Bloodlust and Victories {Plot - Open}

[Grath]

Lorna grinned, she did so enjoy war. And in the midst of this little battle she could go off. Let the stupid, pox-blasted landlubbers deal with the Ghost Badger and the Long Patrol. She glanced sideways at Strich, apparently now her most trusted captain. He raced at her side, as caught up in the manic spell she had woven over the horde.

“Cap'n!” A thin, raggedy looking rat approached her, “There are woo-ACK!” He fell, transfixed by an otter javelin. Lorna snarled, seeing a small party of otters fading back into the tree cover. “There they are, get them!”

The horde turned screaming their warcries, as the calls of the woodlanders and their allies started to echo through the woods.

---

Carwyn stood silently beside Ryn, listening as the Skipper ranted, working the woodlanders up. As they charged, she roared her own warcry, soon in the lead of the pack, red eyes blazing. The two forces met in a clearing, Carwyn crashing into the ranks of the horde like a juggernaut.

[Tirael]

The sounds of battle were as ugly as ever. Worse, even, considering the ferocity of this battle; both sides knew it ended here, and they had better end as winners. Doing his best not to hear it, Tirael fell into his old routine of darting about the battlefield, patching and mending the injured as he went. He did his best not to be seen by the Fort soldiers, who had just seen him dragged off to be 'executed' a short time ago and wouldn't like knowing they'd been tricked. Others could go for glory, but he was satisfied doing his job in anonymity.
__________________________________

Riven was also seeking anonymity, if for different reasons. She'd hung back, feigning bloodlust while keeping an eye on Lorna. Cursed vixen, she wasn't going to be easy to kill as long as she stayed around, and the rat was growing impatient. Deciding she needed to do this while the battle was going strong, she turned to her co-conspirator (well, puppet). "Kirig, it's time to--Kirig, are you listening??" she hissed.

But the stoat just pointed. "...otter..." he growled, and suddenly sprinted off through the bedlam.

Muttering several curses, Riven began to reformulate her plan. It was more convenient, she supposed; only one body to dispose of, now...
__________________________________

"YOU!"

Ears flicking, Tirael looked up in confusion to find a very angry stoat rushing at him. He had no time to get up before Kirig had kicked him onto his back and attempted to stab him repeatedly with his spear. "I"--thud--"AM GOING"--thud--"TO KILL YOU!" He wasn't lying; Tirael couldn't keep dodging forever...

[[Don't anybody DARE try to rescue him.]]

[Treble Tiderunner]

Fern was swiftly discovering that the last battle she had participated in (a year ago already, how time flew!) had been a mere disagreement. A brawl. A small anomaly in the grand course of things. While this was all-out, desperate, life-or-death, kill or be killed war.

Which she was not prepared for in the least. She had been incensed when she arrived here to hear of the creatures' plight. She had been ready to kill, to die, to fight. But she still was a very gentle, kind, sheltered young otter at heart. And while she flung her stones with great accuracy, she still hesitated. She didn't look to see the results. And she scanned the field for Tirael.

---

Alex was not stupid. In fact, for such a big brawny otter he was blessed with a massive intelligence. However, it did not take one with much wit to tell that Mossflower was in trouble. In fact, after meeting with that ferret (and nearly strangling him with his bare paws before the ferret told him that the young otter miss he had met was still safe last he saw her) he knew the woodlanders were in trouble. But what did he care? All he cared about was Fern and her safety.

And so when he heard the quite loud sounds of battle, he bounded in that direction.

---

“TIRAEL!” Without looking to see if the stone she'd flung hit, she flung herself across the field in an attempt to reach the other otter. She reached Kirig and threw herself at the stoat, somehow managing to entangle herself with his spear as he tried to stab Tirs.

---

Skipper hated to miss the battle, he hated running with the injured and the innocent. Tir had stayed by his side until it was nearly time for the main party to leave. Silent as a tomb. As his son moved away, Skipper forced himself into a more upright position. “We will talk, later.” He growled. “No more silence...Tirs. Don't ye...dare shut yoreself...away, ye hear?”

He wasn't sure if he had. The young otter had simply walked away. Skipper had turned to directing what creatures were left to him.

[Tirael]

"Why you squirmin,' riverdog? Yer just puttin' off fate!" Putting off fate didn't seem so bad, so Tirael continued avoiding the spear as best he could. It was hard, though; he'd been grazed more than once, and he was starting to tire. "I said cut it out!" Kirig snapped, punctuating the command with a kick in the otter's gut. All the breath flew out of Tirael in a split second, and, losing his presence of mind, he doubled over in pain. Seeing his opportunity, the stoat raised his spear for the kill. "Night, night, otter..."

