver as well. Only four arrows--another thing which he had meant to purchase while in Graniteholme. He would have to make do.

Sitting in his tent, Elliot began to fasten the straps of his quiver across his chest. There would be no time for his morning meditation. Not until later, perhaps.

Maranae Nahlah

 

[Nahlah]

Thunder and earthquaking startled Nahlah and suddenly the tree beneath her creaked and crumbled. She was able to get her wings open but was not able to get enough air as her bed fell beneath her. It was utter confusion…. Something she was most definitely not expecting as she’d never seen a healthy tree like this one crumble.

Her first concern was herself once the tree crashed to the ground, somehow not crushing her beneath it though she did end up bruised in multiple places. She scrambled to get out of the cage of branches which held her, her sharp strong beak snapping branches as she struggled out of the chaos.

Once she was on the tree, her head spun, swivling 180 degrees as she looked for the child.

“MAR?” She screeched, opening her wings wide as she looked around wide eyed and skittered to where she thought the child would be.

 

[Maranae]

A slash of her sword was all it took, the crack and peal of thunder as the air was torn by the vicious magic contained within. The trunk of the tree never had a chance to resist such a thing; splintered wood flew with enough force to wound at close range even as the blade of magic carried on through the woods.

The tree came down, leaves and dust and shattered wood filling the air along with the cacophonous thunder. The shriek of the winged beast cut through the shocking silence afterwards, and Serras grim expression grew even more grim. She drew her sword back, the light, strong blade already drawing the latent magic in the air back into its core.

The hunt was on.

***

Rending noise, the sense of weightlessness, her stomach dropping and into her feet and then climbing her throat. Maranae, half-awake in that moment of the opening attack, barely had time to scream, to understand what was going on, before the ground met her with terrible force.

She could feel the crackle of bones in her thin, seemingly frail body. There was pain, again, but it was distant pain. Someone else's. Things fell on top of her, crushing weight that popped even more bones before rolling off of her. And then...

...and then silence. The shudder in branch and bow as the tangled mess that had been several different trees settled, and then aching silence that was cut through but once, with the cry of someone's voice. Maranae wanted to answer that voice, but her mouth would not work, would not make any sound. She couldn't move her body, but she could feel the rising pain, the pain that brought with it a certain kind of madness.

There was little she could do but wait it out.

***

Alyse moved, and it became more and more difficult to restrain her sense of urgency, to withhold the desire to rush forward, all caution cast aside, and sweep the campsite clean of any trace of habitation. She was close enough she could practically feel Elliot's heart beating in the dim darkness of early morning.

She could hear him, and very faintly, could taste his blood in her mouth as though she were some kind of vampire. The taste of vengeance, of retribution...it was sweet, and tantalizingly close. Her knuckles crackled as she gripped the spear she carried with her tightly. Focus. Stealth is what you want; no chance to escape if you are close enough to reach out and touch him. A simple, quick end is what we want...

But it wasn't a simple, quick end she desired for this man. Cade. She wanted him to suffer. She wanted him to know it was her that killed him, and why. And she wanted that death to drag out. It wasn't about a bounty - any notion of bounties, of money for the heads she brought in - had died the day her brother had perished chasing them. That she had warned him that he was going too far, well, that only seemed to make it worse. She should have been the one to die, not him.

Not him.

A dozen yards shy of her goal, she slipped up. The veil of sorcery that kept her sequestered from his and anyone else's senses faltered, and failed, and the crunch of her boots on stone rang out in the darkness. She could feel the magic fade almost as soon as her concentration slipped, but she did not curse. This was what she wanted.

With a cry of feral rage, she lurched forward. He would not get to use his bow this time.

***

Maranae burst from the branches and leaves, covered in her own blood that was already thickening and drying. The wounds that had shed that blood were gone, not even scars; such trifling wounds were nothing compared to the broken bones, and those ached abominably even as they healed. A hog - dutifully provided by Nahlah - was currently having its essence fed into the furnace that kept her alive when she should have been dead.

