The Badlands

---

---

The Bloodrazor Clan--one of the fiercest vyldkin camps to ever cross the badlands. There was something about this particular tribe that stood out among all the others: whether it was their combat prowess, their tenacity and stubbornness, their survival skills, or even just a certain bloodlust that was uncommon even among their own kind, no one could say for sure. What they did say for sure, though, was that the Bloodrazor Clan was one to always be held in high regard. A friend of this particular clan had powerful allies, but woe to those that may be considered by these vyldkin as enemies...

The clash of metal rang through the stale badlands air as two muscle-bound vyldkin sparred in the middle of the camp. Of course, among vyldkin, this was a common practice--fighting to hone one's physical prowess was considered a pasttime and form of recreation, and these two were no exception to this custom. Both hefted greatswords and swung them with the grace of veteran warriors, each one concentrated on getting the "finishing" blow against their partner.

Off to the side sat a slightly younger vyldkin, more feminine in nature but still rather imposing like any other member of her species. In one sharpened claw, she held a small whetstone which she scraped across a rather vicious-looking axe. The shhhhhhhhhhink of stone across the metal added another element to the symphony of steel, another percussive sound that blended well with the grunts and shouts and the clanging of steel against steel. She enjoyed watching her kin battle with one another--as much as they learned from fighting, she enjoyed not only the entertainment of observing the battles but learning from their mistakes or and strategies in the process.

Suddenly, the two ceased their combat, the older of the two suddenly struggling to catch his breath and placing his sword on the ground. The other, a silver-furred youth with a huge broadsword to boot, walked forward and began to comfort the older of the pair. The female continued to sharpen her blade, keeping her eye on the duo all the while. The younger of the two she recognized as a warrior a few years her senior: Ahn Surestrike, one of the best with a broadsword she had even seen in battle. Granted, he was no stranger to the other weapons, but the woman with the axe was rather confident that she could defeat him in combat using her preferred weapon, perhaps in in hand-to-hand combat too.

The older of the two slapped the silver-furred youth across the back, spewing out into a bout of laughterand mentioning the hunt that would be taking place this afternoon. Most of the stronger vyldkin would be participating; Ahn was no exception, and neither was the woman with the axe and the whetstone. As the youth walked toward the congregation that was gathering for the aforementioned hunt, the female followed him, pocketing her stone and spinning her axe in her hand as she walked. She figured that during the hunt that she would be able to run on all fours, but for now there was an "air of sophistication"--as the elders had called it--that they needed to uphold in case any fleshbags decided to wander too close to their camp.

Does it matter how we walk when the other races view us as beasts for the slaughter? If they think us as animals, the least we could do is humor that idea...

She found Ahn standing next close to a larger vyldkin than even he, one with a golden-brown mane and battle scars across his face and arms. One of the elder's eyes was milky-white, decorated with a scar running vertically across his face over this blind eye. The female pushed her way through the crowd and stood next to the vyldkin with the greatsword, keeping an eye on his reaction as she came near.

"Brothers and sisters!" he cried, addressing the crowd. "The time has come once again for the final hunt before our exodus! Those that wish to prove themselves worthy in the eyes of the Bloodrazors, step forward and hunt for your people!"

She had heard this whole call-to-arms before and had seen this ritual of the Last Hunt many times before, but something felt... different about this time in particular. Could it have something to do with the tension that was building up between her people and the other races? Was this hunt supposed to be a hunt for game... or for something else? Her eyes flashed with a bit of a spark, something that alerted the others to a bit of an adrenaline rush that she felt. Of course, she had been deeply impacted by the needless slaughter of her people; all of her fellow tribesmen had felt this sorrow, but it seemed to linger in the young vyldkin. Most would call this a hinderance; however, the vyldkin realized that she could use this as a release for combat purposes.

"I, Gnash Skinrender, accept this trial," an older vyldkin called from the crowd, stepping forward to meet the gaze of the elder who had called out for those that would hunt.

"I, Bane Marrowsworn, accept this trial," another vyldkin cried, stepping forward. The young woman cleared her throat and stepped out ahead of the crowd, twirling her axe in her hand as if to emphasize her enthusiasm.

"I, Feral Bloodrazor, accept this trial," the female vyldkin exclaimed, stepping forward and taking a quick glance back toward Ahn. "Are you coming, blade-brother, or am I going to have to drag you along by your mane?" she joked, gesturing to the gathering crowd around the elder.

---

---

The air here in the Badlands was much drier than anything she was used to. Though she’d been told much of this place, she had never been before, and the words, however true, had not done the barrenness proper justice. ”Journey to the very center of the Badlands, where nothing grows save resentment and heartfire,” he’d told her once, ”and you will find my home.” He’d sounded… sorrowful when he’d said it, though why exactly that was, she’d been too young and insensitive to place at the time.

Now she was a little older and considerably wiser, and she had a feeling that maybe part of his meaning was clear to her. Everything Rikash had ever told her had layers upon layers of meaning, and she’d loved that, the challenge of setting her mind to peeling away at them without destroying them, like coaxing open a tightly-shut blossom. Words were beautiful things, capable of moving hearts and stirring souls, and he’d had a particular kind of way with them that she tried to emulate, though her voice, soprano and lilting as it was, would never carry the solemn, gravelly weight that his had.

She’d heard about the initial event, the spark that had ignited this conflict, what might soon become a war, and the term, heartfire had immediately leapt from memory into the forefront of her mind. It was important; she wondered if he’d known it would be. This was not something she would put past him—his wisdom had seemed to her at times almost infinite, and rarely had she found him stretched beyond the limits of his understanding. When they’d met, she had been in the very earliest bloom of youth, nothing more than a child, and he perhaps come to middle-age. Time had changed her little and he much, and she’d watched with deep disquiet as he grew old and died. It had taught her at the very least that age and wisdom were not one and the same, and she hoped that perhaps something of what he taught her could now be conveyed back to his people… if they would be willing to hear it.

She suspected the Shatterhearts would at least lend her an ear. Rikash had formally adopted her; she bore the mark of the warrior’s blood-bond, and any vyldkin would know what the scar signified: she was daughter to one of theirs, whatever skin she wore. How much weight they would give it would be the sticking point. His clan was small, but well-respected. The environment in which they lived was the most marginal, unyielding part of the Badlands, and it had toughened their small numbers to something of an elite force; he had told her that there was not one among his own clan who was not a fierce hunter. But they were also wise and discerning, as they needed to be to survive. The other clans… he had told her that if ever she met them, she must not count them too quickly among her friends. Berry had frowned at that notion—slow to decide in many matters, she was quite the opposite when it came to finding friends. It would be a difficult thing to remember.

