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

[Nahlah]

One of the men whom had been attacking Maranae turned his attention to her, swinging closed hands at her. One fist sunk into her breast feathers, fluffing them, but with strong muscles and thick feathers she barely felt the hit. She swiped at his legs, attempting to knock them from under him and send him cartwheeling through the air. If that was the best these men had, she was not too worried, the women was far more dangerous.

Nahlah turned her eyes on Elliot as he whispered "You know what to do" and she said "Listen to him" lightly. She for one did not know what he meant, but his words seemed to be what made the girl go so she continued to egg her on. Her hind end sidestepped slightly, ears twisting back and forth as she listened to all the noise around her while taking in deep breaths. Her wings remained up, ready to open fully and send her into the air at the slightest sense of need. She ground her beak slightly, nervously and stressed for sure as she hoped she could help in the long run.
Elliot Aldmar
Maranae

 

[Maranae]

A mad rush, many pieces on the game board moving simultaneously.

A club descended again towards the girl, but she caught it as easily as the last, splintering wood in a grip that the wielder had as much hope of breaking as they did of (voluntarily) flying. A strange light danced in the chimera's eyes, now; something that most certainly had not been there before. Jade had changed to gold, gold that seemed to burn with its own cold, inner light.

"No more," she hissed in a low voice. The world held its breath, the shock of the first opening blow starting to fade. And then the chimera moved, a blurring streak that was difficult to follow. Difficult, but not impossible; blood flew as she lashed out with claw-tipped hands and tore armor and flesh with equal ease.

Alyse recovered, pushing the man to one side and releasing the spear she had been wielding. There would be time to pick it up again, later, but now was not that time. Or, it turned out, it was; she snatched it up as she saw her brothers' killer fade back and away. She growled low in her throat, kicking the fallen cudgel-man even as she watched the chimera literally rip away a piece of flesh from one of the attackers trying to subdue her.

This was getting out of hand, and quickly. Three others were rushing the griffin, these armed with more appropriate weapons for taking out a winged foe; spears of the throwing variety. And, beyond and approachign quickly, Serras. The woman's face looked like a thunderhead, and no wonder.

The maelstrom continued to grow.

 

[Elliot Aldmar]

There was no greater moral failing than pacifism. And whether it was for good or merely for this moment, the girl's--the creature's--unwillingness to fight had been banished. Elliot would not make the mistake of assuming that she would fight for his sake or the griffin-talker's sake or for anyone's sake other than her own, and this merely for base survival and for no grander cause than that, but he could reap the harvest of her cornered wrath solely through proximity. An alliance of mutual benefits, this between himself and the griffin-talker and Maranae.

Such a thought left open the question: were there current foes, numerous and diverse as they were, in a similar alliance? Had Maranae's hunters found old enemies of the griffin-talker, or had some instigating Dornites spoken with either of these previously mentioned? A concern to be pondered on at a later time.

There was still blood to be shed.

Maranae and the griffin-talker were engaging the nearby men, and others coming up were running for them. All was well. It left Elliot to draw the string of his Bow and to center his aim on the target of highest priority to him: the spearwoman. He didn't know her name, didn't know why she was here, and didn't know why she had that look in her eyes. Fine with him. She could die taking all of these things, untold, into the ground with her.

Elliot had his one shot left.

And he loosed the arrow, the shaft transforming in a flash into a heavy, powerful spike of Bone. The Bone Arrow sliced through the air, aimed squarely at Alyse.

Maranae Nahlah

 

[Nahlah]

Nahlah reared as the man rushed upon them, slashing out with her forelimbs as she flapped her wings strongly, using the sudden gush of wind her flapping caused to hopefully push them backwards. She peered backwards to Elliot as he aimed his arrow for Alyse while Maranae struggled with her attackers.

She screeched as she spun on the spot as the men approached, throwing her flank at them to try and knock them down before she dug her claws into the ground, kicking off with her hind limbs and propelling herself forward and putting some extra distance between them and herself while she looked to her "friends." She bolted towards Mar once more, hoping to help her some, should she need it.
Maranae
Elliot Aldmar

 

[Maranae]

"I think not," said a voice unfamiliar to all but Maranae. With the sound of the world ripping in half, Serras strode forward, slashing downward and unleashing the pent up kinetic magic in her blade. It licked out like a savage, near-invisible knife, and where it went nothing stood against it. Some of the men provided to her by Gloria were bowled out of the way, spraying blood from lacerated flesh.

