Unwritten Rule Nummer Zwei -[OPEN]-

[Amur]

Solomon was in his element, despite the summer season the night sky was darkened by the presence of storm clouds. That alone had allowed him to ignore the alarmingly flat terrain even before night had claimed the land, and now here he crouched, on the very edge of the Hadarac Desert. The hood on his wyvern-skin coat raised and covering his face behind its usual shades of inky blackness, in fact, the only difference in his attire tonight was that he wore the very uncomfortable wyvern-skin gloves that had been made with his coat and chest-plate.

Uncomfortable, but he could not deny their use, he didn’t want to touch any of the weapons he was currently holding with his bare hands. He wanted to make sure that if he was to be caught, that his captors would have to work hard to do so.

Tonight he had left his usual long-bow and his custom-crafted arrows at the last base-camp he had stayed at. The elongated metal-tipped darts that were his arrows were far too easy to identify. Attached loosely to his lower back was a quiver of standard arrows, commonly used by amateurs when hunting for food, and slung over his right shoulder was the plain wooden bow he had “acquired” several days ago, while slung over his left shoulder was a standard rapier that he planned to use to conclude his trip here.

Solomon had spent the last two to three days preparing his temporary equipment for the event to come, he had spent hours painstakingly painting the bow and arrows he was to use black. A tedious and very frustrating endeavour, but one that would prove its worth in mere moments, he had spent only several hours observing and stalking his prey tonight. But that was all part of the fun.

From what he had gathered about these brutish apes, -otherwise known to the inhabitants of this land as Urgals- Solomon had worked out that they were relatively primitive, yet intelligent in their own brutish way. Perhaps a culture that favoured battle and a lot of it, it was for that reason alone that Solomon knew that facing them head-on would be a suicide bid. Which is why he had decided to “run” them, catch them unawares and slaughter them while they tried to figure out what was going on, a tactic that he personally loved even if he had only ever done it only once beforehand.

He moved the bow from his shoulder and into his hand. He kept himself crouched as he moved in swift silence to a more agreeable vantage point, the area he had labelled himself as the front. If only due to the fact that it offered him a clear view into the middle of the camp-ground they had set up, where a large fire burned freely, of course he knew that he wouldn’t be able to complete his run solely from this position. But there was a chance he would be able to get a good number of kills from here.

He slowly worked an arrow free from the quiver and fitted it to the commoner-bow he was holding, his first target already picked out, the fire behind it silhouetting nicely against the otherwise black night. He took aim, compensating for the distance and then loosed the arrow, the missile tore through the air and found its mark somewhere within the brutish skull of his prey. The Urgal straightened, swayed on the spot slightly and then fell to the ground face-first, with a small smirk Solomon fitted another arrow to the bow and instantly loosed it as he noticed the movement of a second Urgal.

His shot was poorly aimed and pierced the neck of this one, but, Solomon was not one to be deterred by the failure of a pot shot and swiftly fired a second arrow at his prey, much like the last shot this one got it through the neck. Unlike the last shot, however, this arrow toppled the beast and left it lying still, now they began to react, the encampment suddenly buzzed with activity and noise as his prey scrambled to try and defend itself from its unseen predator.

He kept himself crouched as he once more moved in his usual swift silence, moving himself away from the front and off to the right just as a flaming arrow pierced the darkness, revealing nothing with its flame. At least his next target revealed itself for him as it advanced cautiously with its comrades, the second flaming arrow acting as a beacon for Solomon to follow as he took aim.

The flaming arrow fell to the ground as the brute was struck with the arrow and fell where it stood. Solomon allowed a small smirk to twist its way across his lips as the small group began to retreat back into their encampment. Moving targets, never an issue.

Three more loosed arrows, three more dead brutes.

He raced back to his previous spot, snatching the still flaming arrows from the ground, He fitted the first, took aim and loosed it at the first piece of fabric he found, and then followed suit with the second flaming arrow.

The effect wasn’t instant, as Solomon knew; now he just needed to stall for a brief moment while the flames did their thing. And, already he knew the best way to do so; taking a small black case from one of the pouches on his belt he removed a small glass vial from within it and left the case on the ground.

This vial of explosive compound had been mixed only a single night ago; it took several days for the mixture to become potent enough to destroy anything, so this would merely make the sound of an explosion. And most likely produce a wave of heat.

”Should be more than enough.”
Threading his arm through the bow he rested it on his shoulder and ran toward the encampment in a low crouch, the vial resting between his middle finger and thumb as he prepared to flick it. He stopped at the opening serving as the entrance, one of the brutes clearly shocked to see him as it tried to leave; Solomon merely smirked beneath his hood and took advantage of the confusion by flicking the vial at its chest.

He knew what to expect and was fast to avert his eyes and throw up his arm as an extra measure of protection as the explosion sounded. He removed the bow he was using and fitted an arrow, maintaining his crouched stance as the brute sluggishly forced itself back into a standing position. Normally, even fresh vials of explosive compound would be more than enough to take a human, or human sized, creature apart completely, but at their size, these brutes were able to withstand such a small blast with only a moderate injury.

He waited, and the loosed the arrow, getting the brute in its left eye, fitted another arrow and got its right eye. And then put it outs of its misery with an arrow through the throat. He spent no more time in the light and was fast to retreat to the blackness of the night once more, and just in time too as the two tents he shot those flaming arrows at began to glow and then burst into flame seconds later. Solomon chuckled to himself, now; the camp would light his prey wonderfully as they tried to move while simultaneously obscuring their vision outside the flickering parameter of light the slowly growing fire was creating.

This run was over; Solomon’s prey was as good as dead. So now, all he had left to do was enjoy the thrill of the hunt before the final stage of his plan.

Time went by rapidly as tracking and ending his prey became easier as their numbers dwindled, by the time he had their numbers down to a single grunt and what he had assumed to be their leader, or commander, or chief... Whatever these brutes knew them as he forced himself to check his arrow reserves. Regardless, it had been the one that had taken command at the earliest opportunity, so that would be the last thing Solomon killed.

He made a quick mental note, five remaining arrows; he would only need one for the final grunt. He fitted it as he followed the final two brutes back into their encampment. And stopped as he reached the opening-and corner-they had backed themselves into, he stood in silence at its corner as they noticed him. The final grunt abandoned its post with a bellow and charged straight at Solomon with reckless abandon, its superior apparently having more intelligence tried to call it back, but it was too late.

Solomon ducked and span beneath the blow and then took advantage by dropping to a single knee, shifting the grip he held his bow in to a horizontal hold and then loosed the arrow at the base of its skull. Just to avoid potentially being struck in the back he rolled back to where he had been seconds ago and stood up, smiling to himself when he noticed the arrow protruding through the front of the brute’s face, at the angle he had fired it at the wound looked like it had caused the beast some pain. Yet still it stood, swaying on the spot, Solomon wasn’t going to be having any of that, with a single hand he effortlessly pushed it to the ground just to mock the final survivor stood before him and he did so by giving it a small wave as its final man fell to the ground.

Silently he removed the almost empty quiver from his lower back and dropped both that and the commoner’s bow he had been using to the ground. He took the rapier loosely secured to his back, drew it and then dropped its sheath on the floor as well; he wouldn’t be leaving here with this weapon, his venomous short sword was the only delicately-deadly weapon he needed.

He took a stance with his rapier, just to make sure that even after slaughtering the rest of the encampment that his intention here was obvious. As he had been trained to do Solomon waited for it to make the first move, however, none came. In fact the beast was making no effort whatsoever to attack him. Caution was a good sign. The brute was taking him seriously.

“Coward!”
It roared, Solomon smiled-his face still concealed by his hood- and feigned shock by dropping his stance and backing away a step.

“Shocking” He said sarcastically. “I was unaware that you brutes were capable of actually speaking in a civilised tongue.”
He sneered, adjusting his grip on the rapier.

A snarl worked its way across the brute’s already grotesque features, he had hit a nerve there it seemed. What shocked Solomon at this point though, was that it had actually understood the insult, that on its own had been unexpected.

“You attack us from the dark coward!”
This time he laughed out loud.

“It’s called hunting you brutish ape.” He paused. “Ooh, that must sting, to know that you and your... Comrades have been preyed on by a human!”
He was just rubbing salt in the wounds now, the beast clearly becoming angrier with each insult that Solomon threw at it. Which again, was shocking that it had understood the implications of what Solomon had just said.

“Lies! Show me your face and prove it coward!”
Solomon only chuckled this time and resumed his stance.

“I may have done so if I wasn’t afraid of catching some kind of disease from your primitive gaze.”
It roared and charged, though unlike its last comrade it was a smaller target for Solomon to track, not that it mattered, his aim here wasn’t to inflict a fatal wound just yet. He swiftly, and almost gracefully span to the side, slashing the beast across its left thigh. He was careful not to go too deep and the wound went largely unnoticed by his prey. That was good; if he were human he would have noticed it instantly.

He span the rapier skilfully as the beast turned to face him, a large axe now held in its hand, it almost looked like it was becoming serious. Which was unfortunate, because of their very primitive and almost bestial nature, these were not creatures that Solomon could take seriously. It lunged for him, swinging its weapon in an arc; Solomon merely leaned backwards and slashed its shin, again being careful not to make the wound too big. And then Span to the side, once again slashing its thigh in the process of the dodge to a second downward-aimed slash from the brute, and, as before he was careful to keep the wound as close to skin-deep as possible.

It was at this point that it noticed the three very minor wounds on its left leg and bellowed humourless laughter... At least that’s what it sounded like.

“You’ll need to do much better than that coward!”
Now that was adorable, it had noticed the wounds but still had no idea what Solomon was up to and was mocking him for it. Solomon merely smiled to himself and shrugged in an over exaggerated way before resuming his stance, the wounds wouldn’t take their toll just yet, and even so Solomon had no issue with the fact he would have to keep this brute entertained for a little while longer, it would make the kill all the sweeter.

He took a small jump back, giving the beast another small cut on its shin and then instantly performed an over-exaggerated bow, slashing his sword in an arc as he made the gesture, giving the brute another small cut on its thigh. He maintained the bow for a second and then twisted himself, slashing the creature again and then span off to its side, slashing its leg another three times as he repositioned himself.

He span the rapier again as his prey turned to face him, and then span it again as he waited for it to face him. Its movement speed now hampered by a small limp, Solomon smiled to himself again as his prey shifted uncertainly in an attempt to take some of the weight off of its injured leg, now things were beginning to move in the direction he wanted them to move in. The brute moved awkwardly and Solomon simply took a small step back, and another before leaping forward and then diving to the side, managing another two small slashes to its leg as he dove and another as landed and got back to his feet.

It tried to turn, but Solomon moved with it, slashing it in the back of its leg as he did so. With its movement rapidly deteriorating with each newly inflicted wound keeping to its back became easier with each passing second until.

It fell to a knee, its injured leg positioned awkwardly; Solomon smiled and casually walked around to the beast’s front, spinning the rapier by its hilt.

“Stings, ja?”
He taunted, casually side-stepping the awkward, kneeling attack from the brute that served as its response. He drew his arm back and then plunged the rapier into the throat of the final living brute of the encampment, putting enough force behind the stab to slam the beast to the ground where it lie still.

Solomon stood over his fallen prey and watched it struggle to breathe while it gurgled on its own blood.

“N’aww.” He made the sound as mocking as possible. He reached into his coat and removed a small piece of paper and neatly wrapped it around the hilt of the rapier he had left in the brute’s throat and then secured it with a small bright-pink ribbon before turning his attention back to the slowly dying Urgal.

