[P] their heads full of mischief and their newspapers of blood
full moon raid: group 2
#1
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Dated for the 12th, Group 2. Gjalda is the one on the road~

Ire filled her, sprouting from the seed planted long before they left camp. Beth understood that their mission required this division, but she went into it without the same fervor she had come to know. Though her father had reminded her this was a task that needed leadership, she did not understand why she had to deal with these heathens when Amund and his brother saw to the coyotes. They had better information – by now it was apparent that the man they had sent to this Salsola had either been killed or abandoned his duty – and the land was far more open. It would be easier to ride in.

She on the other hand, was picking her way through a forest whose bare trees provided just enough space between pines to allow the moonlight in. It forced her to rely on Hail to find his way, though she urged him forward with discontent and often harsh kicks when he refused to move.

Beth understood his hesitance. Since they had crossed the borders all those scents had warned her off. Beware of our numbers, beware of the predators who live in these woods (because she had caught strange musky smells that woke old, instinctive wariness in her), but mostly she was concerned about the dark ground. She did not know it, but winter aided their assault – the murky ground was frozen stiff even in places where it often was not.

The decision to split their numbers had been made well before they arrived, and having only two others with her provided little support but increased their chances for surprise. Ideally, they would regroup and push on as a single unit – provided the group she had been given was worth its salt.

A lone figure appeared on the trail ahead. Beth readied her weapon and cast a glance towards her companions, grinning.

An easy target, Beth thought.


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#2
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Optime | Backdated: Jan 12th; Night | cNPC: Snorri; NPCs: Brimstone (Ragna), Jack (Snorri) (+334)


Boreas Conflict II.


Sorry for the crappy post, guys >____< Didn't have Ragna engage...because that wouldn't be in her character Dx


Like the group leader, Ragna too felt somewhat slighted by being chosen to attack Salsola rather than Inferni. Even though she’d scouted out both terrains, it was clear to see that the coyotes’ lands would have been far easier to overtake. A bit of lamenting to Snorri had made her think that, perhaps, maybe there’d been a reason as to why they’d been chosen to head an assault on Inferni’s ally. Trickier terrain, littered with infernal traps, any dumb soldier might fall short, and it might have been best if they were given the…easier route of the two.


It was the only semi-comforting reason Ragna could think of as to why Bethlehem, Snorri, and she had been sent with a few others into Salsola territory. Amund probably trusted them to not mess things up…either that, or he’d planned for their failure…


Silence had passed between the three once they’d slipped beyond the Kingdom’s borders. No howls echoed at their backs, and it was safe to say that their trespassing had gone unnoticed…for now. Riding in on horseback helped the trio managed to get deep into enemy territory in a relatively short amount of time. Ragna and Snorri steered their steeds behind Bethelem’s, trying to mask their numbers for any that might be following their tracks left in the snow. The smaller footprint they left from their initial invasion, the better.


They rode steadily into the heart of the Kingdom before they finally came across someone; a lone, short male. Stout, boxy, nothing that showed him to be much of a threat for the three Boreas wolves. This was almost too easy.


Ragna continued to steer her mount with her knees, notching an arrow as she caught Bethlehem looking back at them. The weapon’s specialist bringing up the rear readied one of his battle axes. They needed but a signal, and the brainwashed Salsolans would begin to be purged of their sin.




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<div class="RagnaName">Ragna Eklund</div>

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#3
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No problem! ;> I am posting again to move things along -- Salsola members can jump in anytime!

Before he had been a preacher, her father had been a warrior. Beth knew this because she could not escape the shadow that he cast – in Zion, they had always asked about him and not her, talked about stories they had heard about her father, and oh she had come to resent it. It was a fault of thinking, surely, for one should have been proud of their family accomplishments, but Beth wanted that recognition. She had been fighting for her people and their cause since she was a child.

Perhaps it was reason enough that she was a woman. Boreas had always put emphasis on the Biblical Word, and their faithful leaders had spoken of things like humility as if it was not subordination.

Beth would not give up what she had so rightfully earned for any man. She would continue to rise until she stood at the right hand of their leader, and when God took him home, she would take his place.

Until then, she would endure. She would do her duty, and swallow the black thoughts which tainted her heart and threatened her immortal soul.