It caught and severed the bone arrow that Elliot had unleashed, severing it and sending the two halves tumbling ineffectually to either side even as it grazed by Alyse, bowling the woman over in a squawk of indignant rage.

The attackers had abandoned any notion whatsoever of subduing their foes with anything other than lethal force. The huntresses' might never have considered anything less, but the men were sure their superior numbers would easily overwhelm their foes. They had been savagely disabused of the notion, with at least three of them lying dead already.

They also expected at least one member of their prey to flee, but that was dashed against the rocks as well, and quickly. The red-headed girl looked more savage than they remembered, eyes filled with some unfathomable emotion as she darted forward. A heavyset man with a cudgel bound in iron dropped the thing squarely on her arm as she reached for him, and bone snapped audibly. She didn't even slow in her assault, coming straight for him with an arm flapping useless at her side. He had little hope, then; she was inside his reach, where the majority of his strength would avail him not, and her good arm caught the club-wielding one and crushed the radius and ulna in a terrifyingly strong grip before her teeth closed on his shoulder.

Muscle, sinew, blood. The sweet taste of copper and salt, the horrified scream and then-

-a sword through her belly, and with it pain. Before she could grab it, the attacker withdrew it, as she spun round...

...and Alyse got back to her feet with a snarl, casting a dark look at Serras who already stalked towards the wounded chimera. No time for that; instead, she found Elliot, snatched up her spear and then spit a curse. It was snapped in half by the attack Serras had unleashed. She dropped it and charged on anyway; she could fight well enough with feet and hands, and still held magic at her disposal.

Die....die you scum....killer of family...stealer of blood...

...and three others peeled off. Gone were the instruments used for close work, and instead the work for ranged attacks. The nameless men warily approached the griffon, or at least two of them did; both with heavy long bows off their backs and strung, heavy quarrels knocked and not yet drawn.

"I haven't hunted one of these in a while," said the one that had no bow in his hands. Instead, he had a spear with a detatchable head and a length of strong cord tied to it. A simple weapon, definitely more suited towards monster hunting than human hunting. "Is a dangerous git, no doubt. Pincushion her, boys!"

Bows raised, lips kissing feathered shafts, the two bowyers drew and loosed on Nahlah as the spearman darted forward, seeking to plant a barb anywhere he could.

 

[Elliot Aldmar]

Options.

His Bow was no longer one of them, with the only arrow left available to him far out of reach back at the nook where he had discarded it, so Elliot tossed the Bow aside. One dagger, the other on the ground after having been thrown and likewise out of reach, so at least he still had a readily available weapon. There were corpses about the area now for his consideration. A Corpse Explosion was a choice, and he could easily take cover behind Maranae if he did cast one, but the problem was Nahlah--if bone shrapnel from an Explosion hit her, and there was a good likelihood of that, Elliot did not know if she could recover like Maranae could. Raising a Skeletal Warrior or two, then, would have to do.

Maranae was doing what she was made for. Nahlah was creating space against the men coming for her; good, that they occupied themselves with her and not him.

Elliot drew his righthand dagger. Held it up in a defensive stance in preparation to receive the hellbent woman's charge. Elliot had to be done with the pest, and then he would be able to properly turn his attention elsewhere.

With his left hand Elliot dipped his fingers into a pouch on his belt. Pulled out a pinch of bone dust between his thumb and his two fingers and then came a small spark of black-and-gray magic in his palm as he worked his necromancy. The cudgel-man, the one first thrown by Maranae and whose body lay crumpled in the natural earthen nook, had his own skeleton rebel against his dead body. The bones erupted up and out of his flesh and Elliot's newly risen Skeleton Warrior stood up, dripping with blood and taking hold of the cudgel as it did so.

A quick mental command, and the Skeletal Warrior went lurching off toward the two bowmen who had loosed arrows on Nahlah. Standing still, improperly armed at the moment to fight the Warrior, their backs to it and attention on the big griffin, they made for ideal targets, even if Elliot would have preferred to fight two versus one against Alyse--but there were more corpses at his disposal for that.