Serras had been waiting for it to reappear. She could not see the griffin, not yet at least....but she could see the red-headed creature. Maranae saw her, too, and she squeaked at the triumphant look on the hunters face as she slashed at the girl again. The air rippled and tore as her weapon unleashed another wave of power, kinetic energy or wind magic, Maranae neither knew nor understood. Branches that got in the way of that terrible attack shattered as though they had been struck by a cannon, and she threw herself to the side to avoid the attack.

Serras laughed, the cold laugh of someone who knew they had the upper hand. "Time to go home, little one. Time to go home, or time to die. Matters not to me," the bounty hunter said.

Maranae came back up on her feet, limbs aching, bones seeming to throb within...and ran.

Again. West, in the direction that Elliot had gone without know that little detail.

 

[Elliot Aldmar]

Amidst the constant low din of the forest, the rustle and shuffle of branches and leaves, Elliot did not hear the sound of Alyse's boots on stone. And he never would have heard her and known she was coming, at least not until it was much too late, if not for the cry of rage she bellowed.

He'd only just gotten his quiver back on and secured when it reached his ears. Who it could be he did not know--nor did it matter. Hardy and Ommar had been nameless to him despite each uttering their own. They were nameless as had many others who sought him out at the ceaseless bidding of the Dynasty. Whoever this was likewise mattered not. All that did was the character of that cry--that warcry, it ought be said. It left no room for doubt as to the intentions of its crier.

Elliot whirled about in his seated position and grabbed his Bow with one hand and an arrow (of the four, he only had two of the specially treated ones, the others were mundane and not suitable for his necromancy). Nocked the arrow as he dropped down flat onto his back. He aimed at the back of his tent, vaguely in the direction he'd heard the warcry. He couldn't see his oncoming foe through the canvas. But blindfire was all that he had.

A wisp of pale green magic, and Elliot loosed the arrow. Immediately upon loosing the arrow morphed into a heavy shaft of Bone. It punched violently through the canvas of the tent, the entire setup shuddering, and the Bone Arrow left a head-sized hole in its wake.

Elliot would find out soon enough if he had hit or missed.

Maranae Nahlah

 

[Nahlah]

Nahlah heard not the child as she looked around quickly, assessing the situation rapidly with a deep growl. She had no clue what had caused all this destruction. As she wandered looking for the girl she caught her scent… She skittered towards where the girl’s scent was coming from as the girl burst from the branches and leaves of the downed tree. She was covered in blood that seemed like it was old and no wounds showed to prove where the blood had come from.

Nahlah moved to the top of the pile of branches and then followed Mar’s eyes to Serras. Then she saw the ripple in the air headed in their direction and she jumped to the side after Maranae. Maranae jumped up quickly and then bolted, Nahlah tilted her head as the child ran, took the hint and ran after her, sharp talons digging into the ground, strong hind limbs propelling her forward as she followed. She kept herself between the person and the girl whom was being hunted best she could. So this was who hunted this poor girl, she growled deeply as she continued running

 

[Maranae]

The magic was its own warning, and Alyse hissed as the Erdenian fugitive loose his quarrel, magic shifting it into a much heavier projectile than it had been before. Before, in the first skirmish with this man and his minions, she had been careless and cautious; this time, she cared for none of that. Bold, decisive action was the name of the game, this time.

She danced sideways instinctively, and the shaft vanished into the dark woodlands without striking anyone, leaving only the hole in the tent as proof of passage. With barely break in stride, the woman hissed out a string of nonsense words, words filled with power and menace. Her assistants were already spreading out to surround their target, so she had to be careful on her selection of magic.

She stopped, planting both feet in front of her and thrusting the spear forward, uttering a single syllable. This was similar to the magic that Cade had used before, only a touch stronger; the blade of wind slashed outward in a conal path, spreading and growing weaker as it went. The burst was centered on the tent, and accoutrements of the rogues campsite went flying, along with dirt and leaves and bits of wood. Unfortunately, it would not be enough to cut him, not at this range and not through a ten.