Sighing, she paused at the crest of a small rise and peered out over the landscape. Nothing yet; she had not run into any wandering clan, and the Badlands were vast to the reckoning of one with short legs and no horse, but she was hardy, and she’d endure as long as she had to. Picking up a moderate lope (something else he’d taught her), she ate the ground at a decent pace, following a road mapped only by instinct and vague notions of cardinality.

It wasn’t long before she did spot someone, but she couldn’t help but think that, even from this distance, there was something wrong about the shape. Certainly, whomever it was could be considered tall (though to her, everyone was tall), but… they didn’t look broad enough. Either that was the skinniest vyldkin there ever was, or else no vyldkin at all. Pressing her lips together, Berry picked up her pace, kicking up little dust clouds with her passage. The grass was nearly as tall as she was, and she could only barely see over the top of it to gauge her position relative to this other person. Of course, she would have been able to follow the slightly-parted grass, but tracking by eye was much easier.

After about ten minutes of this, she at last drew up alongside the person, surprised to note the pointed ears and fine-boned facial structure of an elf. What was an elf doing all the way out here? Then again, it was probably no more curious than her own presence.

“’Ello, stranger,” she greeted amicably. “I’ve got t’ say, I wasn’ quite expecting t’ run int’ anyone what wasn’ vyldkin, out ‘ere.” The statement carried the implications of a vague question, but it was no accusation by any measure.

---

---

"Only you would wish to grab hold of my mane, dear battle-sister," the silver-furred vyldkin responded with a coy smirk. Feral watched as he straightened himself out just to announce his intention of joining the hunt. The female heard his remark and did her best to hide a creeping smile that threatened to betray the formality of the gathering. She seemed to appreciate Ahn's sense of humor more than most others in the tribe, perhaps due to their relative youth compared to most of the veteran hunters. Being allowed to engage in the final hunt before an exodus was an honor reserved for the best hunters of the trube; however, with youth and honor came a sense of recklessness that Feral still carried. The elders had always warned her about being particularly overzealous when it came to combat and battling, especially since it seemed she had a certain... aptitude to become overtaken by bloodlust at times. Feral, however, never claimed to see this as a problem, instead believing it to be a blessing by the gods to increase her ferocity in combat.

Ahn walked up toward the others gathered around the elder, passing Feral along the way. "Perhaps we'll see who can bring down the largest of the herd?" he chuckled as he took his place next to the others. The female's eyes lit up at the sound of the challenge--he knew all too well that she was rather competitive, especially after that incident where she had nearly ripped a fellow tribesman's arm out of his socket for trying to steal her prey from under her nose. At least now she knew better than to allow her rage to get away from her that easily...

"With that blade weighing you down? I'll be dragging the carcass back to the camp before you can even raise your weapon above your head," Feral smirked, looking up toward the blade-brother out of the corner of her eye. "Bet I can even do it without my axe, too..." There was something about proving herself to the others, something about showing that even the females are just as successful of hunters as the males in the tribe, if not even more so. Whether for this reason or to continue to uphold the reputation of her namesake tribe, she was determined to make good on her boast.

"Warriors of the Bloodrazor Clan, we bless you in the name of the gods so that your senses grow sharp and your aim strikes true," the elder continued, reaching for a silver bowl with intricate carvings and patterns etched into the metal. A thick red liquid sat within the concave surface, and the elder dipped three claws into the bowl, letting the liquid soak deep in his fur. He slowly pulled them out once more, drops falling back into the bowl with a slow methodical drip drip drip.

"With the blood of our ancestors, we bless you with vigor, strength, and speed," the elder commented before walking up to Feral. With the three sanguine fingers, the elder drew three parallel lines down the left side of the vyldkin's face, leaving a definite pattern in her fur. Feral felt a surging sense of power and pride welling within her--as much as she knew that this was more for tradition and ritual than anything else at this point, there was always something... visceral about this particular part of the pre-hunting ritual.

The elder repeated his mantra, dipping his fingeres into the blood once more for Ahn, Gnash, and Bane before drawing the same three lines down the left side of their faces. When this was finished, the elder took his place behind the fire pit. With his bloodstained hand, he reached into another bowl--this one much more earthen and plain in appearance--and pulled from this one a handful of gray powder. With a roar, the elder tossed the powder into the fire and the vyldkin watched as the flames transformed from orange to--

...green?

Feral stared into the emerald fire, not quite sure what to make of this sign. She had never seen this happen before--had the elder done something wrong with the ritual? Normally the flames would have turned crimson-red, which would have signaled to the others that a successful hunt, but... what did a green flame mean? Murmurs of discontent began to rise up from the crowd behind the hunters.

"Settle down!" the elder roared with a newfound ferocity. Immediately, the voices softened to dull whispers as the elder walked around the green fire burning in the pit. "This is a sign indeed... A great change is upon us all, brothers and sisters; do not fear it, but rather embrace it and let us seize the opportunity to determine where our new destiny shall lead us!"

A few males in the crowd roared with approval, letting the air ring with the depth of their battlecry. The elder nodded once more before turning back to the four hunters. "Do not fear the omen, hunters--our ancestors still grant you a portion of their strength. You will be successful." With that, the elder bowed before the group ahead of him. "Now go--prowl as one, strike as one, hunt as one."

With those words, Feral nodded and followed behind Gnash and Bane, staying close to Ahn as he carried his greatsword. She, on the other hand, found the loops on the straps around her belt and tied the axe to it before stretching her arms toward the sky, eyes toward the horizon. Of course, she was worried about the outburst of the flames--she knew that all four of them were; she knew that the entire village was concerned. Still, there was something more important that they were to deal with, and of course she would attempt to perform her task to the best of her ability.

Feral fell forward, catching herself on powerful paws as she began to walk around using all four limbs. This was when she felt most comfortable for whatever reason--there was something about being in this more primal state that really appealed to her more than standing on two legs all the time. As she walked alongside the group, she continued glancing up toward Ahn occasionally as Gnash and Bane talked amongst themselves. She still felt that spark in her eye; something about the hunt always put that spark there, and she was more than content with it, especially if it meant proving herself to competent hunters.

"So... the portent..." Feral growled, hoping to strike up some sort of conversation as they passed the time wandering the badlands. "What do you make of it...?"

---

---

That he’d so readily picked up on her implications (and answered them) made Berry smile herself, tipping her head so as to properly meet his eyes for just a moment. She was maybe just a bit taller than his elbow, though, so naturally that made things a bit difficult. Then again, she’d travelled with Rikash for years, and he’d been such a giant that she’d just barely reached his waist. If there was one thing she was accustomed to by now, it was holding conversation with people taller than her.

Fair was fair, and as she strode along beside the elf, taking about two strides for every one of his, she considered the answer for a moment. Not because she was planning on saying anything untrue, but because it was a bit difficult to explain her presence here, even to herself. She was intrigued to learn that he had already lived with some of the vyldkin; it bore well on her own chances of success. She had to admit, she was quite curious about that, but it was only polite to answer his own question first.