The Warrior went on a relentless, obedient assault against the bowmen.

And Elliot stared Alyse down as she approached, flexing his knees and keeping himself fluid and ready. With his left hand he made a quick beckoning gesture with his fingers.

Come on.

Maranae Nahlah

 

[Nahlah]

Strong muscles forced her forward towards Maranae but she was cut off by 3 men, two holding bows, nocked but not yet drawn for flight, and one man with a large spear which apparently had her name on it. She noticed a string attached to the tip of the spear, knowing the intention of the tool was to spear her and then have a hold on her via the string. She hissed loudly as she back peddled while the odd man out spoke. "I haven't hunted one of these in a while, Is a dangerous git, no doubt. Pincushion her, boys!"

She watched through piercing eyes as the two men drew upon the bowstrings and loosened the arrows in her direction. Her wings once again slammed forward as she reared, the gust of wind forcefully shoved in the direction of the arrow’s should throw them off course, or at least slow them down in their course towards her. As she was reared her strong muscles rippled beneath her fur and she shifted into her Anthro form, going from a four legged beast to a slightly taller, much leaner and stronger humanoid griffin. She was ready for the man with the spear to be close enough for her to grab the hands which held the spear as he ran at what had been a normal griffin, knowing he likely wouldn’t be able to put on the brakes fast enough to stop himself out of her reach. She sidestepped his path, as he ran through where she’d been she grabbed for him. Her, being sideways now, would have been missed by the arrows that had been let loose upon her as well as having been missed by the spear.

As she grabbed for the spear wielding man, attempting to catch him and throw him off, hoping to spin and throw him, her eyes picked up a skeletal being heading towards the bowmen who had been focused on her. She didn’t take time to worry about that creature just yet, she could only hope it was on their side as they fought.
Maranae
Elliot Aldmar

 

[Maranae]

Things had gone far afield from the original plan, which was a common theme when any battle plan was drawn up. There was simply no way of knowing how the cards would fall in anything other than the simplest of plans, and there had been a lack of simplicity in the design of this one. TOo much room for error, too many dice that could roll wrong, turn up snake eyes, and ruin the whole thing.

The chimera staggered back from the wound. It would have been a mortal thing, to any other; for her, it was intensely painful, and it slowed her down. Serras too the opportunity to unleash another of the stored magics within her sword, and the kinetic wave sent another of the attackers round Maranae reeling back, sending blood into the air.

It also struck the chimera, blood dripping down her face from the bite she had delivered to one of the attackers. The crunch of breaking bone was painfully loud, and the chimera went down in a heap of broken bones and spilled blood.

Serras crowed and advanced. Her mark, at least, was as close to secure as she could make it shy of binding the girl-thing up. Elliot, for all that Gloria obsessed over the man, was not her target. Alyse and Gloria could concern themselves with that worthy.

Alyse advanced with all the caution of a brawler that knew what she was about. Her eyes were cold fire, and while a rage burned inside her, up close she did not allow it to control her. It would have been ultimately fatal for her to lose her senses like that, anyway; it was quite clear Elliot was a capable fighter. The trail of bodies leading back to Dornoch attested to it.

"Why did you kill him?" The sudden question cut through the din of battle as she circled, fists up and ready. Confident, but wary. "Why?" She punctuated the repeated question with a surge forward, a flurry of kicks and punches that were precise and skilled. Her armor, alas, slowed her down; she was clearly a martial artist, but such arts were best performed in something other than her current attire. She quickly backed off from the probing attack, ignoring the screams from elsewhere.

The screams, in fact, from the men facing the undead. Neither were sorcerors, neither were able to handle something that once struck, refused to go down and stay down. Almost as soon as the undead warriors began their assault, the men assailing Nahlah abandoned the idea. Only the one with the spear did not, and she managed to do exactly as she intended; the shift from griffin to not-griffin had caught him off guard, and she easily caught and threw him off balance. He did not lose his weapon, and came up at the ready, but not that the other two were fleeing, one of those shambled after the assailants and the other turned to face him, ignorant that the griffin was still there.