Didn't matter. The purpose was to ensnare him anyway, so she could land some well placed blows by her own hand. Alyse darted forward from a dead stop, quickly following in the path of destruction left by her spell as the other converged on their quarry.

***

Her muscle rippled below her skin, sinew infinitely stronger and more durable than any human capable of propelling her along at great speed. It was why running had always been a viable option for the chimera; with the turn of speed she was capable of performing, it was often difficult for her assailants to keep up. In fact, it only failed when they had ranged attacks and she had no cover.

Serras had ranged attacks. Maranae had plenty of cover to rely upon, only, the cover meant little to the great magic that Serras was relying upon. It must be something inherent in the weapon she bore, for the woman did not seem to suffer from the continued use of it.

A great roar, as of a tornado slashing through the woodlands, and bits of shattered wood and leaves whipped at her face and back, splinters slashing into her flesh to send blood flying. The wounds were superficial and so minor that she couldn't even feel them; they healed in moments, spitting out bits of debris from deep within as they did. She could feel it drawing away at the well of strength from within, but it was slow.

For now.

"Can't run this time, little beasty," Serras crooned as she came up behind them at a swift pace. Swift, but in no real hurry; were Maranae a tactician of any kind, that might have been alarming. The beast in her flesh was in control now, though, and flight was the only thing she cared about. "Your owner wants you back, and its time to go."

Ranging on either side of them, definitely moving at a swifter pace than Serras, her assistants ran, creating a corridor that led only one way: forward, towards Elliots camp. Serras was the hammer, coming from the east side of the girl and the griffin; Alyse was the anvil, coming from the west of Elliot with a cordon of a half dozen trained and at least competent men and woman creating a screen north and half a dozen to the south.

Maranae ran, heedless of any of that. Heedless of the griffin, of the half-blooded elf before her and the vengeful spearwoman waiting to kill her and Elliot both.

 

[Elliot Aldmar]

A harsh whipping of the tent canvas. A snapping of the cordage that held the lean-to stable. And then the canvas came loose as if blown by the gale wind of a storm and it seemed to assault Elliot, to cover him like a net. His Bow was somewhere in the stifling tangle, and though Elliot had been lying down on his back, it had been his very weapon which had caused the canvas to get caught and to tangle about him.

He was disoriented. Caught in the mess of the ruined tent and up against the natural corner, the twin sheer rock and dirt walls, that he had relied upon for cover and concealment during the night. Now, even if he could snap his fingers and make the tent disappear and summon another nocked and ready to loose arrow into his drawn Bow, he would still be trapped by the very landscape.

Elliot struggled to get the canvas loose from his body. But he knew that he would not be quick enough.

With his left hand he slithered it in the wild tangle of canvas down toward his belt. Toward one of his daggers.

Time for a final stand.

Maranae Nahlah

 

[Nahlah]

Nahlah's bird brain had no idea what was going on, only that the child was being chased, again... and that Nahlah this time was in the middle of it. As the trees ahead started shattering and blowing apart Nahlah had no choice but to take flight. Massive wings slammed groundwards, the gush of air between her wings and the ground pushing her up easily. The child was incredibly fast for a child and she did her best to keep track of her...

Then her eyes caught sight of the sheer amount of bodies that were tracking and pushing the girl towards one specific direction. Steely grey eyes scanned and found the woman at the back, and she tried to decide whether to strike her down first... perhaps offing the shepherd would make the sheep flee. She tilted her wings and swooped towards the woman, forelimbs out, talons ready to sink into the woman from above. The muscles in her neck ready to hit and strike with her sharp beak once (if) she landed the strike on the woman.

