[M] Gonna get off this merry-go-round

Myrika Tears · 02-11-2012, 07:44 AM

[html]

(1029)
NPCing Ithiel.

Myrika and Ithiel now found themselves within the same tier of duties, with the rust-furred woman as the head scout and Ithiel as a specialist scout. The dust-hued man thought this a fitting rank for himself, though he did question Myrika's usefulness in this role. She seemed more bookish than scout, though he was consistently impressed with her riding ability and horsemanship in general. The pale-furred cousin was working on his Lystra, and it was for this reason -- and at her recommendation -- he tried the new strawberry roan stallion, Bairre. Myrika had obtained this horse from Freetown, apparently, and it was free for all Inferni to use. Ithiel, accustomed to Lystra and her behavior, was prepared to treat the stallion in the same manner as his own mount. He was pleasantly surprised, however, when the pied horse broke into an even, smooth-gaited trot, keeping up with Myrika's own Eira.

His cousin was busy prattling on about her new horse when a small blur of color, smelling faintly of blood, streaked past them. Ithiel flew into an alert, Myrika a second behind them, and they turned their horses toward the direction from whence the puppy had come. Myrika urged Eira ahead of Ithiel and Bairre, having no idea how the stallion would react in a terse situation, and the woman pricked her large ears, hearing the faint sounds of a scuffle. As they drew nearer, the smell of blood filled the air, and Myri's stomach lurched with it. She pulled her horse to a slower pace, though not without regrets -- she did not know how many harried their borders, and it would not do to charge blindly into such a situation. While she had been giving Ithiel pointers about horsemanship, he had traded to her knowledge of scouting and tactical movements in general. She had taken his words to heart, and now drew Eira to a walk.

Myrika, Ithiel hissed, his roan horse sliding beside her. Both of their mounts were now nervous, feeding off the energy provided by their riders. Bairre tossed his head and Eira snorted, the blue roan shifting her weight beneath Myri. The red-haired woman turned to her cousin, wide-eyed. Let me go forward, he said. Myrika, who had smelled Halo's scent on the wind and was now worked to a frenzy, shook her head and urged Eira forward. Ithiel pushed his mount faster, though he overshot their distance and horse and rider both sailed past her. Myrika looked to his dagger, secured on his back, and urged Eira forward again, reaching out to deftly pluck the weapon from its place. Ithiel felt the dagger leave him and turned his blazing red eyes toward his cousin. Myrika! he demanded, but she paid him no heed, now bringing her mount to a stop and sliding from her back. Ithiel could only do the same, sliding from Bairre's back and landing on his feet. The dust-colored coyote beckoned his cousin once more to no avail, and was forced to steal after her, drawing both bow and arrow as he did so.

The rust-furred woman stole forward, crouching down as she did so. Soon, she saw a scene of carnage before her: already, a wolf was dead and on the ground, and another stood over -- Halo! This was as far as Myrika got into assessing the situation before she plunged forward, too shocked with the scene before her and her own reaction to utter a sound. The Praetorian held the dagger awkwardly in her hand, but as she ran, it dropped forgotten from her hand, and the big coyote slammed into the female wolf with the raised club, knocking her to the ground. Myri was vaguely away of a flitting sound as Ithiel loosed an arrow before her teeth were in the wolf's neck, biting and tearing with all the ferocity and none of the finess of her cinnamon-haired cousin. The club fell to the ground along with its wielder and Myrika on top of her, the arrow stuck in Evike Boros's side snapping as the rust-hued Praetorian rolled off of her opponent, springing to her feet. She expected the wolf to rise, as well. When the woman did not, Myrika stared for a long moment at the torn remnants of the wolf's throat, the bloodied wound where the arrow stuck out of her side.

She spun around, feeling light-headed and faintly nauseous, afraid to look upon Halo but thinking perhaps the sight of her cousin would be better than the dead wolf. Ithiel already knelt beside Halo, not daring to touch or move her. His deep red eyes were strangely afire as he looked over the mahogany-furred Triarii, grunting to Myrika. The horses, he snapped. Go and ride for Enkiel. Ezekiel, too -- Enkiel is more important, though, the dust-colored coyote explained, speaking slowly as he dared so the rust-hued woman would comprehend his meaning. She looked too shocked to function, and he hoped he did not have to deal with this crisis on his lonesome. Do you understand? Myrika? On the contrary to his expectations, his rust-hued cousin nodded, her look of shock slowly fading into one of worry and concern, though not blank indifference, as was the case in true shock. Ithiel nodded and turned his attention back to the Triarii while Myrika scurried toward the horses.

The rust-hued woman remounted Eira and rode the blue roan harder than ever before back toward the D'Neville, heedless of the trees and other impediments in their way. Much as she loved the horse, she would have traded a broken leg and a permanently lamed equine to the death of Halo because she was not fast enough. Though her stomach still roiled with every bounce and jerk of the horse, she retained its contents until Eira, lathered even after the short ride, came to a skidding halt before the mansion. Myrika began yelling and howling for help as soon as she was able from the horse's back, calling for anyone within earshot to help.

Myrika is by Alaine!

Login




Remember me Lost Password?