Tirael shut his eyes.

This was becoming worse with every passing second. Skipp kept staring at him...was he trying to kill him just by looking? Could he really hate his son that much?

Apparently, he could.

“We will talk, later.” He growled. “No more silence...Tirs. Don't ye...dare shut yoreself...away, ye hear?”

Now he wished he'd listened...[/i]

"TIRAEL!"

He opened his eyes, wondering why he wasn't dead; the reason was far more terrifying than the thought of dying. Kirig was struggling to turn his weapon on Fern, and despite the trouble he was having, it looked like he was going to succeed before long.

Which, of course, was absolutely unacceptable.

"NO!" Launching himself up, Tirael rushed to the pair, grabbing the spear and helping Fern wrench it out of the stoat's grasp. Taking advantage of Kirig's momentary loss of balance, Tirael shoved him down, pointing the spear at his neck. Panting, he said, "You...stay away from me." And with that, he swung the handle at the stoat's head, knocking him out cold.

With that, he turned to Fern. "What were you thinking!? He could have KILLED you!"

[lorki]

As the battle began, a rush of sound and motion around her, the small Sable ducked away from the initial conflict. She was not a sword fighter, she never would be- and this was not the place for her. A quick paw backsteped, she dodged, parried and ducked. The commotion of battle threatened to drown out her thoughts, bring up a chaos in her calm mind. She had to get out of there... and-

She spun to let her dark eyes wander the horizon of trees. Just beyond them the dim red stone building loomed, near empty of soldiers. The ultimate goal was so vulnerable that it appeared only she, the one oblivious to the battle, could see it. She turned to run, her paws darted out to grab and tug at any passing woodlander she could reach to try at get them to join her in her apparent single-beast run on the fort gates.

The actual battle need only to be a distraction, and when the fort was cleared, the gate cut open, they could fall back and defend with the advantage on their side. It would be over sooner... with less casualties. Her mind worked at a feverish pace and she just wished that damn halluci-mouse could find her a good archer...

[Grath]

Fern clamped onto Kirig's spear arm, determined to keep him from turning it on Tirael. He was wrenching at it, almost pulling it out of her grip. She was hanging on tenaciously, when another set of paws joined her. She helped Tirael yank it away from the stoat.

"You...stay away from me."

Fern panted, bending to retrieve her sling. It was useless, she was out of stones, though she supposed she could hit someone with the braided twine.

"What were you thinking!? He could have KILLED you!"

He could have killed her? Well! Who was being the ninny here! “He could have killed me? He could have killed me?” Her voice rose, thick with the brogue of her northern mountains. “An' wot about ye, then, Mr. High and Mighty? He coulda killed ye too!” She narrowed her eyes, glaring at him, fists clenched.

“An' wot about Skipper! Ye havena said a word t'him, not one word! 'e was worried sick! 'e woulda come after ye 'imself, but 'e couldna because 'e's our leader! Ye have no idea how torn up 'e was, e'en havin' ta refuse Tampa t'go after ye, trustin' t'yore ferret friend...” She spat the words, her fur rising to stand on end and her ears flat in menace, “an' all ye care about is yoreself, isn't it...”

A flash of fur and a large creature was on Tirael, bearing him to the ground. There was a horrible low growling noise.

“I'll kill ye, rivvadog, you leave her alone, mangey scrawney filthy mongrel...”

He stood, retreating slowly, back towards Fern. She stared. It couldn't be. Not here. Not now. But there was no mistake. How he looked. How he moved. That tailring.

“ALEX!” She yelped, too happy to see her brother and still annoyed at Tirael to check on him. She flung herself at the broad back in front of her. “Yore alive!”

The otter, for that was what he was, turned and caught her in his arms, squeezing her in a big hug.

[Tirael]

Despite what he believed had been his good intentions, Tirael watched his rendezvous with Fern degrade into an argument. Immediately, he felt guilt stab through him, though he was determined to nip this in the bud.

“An' wot about ye, then, Mr. High and Mighty? He coulda killed ye too!”

"Better me than y--"

“An' wot about Skipper! Ye havena said a word t'him, not one word! 'e was worried sick! 'e woulda come after ye 'imself, but 'e couldna because 'e's our leader!"