Maranae
Elliot Aldmar

 

[Maranae]

Nothing particularly special, not yet at least. Serras allowed the weapon she held to do its work, even though the charge time was increasing as the enchantment on the weapon became fatigued. It did not much matter, though; the ultimate goal was simply to drive her quarry forward. Her own particular talents had not yet even been tapped; the weapon was surely useful, and definitely powerful in its own right...but she was far, far more dangerous herself.

The shape of the red-headed beast darted in and out of sight as it danced round the trees ahead of her, but Serras did not really worry too much about it. The anvil was still ahead, and she had little doubt that Alyse would still be standing to make a wall against both the chimera and Elliot. Elliot was not, however, a high priority target. Whatever she might have agreed to with Gloria, the long and the short of it was that she had little intention of focusing on any other than the beast. With the overwhelming power at her disposal, that should not prove a challenge, should render Elliot equally easy to capture...

...but she did not like to bank on could-be.

Some innate sense warned her before the griffin could charge home, if only barely. The hunter stopped her headlong rush, veering to one side and dancing backwards as the predatory creature came to earth in a shower of leaves and needles and dirt. Her weapon was not yet ready to unleash another volley of kinetic force, but that hardly mattered.

"What have we here?" She danced back, blade held forward, eyes narrow. "A pretty bird? Maybe dinner tonight," she added. Without further preamble, she lunged forward, delivering a flurry of blindingly fast strokes while fading to one side, seeking a quick way round without having to rely on anything more drastic. She wanted to save her special tricks for the main course, and not waste it on the hors d'oeuvres.

***

Alyse charged, kicking up dust and leaves behind her as she pelted along. The net behind her followed, curling inwards so that a pair of men flanked her on either side - one armed with a sword and shield, the other with a club. The former followed in her wake, while the latter hung back, muttering syllables that made no sense as the air took on the distinctive, charged feeling of magic being performed.

And Alyse was preparing something of her own, too. The spear in her hand crackled with electricity of a sudden, running up and down the length of the shaft and sparking brilliantly at the spearhead itself. There was no breath to waste on incantation for such a thing; all of it was done without gesture and without sound. This had the unfortunate effect of increasing the charge time - a good thing for Elliot, a nuisance for her.

Thirty yards. Twenty.

She could feel the building pressure in the weapon as the lightning stored within it reached capacity...

***

One bole to the next, and bare feet slapping the ground between whenever one was too far from the other. Maranae used her claws - all present hand and foot, not retreating or vanishing from one moment to the next - to gain traction, to move faster. Running was hardly a new thing for her. Behind her, the crazy sword lady cut the air with her weapon, and the tearing sound of the very air itself ripping apart under that assault was only punctuated by the hapless trees to get caught in the path. Shattering wood peppered her back again and again, and she could feel blood running down her back where bits of it had scored her smooth flesh.

Suddenly, though, she was in a small clearing, and before her a collapsed lean-to with a figure moving about within. The more pressing thing, though, was the three individuals she saw behind that. She could recognize one, and her heart flipped in her chest as she tried to put on the brakes, to stop her headlong rush and change course from the new threat.

She failed. She only managed to trip on the canvas and go rolling a few feet, coming up just as Alyse was readying her strike, the huntress' eyes wide with shock and frustration, even as she leveled the spear at Maranae.

A flash of blue-white light.

 

[Elliot Aldmar]

Elliot, after much thrashing, freed himself from the tent and he could finally stand and he did so. His back was against the sheer earth and stone walls that formed the natural nook of his campsite. Literally backed into a corner.

And there was nowhere to go. No options.

To turn his back on the enemy (a woman and at least two men, none of which he recognized, yet this was typical) and attempt to scale the wall, however fast he might be able to do it, was complete folly. He was a good archer, but with his drawn dagger in one hand and Bow held off to the side in his other, he wouldn't be able to draw an arrow, nock it, draw his Bow, aim well, and loose in time--despite his assailants being much farther away than he had first reckoned. He couldn't use a tactic he had used to great effect before: that of manifesting Poison upon his Blade, swinging it around to leave the lingering debilitating mist to form something of a defensive barrier. Couldn't do that with the threat of another wind spell, and having his own Poison Mist blown into his face. He couldn't wait to receive the melee assault of this woman and her comrades, because the woman was preparing some kind of magic that was sure to have some range to it.