Frowning slightly at the use of ‘dwarf’ as an address, she supposed she should supply him with something to use instead. “Beryl,” she corrected kindly, “Or Berry; I do like tha’ a bi’ better. I’m ‘ere because… well, I’m looking for t’ Shatterheart clan. A friend o’ mine was of them, and I owe ‘im a lot, so since I can’ repay ‘im, I thought I might see ‘f there was anything I could do for t’em.” She shrugged diffidently, though in truth she was much more serious about this than flippant, and that wasn’t exactly normal for her.

Of course, the part of her that was still a dwarf immediately noticed the unusual weapon at his back, and she could not resist another query. “’S well-made, that. N’er seen any with two blades like that. Issit vyldkin?” It wasn’t dwarvish, that was for sure. Still, she wondered what its material composition was, or more specifically, whether or not she could improve it. Her magic wasn’t much to look at—there were no glorious flashbangs or fancy mind-tricks, but she was good at improving things already present, and at healing wounds, when the occasion called for it, and both of those things were useful in their own fashions.

This grass was proving to be a difficulty, as most of it landed just below her nose, which was proving a most irritating fact about it. Trying unsuccessfully to push the majority of it out of the way, Berry sneezed abruptly, thrice in quick succession, sniffling and exhaling in a huff. It figured she’d be allergic to this stuff. She was seriously contemplating just hewing it down with her blade, but that would be disrespectful to the nature here and she didn’t want to do that. So instead, the dwarf tugged her scarf, a light blue piece of fabric, up and over her nose and mouth, so that she’d at least be breathing through an additional layer of something, which would hopefully help.

“So which clan were y’ staying with?” She knew of a few names, and the general descriptions associated with them, but in the end, she’d only ever actually met one vyldkin.

---

---

The ambassador was relieved to hear that the drow at least had some extra provisions for herself, but the girl was going to be slightly problematic. At the rate that they were adding people, they might not have enough supplies to feed everyone for the rest of the day--or at least, make sure they had somewhat full stomachs in order to feel comfortable. Still, Ivorygate was not about to leave someone out in the middle of the plains who required help; that would be too cold and cruel, even for the vyldkin. The guard, as correct as he was in his assertion that they could not sustain many more mouths especially with their already-limited supplies, did not seem to realize that being cold-hearted was making them more and more like the war-faring beasts that they did not want to emulate.

Geoffrey smiled as he heard the dwehga tell the young girl about the dangers of travelling on the road. At least someone else was trying to bring a bit of logic into the girl's mind, even if Jura was not going to pay attention to the sage words of wisdom that were being imparted by two elders. There was, however, something to her enthusiasm that Geoffrey enjoyed... Perhaps he did take his job a bit too seriously at times... But with the fate of the world at stake, there was no time to shirk off in his duties to the Hold.

He led the others back to the circle of horses, nodding to the guards. "Men, this is Lady Jura Darling and Lady Talael Tamira. They are travellers who I have offered protection to for the time being. Men, you are to treat these two women with respect and dignity at all times, understand?" The guards saluted in response, although Ivorygate could see a bit of apprehension in the mens' eyes.

"Find a guard to sit with, ladies--if they give you any trouble, feel free to call out their attention to me," Geoffrey nodded before climbing up onto his horse. "Men, we ride to the Bloodrazor Grounds." With that, the captain led the way to the east, heading out toward the Badlands.

An hour passed. The group found themselves in an area with quite a bit of overgrowth. It was not long before the travelers came across another group of people--these were rather poor-looking fellows that seemed to be gathered around a slender man...

"Bandits!" Geoffrey exclaimed to no one in particular. "Men, you know what to do." With that, he stopped his horse and dismounted, walking toward the group before watching the bandits suddenly collapse onto the ground as a tremor shook through the immediate area.

"What was that!?" one of the guards exclaimed as the not-bandit of the group seemed to get back up without so much as a scratch on him.

"...must be some sort of magic, I believe..." Ivorygate's voice seemed slightly distant. "Men, make sure this man is able to fend off the rabblerousers. When you've finished, I'd like to speak with the mage."

"...Sir, with all due respect..." the captain muttered through gritted teeth. "We are already behind schedule and overburdened with extra people. Do you really need to talk with this man?"

Ivorygate turned to the cynical captain, a glint in his eye. "Yes, as a matter of fact, I'd like to. It is your job to guard those that require protection, no? If he attacks you, feel free to arrest him in self-defense."

A few of the guards nodded in compliance and ran out to assist the young man with his battle. Geoffrey, in the meantime, watched from the sidelines, giving an occasional glance back to the newcomers. After a few minutes of fighting, the attackers scattered back into the woods, rather infuriated that they could not get their money or goods or whatever they were looking for. Satisfied, the ambassador approached the remaining figure, who he realized upon closer inspection was an elf much like Talael except for the lack of dark-blue skin.

He bowed his head in respect toward the stranger. "Andaran atish'an, fheyga'mal", he greeted, using the proper greeting toward males of this particular race. In the limited time he had spend living and observing the elves, he had picked up snippets of their language. "Are you alright? Who were those men that attacked you just now?"

---

---

The vyldkin on the ground looked up toward her compatriot, catching his smirk out of the corner of her eye. While the first two choices sounded legitimately plausible, the third she knew was a joke--it had to be! How could Ahn say something as ridiculous about her as that? After she had talked up such a big game, too?

"You imply you even had a chance in the first place," she growled back to the silver-furred vyldkin beside her, more of a joke than anything else. Feral knew that she had a tendency to come across as a bit aggressive at times, and she figured that Ahn would have enough common sense to understand that. She had, after all, noticed him watching her when she had sparred with other vyldkin and he had conversed with her in the past. Besides, he was a blade-brother--how could she not joke about this sort of thing with him, despite the fact that it was more than a joke to her?

"Of course I have a chance, battle-sister," he grinned a her, "I have to make it hard for you, otherwise it would not be challenging. Besides, you wouldn't have it any other way, would you?" He asked her as he strode next to her. He looked down at her, his grin reflected in his silver eyes. How he couldn't wait to see her in action once again. It was always entertaining to watch her during her sparring matches.

"Please--you have strength, I give you that much," Feral shot back without missing a beat. "I, on the other hand, can rely on more than my blade. A true hunter must be stealthy, agile, and ruthless. With a huge blade like that, you can be none of those things. If, however, you relish the thought of hunting through instinct and natural prowess alone, well... that is the embodiment of the hunt. It's how our ancestors would want us to hunt--besides, it's more satisfying this way." She managed to keep her pace consistent with the others despite being on all fours. For whatever reason, some vyldkin were more naturally adept in this particular posture; Feral just happened to be one of these hunters.