He was not ignorant of the fact that he faced two to one odds now, and did not like it. There was no avenue of escape though; disengaging would see him cut down.

He lashed out at Nahlah, using the reach of his weapon to stay of of range of both.

 

[Elliot Aldmar]

Elliot snickered.

A quiet sound, his snicker, and though that sound was likely lost among others and his mouth did not open, the small motion of his throat was by chance visible enough. The question had come across as petulant to him, in tone and in the mere asking of it. Perhaps this was unfair, for Elliot had no idea of whom she was speaking, and perhaps he had been tracked down not necessarily by the Dornites but by one seeking revenge--Elliot had indeed killed his fair share of innocent people in his mercenary work, and this "him" referenced by the woman could well have been one of them. Or he might not be responsible for the slaying of whomever this woman was concerned with at all, Elliot just being a convenient drow to absorb blame. He couldn't know, and even if he did, it wouldn't matter. They were beyond discourse.

She came at him. A trade of blocks and blows, with Elliot taking a grazing knuckle to the lip. His dagger did not find fatal purchase upon his foe before she backed off. And that was all well and good, her backing away. Elliot figured that he had time on his side. For one, he doubted that even the impressive mage--Serras--on the side of the opposing force could kill Maranae, and he doubted that the many of the men accompanying the force were equipped properly to handle a griffin. And furthermore, with each death...

Alyse backed away, and so too did Elliot, almost mirroring her movement and creating even more ground between them. Buying more time. His free hand dived back into the pouch on his belt. Secured another pinch of bone dust and came out and that necromantic energy swirled about his hand again as he cast his spell. Another Skeletal Warrior rose up, bursting from the freshly made body of one of the bowmen, rising to bloody formation next to its compatriot Skeletal Warrior. Two were now at Elliot's beckoning.

And, with another quick mental command, Elliot bid both of them to converge on Alyse from behind, whilst he stalked forward from the front. His thinking: either she would turn to face the Warriors, and be stabbed from behind by Elliot, or she would not turn and be beaten and clubbed by the Warriors, or she would retreat to different ground and Elliot would have even more time to raise more minions.

The quicker he dispatched the crazed woman, the quicker he could lend his skills to the assistance of Maranae and Nahlah.

Maranae Nahlah

 

[Nahlah]

The men whom had been creeping in, turned tail and ran, apparently thinking better of the idea of attacking her. The one wielding the spear however stayed. He was caught off guard by her change in stature as she had planned and she was able to throw him off balance but he held his weapon steady and was ready for her when he gathered himself. The skeleton seemed to be on the attack of him as well so she let him handle it, at least she thought to but the spear holder had other ideas.

He lashed out at her with the spear and she twisted back, letting it slice the air besides her, slicing a slight gash in her thigh which only annoyed her more than did substantial damage. Her wing slammed down on the spear shaft, the heavy weight enough to easily splinter the wooden shaft and if it did not cause it the break, her hooked talon, at the mercy of the strong muscle attaching it to her wing, would hook and lock it against her wing with a strong pressure that would make it difficult to tear the spear from her.

She spun to yank the spear free and swing her other wing heavily, full force at what would likely be a very stunned man. She caught the sight of Elliot through her peripheral vision, from the quick glance she could see him against 1 woman and 2 of his undead fighters. He seemed fine enough that she was able to focus solely on the man she was handling.

Maranae
Elliot Aldmar

 

[Maranae]

Twitching muscles. The tremble of flesh that had been sundered repeatedly, over and over through the course of its short life. Maranae could not rise, could not see through the blinding agony of broken bones and torn flesh. Somewhere deep within her, the core of her being struggled to capture all the bits and pieces and hold them together. It was a task it had been designed to do, and there was no escape for the flesh.

That core had been designed to keep the beast alive, but it had not been designed to keep Maranae alive. Construct and being were not one and the same; the soul and flesh, welded together at birth, were nevertheless separate things. The Core had little interest in preserving the soul as anything beyond an animating force.

The monster within stalked a little closer, a little more of who she had been lost with every psuedo-death suffered.