If a friend of his, a dwarf named Onager, had been here watching, he'd say that Elliot was fucked. Elliot's phrasing of it would be different, concerned with the natural laws of the world playing themselves out to his disfavor this time, but the sentiment would be the same.

Fucked or not, he would not simply accept death. That was something his father would do.

Elliot threw the dagger at Alyse. Thrown from his offhand, thrown without much prior practice nor expertise in such a skill, only wild fortune would grant anything other than perhaps a minor hindrance to his assailants.

And though he knew he lacked time, Elliot drew an arrow from his quiver. Nocked it and began to draw the bowstring, trying to aim in the same instance.

* * * * *​

Gloria Stannis was parked in her carriage far from the assault. Far enough that the cracking and falling of the trees was but a mere rumor among the forest, something indistinct and distant and hardly concerning at all.

Robert and a small security detail of coin-seeking men were about her carriage. And she sat inside, legs crossed, an open book beside her and a journal in her lap. A quill danced in her hand.

Nothing could sufficiently distract her from awaiting news from her forward observer.

Maranae Nahlah

 

[Nahlah]

"What have we here?" She danced back, blade held forward, eyes narrow. "A pretty bird? Maybe dinner tonight,"

The woman asked as she bolted towards Nahlah. Nah jumped back, slamming strong wings in the direction of the woman as she reared up and stepped back quickly. She twisted mid movement narrowly missing the blades, though one sliced through her thigh. She moved to get a bit of space between her and the woman, shifting to her anthro-form which would be much more useful for fighting. She continued to backpeddle, her thigh hurting like crazy but she ignored it as th woman was still a loaded weapon ready to go off. She continued to bounce back as the woman came towards her. Her strength and speed far greater in this form.

As the woman charged Nahlah spun, slashing at her and swinging her tail in her direction, attempting to wrap her tail around her leg to pull her foot out from under her, twisting away at the same time.
Maranae
Elliot Aldmar

 

[Maranae]

Too old a hand at these games. She was well versed in all manner of fighting, and the edge of experience showed here as plain as day.

Nahlah managed to land her attempt to snare a leg with her tail, but rather than catching Serras off guard, she instead used it to her advantage. Almost immediately, the sword stopped being the weapon of choice, as she dropped straight down even as the griffin pulled with that tail. She dropped a heel on the tail with her other foot, quickly reaching down to grab hold of it with one hand as she landed heavily on the ground. her teeth rattled as she did, but that was not important right then.

With a huge surge of strength, she yanked on that tail, leveraging her weight against one booted foot dug into the soil. She was going to swing the griffin like an axe by her own appendage and, with any luck, slam it into the ground as hard as she could. Or a tree, or basically anything else within reach.

***

Lightning lanced through her like spears of electricity, and wherever they touch her they scorched her flesh and seized her muscles up. The chimera went down with a howl of pain - pain that she actually felt as it slammed through her fierce and hard.

Alyse did not see the dagger coming from Elliot, but she was fortunate enough not to taste its edge even as it struck her squarely in the chest. It bounced off harmlessly, beyond the blunt-force hurt that it caused. Her eyes swiveled from the prone form of the chimera on the ground to the half-blooded murderer, the one that had slain her brother. Rage boiled within her, but it was the cold rage, not the hot; cold like ice rushing through her veins.

A kind of calm descended on her, and she continued to approach even as the nameless fellows that had come along with them for this trip also descended on the man; they were of Gloria's goons, not hers and were chiefly concerned with Elliot and not their mark. Which was fine, so long as they did not kill the man; that was her task.

"Stay away from him," she hissed at them as she slowed her approach to the murderer. She held the spear tightly, ready to engage in a split second. "Secure the creature. I will deal with this one," she added.