This was coming too close to home. Pointing at Fern, Tirael said warningly, "That's none of your business!"

"Ye have no idea how torn up 'e was, e'en havin' ta refuse Tampa t'go after ye, trustin' t'yore ferret friend...”

Tirael's fur rose at that, and, guilt suddenly gone, he growled back, "Don't you dare talk about Sleet that way, just because you don't understand she's a friend doesn't give you the right to insult--"

“An' all ye care about is yoreself, isn't it...”

At this, Tirael threw his paws up in mock desperation and real anger. "Oh, right, and that's why I don't want you hurt, that's why I felt too guilty to talk to Skipp, because I don't care! That makes a lot of s--"

The "ense" became a yelp of alarm as something cannoned into him. Whatever it was, it was big--the word "badger" sprung to mind, though on inspection, this was definitely an otter, if rather burly and ill-mannered.

“I'll kill ye, rivvadog, you leave her alone, mangey scrawney filthy mongrel...”

"'Rivvadog' yourself," Tirael muttered, glaring irritably at the hulking idiot who finally got up and off him. He was too upset to care that Fern seemed to know him; if anything, it just annoyed him more. Getting up, he dusted himself off and left without a backward glance. His job was more important than whatever the giant tackler and Fern were up to.

[tacticalotter2]

"Ah'll keep up."


Rogg let out a huge sigh. Lachlan didn't seem to be amused by his show of his mental powers.
"Geez... I'm sorry, I was only joking."
The otter smiled kindly.
"I'm sure that you will be invaluable to us today."



"Lead on...Gladly....""C'mon mates! They won't kill themselves! BAHAHA!"



Rogg stared at the vermin that were coming toward them, his mind flashed back to the first time he had killed a creature, so long ago... such a painful thing to do... so...

He shook his head as if to get the image out of his head and clenched his webbed paws. Gripping his blade tighter he started running with the others, he felt a slight rush as he moved along; even after all these years of killing and destruction, there was still a primal excitement in the young otter's heart during a battle. The chance of dying never even occurred in his mind, neither did he like the thought of taking life, all he could think about was his tactics, what his next move would be, what he had to do to get through the fight and inflict as much damage as he possibly could.


As the two groups got closer, Rogg could see the front rank of angry vermin and he chose his first target to take down; a scummy looking weasel that was armed with a long scimitar. Yes, he would be the first kill of the day for the mercenary otter....

He met the weasel with a overpawed swing aimed at his opponent head. The stoat naturally raised his blade and took the blow and Rogg started in earnest. Slashes smooth and fast, left and right, but the weasel deflected nearly every one. This did not faze the otter, he simply continued his methodical beating down of the other creature. He suddenly slipped out the dagger from across his chest in preparation for finishing the weasel. A flash of steel and the scimitar lay on the ground with a paw still gripping the handle. The weasel did not have much time for pain though as Rogg plunged the dagger deep into his chest and ripped it out viciously.

Kill number one.

The otter continued slicing, hacking and stabbing his way through the mele, until his attention was caught by an otter that was being slapped around by a stoat. He felt an urge to run over there and get that fool off the poor otter, but he restrained himself. Rule number eight; always concentrate on your own fight. Rogg forced himself back at the creature he was fighting.

Rogg regained his footing, leaving a rat clutching at his bleeding throat. He turned to find another opponent and grunted, he looked down at a feathered shaft sticking out of his stomach, he had just been shot with an arrow... The otter fell backwards to the Earth with a thud and stared up at the blue sky, the sounds of battle fading into the background.

What a fool he was... he should know to look for arrows in a fight like this... Why was it so cold... it was warm earlier... so cold...


He looked up in surprise, it was his mother standing there, smiling down at him. Rogg smiled hapialy and reached up with his paws like a pup wanting to be held and she smiled back at him. But then he frowned... she was dead....

[Treble Tiderunner]

Enon was aiming at the back of a nasty stoat she remembered well from patrols when Soka tugged her arm. The black squirrel's paw jerked the bow, sending the arrow wide and nearly skewering Alex's nose, instead of Kirig's head, though she did not know this. She glanced irritably around, red fog gathered in her eyes. Finally she spotted the champion's back as she slipped through the crowd. Enon made to grab the sable and manuever against a tree, in a clear area.

“Just wot d'ye think ye are up to, lassie?” She demanded of her. “Ye canna be retreatin' already!” She looked closer at Sokana. “Or be it that ye has a plan, lass?”