"You do not think that I am capable of stealth? Or agility? My blade is all that I need, dear Feral. I'm willing to bet that I am much quieter than you," he teased. However she had one thing right: he wasn't agile at all without his weapon and became a lumbering mess of muscle without the blade. Perhaps it wouldn't be a bad idea to learn a few things from her in the future, but until then, he would be just fine with his sword. "Our ancestors run deep in us all. I think a bit deeper in you," he suggested, referring to her tendency to be overly excited when hunting. He tried to hold back the chuckle that threatened to ruin the mood, but it slipped out just a bit before he caught it.

Feral crossed in front of Ahn, a bit of a smirk creeping across her face as she listened to Ahn's counter-argument. "I never said you lacked those capabilities, but rather are hindered by your reliance on that blade. You need to become... versatile if you want to catch your prey off-guard. If you're disarmed and rely only on your blade, what then?" She looked back up at Ahn, presenting vicious-looking teeth toward him. "This is where your true strength and inner fire comes to the front, Ahn. It's in this moment where you feel most alive. The ancestors know it and bless us with their prowess."

Ahn watched her as she shifted to walk in front of him, moving her body backwards and yet still keeping pace, a wonderful trait if he said so himself, "Versatile, hu? I can show you versatile," he said with a laugh. Unhooking his blade, he let the weaon drop and fell forward, tackling her suddenly in a playful manner. Ahn growled at her and nipped at her as he rolled forward, trying to bring her down.

"Really... you want to do that now?" Ahn heard Gnash comment from the front of their party. Ahn ignored him and kept up his play.

Feral was, admittedly, caught off-guard as Ahn slammed into her side, causing her to shift off-balance and nearly fall to the ground. She felt the silver vyldkin biting at her skin in almost a playful manner. Without hesitating, Feral scratched at Ahn's chest with one claw as she threw her other arm around his shoulder, slightly digging into his flesh and possibly drawing a bit of blood. She mustered a powerful kick with both of her legs as she found her opponent's other shoulder and bit into it, letting her teeth bite down on his skin without drawing any blood this time. With a grunt and a growl, she attempted to flip him onto his back, where she knew she would have the advantage.

"Save it for the beasts, you two!" Bane growled, turning around to attempt to settle their mock fight. "If you really need to do this now, head back to the clan--we have no need for distractions like this on the last hunt before the exodus. You both know how serious this is--are you two even listening to me!?"

Ahn grunted as Feral was quick to retaliate against him. He felt her claws digging into his back as she attempted to roll him to get on top. Only there would she have the advantage. Her jaw locked over his other shoulder opposite to where she was gripping him, but she did not bite down hard enough to break the skin. Ahn grinned as he let her kick roll them. If she thought that he would allow her to take top, she was very much mistaken and he used the roll to continue across the grass until he pinned her, and leaned up with a broad smile.

"Heard, yes. Listening, no," Ahn answered Bane who had yelled at them.

Feral was not one to take this pin lying down. In his moment of distraction, she placed both of her hind limbs square on his chest and kicked him hard enough to break his grip on her arms. She quickly got back onto all fours and smirked.

"You know I am not the largest prize of this hunt, Ahn..." she growled through a bit of a grin. "We have bigger prey to find..." With that, she followed behind Gnash and Bane, eager to get the hunt underway once more. "They're right, though--we'll settle it later at the camp if you would like..."

Ahn fell backwards, knocked off of her completely and the wind taken from his lungs as he hit the ground. With a cough, he regained the air needed into his chest and rolled over to his stomach to pick himself back up. Growling lightly, Ahn picked up his weapon and followed after her, "You may not be the largest, but you're a prize to hunt," he commented, "If you think you can handle it, I would be pleased to finish back at camp."

"If you two are done, we have a herd to find..." Bane muttered once again, turning his attention toward the the north. The four wandered for another fifteen minutes or so before coming across a herd of gray-skinned beasts, each with four horns curling from atop their heads. They contented themselves with feasting from the grasses that grew sparsely across the badlands. A few of the larger beasts, however, decided to display their strength to the others of the herd by charging at one another and locking horns in combat.

Feral smirked as she felt a glimmer in her eye. She looked back toward Ahn, displaying a bit of her jagged teeth. "The big one's mine..."

---

---

---

---

“Thanks,” she said, relatively certain that the word he’d used was supposed to be something polite said to excuse a sneeze. If it wasn’t, well, more the fool her, and she was willing to be a little foolish to think the best of people. She sniffled slightly, but fortunately for her it seemed that the scarf was doing its job, and she felt no need to expel further irritants from her lungs.

What he said then made her smile, and though the gesture itself was invisible beneath the shroud over her lower face, it was certainly beatific enough to crinkle her eyes at the corners. She had missed travelling with company, something she’d become fairly used to in Rikash’s tutelage. “Sounds like ‘n excellen’ idea, ‘avi. I’d be ‘appy t'.” She’d met but few elves thus far in her journeys, as Rikash had always seemed to be primarily interested in learning what he could of the humans, but she had ventured into the edges of their great forest-land, and though it was not her natural habitat, there was much to be said for it, indeed. The trees had swept overhead, their canopies a more vaulted ceiling than in any human cathedral or palace she’d ever seen. The people that grew up in such natural splendor had always struck her as a little splendid themselves, so naturally inclined to arts of grace and subterfuge and subtlety as her own were not. Even the way they spoke was more elegant, which was obvious when one compared her inflection to Havinthir’s.

Berry was clever, perhaps even wise, but she was not elegant.

"I'm glad. It's been a while since I've conversed with a dwarf. The last time I saw your kind was..." Havinthir tapped his lips gently as he thought back, "My... several years ago. Your people have such a way with creating things, enchanting and the like. I find it very intriguing to learn about," He stretched his hand out again and let it run along the tall grass. He was a bit lost in thought, memories of the past when he'd first ventured from his forest and encountered the other races.

"Not much've a smith, m'self," Berry admitted. "That w's m'father's trade. I do 'ave a fair hand with enchantmen', though." She supposed such things had become mundane to her through exposure; the talent for working metal had never seemed all that interesting or important when she was learning it. It was perhaps, like many things, a matter of perspective.

Shifting her eyes overhead for a moment, she was about to drop them again when she noticed something vaguely unsettling. There, on the horizon, was a thickening cloud of grey-black. It was small from this distance, but growing more visible as it plumed ever upwards. The dwarf's eyebrows drew together, and she tapped her companion's elbow, seeking to draw him from his musings. Pointing, she spoke. "'M I th' only one wha' sees tha'?"