“It’s ok, we all fall sometimes. You’re not the first.” He sneered. “But I know it hurts. Don’t worry, in the end you’ll find what you deserve.” He chuckled almost boyishly as he turned his back. “But still, I know it hurts.”

He sneered as he walked calmly away from the fallen enemy and to the nearest source of fire he could find, which just happened to be the, now very small fire in the center of the encampment. With deliberate slowness he removed a small, dark green capsule from one of the pouches on his belt and casually threw it into the fire, within a second the fire roared back into life and stretched toward the sky as a huge pillar of dark-green fire.

The meaning of the pillar of emerald-fire would be lost to the inhabitants of this land, but they would surely attract some kind of attention. He walked back to the dying brute, its expression slowly starting to blank, which only caused Solomon to smile again.

“I can’t see it. How does anyone or anything struggle to deal with your kind? You’re weak and this hunt was hardly worth the effort.”
He taunted, somewhat irritably.

However, now, he was done here, he casually turned his back on the fallen brute and walked away from the scene of the slaughter, his smile broadening as his thoughts returned to the content of the note he had left tied to the hilt of the rapier still buried within the throat of the last ape he killed.

”If I,
A lone human can do this to an entire encampment of these apish brutes.
Then why do a gaggle of Elves and their giant pet lizards struggle?
Lots of love
A Concerned Citizen”

His stride remained that of a casual walk until he was clear of the encampment and then he ran, he had a concealed camp several miles from here, he would rest there and then move onto one a little bit further away, he needed to resupply several of his small items as it was.


[[Eh, I felt I lost it toward the end there, but otherwise quite impressed with what I managed here. The intention here is to give people an event generated by me to discuss IC etc as well as to get some form of interaction going around it, and that Solomon will be long gone by the time anyone else gets there. Though if it does present an issue I'll have Kaime appear later on.]]

[[Also note, that depending on how well this is recieved I may do another thread like this in the future.]]

[tazcalbat]

Rhys Locksson

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Rhys looked up. The sun was setting, and it would soon be time to go again. He scratched his stubbly chin, then ran his hand through his tasseled brown hair. Since when did he start growing a beard? He grunted as he stood up. He started to gather his things, then whistled shrilly. Soon he heard the clomping of hooves. He turned in time to see Knurl coming from the direction of the sunset. The night brought cool winds with it. He sat down and ate the leftover from the night before, then mounted, and started to ride. He had been resting for the last few days, but now needed to get moving. He patted the dun charger below him, then urged him on. He had ever ended up here, or why, he was unsure, but he had been letting his trust worthy stallion to lead the way. Knurl brought him here, to the desert, and Rhys trusted him enough to know this was where they needed to be.

Small animals could be seen, then as they traveled deeper into the desert lands, life became nonexistent. A dim light could be seen in the flatter lands. It could be miles away, but it could still be seen. It flickered once in a while. Fire, Rhys guessed. Knurl turned and started heading toward the strange light. As they got closer, Rhys began to shiver. The cold was getting to him. Still they had a few miles to go. He could now see that the fire was starting to die, and every now and then would disappear from view. A strong wind was pushing against them, trying to turn them away.

When they came within a mile of the light, it had completely gone out. Knurl started to slow down, then all of a sudden, he stopped, and turning he darted in the direct other direction. Whoa! Rhys called, reigning the horse in. He leaned over and patted the stallion's neck, speaking soothingly in Knurl's ear as he slowly coaxed the charger to turn back. They started again to head to the place where the light had been. Again Knurl stopped, but this time he didn't turn and dart. Rhys dismounted, and taking the reins, he led the horse, walking slowly and speaking softly as he went. A camp soon came into view. It was like no camp Rhys had ever seen before, though he couldn't see anyone, nor could he make out and detail from where he stood.

By this point, Knurl stopped, then started pawing at the sandy ground. He jerked his head to the side, pointing away from the silent camp. When Rhys tried to pull gently on the reins, the horse's eyes grew wide, and with a loud snort, he bolted without warning. Rhys stood there a moment, confused, and unsure what to do. Something had spooked the horse, but as he looked around, he could see nothing other than the camp. He walked closer, and could see odd lumps, with stick like things sticking at different angles.

Then a wall of pungent, repelling order hit him. It was like sweat, and death, along with the worst smells you could imagine. He covered his nose with his hand, then with the top of his shirt as he neared the camp. He soon realized that the lumps were in fact bodies. The sand was stained with blood. The ugly bodies could not possibly be human, though he had never seen anything like them. He guessed the grayish, hairy brutes must have been urgals, from all the stories he had heard. Arrows stuck in each of their hideous bodies, making the seen all the worse to bear. The smell got worse not that he stood between the fallen bodies, though he hadn’t thought it possible just moments before. He turned and relieved his stomach, but it happened to be where the fire had once been, causing acidic steam. He stumbled through the camp, holding his stomach with both hands. He tried to keep from being sick again, and tripped over another body as he shuffled along. He rolled over and looked at the body. He was face to face with another of the dead urgals. As he backed up he noticed that this one hadn't died of arrow wounds. This one was covered in many long cuts, with blood everywhere and something else, something that he mixed with the blood. The other substance had caused severe swelling, and the wounds were oddly colored. Again he was unable to control his stomach. He crawled away as quickly as he could, unable to stand. When he got out of the camp he continued to move, though he was nearly out of strength. He moved until his muscles burned, then kept moving. Soon the air cleared, but he didn't notice it. The smells and images haunting him as they had been burned into his mind. Soon he collapsed, and started to sob. He was not ashamed to cry. He had seen death, but never anything like this. He looked at his hand, and read the note he had grabbed as he tripped over the body. It was now ripped and bloodstained, as well as covered with sand, but the words were still readable.

”If I,
A lone human can do this to an entire encampment of these apish brutes.
Then why do a gaggle of Elves and their giant pet lizards struggle?
Lots of love
A Concerned Citizen”

Tears ran down is face as he read. He reeked of blood and gore, along unpleasant things. He looked up one more time, then let his head fall and hit the sand. He had lost consciousness. The events of the night had taken all he had, and he now needed rest.
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OOC;
Words: 962
Muse: Really good
Notes: WOW I'm pretty sure that is the longest post I ever made. I hope it is OK I just wrote the first thing that came to mind, but I think it's pretty good.[/blockquote]

[Amur]

We listened in silence, over the last several days we had, had one of our own soldiers exposed to us as he had tried to frame the several Hunters among our people by committing murders in their name. Needless to say, this had met with some furious opposition from them and within hours they had exposed the human for what he was. We had known that tension would exist between as The Hunters called them “The Commoners” and their own numbers, but we had not expected such a deceitful practice from our people.

Needless to say we had to ensure that such behaviour wouldn’t happen again, so, we personally incinerated him before the rest of our people. Normally such displays were beneath us, but we were fuelled now by not only our concern to keep our alliance with The Hunters mutual, but for the wellbeing of our people and our Right Hand.

Supplies were beginning to run low and out of concern for that we had sent Kaime and five of our best trained soldiers on a scouting mission. That mission had started several weeks ago and we had heard nothing from our people on the mission.

And now for the third time this week we were listening to the poor state of our current inventory. Living on demonback was taking its toll and we were still no closer to finding a suitable location for our people to settle, time was running out.

“We understand the situation.”
We assured for the umpteenth time.

“However, we must insist that we keep moving. We need to ensure that if we receive word from Kaime that we are ready to move in his direction at a moment’s notice.”
We finished off firmly. Our man bowed and promptly left us.

“He’s probably dead Nemesis Morona.”
We refused to show even the slightest reaction to the words of Huntress Alma D’alene, she had made it clear since she had allied with us that she had distaste for Kaime and in a typical Hunter manner had not been subtle about it.

She stood at a relatively average human height and typically wore clothing closer to “The Commoners” that the Hunters seemed to dislike so much, the top of course having short-cut sleeves so that her Insignia was displayed with pride on her left arm. Her long dark-brown hair always neatly tied back, revealing her dark green eyes in all their death-glare-giving ferocity.

“We would know if Kaime had fallen Huntress D’alene, but your concern is noted and appreciated.”
Much like the other Hunters she had opted to be taught this other language as opposed to having it given to her, and very much like the other Hunters she had picked it up abnormally fast.

“Alma. Nel would have returned by now had Kaime died.”
The second Hunter currently meeting with us, Hunter Delian Terminus, unlike his compatriot he dressed in a manner less intended to fit-in while in populated areas and more to camouflage himself depending on his surroundings. The only deviation from that was the plain-white ivory mask with black-eyes that constantly covered his face and the dark blue hood-like shawl that covered the rest of his head.

We knew from the explanation of Alma D’alene that the Ivory-Mask and dark head-cover was a sign of shame among Hunters. Meant to symbolise that a Hunter had given up their face and in turn their identity out of an overwhelming sense of shame, we understood the reasoning, Hunters, by their upbringing and nature were very prideful people. Their alliance with us was not taken lightly on their end even if they had worded it as a “mutually beneficial alliance on behalf of their clan” in the end Delian Terminus had been the only one of the five Hunters now allied with us to feel so ashamed of his decision that he donned the Ivory-Mask.

So far his shame had amused us, the simplicity of the mind of a singular being never stopped astounding, but, we knew enough about their culture to know that antagonising him for his shame was a bad idea.

“Indeed.”
We stated simply.

Nel was the only demon among our kind, mostly because she had been inseparable from our acting General, and her small size, and appearance, which, was almost identical to that of a crow with blood-red eyes had proved invaluable as a message carrier. In fact word had spread among our people that the two of them shared a Pact, however, no-one had been able to confirm it.

We knew that there was truth to the rumour, mostly because we knew the signs that most Pact-Partners shared throughout the entirety of their pact.

“Lord Morona! Nel returns with Kaime’s report!”
The sudden appearance of our General had caused the several soldiers stationed around us to physically jump, while The Hunters showed very little visible reaction. And even then, that was only down to the slight twitch of irritation that Huntress D’alene had seemingly allowed to flicker through her demeanour.

We looked down at our General –who even stood at just over six foot still had to look up at us- his face covered by his usual golden mask shaped into the form of a snarling lion, and nodded gently.

“Very well, Nel, we shall listen to what our Right Hand has given you to tell us.”
---

Kaime sat in silence tending the small fire he had made, not that he needed it, it was warm enough as it was, he just despised having nothing to do while being so far from home and the distraction of having a fire to tend allowed him a small moment to take his mind off of his current situation. He had failed, Lord Morona had sent him out on a simple task and he had failed, the five men that had entrusted their lives to him were now dead and even now Kaime was still no closer to finding out whether or not peaceful integration with the natives of this land would be possible.

He sighed; he had held nothing back when he had given Nel his report to take back to Lord Morona, so regardless of whether or not peaceful settling would be possible Lord Morona would be here for Kaime. It was just a matter of waiting, and with time on his hands and no other obligations to follow Kaime grew bored very quickly.

Time continued to pass at an agonising pace; leaving Kaime to sit in silence with his elbows resting on his thighs, his fingers laced together and placed covering his face below his nose. He sat, simply staring into the flame, his thoughts not on any one particular subject; it had been a shock to meet a man bearing the name “Latro”, especially given the huge number of people claiming Hunting Clan Latro to be extinct completely.

Though the shock had rapidly turned into slight irritation, as was very typical of Hunters the man was highly obnoxious and something of a narcissist. In Kaime’s mind no matter how well trained, or how many kills one man had to his name, he never had the right to act like that. Now the scars, that was another matter entirely, and his eye. Somewhere within Kaime he remembered stories where a Master Hunter with a blood-stained right eye achieved some amazing feats. He had kept his thoughts to himself, if this Solomon Latro was truly the “Master Hunter Latro” that had made Nirvanian history at his young age then Lord Morona would be the first to know.