Her hand tightened around the spear, and she held her position until the man – he was shirtless, carrying something and humming a toneless song to himself – came close enough that she could smell him. This pack reeked of salt and smoke, of pine and many, many others. They were strong, she thought dimly, but did not make the connection that perhaps this was why she had been sent.

She kicked Hail again and brought him around until the path became clear. The man had heard her and turned. For a moment he stared at her dumbly, and a moment was all it took for her to be upon him.

A loud yelp of pain escaped the slave as she rode him down, though this was not enough to kill him – he did not deserve an easy death.


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#4
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Sorry for crumminess 8,) [642]




The Warden sat on the roof of his watchtower and looked out as man once did in an age long past, and there he saw the same vistas marred in bloody sunset, the moon rising full-bellied, shrouded by a fiery haze to the east. Rafael did not believe in omens, but he found himself thinking the old prayers while he slid leather bracers onto his arms and prepared for the night's watch.

There had been scattered conflict since the ambush, and the patrols had increased both in number and in rounds. This was more than a simple defensive reaction, Rafael knew. There were whispers recalling Salsola's old wounds, not of the deranged visitor in the mountains or the gang that had come for Hyacinth, but a blacker, sordid history fresh enough in their minds to keep the leadership thinking ahead, troubling enough for them to want to put it all behind. Their information was limited, but as a member of the Milite, Rafael knew there were echoes of skirmishes to their neighbors in the south and organization among these unknown enemies. He sensed there was a real battle ahead, and this time, he would be ready.

It was a cold, lonesome walk to Marrgerd, but the faint rustle of the fletching in his arrows reminded him of Violeta's birds, and he felt warm with purpose and duty. Tarat greeted him at the stables like he did every night, and as he led Rafael to his prepared steed, they conversed in Spanish about the fit of Maximo's equipment and the news he heard during the day.

It was quiet in the north, that was what was said, and so it was north that the Warden went first.

Maximo's natural dexterity revealed itself as he wove through the dense pine, but it was his training that kept him on task. Since his failing with the Gamekeeper, Rafael had worked each command until the stallion obeyed reflexively and the notion of self preservation was eroded from his will. The horse would charge, come hell or high water.

They kept at the outer edge of the Blackwoods until at last it thinned, and spears of moonlight sank their shafts deep into the frozen soil. A path ahead was illuminated for him, and in the distance was the servant Gjalda, whose gait Rafael recognized after working with him closely on the construction of his home. He was farther from safety than what was wise given all the conflict, but Rafael did not find this unusual since it was incredibly rare for anyone to trespass so deep into the territory. Faintly, he recalled the carpenter mentioning something about the quality of wood there, different trees if his memory served him correctly. It had all been a long time ago.

Just as he was lowering his bow and preparing to call out to the servant, a mounted silhouette came forward from the darkness. Rafael did not wait to see the conclusion of the action, because the lurch in his gut told him how it ended. He gripped Maximo's sides with his legs, and the horse swerved off the path and into the cover of the trees.

There was still a fair amount of distance between them, though he did not rush to close it. He counted two others following, all on horseback, and waited three breaths before deciding they hadn't noticed him. It wouldn't be long before they did. Lifting his bow, he signaled Maximo forward at a slow, careful pace to keep his aim steady. As he came within distance, he loosed an arrow at the woman who had charged Gjalda, and then quickly fired at the remaining two. He shook off the remainder of his cover with an alerting howl, and then spurred his steed forward into battle.

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#5
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(+423)


Gonna post again so the others have stuff to react to now that the attack is in motion!


I’m okay with minor injuries received on both Ragna and Snorri and their horses! :3


Bethlehem spurred her horse into gear, and it was then that Ragna and Snorri knew that this was where their attack would begin. It was almost pathetic, really. The man was so oblivious to being watched, so oblivious to the danger that he’d put himself in being so exposed and in the open, so oblivious to the intent of the fair-hued woman and her horse that thundered towards him. Had he not been a sinner, it would have almost been a pity to run him down. Almost.


The man’s yelp echoed out into what could have been said to have been an otherwise silent night. His body folded, crumpled, as the horse’s hard hooves trampled over him. The act wasn’t life-ending—unfortunately for him—but there was no doubt that his body would be reeling from cuts from the horse’s hooves or internal bleeding from the animal’s weight.