The soft touch on his elbow drew his attention and he looked down at Berry with a soft smile. However, that smile didn't last as she pointed out into the distance to gain his attention on something that she'd seen. His sharp gaze caught the smoke that billowed on the horizon, gray plumes that rose up into the air one after another. Havinthir's breath caught as he narrowed his eyes, lips parting into a look of astonishment and a bit of fear.

"What happened?" Havi muttered. Glancing down to Berry, he changed direction slightly to go towards the smoke, figuring that she would wish to go there as well, "We should go quickly."

"Righ'," Berry agreed, easing her pace into a loping jog. She wasn't too concerned with leaving the grass undisturbed at this point, as it seemed that whatever that smoke signified, it was probably urgent. As they both triangulated themselves to head towards the smoke, it seemed to grow only heavier and more ominous, blotting out the sun above them.

Upon approach, it became clear that this was no simple brush fire. A thick, cloying smell hung in the air, and she recognized it as burnt flesh and something else... fur, maybe? It was a sickening thought, to say the least. Biting her tongue, the dwarf forged ahead, breaking from the confines of the grasses and into a wide clearing that had once encircled a vyldkin settlement.

What was left could hardly be called charred ruins. It seemed that everything flammable had burned, wood and hides and foods alike, and amidst the carnage lay the occasional body, unmoving and dead or else in the last throes of panicked life. Just from looking, she could tell that there was nothing her moderate talent for magic could do to help those that yet breathed-- some of them missing limbs or eyes or entire swaths of fur. Aside from the ragged breathing of these tortured survivors and the crackling of what flames remained to feed on the dregs of the encampment, there was no sound, and the stillness itself was eerie.

Berry hurried forth, unthinking except for the desire to aid those whom she saw. Rationally, she knew there was little to be done, but that could not quell the instinct to go to them, to kneel beside them, and to the first she saw she ran, the pearlescent shimmer of her magic licking at her fingertips, a spell for nothing more than to numb pain, to make death less of an agony.

"Wha' happen'd 'ere?" she asked aloud, though it was not clear if she expected the vyldkin she now knelt beside to answer.

"Dashindalli," Havi whispered to himself as he entered the ruined settlement. His heart was tight as he looked around the destruction. The vyldkin were either dead or dying and there was nothing he could do about it. His hands shook as he walked into the village. Berry had gone to one of the vyldkin on the ground, asking a question about what had happened. Havinthir wasn't sure if the vyldkin answered her or not.

Moving to another vyldkin, the elf knelt down next to her and pulled her head up onto his lap. She was just barely alive, her breath shallow and very slow. He didn't know how much longer she had. There was nothing he could do in the way of healing, and he didn't have time to prepare any sort of potions either. Nor would he be able to treat all of them. His jaw tightened as he looked down at the poor woman.

Resting his hand over her eyes, he muttered to himself in elvish, a simple prayer for her passing from this world to the next. He held her until she drew her final breath and stood up afterwards, angered that such a thing had happened. Havi went to Berry and the vyldkin she'd been next to.

"Did he say anything?"

The vyldkin coughed up blood, soaking into the fur on his chest. "...came from the shadows... fleshbags..." With that, the final breath escaped from his lips and his head fell back down upon the dwarf's lap, eyes staring off toward the infinite.

Berry eased him gently to the ground, closing his eyes, and stood morosely, wrapping her arms around her torso and hugging herself, as though that was the only thing keeping her insides in place. It was a rather sympathetic reaction, considering how many of these poor people could not say that their entrails were all where they properly belonged.

At Havinthir's question, she bit her lip. "'E said... tha' they came out o' th' shadows. 'E used th' term 'fleshbags,' which coul' mean anythin' non-vyldkin, so I 'ave no idea 'f this was somethin' the 'umans did or no'." She couldn't imagine why anyone would spring out of nowhere and attack a settlement like this, no matter who lived in it, but then perhaps that was a fault in her reasoning. If so, she hoped she never corrected the flaw.

"Fleshbags... It could mean anyone. This is terrible, Berry..." Havi looked to her and noted that she had wrapped her hands around herself. Stretching a hand out, he touched her shoulder, unsure if she wanted any other kind of comfort or not. He looked around them once more, the burning and the smell permeated the air. The elf was having a hard time standing it as he sat there. It was a sickening feeling that settled at the bottom of his stomach.

"Berry, we should do something with their bodies, we cannot leave them out here like this," Slowly he stood up and glanced around. There was enough fire to do the trick without having to make any, "We'll build pyres for them. I want to find who did this... I want to know why," Havi said in anger.

Berry glanced up at her fellow traveler and nodded firmly. "Righ'. 'S th' only thing we can do for 'em, now." Glancing about, she tried to locate the best place to construct such a pyre. A neaby building, having been made of wood and once-stretched leather, was still burning quite vigorously; it seemed like that would be the best place for it.

"'F we can move 'em o'er there, we can give 'em a proper sendin'-off, a' leas'." She pointed out the place she had in mind, but there was no way she'd be able to move all these people herself. Sturdy and strong she may be, but vyldkin were massive as a rule.

Havinthir looked over to where Berry pointed. The building was already burning and it would serve to be a pyre. Havinthir wasn't very strong, but he could at least drag some of the smaller vyldkin over to the area. The others that were much larger he would have to use his magic for. However, the elf would have to be careful not to use too much magic. It would be bad if his levitation came back on him.

"I can drag a few of them, if you could help me," he said and began dragging a few of them that he could over to the burning building. Once he'd gotten all that he could near the building, Havi stood over them and took a deep breath. Lifting his hands up he pulled the power into existace, calling his magic to wrap around the bodies before him. Carefully he lifted them, one by one and put them into the building as far as he could without putting too much strain on his own body.

Thankfully there weren't many to lift, but even so at the end of it, Havi was breathing heavily, his body feelng heavier than usual. As he let go of the last one, he dropped onto his hands and knees, heaves of air being brought into his lungs that felt as if he'd had a very large animal sitting on top of him.

After helping the elf drag the first few, she watched with some apprehensiveness as he levitated the rest, pursing her lips when he'd finished doubled over with the exertion. Though she had some talent for alteration, it was more in the realms of organic and inorganic material, not something as esoteric as manipulating gravity.

Still, there was something she could do. Picking her way over to him, the dwarf splayed a hand over his upper back, reaching for her own magic and applying a burst of healing energy to him. "I know 's not really me you're doin' this all for, bu' thank you 'nyhow," she said simply, withdrawing her hand and turning towards the pyre.

---

Some time later, the pyre had burned low and the bodies were all ash in the wind, as the vyldkin preferred to be after death. "Seems like we should be tellin' someone abou' all this..." she mused thoughtfully. "Bu' I dunno who, 'xactly."
Havi nodded. He was standing now beside the shorter woman, his eyes lingering on the ashes of the village. They should report this to someone, but who exactly? Who was going to listen to a story that involved the death of an entire vyldkin village? There were not many who cared about the race. With a sigh he turned to Berry.