He had even made that much clear to Nel, Lord Morona was to be informed of his suspicions only when he was alone. He didn’t want their allied Hunters getting excited, he had enough trouble trusting them as it was, no matter how much they had assured Lord Morona that their alliance would hold firm as long as they weren’t discriminated against due to their status as Hunters.

There was one in particular, Alma D’alene that he didn’t trust at all. And he knew that he wasn’t the only one, Alexia was also shared his distrust, even to the point where Alma was trusted less than the other hunters. Though her distrust was down to the fact that she was a Hunter, Kaime distrusted her more so than the other Hunters because of the way she seemed to treat the male population of Lord Morona’s people like dirt.

He shifted slightly, his thoughts rapidly changing subject once again. What he had witnessed so far of this land and its people was certainly more desirable than remaining in Empire Nirvana under the rule of Emperor Solomon, there were several aspects he disliked, however, though, he managed to keep his opinion of those aspects to himself.

The biggest issue Kaime had with this place was with, as The Hunter had called them multiple times during their first meeting, “The Lizards”. Never mind the fact that this meant that they were moving from one land with giant lizards to another, no, he could cope with that switch. After facing death to the venom of a Wyvern, he had little fear of them and their abilities.

No, the problem he had with them was the misplaced sense of racial superiority they seemed to think they possessed. (Though such an evaluation was presently unfair given his limited contact with them), hell, even the Demons within Empire Nirvana weren’t as deluded. Even those that tended to flex their ”racial superiority” were more tolerable.

He drew in a deep breath, calming himself down, trying to make sense of his thoughts. After all, it was only natural that his perception of them would have been somewhat soured because of his past interactions with Wyverns back home.

He rolled his shoulders, and was then startled from his thoughtful silence by a loud noise, he wheeled on the spot, rising to his feet and readying his weapon even as he span only to see a large pillar of emerald green fire stretch toward the sky. He froze as he beheld the Emerald Pillar, would Lord Morona have been able to send more men that quickly?

”Kaime do you see that!?”
Even at this point Kaime still couldn’t bring himself to use sarcasm, especially not to Alexia.

“I see it Alexia, would Lord Morona even be able to get men here that quickly?”
He was unsure, he had not paid the time it had taken get here in the first place much mind at all.

”No.”
She stated simply.

“Then who could it be? How many more former Nirvanian’s could have possibly made it here?”
He asked out loud, knowing full well that his question would most likely go unanswered. He shook his head at his own stupidity and started walking in the direction of The Emerald Pillar; someone was in trouble in a foreign land. Kaime had to help them.


Kaime knew that he had been walking for a fair while by the time he reached the location of The Emerald Pillar, and had not expected to find much, if anything remaining of whoever had sent the call of distress. What he found though chilled him.

A large number of dead.... Things, after kneeling down to examine some of the bodies in more depth he had settled on the word “things” and had to mentally remind himself that Alexia wouldn’t know what they were either in order to stop himself from asking her what they were out of habit.

He moved slowly, examining each body he came across. Each and every one of them had been killed from a distance, arrows protruding from each and every corpse he looked at. Whoever, had done this was a very skilled marksman, he would give them that much, not a single shot had hit its target below the neck; most deaths were probably close to instant.

He advanced further into the remains of the camp sight, still checking each body he came across, although, oddly enough the number of corpses decreased as he entered the encampment. Almost as if they had been drawn from the safety of numbers and then actively-

“Hunted”

Kaime finished his thought off vocally as he finally found the final corpse, the one nearest the Emerald Pillar, a simple rapier stuck through its throat, its left leg covered in long cuts. He stopped, recognising this almost ritualistic kill from somewhere. He used the tip of his scythes haft to gently poke at several of the wounds on its leg. They weren’t very deep.

Getting back to his feet he cast his eye once more around the scene of the slaughter before catching sight of a much smaller being sprawled on the ground. He approached it, confirming it to be human as he drew closer, kneeling down he examined the body, and was admittedly shocked to find that it was still alive.

He checked what he could of the body, and upon finding a lack of any wounds decided that this boy must have stumbled into this scene unexpectedly, judging by the tearstains on his face it had hit him quite hard. Not that Kaime was overly surprised, he was young, within multiple cultures in Empire Nirvana he wouldn’t even be considered a man yet, and that was despite his relatively large build. He shook his head; this was not something a child should have had to witness.

He checked the boy over once more and held his gaze at his hand, he was holding something. Carefully Kaime set his weapon on the ground and gently worked the piece of paper from the boy’s grasp. Retrieving his weapon he got back to his feet and stood closer to The Emerald Pillar in order to examine the content of the note in greater depth. The short note was to the point and clearly meant to mock and taunt those it had been left for, yes, he recognised the patterns, the ritualistic final kill and the mocking note to top it all off.

Beyond knowing it to be a technique used by Hunters he knew nothing more of it though, shaking his head he kept hold of the note and held his ground near The Emerald Pillar. He could not in good conscience leave this boy in the middle of a slaughter alone, he would wait until the boy woke up and then he would decide what he would do next.

“Hunter, does your pride know no bound?”
He muttered to himself.

[[Very sorry for the wait, hope this post isn't too fail-tastic.]]
[[Note: The segment written from the perspective of Morona can be ignored for the sake of character interaction, etc. It's more for getting my characters rolling]]

[tazcalbat]

Rhys Locksson

[/b][/size]

Rhys looked around. Darkness blinded him, making it impossible to focus. He listened, but hearing wasn’t hard. A storm was raging. Thunder roaring, lightning flashing. Strong winds would come out of nowhere, then leave just as quickly. Rhys stood up and looked around again, trying to use the light of the storm to see. What he saw didn’t make any since. He should be in the desert. But instead he was in a heavily wooded area with large mountains and sheer cliffs. He was sure that he had never been here before. How had he gotten here? Where was here? Then he noticed shouts. He looked around again, his eyes slowly making out what they saw. He realized that he had been mistaken. It wasn’t a storm, it was a war. Groups from all the races known to live in Aligasia were present. They were all fighting each other. Then something else occurred to the young blacksmith. Many of these races he had never seen, and shouldn’t know the name of, yet he could see them in great detail, and knew the names of each of them. The thunder was instead the sounds of battle, horses hooves, swords and shields colliding, and other loud noises caused by fighting. The lightning was magic, used both to attack and to defend the different sides. Softly someone spoke. Rhys turned around, scanning the lands around him with his honey colored eyes, but saw no one. He stood on a cliff, a safe distance from the war. His position was a perfect place to view the warring fractions. The voice spoke again, but it was in a language Rhys was unfamiliar with, and he was unable to understand the words being spoken. Because the voice was so soft, he knew that it had to be inside his head. The though frightened him, but the soothing tone helped to calm him. Then one of the creatures below spotted him. A Rider, or so it seemed, mounted on a large silver dragon headed in his direction, and lifted his hand. A flash of light blinded Rhys, then the sounds of battle stopped suddenly.
A dream. It was just a dream. Rhys could tell that he was sweating heavily, and was breathing in short pants. As he worked to slow his breathing, he realized he could head someone was close by. At first he though to act like he still slept, guessing that if he was in danger, he would be dead already. But stiff from laying on the hard ground, he was unable to stay still any longer. Slowly, carefully he pushed himself into a seated position. He looked around, but at first, he was unable to see the stranger. He looked up to see that is was dusk. He had slept through the whole day, maybe longer. Then he looked down and scanned the area around him again. When his eyes found the stranger, the sight of the man was almost more than Rhys could take. He scrambled quickly backwards, away from the stranger. The stranger was severely marked, he had one eye that was dead. His face marked hideously with dark, purple veins. He had one are tightly wrapped in bandaged and covered with armor. His head was bald, and marked with a complex tattoo, but the meaning was lost on Rhys. As Rhys scooted backwards, he bumped into something hard. He looked up to see Knurl, his trusted horse, standing behind him looking down at his master. The stubborn stallion was a welcome sight to Rhys, who reached up to pat the horse’s head as the stallion pawed the ground gently. He then turned back the distinctively marked man. As he looked at the man again, he could now tell that he was most likely human, though his age was impossible to tell. Rhys took a deep breath, then exhaled slowly. He then stood, dusting himself of off as best he could. He moved to his horse’s side and began to groom his horse, checking for any wounds or place that needed attention. As he did this, he angled himself into a position so that he could keep the stranger in his sight. So you saw? he asked quietly as he tried to calm himself and control his nerves.[/center]

OOC:
Words: 717
Muse: Still Really Good
Notes: That's fine.[/blockquote]

[Amur]

Kaime stood watch, though how long he spent watching he could not tell. He registered somewhere in the back of his mind that it had become light and then dark again and even the approach of a seemingly ownerless horse at some point during. Though he didn’t pay it much mind, he was already organising his thoughts on the slaughter that he was still stood in, The Hunter had been responsible, of that there was no doubt, this was a tactic employed by his kind. At least that much he had learned from their allies, though they had refused him any further details beyond that, what annoyed him most about that was that they had told Lord Morona, and while Kaime knew that he had his reasons Lord Morona had disclosed nothing of the information The Hunter’s had told him.

It had, in part been the terms of their alliance, but it frustrated Kaime to know that he could not prepare himself for facing them should they turn on Lord Morona. It... Almost angered him knowing that if such an event came to pass that Kaime would be unable to defend his Lord.

”Calm yourself my Prince. You’ll only drive yourself mad if you obsess over it too much.”
Kaime drew in a slow, shuddering breath; as much as he hated to admit it Alexia was right, there was no reason for him to frustrate himself when there was little threat in the first place. As little as he trusted the Hunter’s, he trusted the judgement of Lord Morona without question; if he had seen their betrayal as a possibility then he wouldn’t have agreed to ally with them.

”Alexia.”
He paused, a small look of irritation breaking through his usual demeanour, despite his feelings towards Alexia he hated having to communicate using nothing more than his mind. He lacked any formal training with such a method, so it took intense concentration on his part, and oftentimes his efforts showed as his facial expression changed from that of impassive-disinterest to a blank look. Which Huntress Alma D’alene had said made him look simple.

Not that her taunts bothered him, the last time she had said anything Alexia had given her such a large amount of verbal abuse that Kaime had been forced to leave the room until she was able to calm herself down. In that respect Kaime was.... Glad, that he had Alexia on his side, he couldn’t imagine being without her, the fact that, on more than one occasion she had silenced The Hunter’s had allowed Kaime to focus his efforts on his more important duties.

He shook his head gently, drifting from thought-to-thought as he had been doing, along with trying to talk to Alexia had caused him to stray far from his original thought.

”I know my Prince.”
He fell silent, his gaze returning to the (still) unconscious boy lying on the ground. Kaime blinked and cocked his eyebrow as he boy awoke and scrambled away from him. He made no effort to move for him or otherwise react to what he had just witnessed, in fact, he had expected it. People often made unpredictable moves upon waking from a shock-induced sleep, so Kaime let him gather his wits before speaking to the boy.

“Hard to miss, don’t you think?”
Kaime responded flatly to the question the boy had managed to ask. Rolling his shoulders Kaime drew in a deep breath and manoeuvred his stave so that the haft was resting over his shoulder.

“No need to panic, if I were here to kill you I would have done so while you were sleeping.”
He stated.