Serras came upon the body, aware of the fighting around her, but uncaring. The creature in the rough shape of a young woman twitched and gasped, mewled in pain as the Core drew the flesh back from the brink. For a moment, the light of compassion shined within the eyes of the hunter. The same light that would have been shared to a fallen deer, or cattle on the slaughter floor. Pity, sorrow for having to do what was necessary...but passing pity, passing sorrow.

Without a word, Serras reversed her grip on the sword, and drop the blade through Maranae's head, the sickening crunch of bone sounding utterly final. She withdrew her weapon, and turned to face the remaining combatants, confident that her target would remain down long enough for her to deal with the other threats.

Serras rushed to the aid of Alyse, coming up from behind where the shambling horrors summoned by Elliot shambled toward the unarmed woman even as she closed the gap again, dodging and weaving as she tried to pummel Elliot, to break bones even while receiving wounds herself.

The only combatant here that was free and clear was Nahlah, the shattered spear from the failed attack hitting the ground as the assailants backed away and abandoned the offensive. Things had gone quite a bit more south than they were prepared to deal with.

 

[Elliot Aldmar]

Elliot had time enough to see Maranae's execution, the sword driven straight through her skull, and in this particular instance he lamented being right. It seemed that the creature, the girl, had been sorely mistaken. Perhaps it was not necessarily her fault, the true understanding of her limits beyond her grasp, her constitution hardy and formidable but hardly exempt from death. Yet it did not matter much now. With her falling, he and the griffin-talker had just lost significant ground against their assailants. Simply fleeing was becoming a better option. To entrench oneself into a disadvantageous position was not only a misappropriation of one's capacity for commitment, but flatly foolish. The griffin had the luxury of flight for egress, but for Elliot the proposition came with considerably more risk.

Alyse came at him again, and he could not spare his Skeleton Warriors to assist him. They had to turn and confront Serras, newly freed from her engagement with Maranae. And the Skeletons shambled toward Serras and with crude but relentless swings of their weapons, the cudgel and a shortsword, attacked her.

Which left Elliot with Alyse.

She was more evasive this time, tempering the flurry of unrestrained blows from before. Elliot had the advantage of the dagger, trading hard strikes from a fist with slashes and slices, but--impressively--she was undeterred by any blood claimed by his blade. He had aggravated red marks on his exposed arms, one across the side of his head when he didn't quite turn with the blow well enough and caught much of the force to the temple, but where he had suffered blunt force and soreness she suffered worse from his dagger and still persisted without any hitch in her determination. Despite everything, Elliot had respect for that, one that was not grudgingly given at all, but sincere and genuine.

Yet they were on opposite sides of a deadly conflict, and there was but one way to bring it to a sound end.

So Elliot went more defensive for a moment, backpedaling and trying to avoid the swings of Alyse's fists, looking for an opening. There would be no perfect opening, but, time being against him, a mediocre one was well enough to take his chances on.

And he would thrust his dagger forward suddenly, bursting forth from his defensiveness and aiming for a lethal stab.

Maranae Nahlah

 

[Nahlah]

Nahlah's attackers turned tail and ran, notably having decided she was more then they could handle in combat, leaving her clear at the time of the child's death. She snarled loudly at the murder of a child and headed towards Elliot to help him. She shifted back to her Griffin form as she ran, dropping to all fours rather than running on just her hind limbs. Sharp talons sunk into the ground, helping her strong hind limbs to propell her forwards quickly towards him.

She opened her large wings as she ran, keeping her eyes on the woman Elliot was fighting. She hoped for one of two outcomes, either plowing into and hurting the woman, or getting close enough for Elliot to grab her neck feathers, pull himself up and they could fly the hell outta dodge. At this point as far as Nahlah knew... their reason for fighting was dead, time to cut their loss and live to fight another day. There was no shame in surviving.

Her haunches hurt, the slice having stretched slightly over her thigh muscle as she shifted but the wound was not life threatening or even really that bothersome, but the blood seeped down her leg and the wound did sting some. As she got closer she gauged what would be the outcome of this attack, would she get herself and Elliot out or would the fight continue...

Maranae
Elliot Aldmar

 

[Maranae]

Alyse changed her tack. Swings and kicks that had little direction before now suddenly became much more precise, her focus paradoxically heightened the more injuries she suffered. She blade from a dozen cuts, some little more than nicks and others bleeding freely. Her armor only protected her so far, and in close quarters combat with someone wielding a blade, there was nothing for it.