Ten yards. Nowhere for him to go, nowhere for the chimera to run to. Alyse stopped, and planted her spear in the ground. "You bastard," she said in a cold voice. Her eyes were hard, and gleamed like chips of ice i na blizzard. "Time to pay for your sins," she added. Even as she spoke, she lunged forward, spear held forward.

 

[Elliot Aldmar]

A flash of blue-white light, bright enough to make Elliot squint, and the woman assailant missed. Elliot didn't feel any ill effects of magic, so she had to have--

No. The girl, the creature, had come from nowhere. Been hit by the lightning, and that suited Elliot just fine--Maranae had little to be concerned about if she had been telling the truth. Here the inherent value in no longer lying to yourself.

Elliot finished drawing his Bow and took aim. Actions which, generously, his opponents had in their folly decided to provide him time for by slowing down and talking. The woman even eliminated the two men from immediate consideration as targets--they were now a problem for the Elliot of several moments into the future.

She planted her spear in the ground. Fool. Elliot loosed his mundane arrow at her as soon as she began to speak the words You bastard, his ears deaf to that and what followed after. This woman and those men had brought the fight to him, and he would either finish it or elude misfortune, reclaim advantage, if he was able. The value of parley had already been dispensed with, and that left violence as the final and rightful judge of this dispute. An immutable law that was without exception.

Elliot wasted no time, drawing his last mundane arrow from his quiver, having the luxury of being afforded an attempt at a second shot when he had initially thought he wouldn't even get a first. If the first arrow didn't incapacitate or kill the woman, she still had a hell of a distance to cross and she had forfeited her momentum to stop, posture needlessly, and talk.

He nocked the arrow.

Began to draw the Bow and to bring it back up.

Maranae Nahlah

 

[Nahlah]

Her tail wrapped around the woman's leg, but then she felt the woman's foot slam down on her tail and her hand grip her tail. Instinct kicked in... her tribe trained in this kind of counter attack and she quickly shifted to her human form, then back to her full fledged Griffin form lest she drain all her energy. As her body shrunk her tail disappeared, absorbed into nothingness. Her long wings rested against her body as she jumped back and away, slamming her wings down to propel her up and away from the woman.

She regrouped hovering in the air, but making enough movement to keep herself out of range of an attack. Her eyes looked for the girl... her excellent eyesight catching sight of her as she was struck by the lightening, then she also caught site of Elliot. She hissed in the direction of the woman attacking her and tilted to head towards the pair she knew.
Maranae
Elliot Aldmar

 

[Maranae]

Foolish. She was foolish, but she did not really care that she was. Ice flowed through her, tracing every vein and artery like a map. The idiotic pause before driving home her attack was proven as foolish as Elliot had surmised in his own head, but there was still an element of luck on her side. For now, at least.

The whistle of the arrow was not missed by her, but she had already committed to the attack and did not veer from her course. The tug and sting of the arrow as it popped through linked steel and mythril, punching through leather but veering from a more consequential strike. Her left arm had taken a wound, but it was not serious enough to slow her headway.

With a low snarl, Alyse closed the distance with Elliot, and delivered a flurry of quick thrusts, magic sparking from the tip of her weapon after each strike.

---

The chimera came to suddenly, eyes wide with pain. The burns that Alyse had afflicted her with were already healing of their own accord, and that in and of itself increased the suffering those wounds caused. She was acutely aware of the spear-wielding bounty hunter, engaged in close quarters with Elliot. Aware of Elliot himself.

Aware of the four men that now bore down on her. She quickly got to her feet - albeit unsteadily - and turned to run.

"Not so fast!" One of Gloria's hired men had been rather lazily coming upon her, and darted to cut her off. He wore a plain gambison, patched many times over, and carried a short sword in hand. Tall, but not particularly well built, he was still quick enough to cut off her escape that way. She stopped, and turned to flee the other direction, only to find two more of them - one with the same worn gambison and the other with leather that looked stained and poorly cared for, both carrying iron-strapped cudgels that they wielding with a certain degree of familiarity.