The two subordinates rode forward, intent to carry out their mission on this first sinner of the Thistle Kingdom. A sixth sense caused the scout to slow her horse though, and when her glacier eyes lifted, she realized as to why. Ragna let out a snarl in warning. There was a new shadow in the wood, and as two arrows shot out, Ragna and Snorri jerked on their steed’s reins, altering their course just enough that the two hasty arrows missed.


The mustang and the draft horse let out noises in protest as the sudden command to move in a different direction. They tossed their heads and snorted in frustration. They continued to shift impatiently on their feet, pacing in a circle while their riders let their eyes move towards the new player to the fight. The archer was a doggish man, and he forced his horse to thunder right towards the fray.


A pathetic attempt at a howl escaped from the mongrel’s maw.


Ragna smirked and Snorri grinned.


“How heroic,” the scout bit out sarcastically as she adjusted the aim of her bow to give the dog some of his own medicine.


“Saved us the trouble,” the larger weapons smith remarked.


Both spurred their horses into moving forward once more. Ragna moved towards the outer edge of the fight, releasing one of her arrows at the dog-man. Snorri continued his original path towards the lone male that Bethlehem had run over, one of his axes poised to strike the stout wolf back down to the ground he tried to life himself up from.




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#6
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Emmett de le Poer
Count your blessings
form | xxAM |
~Songbird ~ Feel free to have one of the horses kick him!
Word Count
317

The feral formed man was brought up abruptly on his nightly wandering. The night was of a quiet tremor that set his fur bristling. Pewter Iron darted this way and that, watching for the thing that disturbed his night in this way. There was an oppressive shroud and Emmett had been hunted enough times to recognize and judge the feeling. It settled about him, a heavy fog cloaking his senses.

His nose took him to the point where they had trespassed. He snarled and swore. Of horses that were not familiar to the Thistle Kingdom and of canines that had no business crossing their lines of defense. His head lifted and twisted as sounds reached him, calls for aid. His brothers were in peril. Help was needed. The wildling man shifted as he ran, growing larger and stronger as lupus melted away to secui, flowing seamlessly. He was born of the wilds and rolling mountains and rivers, he knew each of his alternate forms and their changing like he knew his own mind.

The crackling and popping of joints and bones filled his ears along with the racing of his heart and rushing blood. The lands flew beneath paws that flexed and rippled, claws lengthening and sharpening. The beast huffed and stretched his jaw as it finished expanding, vicious yellowed teeth bared in a silent snarl. Minutes and minutes passed, they had made their way deeply within Salsola's borders.

Blood and fear filled his nose now, and he saw the poor trampled slave hi-lighted in moonlight. Three horses stood between him and the other Salsolan who had chanced upon the intruders. Snarling and growling was eschewed for silence and stealth. In between trees he darted and writhed; And without a noise Emmett made his lunge, aiming to latch onto the hind quarters of the horse and rip and tear until the beast of burden could no longer stand.

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#7
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Bringing Salvia in to move this along~

It seemed to her as if the attack came from everywhere at once. She was saddling her horse, listening to howling echo through the dark night – though it was illuminated in silvery light, and the shadows seemed a strange blue color if she looked at them too long. The noise had woken the entirety of her household, drawing both adults and the boy from sleep.

There had been no question that she needed to go, and Stannis had done as she bid and soothed their grandson's worries, for both of them were to remain behind. Stannis looked as if he sorely wished to go with her, but she could not leave the boy without someone watching him.

She mounted Tiger and rode hard, pushing the silver stallion towards the Ruins. When she had satisfied that they were safe – confirming as much with residents who remained behind but alert – the Boss hurried towards the source of the sounds, the summons of her people. Riding at night was hard on horses, and she felt Tiger's growing anxiety and kept to the broad, easily traveled road.

Salvia was upon this when she first saw the violence unfolding. There were three of these Outsiders on horseback, engaging with figures she recognized – one narrow and sharp, the other massive and feral.

Tiger was breathing heavily and hot beneath her when his rider drove him towards the black stallion. The woman atop it was pale, wielding a spear, and saw the Boss coming. She was too slow to block the first lunge Salvia's spear made, and it bit into the she-wolf's leg and drew blood. Her counter narrowly missed Tiger's flank, but he was in constant motion – like a proper fighting horse, he was already trying to get close and bite the other stallion.