“I think before we say much else we should at least tell each other our names. I can’t very well be calling you ’boy’, if we’re going to talk.”
He continued.

“My name is Kaime.”
He paused

“I would introduce Alexia, but I get the feeling she’ll have nothing to say to you.”
He waited for a moment and when she failed to add anything to the conversation he nodded to himself, as much as he had expected.

[[Gah, I'm NOT happy with this one, but I've kept you waiting long enough ]]

[tazcalbat]

Rhys Locksson

[/b][/size]

Rhys nodded at the sarcastic reply, knowing that the other man was right. Their was no way to miss the gruesome sight. He the looked at the man again, as he heard the other words being spoken to him. Again, he knew that the strange, and grotesque looking human spoke truth. If he was wanted dead, he would be dead by now. He tensed at the mention of his name, but then relaxed, seeing that the other man meant no harm. Kaime, or at least that was the name he chose to give the younger boy. Rhys looked up, his honey colored eyes going over the other man's features again, seeing them now as the story of a man who has had a hard life, but still has much to live.

Rhys. he said, at first it was just a mumble, barely a whisper, a breath the just made it past his lips. Then again, louder, after clearing his throat. I am called Rhys, this is my horse, Knurl. he said, reaching up to pat his horse's leg as the large beast stood behind him. The man's looks still frightened the brown headed boy, and he knew that their were many mysteries and secrets about the older man, but Rhys guessed that he would much rather not know most of them, and instead chose to try to learn, and tell, only as much as was required. [/center]

OOC:
Words: 239
Muse: Slow, But working
Notes: Sorry it's so short.[/blockquote]

[Elloria]

(OOC: This part of the thread is meant for Solomon's attention. Sorry to be leaping into your fun, Rhys.)


Arashi glides high in the skies, barely skimming beneath the light cloud cover. The sun is beginning to set, but this will be the last bit of shade he gets to enjoy before they reach the Hadarac Desert. Although he hears that the desert is pleasantly warm. Perhaps this scouting expedition will not be so terrible after all. At the very least, he and Niko are entrusted with the task of discovering whatever they can about the culprit or culprits behind recent attacks on the Urgal tribes. Arashi smirks as he recalls the outrage that had practically flown like venom from Grandmaster Almalexia’s mind when they had been summoned before the Council. If ever a Rider’s dragon might as well have been wild, it was Almalexia-ebrithil. But Arashi tends to keep this thought to himself whenever dealing with her. But that is neither here nor there. All that matters is confirming who is trying to rile the ire of the Riders by showing off in such a dishonorable and disreputable fashion. Frankly, Arashi is somewhat incredulous that the Rider and dragon that spotted the first attack site had not immediately followed any scent trail that had been picked up. They had bothered to stop and poke around it, after all. Arashi snorts at the memory of the Rider’s description of it. Urgal corpses scattered about the campsite – arrows embedded in some, sword wounds in others. Very chaotic, yet very well-planned…as if the person or people had been stalking the tribes. He feels Niko snicker at the thought as well.

Reminds me of Solomon.

Arashi growls at the name. Arrogant, unseeing wretch that believes it is so very superior to the entire world. Dared to mock the dragons – to mock Arashi – simply because it had the advantage of size at the time! He cannot wait to come across it again one day.

With that thought, Rider and dragon at last leave the cover of the clouds and enter into the rapidly dimming world of the Hadarac. Arashi’s eyes begin sweeping the immediate area. The last site was supposed to be only a few miles from the Hadarac’s southwestern border. But in the fading light, there is little to be seen. And then a pillar of green fire rears up at what Arashi judges to be just a few miles to their left. He banks left and smoothly flies in that direction. With the strong wind aiding his powerful wingbeats, he soon arrives at the site. With a final flap, he lands softly in the sand just outside what appears to be a campsite. The fire was still burning, though not quite as brightly now. As Niko jumped from Arashi’s back, the dragon began nosing at the sand. There is something familiar here, but he cannot quite place it. Niko forges farther in towards the slowly dying fire, but Arashi keeps to the outskirts. It is the scent of the place that is getting to him. Not just the overwhelming stench of death – that hardly bothered him. It was clearly bothering Niko, though. The elf still was not used to death, sheltered thing that his Rider was. He sent waves of calm towards his Rider as the elf moved deeper into the carnage. Arashi nudges at an Urgal body, wrinkling his snout at the smell. There is something beneath the death-smell…something familiar that infuriates him beyond reason. If this damned wind would just stop long enough for him to catch the scent!

Niko looked around the fire, wondering who could have possibly done this. Someone with a great deal of hunting experience, that was certain. He could think of a few individuals who fit that description. But most of those were old or dead. And he didn’t like the idea of this being the work of a certain individual he tried his best to forget. Shaking his mind clear of that human, Niko turned from the fire and continued working his way through the encampment, looking at the many bodies littering the ground. He was both glad for the light the slowly dying fire offered and horrified by what it revealed to him. But he had not strayed far from the fire’s light when he saw something odd. A rapier still stuck in the neck of an Urgal. And there was something tied to it. He moved towards it and leaned down to see what was on the rapier.

It was a scrap of parchment. And what it said filled him with loathing and concern in equal measure.

If I, a lone human can do this to an entire encampment of these apish brutes, then why do a gaggle of Elves and their giant pet lizards struggle? Lots of love, A Concerned Citizen. …Arashi!

Arashi’s head jerks up from the body he was nosing as Niko’s concern skyrockets. He catches the memory of what Niko has just read and growls as his Rider sprints towards him. They both recognize that certain phrasing. It was something they had become intimately familiar with just a few short months ago on a distant island in the sea. And now that familiar scent finally registers. A scent that the dragon will never forget. He crouches low as his Rider appears and scrambles up into the strange animal-skin-seat on his back. He gets the scent firmly in mind as Niko secures himself in the animal-skin-seat. Arashi is not quite sure how he is going to track it, but he has grown much since the Island Incident. Niko gives him the all-clear and Arashi leaps into the air. He hovers for a moment before deciding to head east out of the desert. He is certain that the Solomon-two-legs will be heading out of what two-legs would consider a hostile environment and somewhere that was safer for their kind.

He flies for about an hour, then lands to see if he can pick up the scent. Arashi… He silences his Rider with a flick of irritated thought and starts sniffing the air. For about five minutes, he samples the air in every direction, but there is no trace of the Solomon-two-legs’ vile scent. His whole body ripples with outraged frustration, causing Niko to grasp wildly at one of Arashi’s neck spikes with a surprised shout. The shout is immediately drowned out by an earsplitting roar that can be heard for miles around.

[Amur]

Moving on foot was far too slow for his liking, despite the dark clouds further covering his cloaked form he felt exposed. He was more at home in a heavily forested area, hiding and moving among the tree tops, not scurrying across the ground as he presently was.

He drew in a calming breath, no, he was fine. He would be difficult to spot under present conditions and was more than capable enough to get at least some distance between himself and the slaughter he had just left behind to be found without having to stop for rest. It was at times like these when Solomon thought back to the Pacts that had been offered to him back home, and how good the offers now seemed.

Though, a one-time benefit was never worth the cost.

He continued at a steady pace and was able to rest as he stopped at one of his hidden camps to remove his long wyvern-skin coat and his dark shirt, before hiding them within his camp and continuing on his way. The decreased weight allowed him to pick up the pace without over-exerting himself, while simultaneously cooling his skin.

(Though, he had no idea why the feel of his wyvern-skin chest plate continued to feel strange when against his bare skin, he had attired himself like this several times since arriving here.)

He had to admit though, being able to see his insignia again offered some kind of strange.... Comfort to him, not that he could have said why, especially not when he continued to wonder why, when the rest of his clan was dead, he was still alive.

He shook his head, attempting to abandon such thoughts. This had been one of the reasons he had fled from Empire Nirvana, he didn’t need such thoughts weighing him down. He drew in a shallow breath, and continued at his current pace, he was not going to get caught in open terrain.


Despite his initial feeling of discomfort in the alarmingly flat terrain of the desert, Solomon had made his way into a more agreeable area. Not the biggest forested area Solomon had ever been in, but it was a relatively agreeable distance from his slaughter, and had enough trees to make Solomon feel comfortable enough to slink into the tree tops in order to get some rest.

Solomon sat in silence, not so much sleeping, no; he had slept the previous night and would be able to go a little while longer without sleep. He sat in a trance-like state, keeping his mind clear of any and all thoughts; he knew all too well how to evade mental detection. After all, it had been a technique taught to a sect of warrior monks, and the founder of his clan had been one of the monks entrusted with the knowledge of that ability.

It had inevitably been passed down, and now Solomon was a highly advanced practitioner of the secret technique those same warrior monks now guarded jealously.

Lost in his mental conditioning Solomon’s peripheral vision was lost to an inky blackness, while he ignored his surroundings completely. Everything was lost to silence as his body slowed, his heart-rate dropped and his breathing slowed as his mental activity decreased to nothing. In this state, he would be very difficult to find mentally, any searching for him would have to look for him manually, it was a technique that took several years worth of training to perfect. Solomon still had a ways to go before he got to that stage, but, as he was now, he was still very good.

He lost track of how long he had been sat in his trance-like state, a good sign that he was keeping himself well hidden. He would need to keep this up for some time before being sure that he could travel safely out in the open.

He was suddenly, and very harshly jolted from his state, by a loud roar, which sounded both far-off and close-by. He gasped with shock as his body was forcefully kicked back into full alert, making him wince with the physical pain it brought with it. His vision was blurred as he struggled to remember exactly where he was, his disorientation got the better of him as he felt himself-

From his perch Solomon had perfect sight of his prey as it and its guards settled down at their campfire, he had with him all he would need for this hunt, a single arrow, a bow and a couple of knives for when he would need to eat. He licked his lips as he fitted the arrow to the bow and took aim, still confused as to why the clan elders had deemed this a “high-profile” hunt. Especially since, when he questioned them about it, the only answer he received was something about how he “had information against Hunting Clan Latro”.

No matter, if it concerned his clan then Solomon was only too happy to kill on their behalf. He needed to aim this shot carefully, he compensated for the sudden increase in the wind and for the distance between himself and his prey. The shot was perfect, all he needed-

Solomon froze as he got visual contact. His mind not wanting to believe what he was seeing, the sound of panicked voices echoed from below as the object of his attention drew closer. Making a beeline straight for... HIM! Fear caused his breath to catch, his body refused to react as even now the large black wyvern drew closer.

He could see its glowing yellow-eyes, the “evil” reptilian smirk that every wyvern possessed, and still it drew closer. He blinked and with every available ounce of self control managed to adjust his aim and loosed the arrow at the wyvern.

Only for it to harmlessly bounce off of hard carapace on its lower jaw, he had to move, and he had to do it NOW-

“NEIN!”
He managed to wrench himself back into the present with a shout. Still breathing heavily, Solomon sat in dazed silence, drawing in deep calming breath after deep calming breath.

“Nein, nein.” He had managed to lower his voice to something of a whisper. “Nein, calm down Solomon, there are no wyverns here.”
He said quietly to himself, still struggling to bring himself back under complete control.

He cursed himself as he began raising mental barriers, his mind had been completely unprotected when he had been shocked out of his trance-like state, and now he worried that the sudden loss of control over that memory could have been seen by anyone. He took one of his knives from the sheath within his wyvern-skin chest plate and held it tightly, well, if anyone came looking for him, he would be ready for it.

[Elloria]

As the roar fades, there is a sudden spike of thought somewhere to the south. Arashi and Niko turn as one as they reach for that thought. They freeze as some strange memory that is not theirs sweeps through them.