There was nowhere to run. The fourth approached lazily, carrying a short stabbing spear, and whistled to himself. He glanced at Elliot and the battle going on between him and the spear-wielding woman and grinned. "Easy job, this," he said, then motioned to the others. "Knock her down, kill her, whatever. Once she's dealt with, we'll go deal with him," he said.

Maranae stood, transfixed in place like an animal that knew it was about to die.

---

There was no hiss of frustration for Serras; the griffin was no a mark, had little to do with what she was here about. It was a nuisance at absolute best, and the fact that it disengaged so quickly only served to make her job easier. Even airborne, it was not out of range for her...but this fight was for someone else, not her and certainly not Nahlah.

As soon as the mythical creature was airborn, she was off, pelting through the woods again. The girl had a lead on her, but she was still headed towards the anvil. There was little chance either of them would escape this trap.

Just don't do anything foolish, she thought to herself as she sought to enter the fray once more. Ahead, a clearing, the sound of fighting. Close.

 

[Elliot Aldmar]

Quick decisions. To hastily try to finish readying his second shot, potentially losing that precious arrow if it missed or if it did not outright kill the woman, or to discard his Bow and the arrow for now and draw his other dagger and prepare a defense.

He choose the latter. His Bow and the mundane arrow went to the ground before he finished bringing it up and before he could steady it for aim. And Elliot drew his remaining dagger, preparing to receive the woman's charge--for which he hardly needed to wait at all.

The large crossguard on his weapon made it good for parrying, so long as one accounted for the shortness of the blade itself. Elliot held his own against the first wave of thrusts coming his way, deflecting the spear enough to avoid being stabbed, but not enough for an opening to get inside the spear's deadzone. The woman, to her credit, kept him at bay, kept the spearhead that crackled with her magic between herself and him. Even though she'd decided to make herself his foe and he thus would have no qualms about killing her, he felt admiration for her skill.

Eventually, the confines of the rocky nook he'd been caught in fully blossomed into disadvantage. When Elliot tried to shift left to dodge out of a thrust, first his arm and then his body bumped into the wall and the distance, the space, he'd wanted was denied. The spear was yanked back and then plunged forward, and it was such that Elliot was left with no choice but to grab the shaft of the spear to slow it down. One hand wasn't enough. The spearhead sunk into his leather chestpiece but not yet through the silk gambeson beneath. Elliot dropped his dagger and held the shaft with both hands. His footing slipped on the loose leaves and dirt and his back--pressed up against the rocky wall--went sliding down some. He held the spear back but now gravity was on the woman's side.

Caught in this sort of bind, it was time for a wild gambit.

"Maranae," Elliot called out, keeping his eyes on his opponent as he spoke. "If you want to be free, then you must fight. You must fight! You have no other choice."

The gambit wasn't that the girl would fight. No, Elliot knew that she would not--not with the pathetic answers she had given him yesterday. He was under no illusion that his brief words would undo her wretchedness. But if the men, and more importantly the woman, believed that she might, if they were aware that she had at least been pushed far enough to "break" some of their fellow hunters and that she could possibly do the same to them...it might give Elliot a tiny opening. A lapse in the woman's focus perhaps, as the potential for the creature to be roused into a rampage might earn from her a glance in the girl's direction, a flick of her eyes, something.

Or it might all come to nothing, and Elliot would have to weather what he must.

Maranae Nahlah

 

[Nahlah]

Nahlah's eyes fixed on Maranae and she slammed her wings in the opposite direction of the girl, propelling herself towards her. She shut her wings suddenly, sending herself spiraling towards the girl as the girl stood there like a deer about to see death and it knew it. As she got close enough she landed, knowing an attempt to pick the girl up, the girl who was confused and frightened, would likely get her killed by the same girl she was trying to save.