[lorki]

“Ye canna be retreatin' already!”

Soko exhaled heavily as she moved with Enon away from the chaos. Her eyes flicked over the squirrel and her bow, along with a few other confused woodlanders who'd been dragged into the group.

“Or be it that ye has a plan, lass?”

"I do," She nodded, looking over them towards the fort. Her mind mapped out the place, she tried to remember the details, the back staircases and small side hallways. The gates... She returned to look at Enon, "Are you good with that bow or yours?" The sable began to move towards the edge of the forest where the trees turned to field leading up the gates. "I'm going to go ahead alone. You stay here," she pointed purposefully at Enon, "you cover me and don't let them see you. When they are out the gate, shoot at them and hide. Someone needs to lead them off your trail." Perhaps they would not understand then... but soon they would.

The fort was now in view, Soko felt her chest tighten as she looked at the walls, only a few sporadic spotters dotted the guard posts. She took a deep breath, "stay down." She commanded briefly, before she bolted away from them, she wouldn't allow the plan to be discussed- it was a chance, it was logical and it didn't kill anyone and that was all the Sable was after. Her paws darted over the ground as she broke through the trees and into the high brown grass.

"EY! 'Ey!!!" She shouted, waving her paws at the beasts on the ramparts. Faces darted towards her, struck with curiosity, "Ey, send out backup, the Cap'n calls fer backup!" her shouting continued as she ran along towards the smaller gate, the one she intended to enter through. "Open dis gate!"

""ardly any'un 'ere!" A rat called down, difficult to understand with a raspy voice. "Who'er we gunna send?"

Soko reached the wall, "Cap'n called for it! Do y'want them to break through an' make it 'ere? Yer better off if y'come!"

There was a short silence, in the distance the sound of battle echoed with screeches of metal and war cries. "Aye," another beast, a stoat called down, "I'm comin'." Sokana stepped back, casting a short glance over her shoulder to the trees behind her. The gate to her right creaked and began lower.

[Elicia]

As the battle began, Elicia found herself swept up in the current of the fight. She had braced herself, but it had done no good. Her own will was no match for her desire to dodge the blows coming in all around her. She moved forward, back, to the left, to the right, and forward again as her foes came and fell. Slowly but surely, she brought them down, and felt her blood boiling. No calm detachment, just pure instinct and skill and excitement. She raised her saber to block a blow, then brought it crashing down again, and again.
___________
The battle took Ryn. It swept her into itself, immersed her in its violence, made sure that she was only dimly aware of what was going on outside of the ring of vermin attacking her. She was a point of interest, of course, for a badger was much more prominent on a battlefield than, say, a mouse, and Ryn had abandoned her claws in favor of the broadsword that she swung- two-pawed- in wide circles around her head. She raised her voice above the din, "Eulalia!!!! Blood and vinegar, my hares! Euuuullaaaaliaaaaa!" And the blade of her broadsword cut down towards her enemies..
________
Daily grinned. The battle had begun. He stood off to the side, a little ways away, searching for the best point to enter the fight. He wanted to get right where the hares were, right where he could rip out their throats and cover himself in their blood.... He caught himself; and warned himself that that path was what drove Raucus mad. "I am not mad." He whispered to himself. "I am not mad. I am not-" It was almost like some mantra or another, one that he repeated endlessly to himself. Suddenly, his excitement sparked. There was a hare on the outskirts of the battle. She looked relatively young, and only took on one beast at a time. She would do. He scampered over there, ready to engage her. However, she caught sight of him and stepped out towards him.

"Who are ye, t'be comin' over here in th'middle of a blinkin' battle?"

"Daily M'koro." He bowed. He was not above courtesy.

"Elicia." She looked wary. "Elicia Pittney."

Daily beamed. "Well then, Elicia. It is nice to meet you. But I am afraid," he sighed rather sadly, "that I am going to have to kill you."
_________
Raucus drew a deep breath and pounded through the vermin ranks. Somewhere, he had gotten separated from his brother, but it didn't matter. He chittered excitedly, but stopped in his tracks. His sight was set on a female hare. Not a hare-with-no-ears, as he had met before, but a hare. He smiled dangerously, and headed towards her, his claws ticking against the ground with every step he took.

[Treble Tiderunner]

Aidan moved smoothly through the battle, his saber seeking and finding targets with swift ease. He dispatched a rat who had thought she could easily best such an old and ragged hare. She never saw it coming! Everything was silent as the old hare set to work.