"Looks like we need to go find who will listen and do something to help us. This definitely takes precedence over finding another village to travel with," Havinthir turned away from the ashes. He knew that the human settlements were not far from where they'd deviated from. Perhaps a day or so walk.

"Let's see who we can find, maybe we'll get lucky," Havi said and started to head south.

---

---

The four vyldkin sprinted after one of the lumbering beasts, choosing to swarm upon the largest of the herd together--these creatures were at least three times their size, so going one-on-one with any of these beasts was out of the question. Ahn had stood up on two legs and grabbed his broadsword, hoping to attack the plainswalker's hind legs and cripple it that way. Bane was smashing away at one of the creature's front legs with a large hammer as Gnash attempted to rake the other side with razor-sharp gauntlets that protruded from his gloves.

Feral, not to be outdone any of the other hunters, leapt over Bane's head and hammer, claws extended as she dug her paws into the beast's flesh. While it was thick, she had managed to get enough of a hold with her claws to cling to the hide of the planeswalker. Using her razor-sharp teeth, she bit into the beast's skin, drawing a bit of blood as she felt the liquid dribble down her muzzle. It roared out in pain as Feral released her grip with one claw and reached higher, intent on scaling the side of the beast and climbing up to the top of its back to get the best places to strike.

"Might want to keep an eye out, Feral," the vyldkin herad Ahn's voice cry out from below. "Wouldn't want you to miss the killing blow that I deliver!"

The pouding of the beast's feet against the ground threatened to fling Feral from the back of the planeswalker, but she was determined to show up Ahn, especially after he had caught her off-guard earlier. She pulled herself to onto the creature's back, claws digging in as she continued to bite down into the skin and tearing bits of flesh. The creature cried out in pain once again as the sheer overwhelming force against it continued to take its toll.

"Incoming!" Bane cried over the roar of a deafening crack as his hammer finally split something open inside the beast's leg. With another rumble, the planeswalker fell toward the front, stumbling over its broken leg and slamming against the ground.

Feral's claws struggled to retain their grip in the hide, and the muscles in her jaw were aching from squeezing too tight just to hold on. As the animal smashed into the ground, she felt for her axe hanging off of her side and grabbed the haft, pulling the weapon out of the loop and twirling it around in her hand. With her other three limbs, she dug her claws deeper into the skin of the beast as she brought the sharpened blade across its hide, leaving a deep gash that began to ooze blood.

"You mean like that killing blow?" Feral smirked as she looked back toward the vyldkin, twirling her axe.

"No, this killing blow," Gnash growled as he plunged his gauntlet into the wound on the beast's neck. It shuddered and cried once more before the vyldkin ripped a chunk off of the planeswalker's hide.

"Why did you do that!? I told you that I would be the one to land the killing blow..." Feral snarled at her hunting brother.

"Well, dear battle-sister, if you were less focused on the theatrics and showing up your blade-brother and more focused on working with the group to bring down the prey..." Bane pulled out a knife after placing his hammer on the ground, intent on slicing off meat from the creature's leg. "You may have been the one to land the killing blow."

---

---

"There will always be another hunt, blade-sister... Of course our next hunt, I'll be the winner. You should train hard, Feral if you want to take the next kill." Her silver-furred companion gently patted her on the shoulder before walking calmly to the others to help them skin the beast.

Feral was doing her damnedest to control herself at this point. She was supposed to have killed the planeswalker! She was the one that was to bring honor to her bloodline, not Gnash or Bane! After talking such a big game to Ahn, she was more than disappointed that she was not the one to land the death strike... Oh well, at least Ahn did not kill it either, which somewhat put her at ease...

But Gnash!? Really!? What right did he have to tell her how to work with a group? He was one that tended to isolate himself from the other vyldkin whenever possible, and yet he deigned to tell Feral the importance of working with the group!? The irony was not gone unnoticed by the female vyldkin, who gave the "victor" a passing glance of contempt as she pulled out her axe and began to cut huge slabs of muscle from the underside of the dead creature with her axe.

"Don't hack away at the creature, Feral..." Bane calmly growled, pulling out a knife and peeling away some of the flesh around the muscle. "There's a certain finesse that comes with butchery, something that requires a bit more of a delicate approach as opposed to... brute force..." With a bit of grace, Bane began to skin the flesh off of the meat that Feral had already hacked from the hide of the beast.

"You don't think I know that?" Feral snapped at her elder, a bit of hostility in her voice. "This is why I wanted to go into battle, not to prepare food! It's what I live for!" In her anger, she slammed her blade once more into the planeswalker's hide, watching her axe stick out from the side of the creature.

"Feral, you're too impulsive--you cannot expect to be the greatest warrior or the most influential vyldkin... Patience is something you must learn--it cannot be something you claim to know already, for I know you're still young and reckless... moreso than the other young vyldkin warriors."

With nothing else to say, the female snarled at Bane and slammed her blade into the beast's hide once more. Feral simply grabbed her axe once more and hitched it to her side before falling back onto all fours and running back toward her clan's camp. She did not care that the others would think ill of her after her outburst--who cared, anyway? They did not think her capable of combat anyway, so if they believed her to be dead weight, why continue to weigh down the group? If they wanted to confront her about it, she would in the comforts of the camp, bot out in the wilderness.

---

---

After the others readjusted themselves atop their respective mounts, Ivorygate nodded and directed his horse after Aransandorian's stag. He made sure to keep his horse close behind the leader--as much as he wished to take command of the situation, he realized that these individuals may have as much of a reason to attempt to stop any further destruction from the vyldkin as the humans and have just as much of a right to help the cause as he did to lead them. Besides, he had no idea how to manuever through these woods, and Aransandorian was more than capable of leading the group through.

The others were rather quiet, which was interesting for a change. They all knew of the severity of the situation, and of course they knew that another destroyed settlement would only rile them further. Silently, the ambassador hoped that it would not come down to an entire settlement raining claws and steel down upon their ragtag group for even looking at someone in an awkward manner. If there was one thing that they all knew, it was that the vyldkin were not to be trifled with.

After a quick warning by their elven guide, the Bloodrazor settlement came into view, a small band of vyldkin standing by the outskirts of some of their large tents. They appeared to be packing and relocating to another part of the badlands--an ill-timed attempt for negotiation on the king's part, but they had managed to find the settlement before too much had been packed away. There was indeed that small fortune that graced the ambassador's current predicament, and he welcomed any extra luck that might help their cause.

The newcomer elf dismounted and walked toward the observing vyldkin, motioning back toward the group after a brief moment. Their members appeared displeased to see the approaching diplomat, especially one that stood next to a silver-furred vyldkin that wielded a greatsword nearly as large as the diplomat himself. He held his breath until the very moment that the group turned back toward their settlement, leaving the elf alone.