This suited Salvia just fine, for while she was used to her weapon, the closer she got the more she saw opportunities open. All she had to do was contend with the spear the she-wolf continued to thrust towards her and her horse. Each time she parried a blow, redirecting them, Salvia saw the woman's facade turn from eager, obvious excitement, to outright fury.


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#8
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Just gonna go ahead and pop another post in here! <3 [241]




The only cries came from the crumpled trell, signaling to Rafael that his arrows hadn't landed. The dark made it difficult to aim, and the momentum of his mount even more so, but he cursed his folly just the same as if he were shooting at a standing target in the middle of day. A weaker man blamed his circumstances - Rafael knew he needed to be better than that.

He bent to stretch the longbow over his shoulder, and in that moment missed an arrow shot back at him from the other female rider. She had brought herself out to meet him. Good, he thought, she has singled herself out for me. With the reigns balled in his left hand, he drew Sin Luna from its sheath and spurred Maximo towards her steed.

He barely had time to register Emmett's dark shape as he lunged from the trees for a horse's flank, but his head turned as the flash of gold entered the fray. There was a cry, and he worried briefly that it would deter Maximo from his charge. It did not. Ground churned beneath his thundering hooves, and the massive stallion shook his head, blaring a hot noise. At the last moment, Rafael tugged back on the reigns as he had once practiced with the Gamekeeper. Maximo reared and kicked out at Ragna and her horse, and as they landed, Rafael swung out with his sword.

[/html]
#9
[html]
(+868)


Gjalda is dying ;_____; Ragna got a superficial hit by Rafael’s sword.


Sorry for the multiple splits! I know we’re not supposed to do things from NPC views, but, it’s hard to make it clear about what’s going on when they’re fighting Dx


Snorri vs. Emmett and Ragna vs. Raphael?


Snorri let the axe fall, and the dazed and broken sinner was unable to properly avoid the man on horseback. His blade struck into the meat of the Salsolan’s back, and the stout wolf let out a sharp yelp. The weapons expert had mean to aim for the man’s neck, but, had over compensated for the male’s shortness. His lip curled when he’d realized the strength of the blow had lodged the weapon too deeply for a mere drive-by. Snorri had been forced to abandon the weapon during his initial pass. He spurred his draft horse to make a wide circle in an effort to turn around.


In his focus on his prey and getting his ax back, he left himself vulnerable for the Secui that had made a beeline towards him.






Ragna gritted her teeth. It seemed their assault had pissed off the entire hive. Salsolans came crawling out of the woodwork. It made her wonder exactly how close they’d come to their living quarters with how fast their reaction time was. Or, was it that they were so large in number that they had bodies constantly roaming the night?


As much as she might have wanted to know such valuable information, there were other matters to attend to. The dog had set his sights on her for the fight, and his stallion made a wild charge towards her own. Her lips curled at the mongrel’s bold move. She withdrew an arrow from her quiver and lined up for another shot.


It was then that she saw a massive body charge out from the nearby tree line, and it appeared to be headed straight towards Snorri’s exposed back. Her companion seemed oblivious to the danger that was quickly eating up the distance between them, and Ragna could have cursed at the fact that Snorri was not as aware of his surroundings as a scout was.


She quickly switched her aim.


The Luperci lunged at Jack’s flank, and it was by some luck that the draft horse just happened to be going fast enough that it evaded the attack from behind. The sound of the Secui’s footfalls as it landed on the earth again was enough to alert the horse, and it put on a burst of speed as it let out a fearful cry.


Ragna fired at the Salsolan beast.


She wasn’t able to see if her arrow landed as she became all too aware of the sound of thundering hoofbeats. Her icy gaze turned, and she realized almost all too late that the dog’s horse was faster than she’d thought. Beneath her, Brimstone let out a challenging scream and had begun to move on his own. He moved out of the way of the rearing stallion just in time, and Ragna instantly ducked, narrowly missing a hoof to her head.


The scout was forced to hold on and crouch low to the saddle as Brimstone turned and kicked out with his hind legs out at the opposing horse. In her haste to hold on, she didn’t see the blade that the dog swiped out with. Its sharp edge cut cleanly through the fabrics of her shirt and managed to nick her arm before she could spur her mustang into putting some distance between the dog and his horse.