"Eulalia!!!! Blood and vinegar, my hares! Euuuullaaaaliaaaaa!"

“Eulaliaaaa!” Aidan roared in answer, motioning his hares around him. “Listen, you chaps, we need to jolly well stay wi’ ‘er, wot!” His old campaigner’s eye assessed the situation as Ryn whirled her blade in great arches. “Stay outta ‘er way, but guard ‘er back, aye?” The close-knit Fur’n’foot fighters nodded and murmured in agreement before setting off. The horde seemed neverending!

“Euuuullaaaaliaaaaa!” They roared, Aidan’s voice rising above. “Give ‘em blood’n’vinegar, chaps! Oh, let th’ ladies through, what a breezin’ shot, wot! Absolutely top-hole! Teach ‘em t’mess wi’ us, wot!” Presently he popped up by Ryn’s right side, staying on his toes in case she didn’t recognize him. “I say, missy! Fine day for a fight, wot? Nice’n clear, no breeze!” He held up a paw, as if to demonstrate the lack of wind.

“Don’t mind us much, milady, just keep on yore bashin’ an’ smackin’ o’ all those nasty vermin, wot!” Aidan, normally quite taciturn, was quite different in midst of battle. He tipped a salute off his ear to his badgerlady, stepped smartly to the side, and disappeared.

---

"I do, are you good with that bow or yours? I'm going to go ahead alone. You stay here," she pointed purposefully at Enon, "you cover me and don't let them see you. When they are out the gate, shoot at them and hide. Someone needs to lead them off your trail."

Enon listened to this rapid-fire barrage of instructions gravely, without a sign of what she thought. She moved purposely after the young champion, bow at the ready. She had plenty of arrows, she’d just received a new batch from a young squirrel runner, delivering supplies.

A trickling of beasts came out the small north wallgate. Enon moved closer, sniping them off with ease and precision. Sokana had said there would be a need to lead them off her trail. Enon feared no vermin. She stood in plain sight among the trees, shot a ferret in the throat, winked horribly at the rest with her bad eye, and bounded off among the trees.

She had lost them, she was sure. She slowed to a walk, regaining her breath before throwing herself back into the main battle.

“Eeeeuuuuuuuuuulllaaaaaaaaaaalllliiiiiiiiiiiiiaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa!”

She was lying on the ground, staring up at the shadowed trees. What had happened? There was some sort of pain in her side. Her paw went to it, tracing lightly over the hilt of a knife. She grasped it and tried to pull it out, but nothing happened, it didn’t budge.

Lorna had her crew (minus some members.) They were sliding and moving out of the main battle. As they made the trees they suddenly encountered a black squirrel who was shouting and running straight at them. The big ferret at Lorna’s side threw one of his daggers. The squirrel went down, a surprised look on her face.

“Take the crew on, Redeye.” She commanded, noting the squirrel was not quite dead. “I’ll finish this one off and be along.” She caressed the hilt of her cat-o-nine, crouching over the black squirrel. She touched the scar that twisted across her face. “Had yourself a bit o’ trouble, I see.”

Enon snapped at Lorna’s paws with her sharp strong teeth, eyes glaring contempt. Lorna scrambled backwards, into an upright position. She kicked Enon viciously as she tried to rise and come after the fox. She lit out with her whip, scoring across the squirrel’s face.

“I know of you, squirrel, I’ve heard many tales of the black squirrel who is a member of the long patrol. You do not seem so awful to me.” She lashed out again and again.

Enon forgot the dagger in her side, finding new strength in the pain. She screamed as the shard-studded whip scored across her face, tears flowed unheeded from her eyes as she lunged at the fox, teeth bared and claws outstretched, the light of madness in her eyes.

Lorna stepped back from the squirrel, a light disapproving frown on her face. “Tsk, such a temper.” She caught Enon a kick to the side just above the knife, bowling her over sideways, where she lay curled around herself. Lorna raised the whip again.

---

Tampa hooked Tirael around the neck and dropped him flat. “Watch it!” A fresh barrage of arrows zoomed over their heads. Tam grinned at her brother, she looked happier than she had been in ages. “Hey ‘lil bro! How’s it going? Who’s that galump who nearly strangled you?” She sat up, then stood, hauling him up with her.

She held a javelin loosely in one paw, both sharp ends were stained in blood. It was not her usual weapon. She spun it, stabbing a stoat in the throat. “Rogg’s dead, an’ good riddance to th’ little traitor. We also lost Willow an’ Ruggar. Some have been movin’ injured o’er there” she pointed to a clump of tall bushes. “’tis hollow inna center. Take care o’ yoreself, brother.” She gave him a swift one-armed hug and was gone.