This shot must be carefully taken. They compensate for the sudden increase in the wind and for the distance separating them from their prey. The shot is perfect, all that is needed-

They freeze as visual contact is made. This cannot be what is happening, what they are seeing…the sound of panicked voices echoes from below as their prey draws closer. It’s making a beeline straight for... THEM! Fear stops their breath, their body will not react even as a large black dragon-vile-cousin-wyvern fills their vision and approaches.

They can see its glowing yellow-eyes, the “evil” reptilian smirk that every dragon-vile-cousin-wyvern possesses…and still it draws closer. They blink and with every available ounce of self-control manage to adjust their aim and loose the arrow at the dragon-vile-cousin-wyvern…

Only for it to harmlessly bounce off of the hard carapace on the dragon-vile-cousin-wyvern's lower jaw. They have to move and they have to do it NOW-

Niko is clinging to one of Arashi’s neck spikes, shivering. That has dredged up memories of pain so far beyond what he remembers feeling, it is terrifying. Head half-crushed, yet still able to move…to hunt. Solomon…

That is all Arashi needs. When his Rider is stable once more, he crouches low and launches into the air. His wings open and with a soft swoosh, he banks right and heads south towards some woods. There is still a hint of that vile mind, those wretched thoughts and it is fading fast. As it nearly disappears completely, Arashi sends out a deafening mental call in the direction of the vanished thought. I am coming for you, Solomon-two-legs. I am coming for you and I will repay you for the pain you have caused us.

[Amur]

It had taken Solomon a long while to regain his bearings and remember exactly where he was, he remembered that he was in a foreign land, his clan was all but destroyed and he had just left the result of a “run” behind to be found by those he wished to taunt. This was not Empire Nirvana, there was nothing here that Solomon had known back home.

But that roar.

Somewhere in the back of his mind Solomon cursed the ease, with which that memory had surfaced, it was bad enough that the memories of that night haunted him in his sleep. But, recently they had started haunting him even during his waking hours.

He drew in a further calming breath, no. He was in control, the state those mental techniques put him in made it very easy to get startled by any loud noise.

But that roar.

Solomon was not a man to take chances.

He stayed in the tree he had been sat in, knife in hand with every muscle in his body tense, ready to strike, or otherwise move at the slightest sign of danger, his eyes scanned the ground, the trees and even –out of habit- the sky.

Despite the tension of his current situation Solomon managed a small laugh; the chances of him being attacked from the sky in this foreign land were astoundingly low. But still he gripped his knife tightly; his eyes ever-moving; if he had managed to alert anyone to his presence here then he would be ready for them. Prey never had the advantage over its predator, it was one of many teachings that Solomon stuck to.

He was a Hunter, he was above everything.

He kept his breathing controlled, his posture compact and above all, kept his mind shielded-

“I am coming for you, Solomon-two-legs. I am coming for you and I will repay you for the pain you have caused us.”

Solomon froze as he listened to the voice that suddenly boomed throughout his mind, there was definitely someone... Or something after him, he could no longer deny that. But who? He cast his mind back, everyone he had caused pain to was dead, and he could state that confidently, no-one survived an encounter with Solomon if he was deliberately causing them pain.

“... The Little Lizard.”
Solomon said slowly, the evidence did add up. The Little Lizard and its Elf master were the only two survivors that came to memory when he thought about the possible owner of such a voice. He shook his head gently, had The Little Lizard not learned its place last time? Solomon would be happy to once again show The Little Lizard its place beneath him...

Wait.

“Solomon-two-legs?”
He asked out loud to himself, that certainly was a distinctive way of calling out to Solomon. In fact, somewhere within Solomon’s memories it stirred up his non-human mentor’s taunt of “Smooth-skin”, one that he heard often during his upbringing as a Hunter.

He smiled absently, momentarily lost in the nostalgia of the memory. His hatred for his non-human mentor also stirred fond memories of the day Solomon had finally put that arrogant, racially superior-

Solomon shook his head sharply and drew in a sharp breath, no; something about this didn’t sit well with Solomon. Sentient creatures that had been humiliated to the degree Solomon had humiliated The Little Lizard and its Elf master to never came back unless they had something to their advantage.

Solomon had already learned that lesson.

Calmly, he returned the knife to its concealed sheath and stood up, relaxing himself as best as he could. Meeting a challenge like that head-on was not Solomon’s style anyway; he needed to know what he was up against first. And if The Little Lizard thought that Solomon was simply going to sit still after it had made the mistake of announcing its intention to him, then it was as deluded as that mentor of its.

He kept himself calm and quiet as he thought on his first move. Inexperience was their biggest weakness, Solomon had gathered that much, not even an amateur announced their intention to their target, in that regard Solomon had a good advantage against The Little Lizard. However, he was armed only with his knives and venomous short-sword at this time. Getting that close while hunting, and doing so without alerting the prey was a difficult task, even for one as experienced as Solomon. He would either have to get very lucky, or pass up the opportunity to put The Little Lizard and its Elf master in their place this time.

And then, there was the question of whether or not The Little Lizard had more acute senses than he did. Given that it was an animal, the odds were that it would do... His first move, in that situation would be to make sure that he was standing downwind, if The Little Lizard had an acute sense of smell he wanted to make sure that his scent was being blown away from it.

He nodded absently to himself, he would also have to consider visibility, without his wyvern-skin coat on he wouldn’t blend into his surroundings as well as he usually did. The colour of flesh offered very little –if anything- in the way of camouflage, so he would have to do everything he could to remain out-of-sight. A challenge, but not one that was beyond Solomon’s abilities, his experience in these kinds of situations would get him out of here with little trouble on his part.

Swiftly, and ever-silently Solomon began to make his move. Moving to a location where he would be able to stand so that his scent was being blown away from the middle of the forested area. The most obvious choice of course, being at the edge of the forested area, people rarely started on the outside, he would be able to move as he needed to, or even make a fast escape if the need to do so arose.

“And so the challenge begins.” Solomon muttered to himself as he moved. “Try your best Little Lizard, I look forward to putting you in your place again.”

[Elloria]

For a while, all that can be heard is the wind slipping past them and the beat of Arashi’s wings. It is a serene sensation to Niko, despite the bubbling rage flowing from Arashi’s mind. He certainly wasn’t fond of Solomon by any means, but Arashi seemed to have taken their humiliation and just let it fester. It had been embarrassing and humbling to be re-educated in the capabilities of humanity – something he had clearly forgotten since Mchumba’s death. But it was a learning experience in Niko’s mind, nothing more. Well…okay, there was more attached to it but he tried to set aside those feelings and return to his normal placid state of mind. It was a difficult goal to achieve when your dragon was hell-bent on thrashing the source of the experience. Perhaps I should not fight it so much. Perhaps instead I should focus on my obvious inability to handle pain.

As Niko muses on this, Arashi arrives at the woods where last the vile two-legs’ mind was. He does not land just yet, but chooses to circle over the woods once, twice, three times. There are a few clearings scattered about, none of which hold his target. He cannot detect the two-legs’ mind any longer, but he doubts it will have travelled far from here. Only a pointed-ears-two-legs could have done so and this two-legs is no such creature. There seems to be no scent of it though…until the fourth pass over the trees. It is still in the woods! Arashi is ready to let out another roar, but chooses not to. He has already put his prey on high alert – no need to exacerbate that. It is on the move, though, and he cannot let it escape again. But he hunts by scent and sound. Niko, on the other hand…

The instant Arashi thought of it, Niko knew he was in for an interesting night. What advantage was there in separating themselves? Sure, he could find Solomon’s energy and track that – such a thing was child’s play. But Niko had no desire to fight. If anything, he wanted to capture Solomon and bring him to Ilirea for interrogation. Or something like that. Nope. That was not what Arashi had in mind as the dragon swooped low and landed carefully in a clearing near the beginning of the scent. With a sigh, Niko unstrapped himself from the saddle. Standing, he pulled off his long scholar’s cloak and tucked it into one of the saddlebags. Satisfied, he carefully climbed down Arashi’s leg. The goal would be to drive Solomon to the edge of the woods, where Arashi would be waiting. With a nod and a quiet rumble Arashi took off, sending a gust of wind through the clearing that nearly knocked Niko over. An image of hills not far from the woods flashed through Niko’s mind as his dragon’s silhouette quickly vanished from the night sky above him. Now came the somewhat tricky part – if Solomon was a hunter of any caliber, he would certainly be on his guard after Arashi’s threatening broadcast…even if the human didn’t really consider Arashi a threat. Which meant he would be keeping his mind under tight control and wary of any sound, sight, and scent that came his way. All this passes through Niko’s mind as he slips into the shadows of the trees. Solomon’s energy is not nearby, he knows this much. But he must widen his scope of sensing, feel everything at once without yet focusing on anything. Back firmly braced against a tree and Arashi closely linked with his mind to act as defense for now, Niko slowly lowers his own defenses so that he can become more receptive to the world around him. The trees are bright here, full of life. Life skitters by on the ground and under it, flies high in the trees…but it is all small. Not what he seeks. If I were a hunter, which way would I go…to avoid being found?

A slight breeze ruffles the leaves as his Rider stands in silent search and contemplation. It teases the few stray strands of long hair that have pulled loose from his-their ponytail. You do not let your prey scent you. Challenging your prey makes the hunt more interesting. But never let it scent you until it suits you to be scented.

They turn to face away from the wind and step behind the tree so that it blocks them from it. They send their thoughts slinking along with the wind, for that is where they will find…there! See it, do not touch it. Bright, bright light – brighter than the rest of the world it seeks to hide in. High up in the trees, but they still recognize this light. The wind has already blown their scent towards it. It surely will know soon they are in the woods, hunting it. It has already proven its senses are keen. It is still moving. Move with it. To the left…farther, out of the wind’s path that leads to the light they seek. Move swiftly, move silently. Stepping so lightly, not even the grass is disturbed as they move. Grateful plant-made-skin-covering is close to the body, makes very little sound. Take to the trees? Take away its advantage of height? No. Height will do it no good here. Swiftly, silently. It moves quickly, but not as quickly as they. Only human, without magic. Dangerous still. Pause. Has it noticed yet? Perhaps, perhaps not. Swiftly, silently move once more. Brighter still, ever brighter. Stop again. Can hear it now – leaves rustle, bark is scuffed, and below that…steady breathing. Not far now. Stoop low. Pick up a stone. Sword back with large, winged body. Only a dagger to protect with. Can’t throw that and leave self without defense against its weapons. Now what? Let it spot them. Thinks it has the advantage. Low to the ground, moving swiftly forward, overtaking it. Turning into its path, stopping before another clearing. Stop. Look around. Wait for the light to approach.

[Amur]

Solomon had to keep moving, to stop for too long was to welcome disaster, a mistake, and Solomon did not make mistakes. However, when he heard the sound of rushing wind he forced himself to stop just for a moment. He recognised the sound as he heard it once more, the unmistakable sound of wing beats... He heard them again, and again. It took him only a moment to figure out that The Little Lizard was circling the small forested area that Solomon was hidden in, he smiled, and so, he would have to readjust his plans.

“Inexperienced, but not idiotic, no more reckless charges of blind rage... Good, they’ve learned, maybe this time it won’t be quite as easy for me.”
He muttered to himself as he leaped over to the next perch he had picked out for himself. Of course, that was a big “maybe”, despite knowing that The Little Lizard and its Elf weren’t complete morons he had little doubt that their inexperience would, ultimately, reduce the overall threat that they would pose.