A cold eye glared back at the dog, her lips curling to reveal the edge of her fangs. She could feel blood startling to bubble up from the cut, but she didn’t want the mongrel to know that he’d actually hurt her. Ragna dug her heels into Brimstone’s sides and snapped his reins. They needed as much distance between them as possible. In close combat, her bow and knives were poorly matched against a sword.


When she felt there was enough space between them, she let Brimstone chose their heading. Retrieving another arrow, she turned, aimed, and fired at the dog.






At his mount’s cry, Snorri looked sharply over his shoulder. Another wolf had managed to join the fray in the chaos, and it had apparently had its sights on him. His eyes jumped as an arrow came out of nowhere. Turning his attention back to his front, he mentally thanked Ragna’s eagle eyes.


He let Jack put some distance between them before he slowed the tall horse down enough that that he could safely dismount without Jack ever having to actually stop. Snorri’s feet landed in the snow some odd distance between both the dying sinner and the four-legged heathen. Had he thought the Secui male slow enough, he might have let Jack carry him all the way to the broken Salsolan. He didn’t trust the dark male to not try to attack his horse again though, so, it seemed, he’d have to fight off the beast with one ax instead of two.


Snorri unsheathed his remaining weapon as Jack slowed down to a trot nearby, pacing readily for his rider’s next command. The Niequist’s golden gaze remained on the Secui male, and he smiled, twirling his ax tauntingly.


“You wanna play?”




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<img src="https://images2.imgbox.com/ab/58/l5JMtL2S_o.png" style="margin-bottom:-200px; margin-right:250px;">

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<div class="RagnaName">Ragna Eklund</div>

<div id="signature-icons">
<a href="#!" title="I prefer if you do NOT use tables with small fonts or ones with dark/black backgrounds and light/white lettering. Thanks!" class="no-tables"></a>
<a href="http://soulsrpg.com/forum/memberlist.php?mode=viewprofile&u=4308" class="player-contact" title="CONTACT: PM ASURA"></a>
<a href="http://wiki.soulsrpg.com/index.php?n=Players.Songbird" target="_blank" title="PLAYER WIKI" class="player-wiki"></a>
<a href="http://wiki.soulsrpg.com/index.php?n=Characters.RagnaEklund" target="_blank" title="CHARACTER WIKI" class="character-wiki"></a>
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<a href="#!" title="I will roleplay mature material." class="will-mature"></a>
<br>
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<a href="http://wiki.soulsrpg.com/index.php?n=Characters.RagnaEklund#toc2" class="apparel-accessories" title="Character typically wears clothes and has knives on her person."></a>
<a href="#!" class="skill-hunting" title="Character is a skilled archer and tracker."></a>
<a href="#!" class="skill-fighting" title="Character is a skilled fighter."></a>
<a href="#!" class="skill-stealth" title="Character is skilled in stealth and ambush."></a>
<a href="https://wiki.soulsrpg.com/index.php?n=Characters.RagnaEklund#npcs" class="accompaniment" title="Character may be accompanied by multiple NPCs."></a>
</div>
<div id="RagnaPP"><a href="https://mv.soulsrpg.com/policies#join" title="Become a Mistwalker!"><img src="https://images2.imgbox.com/77/ce/O0L5EtTq_o.png"></a></div>
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<div class="RagnaExtra">

<div class="RagnaCredit"> </div>

</div>
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#10
[html]
Emmett de le Poer
Count your blessings
secui | xxAM |
Emm is bleeding from an arrow to the ear ~ PP of Snorri approved by Songbird.
Word Count
306

He was too late to save the slave from a terrible fate, the Trell's terrible cries of pain were sickening in a way. He was fast but he was not lightening to crack faster than sight. Motion, always be in motion. His target was stolen from him as the horse put on a burst of speed. His lunge was still fateful though as a piercing pain tore at his ear. A glimpse of feathering was all he got before it was gone, taking the flesh and fur with it. He bit back a yelp and instead spurred himself on faster. He had been dealt worse blows than the fly bite of an arrow.

He had not yet seen her in the flesh but there was no denying who she was. The Boss rode onto the scene and dealt the pale woman an injury as her horse sought to bite the others. They were stronger than these trespassers, they had home advantage and ample back up to call from. Salsola was vast and full of those willing to defend it with claws, teeth and swords.