But now, now she was aiming to disarm him. Sometimes the strikes did not come as fists, but as chops directed at wrist and throat, aiming for vulnerable points that might stun or deaden a limb temporarily. She just needed to get a clean strike at his throat, to collapse his trachea, crush his larynx. Her own life, truthfully, did not matter much to her; she had tied so much of her being to her brother, and he was dead.

Meanwhile, Serras played with the skeletons. That was the best way to think of it; they posed little threat to her, and she simply smashed any part that was presented to her with that sword of hers, not even bothering to call upon the magic within it. Not, mind, that she could do that too much more - the strain would permanently damage the enchantments on it, ultimately. But for these undead things, she did not need them. They were easy to dodge, and easy to strike.

Behind her, another man ran out of the woods. Tall and willowy with red hair and a freckled face, he had a grim look of determination on his face. He ran low, hand on the hilt of a battered sword with a worn leather grip, holding it so it did not get tangled in his legs. He was running straight toward where Maranae had fallen, ignoring the others that were fleeing and ignoring the women fighting against Elliot and Nahlah as if they were unimportant.

Serras saw the griffin moving in at the same time that Elliot finally found his opening. The bounty hunter snarled and slashed at Nahlah, drawing upon the enchantment in the blade again and unleashing that tearing, kinetic attack towards the creature. At least that would distract the beast, if not wound it further...

...but for Alyse, things broke a different way. She saw the attack coming, knew it would come eventually...but she did not even try to evade it, beyond choosing where it would land. She dipped down at the last second, and Elliot's blade sank in high on her left shoulder, high enough to avoid a lung but not enough to prevent serious injury, as the blade cut through sinew and muscle and punched through her shoulder blade. She gasped in pain, but though it hurt like all of hell, she attempted to deliver a flat-handed jab at Elliot's throat with her right hand. Her left immediately fell to her side, useless.

 

[Elliot Aldmar]

Found flesh, but missed the mark.

Elliot's dagger penetrated through Alyse's skin, that satisfying feel of a foe's muscle giving way to steel, sinking deeper, a large wound despite the diminished degree of lethality. He'd as well caught a glimpse in his peripheral vision of the griffin-talker, Nahlah, running his way--his way and Alyse's way. He couldn't be sure if it was truly her intention to take flight from the skirmish, but Elliot reckoned it a fair enough possibility. He'd thought to jump onto her once she got close enough--this now disadvantageous and worsening position needed to be abandoned. Fast.

And he would have taken hold of Nahlah.

Had he not received a vicious blow to the throat.

Right as he was reaching out his hand when Nahlah was nearing the blow landed, and a sharp and crippling alarm of pain flashed before his eyes and jolted his arms, his legs, rattled his chest and collapsed the firm stance of his knees, his feet. Elliot's grasp slipped from the dagger in Alyse's shoulder and he toppled backward, collapsing without grace onto his back. Both hands were over his neck, clutching in a way that was as utterly instinctual as it was ineffective. His eyes were wide and watered. He kicked his legs in his struggle but these kicks amounted to little more than small, meek motions, sapped of any true force. He coughed, sputtered, gasped for ragged breaths through the paralyzing black hole of agony that his throat had become.

He was wide open, and there was nothing he could do.

Nahlah Maranae

 

[Nahlah]

A new man appeared as the woman unleashed a kinetic attack at Nahlah and it brought her to the ground as it ripped through her meaty breast feathers leaving a deep gash in its wake. Nahlah crashed to the ground, her right forlimb buckling beneath her weight. She snarled and kicked her hind limbs to get back up quickly as the pain tore through her senses, moving her right foreleg and wing hurt but she had to get out of here, preferably with Elliot.

She spun in time to see him toppled by the throat crushing blow and she dug in, ignoring the pain that moving brought to her as she bed towards him, wings wide and beak again. She attempted to jump over him, to get herself between him and Alyse while he was incapacitated and Alyse seemed injured as well. She snapped her beak quickly at the woman's face while rearing to her hind legs and flapping her wings, hoping the gush of air would throw the woman backwards and bide them some extra time as she backed towards Elliot, hoping he'd grab on and she'd have the strength to get them out of this situation, though her having the strength to do so was questionable.