He continued moving, stopping only to briefly consider a change in direction, only to move in the opposite direction. Aiming to throw his prey off of his scent, though, if The Little Lizard had managed to pick up Solomon’s scent once, then the chances were that throwing them off would not be quite as easy as a few simple changes of direction.

Somewhere in the back of his mind, he hoped that he was wrong about their inexperience; it had been far too long since he had, had the chance to hunt someone sharp enough to force him to think on his feet. And that, was the kind of challenge that Solomon relished.

But one step at a time, he had more important things to concern himself with.

He stopped suddenly and shivered, something didn’t feel right. He couldn’t quite place exactly what it was that didn’t feel right. But something was definitely... off. He withdrew even further into himself, strengthening his mental barriers further still, adding several other layers of protection to those he had already managed to establish.

A strange, unexpected sense of foreboding kept Solomon still for a second longer than he would have liked... He shook his head, he knew better than to simply dismiss such feelings as superstition, as a Hunter his intuition and instincts had saved his life more than once.

He moved with redoubled speed, he had not put enough distance between himself and his little “present” to The Rider’s that much had already become obvious; he should have kept on moving. He was on full alert; every movement he caught out of the corner of his eye was a potential threat, and even the smallest sound caused him to freeze for a second –a second longer than he would have liked- in order to watch his back.

And Solomon couldn’t have felt more alive.

This was going to be an enjoyable night, he could feel it.

Excitement caused him to tremble in anticipation; the thrill of the hunt caused its usual rush.

This, was what Solomon lived for. This, was a situation in which Solomon was capable of thriving in, poor, deluded little amateurs. Onto a new perch, and ready to continue moving, he would make The Little Lizard and its Elf work for this. He would-

How did The Elf manage that? Solomon had constantly been on the move, there was no way that he had left The Elf enough time to catch up, let alone pass him. Were they really capable of moving that fast? Solomon allowed himself a small smile as he looked down at his prey, as opportunistic as Solomon was he wasn’t rash.

The fact that The Elf was alone, told Solomon that there was something definitely wrong with this picture. The Little Lizard and The Elf had the advantage of numbers, why would they give that up... No, as Solomon had noted to himself earlier, they were inexperienced, but, they weren’t idiots, whatever they were planning –for they were planning something, that much Solomon was sure of- required them to split up.

His smile broadened, yes! As he had wanted, they were working to keep him on his feet; they were trying to hunt him... To hunt him, as if the idea of that wasn’t laughable enough.

He stood up on his perch; he had little doubt that somehow, The Elf already knew where he was.

He bent his arms at the elbows, balled his hands into fists and threw his head back, announcing his excitement to the world around him with a feral scream of defiance. He challenged The Elf, he challenged The Little Lizard, he dared them to give chase, dared them to try and hunt him, if they thought they could out-hunt him, out-hunt Master-Hunter Solomon Wyvernslayer Latro. Then he wanted to see them try their best, he wanted to revel in their anguish when he crushed them once again and broke their spirit.

He looked back down at The Elf, hoping he had managed to get his attention and flashed him a feral smile, lowering his arms as he did so. He stood, eyes fixed on his prey for only a moment before turning back and heading in the direction he had originally come from, jumping from tree-to-tree. In the direction The Elf clearly wanted him to travel in.

Solomon would play him for as long as possible, try to work out what his plan was, and once he had that, would work out his own counter-plan. But until then, he would let them think that they were in control, he would let them think that they had the upper-hand on him... Hoping that they would enjoy it while it lasted, because, it wouldn’t be happening again.

He leaped over to his next perch, actually even stopping for a moment, to allow The Elf to catch up. However, he was able to disguise that by making it look as though he was stopping to check his back and make sure he was safe, even adding a small twitch every so often to each of his movements, just to complete the look.

They were out of their depth; he was going to make sure they knew that. And then he was going to grind it through their thick skulls, he was going to make sure they knew their place once and for all.

[Elloria]

Well…we cannot complain that the light has not noticed us. It has risen up from its squat on its perch and we have straightened with it. Smoothly so far…what will its next move be? It lets loose a cry that seems strange coming from a two-legs-round-ears-fleshling like it. It is feral and defiant and…happy? Yes, we suppose happy is a good word for it. It thinks we cannot hunt it. It is a dragon-vile-cousin-wyvern killer and has surely hunted many other fleshlings. But we know how to hunt as well. And so we allow a beatific smile to light up our face and brighten our ever-changing-moon-silver eyes. We hold its gaze, waiting…

And that is not what we want it to do. Damn fleshlings and their general stupidity. Sometimes it worked in the fleshlings’ favor and sometimes not. This time it is. Tch. It assumes we want it to return from whence it came. No, no, silly two-legs-round-ears-fleshling. We want you out of these woods, where we can spread our wings and unleash our wrath properly. With a sigh, we take pursuit. It thinks to outstrip us. Does it not know the speed of this two-legs-pointed-ears-fleshling body? Surely it has learned by now that in speed and strength, we will always be superior to it. In wit only does its hope lie and we intend to strip it of that small hope. While it continues inwards at its leisurely pace – leisurely to us, at least – occasionally looking back and acting as though it is being cautious, we follow along beside it out of sight. Hair and plant-made-skin-covering dark enough to hide us in the darkness of the leaves, flesh darker than pale-fleshlings but not dark as some still aiding in hiding us from its eyes that thinks we are behind it.

A minute…two minutes…this is boring. It continues inwards, farther from our goal. We have had enough. Get a little ahead of it. Wait for it to turn again. Now! We fling the stone from our grip with all our strength. It slams into the bark less than an inch from the two-legs-round-ears-fleshling’s head. The bark explodes and sends bits of wood everywhere as the stone continues all the way through the tree and lodges in the one behind it. It flinches as the stone flies and we smile. It has stopped now. We gaze steadily at our prey. What will it do now?

[Amur]

Solomon had no doubt that The Elf was capable of moving faster than him; he remembered their first encounter vividly and often used that as a reference when he thought out his next move. He had fought off and even killed more than one “racially superior” creature during his life, this Elf and his Little Lizard were simply just another two figures to add to that total.

As he moved he continued to think back to their first encounter, remembering all the, as his Human Mentor would have said “little things” about that encounter.

He moved onto a new perch, this time taking the time to act as though he was watching his back before moving onto his next perch-of-choice.

The first thing that he went back to was just how quickly he had gotten to the Little Lizard the first time around. It had been the easiest thing he’d ever managed to provoke, even when compared to the many Demon Half-Breeds he had called “half-breed abomination”. Whatever tactic these two had, Solomon would have to disarm them of it by using The Little Lizards short temper against them. Once that fell apart Solomon was positive he could put The Elf in his place again, after all, raw power was nothing without the experience to apply it properly.

He stopped suddenly, flinching –almost diving from his perch completely- as something struck the trunk of the tree. The impact he could only describe as an explosion, showering Solomon with small pieces of bark as the missile tore through the tree and continued to the next.

Such strength was nothing new to Solomon, but it did remind him of the need to use both caution and intelligence, he couldn’t let himself get too excited, too lost to the thrill of the hunt, no, he had to keep his wits about him enough to know every move he was making.

By this time he had stopped, The Elf was once again before him. He looked back briefly, yes; he had managed to overtake Solomon before throwing... Whatever had caused so much damage, no matter; Solomon had, had no delusions about his own speed when compared to The Elf’s.

He remained where he was, and smiled down at The Elf, holding it for a second before first trembling with silent laughter. Until he was no longer able to contain himself and had to let his amusement out, which resulted in an almost feral kind of laughter, he was enjoying himself and he wanted both The Elf and The Little Lizard to know it. He needed to get inside their heads and force them to make mistakes, and given their inexperience he had little doubt that such a feat would be easy to accomplish.

“Don’t let yourself get too excited”
The thought constantly buzzed at the back of his mind, not that he needed to keep reminding himself of that, he knew that presently he was allowing himself to get this excited only to play mind-games with the pair attempting to hunt him.

“You’re starting to enjoy yourself now, aren’t you?”
He questioned out loud, his lips still forming the twisted, feral smile he had formed moments ago.

“Me too.”
He stated excitedly after a short pause, he had a plan forming, and was sure he was starting to recognise a pattern in the way The Elf was moving. He was beginning to suspect that The Elf was trying to Sheppard him in a certain direction, but he needed to be certain, he needed to test their patience a little bit more. Whilst simultaneously trying to worm his way back beneath the skin of The Little Lizard... No, he had a better title for it; he just hoped that their bond worked the way that he thought it did.

“It’s just a shame that, that Wyvern-kin of yours isn’t here to enjoy this experience with us.”
He said loudly, not intending to give The Elf a chance to answer he turned back moved back in the direction he had originally been going in, if The Elf was truly trying to Sheppard him in a certain direction, the chances were that he would move and try to intercept Solomon, and if that was the case then he might very well have to use an “Ace” to keep The Elf thinking on his feet.

One step at a time, though.

As he moved from his first perch he tore one of his plain steel knives from its concealed sheath, twisted while he was in the air and threw it at The Elf, the knife was one of many he owned, he didn’t dare use his golden kill-knife or Wyvernslayer for such a purpose, and he had no delusions about the knife actually hitting The Elf. No, in fact, he expected the knife to miss its mark.

He landed on a lower branch, an expected outcome that Solomon had planned for.

He stayed still for a moment; remaining in his squatted position on his new perch he kept his smile intact. He raised a hand and used to give The Elf a “come here” gesture, still showing him that the challenge, the dare to hunt him was ongoing.

And with that he turned back continued jumping from tree-top to tree-top back in the direction he had originally been going shortly after the Litt- no! The “Wyvern-kin”, had startled him from his mental conditioning, he was going to make them sweat before he crushed them, he wanted to enjoy their struggle, their frustration as bit-by-bit he made them realise that they were in HIS “playground”, they were in HIS territory, he was just letting them live here... For now.

[Elloria]

It is laughing. Not at them...at something else. This two-legs-round-ears-fleshling is so…strange. So different. Is it broken? We are getting somewhat irritated now. We want to break its neck, want to rip it apart, want to taste the sweet thrill of a successful kill…want so many things. But we do not show this. We wait for it to calm down. That is what we need from it right now, so that we may chase it. Slowly, it stills itself, ceases its laughter. “You’re starting to enjoy yourself now, aren’t you?”

Our lip curls up in a snarl, though no sound escapes us. The thrill, the delight? It will come when we have run this prey to ground. It shakes with excitement and its voice is filled with the emotion as it expresses its own enjoyment of this chase. Yes, it is decidedly broken. Not quite as exciting a chase, then, though there are many ways in which to break down one’s prey. “It’s just a shame that, that Wyvern-kin of yours isn’t here to enjoy this experience with us.”

We growl, the sound not as impressive coming from this smaller body but still too animalistic for a two-legs...

WYVERN-KIN?!

It has taken off in its initial direction. This is good, but oh we will make it pay for that comparison. Wyvern-kin. We curse the term and curse the prey that used it. Down from the heights it will come, then. We look up and tense to make this simple jump when a dark spot in the light flies towards us. No time to think. “Letta un reisa.” The words leave us in a quiet murmur, barely audible to our own ears but we feel the magic leave us and work itself upon the object we have focused upon. It stops a hair’s breadth from our face, hovering in the air until we reach up and take hold of it. We could have just leaned to one side, we supposed. It is mostly to our left and even staying in place would have only given us a grazed wound…but where was the fun in that? And now we have two blades to fight with. We look up to see our prey on a lower branch now and gesturing at us to give chase. Then it turns and continues its leaping. Our body yearns to give chase now but we will wait a moment. We jump from trunk to trunk until we land carefully on a branch, turning in the direction of the bright light. A minute passes…two…three…follow it now. Carefully, quietly from branch to branch with less sound than a miniscule four-legs-long-tail-small-round-ears. We must give it its knife back. We are not thieves now, are we? We are not wyvern.