Claws bit into the snow covered ground, and his opponent dismounted. Emmett's only response was a snarl, there was no need to waste worse for the unworthy. The secui turned his course without checking his speed. Darting underneath the first swipe of the ax, so close that the breath of its passing ruffled his fur, he lashed out with razor claws giving the invader something to think about, tearing through both clothing and skin alike. He was a darting menace, this way and that, hounding the male and snapping sharp teeth to maybe nip and bite if he could but always staying wary of the ax that came flying towards him, for a blow would mean fatal injury and a swift death.



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#11
[html]

Next round can be the retreat phase! :>

The wounded rider wielded her weapon with the experience of someone who had fought before. She was fast – her strikes were made with aggression, but they were not foolhardy. One of her sweeping drives forced Salvia to pull Tiger back, and the spear nicked her arm in the process.

Around her, other battles raged. The smell of blood was thick in the air, palpable on her tongue. Under this was a sour stench that warned her of death, for it was vile and rank, but she could not see who it was coming from. Her vision was narrowed onto her opponent. The she-wolf was becoming reckless, having thought Salvia's motion had signaled some sort of retreat. She ran her black horse forward and thrust her spear towards Salvia's chest.

Experience accounted for a lot, but between the two of them, Salvia had the advantage in years. More than that, the bond between her and Tiger was that of absolute confidence. While Salvia merely focused on the spear and how best to defend herself from it, her horse fought.

He bit the black horse repeatedly, keeping his ears pinned, and suffered very little in return – his rider was yanking his head, trying to move him to best suit her own needs. It was a tactical error in mounted combat, Salvia thought, and this proved true as the younger woman tried to remove herself to better angle her weapon. Freeing one hand from the reins, relying entirely upon her thighs and the strength of her core, Salvia put greater force into a blow from her spear that nearly toppled the other rider. It had pierced her armor – Salvia had felt this when she yanked the weapon back.

Tiger collected his teeth with the black horse's flank. The other stallion whinnied and bucked, finally pulling away despite his rider's protests.

Seeing an opportunity, Salvia pursued and began driving them back, off the road.


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#12
[html]

Rafe mad bro. Injuries: punched by a hoof in the thigh, Ragna's arrow hit his sword from his mouth, cutting open his lip and tongue. Attacks: Arrow at Jack and Snorri, and then Rafael starts rapid-fire shooting at Ragna. [388]




Although unpleasant, Gjalda's dying cries rallied his emotions to one, unifying cause. Not only did he want to expel these barbarians from his homeland, but he wanted them to die. When he struck, he struck with that intention, uninhibited by his morality or higher instincts.

The stallion danced back from the opponent's horse as it turned and kicked, but not fast enough to evade the blow for his rider. Rafael gave a sharp snarl as one of the hooves connected with his leg, surely to leave a great bruise there once the matter was over (and he was confident it soon would be, for there was anger in him now). He had felt his blade make a connection of some kind with the archer, but before he could strike again, she was spurring her inferior steed away. Maximo puffed with exertion, his hooves clomping at the loose soil in his desire to give chase - the war horse could taste it too, the defeat if they kept close on her tail.

For only a split second, he considered overtaking her with Maximo's full power.

Instead, Rafael whirled his stallion's around toward the location of Snorri and Emmett. He held Sin Luna's blade between his teeth as he lifted the bow from his shoulders, and then slid an arrow from his quiver. He loosed the first one at the enemy's steed, hoping to hit or startle it into running (perhaps it would run at its own rider, a thought that delighted him, for he was a vindictive sort at his worst), and then quickly nocked and released another one at Snorri. With the distraction of an attack from behind, he hoped to give the unarmed Emmett an opening for attack.

A sharp PANG! snapped Rafael's attention away, and gave him a small measure of whiplash. His sword clattered to the earth, and when he looked up, he realized the female archer had shot at him from afar and hit the blade from his teeth. The taste of iron began to fill his mouth, as did a hot, blistering fury. Grabbing another arrow, he took his time to aim at the trespasser. When he released, he grabbed another, and another, and did not let up even if she began to turn tail and flee.

[/html]
#13
[html]
(+994)


Boreas Conflict II.


Aye aye! Retreating!