Taking the suggestions of the others into account with regards to his guards, Ivorygate dismounted and stood next to his steed. "Captain, you and your men will stay behind with the girl, make sure she does not come to harm while we discuss a potential peace deal."

"Sir, I will not allow myself to stay outside while you are putting yourself in peril," the captain protested, dismounting as well. "I insist on coming inside the settlement with you."

"Captain, I order you and your men to protect the girl. Take yourself a ways away and guard her with your lives. They already feel ill at-ease that we are even here, and allowing armed men into their complex will only serve to fan the flames. Besides, what difference will one armed guard make against dozens of vyldkin armed to the teeth with weapons and claws and physical superiority. As your quarry, I command that you stand down and allow the vyldkin their comfort and your absence." Ivorygate was not very pleased with the idea of an armed guard entering with them and being perceived as a threat to the very thin patience that the vyldkin had for their entire situation.

He turned to the others aside from Jura, grim-faced and stern. "Anyone that doubts their words and desire for peace stays out with the guards. They will protect you outside of the walls better than you would be able to help the cause." With that, Ivorygate turned back toward the elf and the retreating vyldkin, intent on continuing forward with diplomatic action, something that he was keen to begin. He had a feeling that the elves, the dwarf, and the dwehga would be interested in assisting him, but in what way? He supposed that they would undoubtedly have their reasons for making sure that war did not break out between the humans and the vyldkin, but would the elders of the Bloodrazor clan feel as if they were conspiring against their race in doing so?

The vyldkin of the camp shot the ambassador and the others dirty looks, wondering whether or not they would follow them to the large tent in the center of the camp. Ivorygate sighed and pushed ahead, leaving his guardsmen and Jura behind to wait for their return.

---

---

She realized what she had done. Fleeing from a hunt was hardly the most honorable thing one could do for the tribe, especially the final hunt before an Exodus, but she had done what she felt was necessary to keep herself from lashing out at her tribesmen. They technically had done nothing wrong, but her pride dictated that she was to have been the one to have landed the killing blow--none but the greatest of hunters were able to slaughter those massive beasts, even with help; but did that mean Gnash was a better hunter than she? Impossible! There was no conceivable way that Gnash was any better of a hunter than she! He was never as adept at combat and stealth as she!

The vyldkin continued to run across the badlands, not knowing whether the others cared enough to follow her--she highly doubted it--but still running with her axe at her side nonetheless. She needed to get away from the others for a bit, let herself cool off, perhaps kill a few smaller creatures on her own before returning back to the camp. They would not just up and leave without her, after all. Even if they had, she knew where they would be heading next.

Up ahead, though, she saw a few slight puffs of black smoke on the horizon. Her eyes grew wide as she sprinted ahead to see what exactly was causing this disturbance. She figured that it would be some sort of fire, but what was burning out in the middle of nowhere? Perhaps a settlement was out this far into the wilderness, but she never remembered the smoke being so black--

The stench overwhelmed her nostrils as she ventured closer. Burning bodies. Shredded tents. Charred fur. Funeral pyres. The entire clan had been killed. By whom, she did not know, nor did she care. In her anger, she unlatched her blood-stained axe and stood up on two legs before hurling it down into the ground and roaring in anguish. The cry echoed off on the winds, carrying as far as the vyldkin could see before disappearing across the horizon.

A rare sight indeed for a vyldkin to be brought to her knees, but sure enough, the sight of her blade-brothers smoldering before her very eyes was a powerful one. She knew this clan--the Whisperblades. They were a clan that managed to produce fine razor-sharp weapons; even she used a Whisperblade-crafted axe despite her clan's insistence that Bloodrazor steel was stronger. She had even received a blessing for this particular blade, but now... with their crafters slaughtered and their legacy only perpetuated by tales and legends...

The vyldkin felt a feral growl building in her chest as she released it toward the pyre ahead of her. She picked up her axe and reattached it to her belt--someone was going to answer for these crimes, and she herself would be judge, jury, and executioner. Turning to the south, the vyldkin bent back down on all fours before running away from the gristly site. Her clan had to know that the time for action was now before they were all slaughtered like the Whisperblades...

**A collab between HansenetteHeart and BlackIceRocker**





The guards were rather dumbfounded as to why the diplomat had even agreed to bring along anyone else with their journey, especially the Jura girl. She had done nothing but open her mouth where it was least beneficial to do so and had caused nothing but trouble, yet the diplomat insisted that they would not abandon her in the middle of nowhere to fend for herself. So, for the time being, they were all stationed away from the camp, forced to babysit the one person they would rather not have to deal with.

Jura didn't like guards and she was rather sure they didn't like her. Guards usually didn't. She didn't do well with authority. Or people who thought that they had authority. She sat on the ground, her arms crossed and glaring at the group of guards that were being forced into babysitting her. Great. This was definitely going to be a barrel of laughs.

"So what, do you guys have names or am I just meant to call you all "Guard 1, Guard 2, Guard 3" and so on." She asked, although it was more of a challenging statement than an actual question.

"We're not here to socialize, Miss Darling," one of the guards responded, staying on alert. "Ambassador Ivorygate has asked us to protect you, and that is precisely what we are doing."

Jura rolled her eyes. "Yeah, but what if there's an emergency? Because, oddly enough, I don't think "you there, the one in the uniform!" is going to do anyone much help if a vyldkin is ripping us all to pieces."

"By that point, you should have made peace with your gods--if we're surrounded by vyldkin, we're all dead anyway, names or not."

"Well, aren't you an optimist? Besides, vyldkin killing you lot, I understand. You have a massive crest on your armor. You scream "look at me! I'm a potenial target!" I, on the other hand, am a little girl who can cry on command and can run like almighty hell. I at least have a tiny chance."

"You think that'll stop bloodthirsty vyldkin from chasing you? I've seen what they do to the planeswalkers, and those things are massive! Three of 'em, bringing one of those beasties down and tearing it apart!" a third guard looked around toward the others.

"Aw, piss off--you're gonna scare the girl..." a fourth piped up, raising an eyebrow incredulously in response.

"Yeah, Mr Sunshine and Rainbows, you'll scare me." She grinned, playing with her sword again. "Besides, I wouldn't run. I'd hide. There is a reason my family calls me Dodger and it isn't because I'm spectacularly good at dodge ball."

The guards chuckled at the joke that the young woman managed to tell, glancing over at the one she had called "Mister Sunshine and Rainbows". They did not notice, however, something rustling in the underbrush until was too late. One of the guards immediately stopped, frozen in place as blood began to drip from his mouth before falling over dead, an axe embedded deep in the back of his neck.