She'd never been injured to this extreme and rage was building, rage she usually avoided so as not to become blinded by it but now, she was obviously making mistakes in this battle hence the injuries she'd thus far sustained. The knowledge of her not fighting well against these was doing a number on her psyche and she just wanted to get her and Elliot out at this point. She continued to flap her wings hard, trying to beat the woman back with wing and wind while back peddling away.

"Grab on" she yelled to Elliot

Elliot Aldmar
Maranae

 

[Maranae]

So close. So close. She was so close, she just had to reach out, take his head, and break his neck...

...but it was not to be. His injury may or may not kill him, but the one she had taken to deliver that blow, when combined with all the dozens of minor wounds were too much, and the griffin arriving when she did saved Elliot's life as surely as the sun rose and set. Avoiding the beak took too much effort, and the buffeting of the wings helped to further overbalance her; she fell back and landed with a strangled cry, Elliot's knife still buried and bound in her shoulder. The single pulse of pain from that rough landing made the world go graw, and she went limp, staring blankly into the sky.

Meanwhile...

The newcomer hurried to where the chimera lay, and stopped for a moment to stare at her. His eyes were not visible to anyone there, but there seemed to be a sadness, heavy and heart-wrenching, as he looked upon her ruined body. He only took a moment, then stooped and threaded his arms through her armpits, and lifted her and started hurriedly dragging her back towards the woods. There was no way in hell he was going to pick a fight with any of the people slinging spells and the like out there, not now and not ever if he had his way about it.

He watched as Serras made her way towards where Alyse and the other two had been, but some sixth sense made the woman stop, and turn back to look at him.

For a long moment, they looked one another, although the young man never stopped moving. And then Serras cast another look at Elliot, the griffin, and Alyse - the latter on the ground, now - and rounded on the youth with a look on her face that clearly read 'not amused'.

 

[Elliot Aldmar]

It felt like he had a stone the size of his fist (or, perhaps more appropriately, Alyse's fist) lodged in his throat, stuck in his esophagus like some kind of malicious intruder, armed, apparently, with an array of knives that stabbed into the nerves and muscles copious throughout. Each cough that forced open his windpipe and let him sip on air was a blessing. His arms and his legs still trembled with a drenched, acidic weakness.

Strained eyes saw, for the most part, what was going on around him.

Would it that he could take hold of Nahlah and escape.

Would it that he could capitalize on Alyse herself falling over and end her.

But Elliot could do neither of those things. Not yet. One's will counted for quite a lot, and could have miraculous power over the body, but here the body's say was final, and Elliot's would do nothing more than keep him on the ground, curled and coughing and gagging, grasping at his throat, legs and feet raking weakened lines in the dirt and fallen leaves of the forest floor.

He could not yet act.

Nahlah Maranae

 

[Nahlah]

Elliot couldn't, or wouldn't grab on. Their immediate threat was down and staring at the sky and though vengeance wanted to be fulfilled, she knew her and Eliot would be better off getting away from the danger, lest more back ups show up to fight.

She took the slight advantage of a few moments time to shapeshift to her anthro-form, the wound along her chest, cascading up over her shoulder would prevent her from picking him up in her pure form so she did what was the next best thing that she could think of.

She moved to him, kneeling to him. "I am going to pick you up...." She said, warning him before she moved to bend and try to pick him up. Her wings rested open, shielding him much like a vulture shields it's meal from prying eyes. She waited for a response before grabbing him. A panicked animal was dangerous, so she wanted to be sure he knew before she grabbed him. They didn't have much time though and he didn't seem coherent enough to answer so she just grabbed him with her left arm, stabilizing him against her chest with her right arm but unable to hold his weight with that arm. He was heavy but her kind carried large kills so he was not too much for her in that regards and she laid him over her shoulder, using her wings to help hold him.

She dug her feet in and started running, holding him out of the way of her legs best she could and she did so. The sharp claws of her felinesk foot/paws dug into the dirt, helping her to run. She'd love to be able to fly, but with the injury to her muscles she was unsure she could carry him, and fly at the same time. If he could hold on it maybe possible, but holding him with her arms would pull on her wounds, aligned with using the muscles to fly they wouldn't get far, if anywhere. So this was their best chance at getting away to regroup and heal.