TL;DR: Snorri is pissed the hell off because Emmett tore his one pair of pants. Emmett is a nuisance, Raphael’s arrow hits Snorri’s shoulder armor, Snorri swings his axe went Emmett tries to take the opportunity and messes up his pretty face (kept it ambiguous ‘cause I didn’t know how/where you wanted it, Jace!), Snorri calls for his horse kicks and swings at Emmett in case he’s still attacking and to dissuade him from following Snorri’s horse as he retreats.


Ragna almost takes an arrow to the face, she fires some back at Raphael, changes targets to Salvia so that the Boreas wolfers can retreat.


The four-legged beast didn’t even offer him a proper reply before attacking again, how rude! This creature before him was no better than fighting off a pissed off cougar out in the wilds! Driven by nothing more than instinct, it was no wonder these sinners of the East had so many barbaric tendencies still in them. He swung out with his ax in a wild and testing throw, more so to try to make the heathen dance than to actually hit him.


If he wanted to help his gurgling friend, he’d have to make his way past the doorman.


His first swing was a miss, and Snorri snarled when the brute lashed out with his retractable claws. They ripped at his pants and scratched at the flesh hidden beneath the material’s surface. The Niequist was furious.


Did this thing know how long it had taken him to get pants that were large enough for his size? Seamstresses were hard to come by in a group that prided themselves on their fighting prowess! It’d taken him months before he’d found someone to make him a comfortable pair of knickers! And now they had holes in them!


Snorri swung his ax like he truly meant it after that, no longer caring to play with his prey. He’d make sure this bloody creature had just as many holes in him as he’d put in the Boreas wolf’s pants! The four-legged Salsolan dodged and weaved, effectively evading the large wolf’s deadly strikes. Oh how Snorri wished he’d gone and retrieved his second ax from that dying fool’s back.


He wanted to positively fillet this sinner, and—if he didn’t get carried away—perhaps there’d be enough of it left to have a new pair of pants made out of its wretched hide.


The startled cry of his horse alerted Snorri to the enemy archer that had decided to invite himself so rudely into other’s fights. An arrow released from his bow bounced as it, fortunately, hit Snorri’s shoulder pauldron. In the corner of his eye, he saw the Secui beast lunge for him. Instinct had the Niequist swing his ax down to keep the devil creature at bay, and there was a spine-tingling feeling of satisfaction that washed over him as his blade struck the Salsolan’s face.


His cut had been so fast, and his blade so sharp, that there hadn’t been a droplet of blood to coat his weapon. A shame.


A howl rose up into the night sky, distracting Snorri from attempting to butcher the rest of the heathen’s face. It was a call for a retreat, and it was from one of their own. Cursing at his luck, the Boreas wolf whistled for his scared horse to come to him. Jack heeded his master’s call readily, wanting nothing better than to get out of there. Snorri kicked out a leg at the Secui in case its adrenaline-pumped body made it decide to attempt to give chase. He’d even made to give another swing with his ax to act as a deterrent.


When his horse neared, Snorri mounted up quickly and sped off. He did not turn back to retrieve his ax from the dead man’s back.





Too worried she was at remaining atop her mount and not thrown to the ground, she hadn’t been able to see if Brimstone’s wild, defensive kicks had actually done any sort of damage. That, and the red hot, searing cut from the mongrel’s blade had distracted her from focusing on much else besides a brief retreat to a safer distance. When she had allowed herself the chance to turn back around, she’d hissed when she realized the dog had chosen to go after Snorri instead of giving chase.


Had he lost interest in their fight? Or had he no honor that he chose to steal away someone else’s fight instead?


The sight of her arrow sailing over the distance between them and forcing the sword from the dog’s maw could have not been more satisfying. Had Ragan been someone more excitable, she might have vocalized her pride in her sure shot. Damn that mutt if he thought he could butt in and gang up on her companion. He’d been a fool to think she’d deserted the battle.


She fired another arrow just as the dog had picked and readied one of his own. Ragna hadn’t been prepared for the onslaught that was to follow though. For every one that she notched and fired, the mutt had pulled two. Hastily drawn, what they lacked in accuracy, they made up for in keeping the Boreas scout on the defensive of keeping both herself and her mount out of their range and trajectory.


One managed to whistle deadly close to her hair, snipping a few strands that were too close for comfort. The Eklund had grit her teeth, steadily becoming annoyed by the archer’s hasty shots.