"Secure the area!" the remaining guards immediately sprung up from their seated positions, grabbing weapons and surrounding the young woman. "We will not let the attacker catch us off-guard again!"

Jura blinked, pulled to her feet roughly by one of the guards. The suddeness of the whole event just sent a shock to her system. She peeked around one of the guards and cringed at the sight of the dead guard with an axe in his back.

"W-what..? What the hell is going on?!" The young woman asked, panic setting in. She should have been trying to keep calm but it was hard with a hidden attacker picking them off.

The nearby underbrush shook, unnerving even the trained guards protecting the young woman. "J-just stay calm, everyone..." one of the remaining guards managed to breathe, waving his sword in the direction of the shaking shrubbery. "...it's five against... how many are there?"

"N-No idea, sir..." another guard spoke up, his arm shaking from fear. He looked down toward the dead guard with the axe in the back of his head and trembled even more.

With a sudden burst of ferocity, something burst from the shrubbery, tackling two of the guards to the ground before tearing away at their necks with massive claws. Two of the remaining three guards wheeled back in surprise, but the third managed to identify the creature that attacked them all.

"Vyldkin!" he screamed before raising his sword above his head, giving the creature a massive target to slash across before he could bring down his weapon. The leonine creature slashed through the ringmail, tearing open his skin and causing massive lacerations to form across his stomach. After a few wobbly seconds, he finally fell over, clutching his stomach and watching his life flash before his eyes.

Jura let out a scream as she watched the guards be struck down by a ferocious blur. The young woman quickly grabbed her sword in a vain attempt of protecting herself. Her green eyes shot around the area, trying to spot this attacker, flinching as one of the other guards were brutally murdered.

"What are we going to do now?" She turned to the two remaining guards, her eyes wide and terrified. "What are we going to do?!"

The vyldkin attacker turned around atop the carnage she--it looked rather feminine, although it could have been a rather lithe male, it was sort of hard to tell to humans--had caused. She growled, letting the blood drip across her fur and adding a bit of ferocity to her appearance. With a leap, she struck down another guard while the one remaining began to shake in his boots. After tearing the flesh from the other guard, she turned and tackled the remaining armored man to the ground, pinning his limbs to the soft soil.

"What did you do to the Bladewhispers!?" she screamed into the guard's face, flecks of blood and malice flying every which way as she bared her teeth for the guard to see.

"Th-Th-The w-w-w-wha?" his eyes grew wide in fear. "I d-d-d-d-don't kn-n-n-n-now what you're t-t-t-t-talking ab-b-b-b--"

"Lies!" The guard cringed under the weight of the vyldkin's claws around his wrists. He grimmaced as the leonine attacker dug her claws into his flesh, drawing blood and moving down closer to his face. The guard could smell the blood and the stink of meat on her breath as he looked into her mouth filled with teeth.

"H-H-H-Honest! W-W-W-We c-c-c-c-c-c-c-came from the s-s-s-s-south... a-a-a-aren't the B-B-B-Bladewhisp-p-p-pers f-f-f-further n-n-n-north?"

With a roar, the vyldkin bit down on the guard's neck, plunging her teeth through the tender flesh and ripping it apart. It tasted rather sweet, revenge--she could tell that he had known too much about the clan they supposedly had not slaughtered. But what of the young woman? Sure, she had a blade, but she carried no armor...

Jura backed away from the vyldkin, her eyes wide and frightened. She was so dead. Her instincts were telling her to run, run like the wind but her legs weren't obeying her. She tripped as she backed away, landing onto her back. The young woman looked up at the gory attacker. Plucking up whatever courage and blind stupidity she had left, she addressed the beast.

"Well...if you're gonna do it, do it fast. I don't want any of that damn suffering bullshit." She spoke quietly and carefully, staring straight into the vyldkin's eyes. She looked at the beast, knowing that she was basically dead. Jura lifted her sword and placed it gently on the ground beside her. No need to harm the weapon. She'd promised it to her little brother after all.

The beast growled as she advanced on all fours toward the cowering young woman. Such stupid bravery--staring death in the eyes did that to people, after all. The vyldkin smirked, letting blood drip from her teeth as she wrapped a claw around the girl's ankle.

"And why would I do that? I'm sure that you'd tell quite an interesting tale if I kept you alive..." she purred as she squeezed around the woman's ankle. After doing so, she snarled at the survivor before calmly pawing over to the axe and ripping it out of the guard's neck. She placed it back on her belt before looking back toward the girl.

"If I see you again, you're meat... got it, fleshbag?"

Jura blinked as she hung upside down. "Well, technically, I'm made of meat now but sure, see you again and I'll be pushing up daisies." Inwardly, the young woman chastised herself but her mouth always ran away with her in stressful situation, and talking to a murderer was rather stressful in any walk of life. Blind panic and an already loose mouth never went well together.

The vyldkin snarled as she took the axe and slice it across the young girl's cheek, drawing blood. "Perhaps this will remind you to know your place, fleshbag..."

The young woman let out a startled gasp as the vyldkin cut her face with the axe that had killed one of the guards. She tried to cringe away from the snarling beast, blood dripping down over her eyes. She'd just been cut with a murder weapon. The thing that sliced her face had killed a man not minutes ago. Jura felt her stomach twist painfully at the thought.

"Okay, okay! I...I'll shut up! I...I wouldn't..." Jura babbled in fear, her deep green eyes filled with panic. The cut might not have been life-threatening but she didn't trust this vyldkin to smash her head against the ground and split it like an egg. "Just don't...slice or dice me or something. Please." Dodger squeaked, the blood oozing from her face beginning to stain her white fringe a disturbing shade of pink.

The vyldkin purred as the blood trickled down the meatsack's face and onto the ground, staining the dirt a muddy red. "You fleshbags... you're all the same--talk a big game and then beg for mercy when you've been put in your place." With a growl, she threw the human onto the ground, letting her legs fly over her head onto one of the corpses of the guards. "Be fortunate I find no use in slaughtering the defenseless unless I find need."

Jura scooted back quickly, her skin crawling from the contact with the corpse. Her wide eyes snapped to the vyldkin, cautious. Did she mean that or was she just going to kill her anyway? Her chest hammered as she sat silently, awaiting the next move. Her mind screamed at her to run, run to the rest of the group, run home, run to her mother and father and never stray again, to hell with any interesting things she might spot. The young woman spotted her sword on the ground where she'd left it. She shot her hand out and grabbed the blade, clutching it to her chest. "O-o-ok...So thanks f-for not killing me?" She whispered, eyes wide and watching.

The vyldkin snarled at the girl, axe glistening with blood in her claw as she took a few steps closer. "Don't forget--you are nothing." With that, the vyldkin leapt over the young cowering human and ran back off into the underbrush, leaving her behind with half a dozen corpses bleeding over the ground around her.