Elliot Aldmar
Maranae

 

[Maranae]

Serras did not waste energy on words. There was no need; whoever the boy was did not matter to her, only that he was trying to abscond with her prize. She left Elliot and the griffin without so much as a backward glance, them and Alyse along with them. She was not an evil woman, just pragmatic - Alyse was an ally, but not a team mate.

She worked alone. Gloria was not her employer, and that woman's desire meant as little to her as did Alyse' life.

She hastened her step, and charged at the youth that was attempting to drag the chimera away. The boy looked up at the last, gave a yelp of a surprise and alarm, and dropped the girl and himself to the stony ground in time to avoid having his head taken from his shoulders. He rolled away from another sweeping attack, coming up on his feet and adroitly avoiding another cut as he circled round to put himself between Serras and the corpse.

"You stay away from her," he said in a voice that was clearly rattled, clumsily drawing the short blade at his hip. Serras, without preamble, attacked again, a series of lightning quick strikes that left the ringing clash of ironb on iron rolling through the clearing. Blood flew, at the last, and the nameless boy staggered back, a wicked cut across his chest.

He looked to the others. He did not know them, could not trust them any more than the mercenary before him. The skeletal warriors made him blanch in fear, a little, but they were far less a threat than the flesh-and-blood woman standing before him.

"You waste your time, boy," the bounty hunter said evenly. "Do yourself a favor, and back down."

There was no hesitation in him. The boy chose to attack instead, coming in fast and hot and, ultimately, useless.

 

[Elliot Aldmar]

Elliot nodded vigorously (or what counted for "vigorously", given the diminishment of strength in his body). Quite frankly, it was the only chance he had to survive this moment into the next, when he might regain a shred of actual control over himself. For now, it was all he could do to be lifted by Nahlah and placed over her shoulder.

She was running, not flying. But this was well enough; he'd no proper accounting of her wounds, and this was gaining the two of the some distance from the site of the battle and the coalition of hunters that had come for them all. Even better, one of the more formidable hunters (Serras) had shifted her attention from himself and Nahlah and was concerned with the odd appearance of a red-haired younger man. Good. From wherever he had come and for what purpose didn't matter--he had made himself into a convenient distraction. In the brutal reality of death and battle, prey and predator: better him than Elliot, Nahlah.

And then a realization, striking, as his thoughts had turned onto Nahlah just then.

Her form. Her current form, this particular form. He'd seen it before. This wasn't just a griffin, but a shapeshifter.

Elliot, coughing at first but then, finally, at least able to grasp and take hold of his voice, managed to say,
"...Ceridwen...? Do you know...a Ceridwen?"

Maranae Nahlah

 

[Nahlah]

Some distance between them and the continuing fight, she slowed slightly, her beak agap, tongue dragging along the length of the bottom of her beak as she panted. She’d fought longer in the past, though whether they had ever been harder fights was not likely. She heard the words spoken behind them as she ran, the sounds fading fast as the distance grew, but right now looking back wasn’t an option she was keen to explore. She needed to get herself and Elliot somewhere safe. After that she could think about what was happening behind them.

As she began to slow, comfortable to do at least that, Elliot coughed then spoke.

"...Ceridwen...? Do you know...a Ceridwen?"

She tilted her head slightly, peering to him through the corner of her eye as she fully slowed to a walk, then stopped, still panting. Her sharply angled ears resting against her thick skull as she gently slid him off her shoulder, holding him from her a little to see if he could hold his footing without her holding him up. She continued to pant, turning her head to look backwards and be sure nothing was close enough that they couldnt catch their breath for a moment. Then she responded and shook her head.

“What is a Ceridwen?” she asked softly as her breaths finally began to settle, her large lungs filling easier as her heart rate slowed slightly. She turned her head back again, checking again as she awaited an answer from him as to what he was talking about. Perhaps he was wounded to a point of blood loss causing him to speak rubbish, she was unsure. She held him gently, scanning him slowly, attempting to assess his wounds.
Maranae
Elliot Aldmar