Her head darted to Elliot, looking to him for a second as well as she did her best to protect the girl... He egged her on, telling her she must fight and Nahlah agreed with his sediment. "Listen to him... You have to fight.." She said, knowing the other woman approached quickly.
Maranae
Elliot Aldmar

 

[Maranae]

The blow came. She could not help some instinctive reflex to duck away from the blow that came, and though she could only feel some distant ghost of pain it still sent her to the ground. It was a careless strike, striking a shoulder with enough force to knock her down but not enough to actually break anything. Yet, anyway.

Maranae tried to crawl away swiftly, but a boot to the ribs stopped that, along with another cudgel to the back. This time, though, she could feel the pop and grind of something breaking within. The stab of pain was there, but it was still distant, as though a memory of pain. Raucous laughter at the fun they were having.

And then the snap of wings, round the same time a familiar voice called out to her. Telling her what she had to do, what she must do. A startled grunt from three of the men her were harassing her, but she did not see their reaction or to what they reacted. Did not see as they spun to attack the griffin that had landed nearby.

Another blow landed, and she could feel something else pop. The pain was no longer a ghost, but a real thing that pressed against her mind. Fight. But she did not want to. That was what they ahd made her to do, that was why they had kept her penned in a cage for years, beating her, breaking her, forcing her to fight other things to test her limits.

Doing what you are made to do, however you feel about it, does not make you lesser. A ghostly memory. You do what you must...

"What she must," she whispered to herself. There were tears in her eyes that spilled to the ground when the cudgel wielding man struck her again. Pain, more pain, increasing pain. Phsyical, emotional, mental...concepts she did not really understand, but that she felt regardless.

The lock on cudgel-man's face when she rolled over on a broken arm and cracked ribs and caught his cudgel was worth any amount of gold. She stopped the blow as cold as if he'd his a wall, except it did not bounce. Claws dug into wood, and her grip was so strong the entire thing splintered in it. "No more," she said in a low voice. "I must, I must," she added.

And then the fellow was sailing through the air, tossed aside because he hadn't released his grip on the weapon quickly enough. He crashed into stone just above Alyse, and then fell down on the spearwoman who was very much pressing her advantage against the knife-wielding Elliot.

A moment of silence, filled with shock.

And then the real madness began.

 

[Elliot Aldmar]

It worked far better than Elliot had anticipated. The spearwoman had not turned her head, no, but one of the men had been thrown into the rock and earth wall, coming down to crash upon her as she remained focused. Unaware. Such was the collapse that followed that her spear went swinging upward with her arms, the spearpoint slicing by Elliot's face and only by a matter of hairs did the metal miss his gray skin.

The entangled mass of the two of them were on Elliot's legs, and he had to pump both and twist his body in a frantic burst of energy to extricate himself. His hand glided by his fallen dagger and scooped it up. He bolted upright and onto his feet. Almost stumbled over his Black Bow as he backed away from the mess that was the spearwoman and the cudgel-man. He bent quickly and secured it in his other hand and half-turned and strafed away, out of that forsaken nook. Could he have possibly scored a quick kill on the woman, the man, or both? Maybe. Or maybe he would have ended up tied down in another melee, still caught in that terribly disadvantageous position against the earthen corner of the nook.

The better position, the one with the most advantage for the duration of this fight against an unknown amount of foes in unknown vantages, was to be close by Maranae and the griffin-talker. The former's intervention had spared him the impalement of the woman's spear, and the latter at least appeared to be guided by the "enemy of my enemy" adage.

Elliot stood with them, Maranae and Nahlah, his back to them as he was looking out at the nook, the forest, eyes scanning. The men in the immediate vicinity he was aware of, but disregarded. They wouldn't be shocked forever, but their fate was all but sealed.

He sheathed his dagger. Drew his last specially-treated arrow, the last mundane arrow still somewhere on the ground back in the nook, and nocked it.

To Maranae he said without looking, "You know what to do."

Nahlah Maranae