[Amur]

He needed some more time, he could make educated guesses of their plan, but, if he was wrong then he could end up placing himself in an undesirable position. And, with the experience he held Solomon knew the value of actually knowing what he was up against. And The Elf’s reactions to his taunts had been... Strange, Solomon couldn’t quite place it but they had seemed to have an almost... Wild quality to them, yes, that was probably the best way to explain them.

Not, that such a quality meant much to Solomon, he had faced down many wild beasts throughout his life as a Hunter, many of them bigger and stronger than he was. It was just strange to see such a thing from something that seemed almost human.

He thought back, yes, something here was definitely wrong. There was no way for him to deny that now, but even now he couldn’t have said what was wrong... And that was what he didn’t like about this situation. He was getting his answers much too slowly, and there was only so long he could draw-out the chase for, so he thought as he moved.

So far, he had managed to piece together that The Elf was moving in an attempted to Sheppard Solomon in a certain direction... And then there was the current absence of the Wyvern-kin, which to Solomon said more than enough. How he had not managed to piece that together sooner was beyond his comprehension. Their plan was obvious, it had all the workings of a –very basic- pincer attack, one sits in wait, while the other leads the target towards their ally... Solomon smiled to himself, very well. That was the educated guess done; now he just needed to confirm it beyond doubt.

He stopped and cast a quick look back, and paused.

The Elf was not giving chase, or at least as far as he could tell The Elf was not giving chase. He moved forward several trees and positioned himself so that he was leaning against the tree trunk of his final perch, facing away from the direction The Elf was likely to be coming from.

Was he trying to enjoy the hunt? Solomon had to stop himself laughing, the inexperience was once more going to prove to be their downfall, the longer they allowed Solomon to collect his thoughts, and the longer they allowed Solomon to devise a counter-plan the more they secured their own defeat... It was the rule of hunting sentient prey, if they knew that they were being hunted and if they knew where the hunter was it was vital to end the hunt fast. And if the target was a superior hunter, then well, the idea was not to play with them.

And Solomon was the superior hunter. His prey should have been ashamed that they had not managed to end this yet.

He wouldn’t have long to collect himself here, so he used this opportunity to allow himself a moment to rest, and to make sure he knew exactly how many “aces” he had at his current disposal. From one of the pouches on his belt he took a small black case, and then opened it.

He looked back at the two small vials and nodded to himself, he had enough to at least ensure he could escape. The explosive compound in these vials had been made only recently, so they wouldn’t cause much damage, but Solomon knew that they would cause enough disorientation to allow him an opportunity to escape.

And as much as Solomon hated to run, especially from his prey, he had been caught with his guard down, while he was under-equipped... And, due to what he had made of their plan so far, knew that there was still an unknown element that he was missing, they had something they hadn’t had before. And whatever it was, Solomon didn’t like it.

He closed the shock-proof case and returned it to its pouch, he needed to keep this chase drawn-out a little bit longer, and in order to do that, he had a plan.

He changed direction again, however, this time, instead of moving toward the edge of the forest, and, instead of moving back toward its center, he moved around it. Travelling in what he intended to be a large circle, not moving any further into, or, out-of the forest. Now was the time to really test his prey.

[Elloria]

The light is still moving as we climb a little higher. We are about to turn towards it when it stops. Twist in midair to land on the branch and push forward once more. Pass by some distance to its right before we loop back around to cut it off. Pause and look down. What is it doing? It is looking at something. Hunched over a case. We cannot see what is in the case from this angle. Frustrating. It is probably something vile. Something dangerous. Or perhaps something valuable? File away for later reference. We must move behind it again and…

It is on the move. Follow carefully. Where…it is…is it circling the perimeter? No. No. Not what we want, filthy two-legs-round-ears-fleshling. Although admittedly it is closer to the blaring light of our large, winged body. Shift to its left, between it and the woods. Fall in step just a tree behind and a few over. It checks for them…does not see them yet. A little longer…now, while it is facing forward once more. Close the gap between us. Land beside it to its right as it steadies itself on the branch. It startles slightly. “What the fuck!?” A feral grin twists our face into something more four-legs-predator than two-legs-pointed-ears.

Before Solomon can react further, Niko’s slender fingers slip between its flesh and the wyvern-stench-torso-cover at the gap by its upper arms. Gripping tightly, he twists his body and jerks Solomon from his position. With the momentum, he tosses Solomon through a gap in the trees and leaps after him as he falls through the branches. Niko lands before the human while he is still disoriented. We have not broken it with that, did not put our full strength into the throw. The grin still twists Niko’s face, brightens his ever-changing-moon-silver eyes that had darkened upon Solomon’s comment about the wyvern. “Did we frighten you, Solomon?” he asks softly as the human finally rises to his feet. Solomon looked at him for a brief moment.

“No, you try too hard.”

Niko’s jaw drops open slightly. The grin still splits his face as he cackles. Even to his own ears, he sounds too amused, too feral. But this rush…this delight? He hasn’t felt it in years. As the sound dies down, he closes his mouth. Solomon smiles at him.

“So you are enjoying yourself. Good, it'll just make this victory feel that much sweeter. Amateur.”

Solomon darts to the left. Niko lets him get a little ways before following. He stops a few yards in front of Solomon, cackling again as Solomon skids to a halt. The man slowly backs away in the direction he just came from. Niko stands still for a moment, then seemingly vanishes from in front of Solomon. He stops a little ways behind Solomon, further into the woods but still in Solomon’s potential field of vision. As the human spins around wildly to find him, Niko leans casually against a tree and raises a slender pointed eyebrow. “Did you lose something, Solomon?” he calls out, his tone light and sardonic. Solomon whirls to look at Niko and the elf grins. Solomon matches his grin and raises his arm, gesturing towards Niko as if to invite the elf to strike even as the human backs out of the woods. The elf’s grin morphs into a smirk, pleased that they are directly across from the hills where Arashi has hidden himself. He pushes off of the tree and lopes forward as Solomon clears the trees. Now to keep Solomon distracted while Arashi took flight. A few minutes. That was all the dragon would need.

[Amur]

This was taking too long, The Elf had taken advantage of Solomon’s mistake and had used the lead Solomon had managed to gain as a chance to get himself out-of-sight. That had been an idiotic decision on Solomon’s part, perhaps he was a little bit too excited after all; he wouldn’t normally have made the mistake of taking his eyes off of prey that knew where he was.

Nevertheless, Solomon could berate himself for the mistake later; right now the best course of action to remedy his earlier stupidity was to keep moving. If only to confirm the plan that The Elf and his Wyvern-kin had between them for himself, even, under the likely event that his educated guess was correct he couldn’t shake the feeling of unease.

Why did something still feel wrong? He still couldn’t place it, he knew that he was missing something, but what? The fact that he was still unable to figure it out was starting to grind on his nerves.

He moved onto his next perch, taking a moment to steady himself-

He caught movement and flinched as he saw The Elf next to him. That was not possible! Solomon was the superior hunter, for this to happen; it was so unexpected that he could only express his shock in three words.

“What the fuck!?”
The response he got left him little time to say –or do- anything else, The Elf fixed Solomon with an almost intimidating feral smile before rapidly moving, grabbing Solomon’s Wyvern-skin chest plate he twisted.

And then Solomon was falling, hitting multiple branches as he fell.

Knowing the impact was coming did little to lessen the pain when he did hit the ground. And he hit the ground with enough force to cause pain, and to drive the wind from his lungs and to cause his vision to flash briefly.

But, by no means had he hit the ground with enough force to cause any lasting damage, no, taking the time earlier to lower himself several branches had prevented that. Normally, he would have allowed himself to go limp, to “play possum”, but in this instance, Solomon had very little confidence that it would work.

So he pushed himself back to his feet, drawing in deep breaths in an effort to replace his lost air.

“Did we frighten you, Solomon?”
Solomon could only chuckle gently at the attempted taunt, it was almost adorable.

“No, you try too hard.”
Solomon countered, on this occasion opting to say the word “no” in the common tongue of this land as opposed to his native language. Though, he didn’t know why. Normally he saw little need to translate the smaller, more obvious words; that just tended to waste effort.

“Not a favourable position.”
Solomon noted to himself as he took stock of his current situation, he was a Hunter not a warrior. Face-to-face confrontations weren’t playing to his strengths.

His train of thought ceased as The Elf loosed an... Animalistic laugh, Solomon could only smile –even if such a laugh sounded completely unnatural coming from such a human-looking creature.- it seemed as though his earlier taunt was right, The Elf was enjoying himself. Solomon was unsure what to make of that, but, it offered Solomon one advantage.

He had his chance to confirm The Elf’s plan.

“So you are enjoying yourself. Good, it’ll just make this victory feel that much sweeter. Amateur.”
He taunted casually, now was his chance. He moved quickly, as if to move to the left, he made it look as convincing as possible, and as he had expected The Elf had moved to intercept his escape attempt. What he had not expected, though, was the speed at which he had managed it. Solomon had, had to forcefully skid to a halt when it seemed as though The Elf had appeared out of nowhere, quite suddenly.

Slowly, Solomon backed away. To turn away from a “foe” was just asking to be stabbed in the back.

But that was not to last, how fast were these damn things capable of moving? He was on full alert now; he potentially had a foe at his back. He tried to keep his back as protected as possible, he was not going to fall simply because “racial superiority” said so, he had been able to disprove such “superiority” before, and he would do so again.

He reached for one of his knives, when.

“Did you lose something, Solomon?”
He span to face The Elf completely, taking note of the fact that his best option for retreat was now to leave the forest... A plan that Solomon did not like at all. But, in this case, it seemed as though his best plan was going to have to be the compromise of “give them what they want”.

Solomon grinned; keeping eye-contact with The Elf as he slowly raised both of his hands from his sides and levelled them with his shoulders, challenging The Elf to strike him.

He felt an increased sense of foreboding, and dread as he came out into the open area outside the forest. With the safety of the trees left behind he felt exposed, and without his longbow he just felt naked. But, he was not completely defenceless, he was just as lethal in close-quarters as he was at long range, and to top that off, he had one weapon that was more deadly than any other he owned, and that weapon, never left his person.

He lowered his hands, reaching behind his back he loosed his venomous, single-edged short-sword from the sheath on his back and drew it. He span the blade by the hilt once, catching it and admiring the way the mottled-purple blade seemed to have a deadly sheen of its own, even during the dark-hours. Admiring the way the barb on the tip of the blade seemed to spark dangerously by itself, he smirked, if The Elf was observant, he would know that the blade would need to be avoided at all costs, pressure Solomon could use to his advantage.

He span the blade by the hilt again, this time, he caught it in the “reverse-grip” position and took up the appropriate stance. Standing so that the blade was partially hidden from sight, with any luck, he would be able to keep The Elf tense enough to start making mistakes.

He raised his free arm as The Elf came into sight, his fingers straight, and his palm facing upwards.

“I assume that The Wyvern-kin is on its way. Heh, before I put The Little Lizard back in its place I suppose it’s only fitting that I have some sport first, I just hope you’re not quite as easy to silence now as you were the last time.”
He taunted with a smile, finally using his free hand to, once more, give The Elf a “come here” gesture, if worst came to worst, he still had two vials of explosive compound at his disposal. No matter what, he was walking away from this encounter victorious; after all, if they failed to capture him, then that was their loss.