When a rallying howl caught her attention Ragna had clicked her teeth. The call for retreat was not something she wanted to heed—particularly since it seemed the group’s efforts had only slain one of Salsolan’s number—but, she knew better than to keep fighting. If a retreat had been called, it meant that they had suffered loses of their own. It meant that continuing their assault further into the Kingdom would have been a suicidal mission with no backup.


“Tch.”


She spurred Brimstone into movement. Between dodging the rain of arrows sent out by the dog, Ragan fired a few shots at the pale woman who was in battle against Bethlehem. Hopefully, the arrows would allow the second-in-command to disengage from battle. There would be hell to pay if Snorri and Ragna returned without the Anders.




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#14
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Emmett de le Poer
Count your blessings
form | xxAM |
Sorry for the short crap, I just got home from work and am pretty much dead
Word Count

His downfall came with the assistance of another, the arrow that bounced off his opponent's armor distracted the de le Poer for just an instant and that instant made him just a fraction too slow to dodge away again as the man came to hit him again. A white hot pain overcame him, burning deep into his face and Emmett kept his eye by barely an inch. Already in the progress of leaping away the ax did not end his life but blood began to pool and flow down his face, dripping from the sharp edge of his jaw. The male growled low in his throat and bared his teeth.

It burned in agony and a lesser male might have given up his fight and fled in fear but Emmett's eyes gleamed with the desire for revenge, it curled angrily in his flesh and bones. The pain sharpened his focus and he dodged the next blow, striking out with sharp teeth to try and savage the leg that kicked out at him. He chased after the horse as it fled from the Salsolans, if the rest would chase with them then he would keep going, if not he would stop after a hundred feet or so and return back, his mouth thinning into a tense line as he saw the dead slave.

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#15
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The retreat happened in a flurry of noise and movement – these were mounted wolves, armored and using proper weapons, and their horses were fast. She saw them bounding off into the night the way they had come, favoring trails they could see. It was bright enough to make them out for what seemed like a very long time, though she was tarried in her pursuit by the scent of death and all its implications. She considered chasing them, and did so for a time, but already, other signals were going up throughout her land. Familiar voices and those of strangers (of Outsiders, filthy infiltrators) filled the night. Salvia understood that something was happening all around her, and breathed in the tense night air and listened.

Beneath her, the horse quivered with anticipation. He could feel the muscles in his rider straining before they finally ordered him to turn and come back for the corpse they had left behind.

Rafael, she called, muzzle affixed in a snarl. Take the Associate and make sure those riders are gone – find others if you can – and do not come back until you are sure of it.

She turned her horse in a tight circle, and shook her hair from her face.

Leave him here, the Boss ordered of the dead man. Someone will come later.

It was winter. A corpse would not suffer from exposure, and the body of a slave was the least of her concerns.

Salvia made a hissing noise and Tiger whinnied before charging off with his pale-haired rider into the night.


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#16
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Just wrapping up. [297]




Conflict could not last long in a savage world. The Warden was accustomed to much longer skirmishes, albeit with more rules and better visibility, and as his breathing became lax and his quiver empty, he felt as though all had happened in heartbeat. What lingered in the aftermath was the faint pulse of the night as cries rang out their retreat. He shouldered his bow with shaking fingers and then turned to his companions, or rather just the one who no longer appeared even canine, could hardly be considered a companion anymore. He tried not to think of the fact he had not been a companion in life either. Soon enough, the Tigress reappeared from her pursuit, and Emmett too.

Rafael had dismounted by then and sheathed the weapon that had been hit from his teeth. His mouth tasted of blood, and he welcomed its distraction from the nauseating stench of death. He’d attempted to move Gjalda into a more presentable position, but the cold and the tightness of death had seized the slave, and he was frozen in a way that displayed every pain of his gruesome end. The blood congealed so that he swam in darkness, making the scene that much bleaker.

His ears swiveled forward at his name, and he heeded his Queen with his full attention. There was murder in her eyes, and her command had him climbing astride Maximo right away. He was eager to resume pursuit - for what that female archer had done, for what they had all done. He glanced back once at the dead slave, and as if reading his mind, Salvia finished her orders. The Warden swept his gaze to Emmett instead, and motioned for the feral Associate to follow his lead. The night was far from over.

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