He kept still, as he had been taught; his prey was to make the first move.

[Elloria]

Niko pauses just within the shadow of the trees, watching as Solomon admired what looked to be a barbed short sword. His sharp, elven eyes easily catch the odd color of the blade – a diseased purple that possessed an equally vile sheen. The way Solomon eyes the blade…it is almost a loving gaze. What sort of warped individual loved a weapon? His eyes narrow and darken as he fingers the knife that Solomon ‘gave’ him, still held in a loose grip. It will be of little use against the longer blade in Solomon’s hands, though his own long dagger will not be a great improvement either. He could certainly count on his reflexes to protect him for such a short battle, but that blade was sure to have some nasty trick to it. Arashi’s confidence and pride suddenly fills his mind and Niko shakes his head, doubts fleeing before the dragon’s persuasive personality. He grins and emerges from the tree line, having given his target entirely too much time to prepare.

“I assume that The Wyvern-kin is on its way. Heh, before I put The Little Lizard back in its place I suppose it’s only fitting that I have some sport first, I just hope you’re not quite as easy to silence now as you were the last time.”

The confidence and pride is instantly replaced with rage at the second mention of wyvern-kin. But Niko only laughs that same animalistic cackle from earlier, his silver eyes never leaving Solomon’s as he ignores the man’s ‘come here’ gesture. After a few moments, the laughter subsides and only the feral grin remains. But soon, that too fades. “Wyvern-kin. Little Lizard? You are rather unimaginative with your names, are you not? I suppose you cannot be bothered to come up with anything more original.” Niko begins to spin the knife in his hands, never taking his gaze away from Solomon. “I think you will find that we have…grown since last you saw us. And will not fall so easily this time around,” he continues, slipping into the Ancient Language. He realizes the slip and immediately switches back to Common. “But first…” He stops spinning the blade and grips it in a hammer grip, pointing it at Solomon. “You seem to have dropped this on your little jaunt through the woods.”

“Well, I'm touched that you'd be kind enough to return it to me... Tell you what, you can keep that one to remember me by.”

Niko stands still for several long moments, caressing the knife’s blade with his free hand. Such a typical Solomon reaction. He debates on how to respond. It is increasingly obvious that Solomon has no intention of attacking Niko outright. While the elf prefers the idea of simply standing there and waiting for Arashi to arrive, he knows that Solomon will quickly realize something is out of place if Niko does nothing. So they must fight. But that short sword…

I will simply have to exercise caution. Physically, I have the advantage – his speed is a slug’s pace compared to mine and I have decades of experience.

So use them.

Niko smirks. Yes, use them indeed. “Oh, no; I would MUCH rather return it,” he murmurs. He eyes Solomon…eyes the strange, gleaming blade in the man’s hand. It’s a fair-sized sword, extending slightly past Solomon’s elbow in a reverse-grip. Time to test him.

Niko rolls his shoulders, forcing his entire body to loosen up. And then he dashes across the space separating him from Solomon in the blink of an eye. He feints to the right towards the blade, seeming to lose his balance as Solomon moved backwards to dodge Niko’s ‘strike.’ As the man hunches over and prepares to strike, Niko moves inside the blade’s range and pushes off from the ground. He rolls over Solomon’s back, using his free hand to add a bit more momentum to clear the man completely. He finishes the roll and crouches on the ground. There’s distance once more between them, but that’s okay. He now has a better idea of how Solomon works.

[Amur]

Well, that had been an unexpected reaction, instead of taking the bait and lunging for Solomon, The Elf had instead chosen to smile and laugh. Once again, the laugh was inhuman, almost animalistic and even now it was still strange to hear such a sound from something that looked almost human... Solomon, however kept his stance, kept his smirk and waited.

The Elf would make the first move.

And then... He taunted Solomon.

Solomon tried not to laugh; The Elf seemed to be new to the idea of taunting others, which moved his insults from being funny to, quite simply being downright adorable. He really was trying too hard; nothing was more amusing than someone trying too hard when playing games they did not understand... Games they could not understand, The Elf was playing games he could not win, games that Solomon was going to show him he could not win.

“Imagination? Why would I require imagination to simply point out the obvious?”
He questioned.

“Though, I imagine these names are infuriating that Wyvern-kin of yours more than you’re willing to admit. It’s ok; once it gets here I’ll simply quell its anger the same way I did last time.”
Solomon merely allowed his smirk to broaden slightly as The Elf spoke in The Ancient Language. Did he really still think Solomon was uneducated in such matters? He chuckled.

“Good, I look forward to crushing your new found resolve.”
He countered, keeping eye-contact with The Elf as he spoke. The small span of several months was not enough for either The Elf or his Wyvern-kin to pose any more threat to Solomon than they had done back on the island, if they thought otherwise Solomon was going to truly enjoy rubbing salt in the newly afflicted wound before he killed them, this was going to be a good night, what better way to show The Rider’s what little he thought of them by first out-performing them in the spectacular fashion in which he had already done-so, and then by killing one of their numbers... This was going to be the perfect end to a good night.

He kept his stance intact, why wasn’t The Elf making the first move? It was starting to get Solomon slightly unnerved.

And then, he offered the knife that Solomon had thrown earlier back to him.

”You seem to have dropped this on your little jaunt through the woods.”

Solomon blinked, well, that had been the most unexpected turn of the evening. He would admit that much, however, he wasn’t simply going to bow and thank The Elf for that, no. It was a plain steel knife; Solomon had plenty of those... In fact, he had enough of those to throw from rooftops as gifts to other people, so, he had no issue in giving one up simply to taunt The Elf even further, The Rider’s already had one gift from him, so what was the harm in giving them one more?

“Well, I’m touched that you’d be kind enough to return it to me... Tell you what; you can keep that one to remember me by.”
He taunted casually, still waiting for The Elf to make the first move... Something was wrong; it was obvious that he was waiting for the Wyvern-kin to arrive, but why? It would still be far too small to pose any real threat to Solomon, what about their plan could rely so heavily on the appearance of the Wyvern-kin?

And it was said that Hunter’s were considered tactically unpredictable.

He was jolted from his thoughts as The Elf tore forwards, his speed still too much for Solomon to comprehend, he was fine though, he had faced much steeper odds before. He takes note of the way The Elf is moving, how he plans to strike and immediately moves backwards as The Elf tries to strike him. He didn’t give The Elf a second to correct himself as the strike missed and he over-balanced and moved in to attack, hunching over Solomon turned into his strike as he moved, aiming to stab The Elf with his venomous short sword.

One strike from this blade and it would be over.

But no, The Elf had taken the opportunity to roll over Solomon’s back.

He wasn’t about to wait around, as fast as was humanly possible he dove in the opposite direction, rolling as he hit the ground. He recovered in a crouched stance, facing The Elf; once more there was distance between Solomon and his prey. But that was fine; Solomon had his plan of attack... Something was wrong, and he needed to end this quickly, The Elf was stalling and that alone was enough to make Solomon feel uncomfortable.

Keeping his crouched stance intact he ran forward as fast as his body would allow, he kept himself crouch, no matter how fast he ran, he needed to present The Elf with as small a target as possible, his intelligence was his deadliest weapon, he would make sure it was used efficiently.

He ran into his first strike, aiming to make The Elf believe that he was going to use the momentum to inflict the damage as he thrust the pommel of his weapon towards The Elf’s gut. However, he fluidly stopped and span on the spot, placing his free hand on the pommel of his blade, once more trying to make it seem as though his intention was to use the momentum of the strike to inflict the damage as opposed to the blade itself. But once more Solomon feinted, fluidly stopping and altering the course of his strike again; spinning in the opposite direction he removed his hand from the pommel of his venomous short-sword and tried to strike The Elf with the pommel of his weapon.

Solomon grunted as he suddenly felt pressure on his wrist. Their reflexes couldn’t be that good. They just couldn’t, all that strength, all that speed and near perfect reflexes. The Elf had actually managed to grab Solomon’s wrist, The Elf had control of Solomon, of Solomon.

Solomon grimaced, bending his arm at the elbow. He would have to resort to an underhanded strike to get himself out of this unacceptable situation... And he had no problem with that.

He launched himself off of his left foot, while raising his right off of the ground, bending his knee as he progressed. His aim was to use his knee to strike The Elf in the fork of his legs; however, The Elf had started moving backwards almost the second he had managed to get hold of Solomon’s wrist. Solomon’s strike missed its intended mark, but found The Elf’s gut instead.

The pressure on his wrist vanished as The Elf lost his grip, and Solomon took the moment to act. He span on the spot, raising his right foot as he did so, aiming the spike on the back of his right heel at The Elf’s neck, this time actually intending to use the momentum to drive his spiked heel into his preys’ neck, he needed to end this, now.

Solomon growled as he suddenly felt pressure around his ankle and found himself unable to lower his leg.

“Oh, come ON”
He muttered to himself in sheer frustration. Not only did this put him in a bad enough situation to practically put him at The Elf’s mercy, but this was the second time in the space of several seconds in which it had happened. The Elf smiled slowly, and that was all the motivation Solomon needed. He was in a bad situation and he acted in desperation... Not a way that he would have thought he would have to act. And not something he would confess to ANYONE but himself.

He altered his awkward stance ever so slightly, and then, span his entire body as best as he could, lifting his other foot from the ground as he did so. He brought the toe of his boot around and up and felt it strike The Elf as he had intended it to, he felt the pressure vanish from his ankle just in time to lower that foot to the ground. This allowed him to control his fall and recover in a crouched stance similar to the one he had been in only moments ago.

He drew in a deep breath, a wave of light-headedness washing over him as he stood up straight, watching as The Elf fell to the ground grasping at his head. He ignored the feeling, smirking as he advanced on his fallen prey; he grasped the hilt of his weapon with both hands, stopping as he stood over The Elf.

“That’s twice now, clearly your racial superiority avails you nothing, amateur.”
He taunted, He altered his stance to strike, to deliver the killing blow, licking his lips as he did so. It was over, Solomon had won.

A loud roar shook the air and Solomon felt himself go rigid as his eyes widened.

NO! NOT NOW!

He was so tired; he could barely keep himself standing. A good fight, he had robbed the wyvern of its flight, and had pushed it enough to make it tired... But it wasn’t nearly as tired as Solomon was; he just wanted to sleep, his eyes were heavy and the ground looked incredibly inviting.

“I-Ich... Ich ausführen nicht wollt zu krepieren.”
He almost pleaded breathlessly, yet somehow, despite everything he managed to keep eye-contact with the wyvern. Even as it raised its head and roared, almost as if in victory-

“NEIN!”
He screamed, diving off to the side to avoid the wyvern’s charge. He rolled as soon as he hit the ground, recovering only enough to raise himself to a single knee. He shook his head sharply in order to clear his vision. No, he was not in Empire Nirvana, this was a foreign land, he had nothing to worry about, nothing.

His breathing was fast and heavy, and he found himself raising his free hand up to his head, which he placed tenderly over the visible scars on the side of his head.

“Nein, nein, nein... Stop it, stop it.”
He muttered to himself. He didn’t move, his eyes, however, were now looking toward the sky as opposed to the fallen Elf. He drew in deep breaths, trying to calm himself, this was not Empire Nirvana, this was not Empire Nirvana... Yet, he wouldn’t stop scanning the sky... Couldn’t stop scanning the sky... No chances, no risks... Solomon didn’t make mistakes... DIDN’T MAKE MISTAKES!