---

"Better me than y--"

“Don’t ye dare say it, Tirael Tiderunner!”

"That's none of your business!"

“It is absolutely my business!”

"Don't you dare talk about Sleet that way, just because you don't understand she's a friend doesn't give you the right to insult--"

“Ah ‘ave nothing against Sleet, we actually get along quite well, thank ye!

"Oh, right, and that's why I don't want you hurt, that's why I felt too guilty to talk to Skipp, because I don't care! That makes a lot of s--"

She huffed, glaring at him. “Ah can’t think o’ enny other reason for ye t’act so selfishly!”

-------

"'Rivvadog' yourself,"

Alex glowered at the little otter. “Fern, yore alive!” He addressed his sister, placing her down. “Ah was afeared ye were dead!” Fern reached up and tugged on his earrings, having to stand on her toes to do it. Tears were in her eyes. “I though ye were dead, Alecsander, ye stayed away so long.” Abruptly she turned to Tirael.

“Tirael, this is my bro--”

He wasn’t there. Frowning she looked around the battlefield. “Alex…”

“’e left.” the big otter supplied his little sister with the information she sought. “Who was ‘e, anyway?”

“My…friend.” She said, searching the field. She didn’t see him, she couldn’t see anything specific in the combat. “Alex, I have to get over there,” she pointed to the opposite side of the clearing. “That’s where the wounded are, I should help.”

“Right, sis, ‘old on.” He obligingly tossed her up on his back and made his way to the tall bushes she had indicated. Fern held on tight as he pushed through a particularly tangled set of bushes into the little hollow.

[Tirael]

The moment he'd seen Enon head toward the Fort with Soko, Brush had been working his way across the battlefield in the same direction. To make matters worse, a group of vermin had begun heading that way too; if she didn't realize it in time...

Brush swung tree-hopped as fast as he could.

“I know of you, squirrel, I’ve heard many tales of the black squirrel who is a member of the long patrol. You do not seem so awful to me.”

He could hear a whip cracking. If what he thought was happening was happening--

“Tsk, such a temper.”

"You're one to talk about tempers, miss," Brush growled as he dropped from the trees behind Lorna. "Lower the whip. Now." He raised his javelin and cocked his head. "Unless you think y'can fight a creature that's not on the floor." Glancing briefly at Enon, he tried to keep the fear for her out of his expression as he returned his attention to the fox.

"Ladies first."
_______________________________

Tirael stalked silently through the mayhem, doing his duties without a word. Fortunately, none of the other vermin seemed to have a vendetta against him; in fact, he was pretty sure he was invisible. Just as he was distracting himself with the thought, somebeast grabbed him around the neck.

“Watch it!”

After the hail of arrows had hissed overhead, the healer turned to see who had pulled him down. He wasn't very surprised to see it was Tam; he was, however, a little put off by her happy expression. The idea of a creature being so pleased by killing would never be something he could understand.

“Hey ‘lil bro! How’s it going? Who’s that galump who nearly strangled you?”

Tirael had no time to answer before she proceeded with a damage report. He still had no idea what had passed between Rogg and his family, so he was rather shocked by her 'good riddance,' but the news about the clearing was more important, so once she left, he ducked off in that direction.

[Treble Tiderunner]

Enon gritted her teeth and tried to move, the wounds on her face and the dagger wound in her side were bleeding freely, blinding her. But the pain was so intense she just gave up, curling in a tight ball around the white heat that was her middle, wishing that it would just end and the vixen would just go away.

"You're one to talk about tempers, miss," Brush growled as he dropped from the trees behind Lorna. "Lower the whip. Now."

It was a new voice, deep and male, that cut through her inner retreat. She felt safe now, though she couldn’t have said why. She relaxed, slowly slipping into darkness.

Lorna, on the other paw, was just pissed. She turned, snarling. “Well look at that, another squirrel. Looking to be a hero, laddie buck? Perhaps you think she will be impressed!” She sneered. “Well, the only thing she’ll be is dead, and there is nothing you can do about it.”

Lorna couldn’t have cared less if Brush was a badger, no beast interrupted her fun and lived to tell about it. She was a psychopathic killer, and tormenting her victims before she killed them made the game even more fun. It was even better if they tried to fight back. Her father had tried that, look where it had gotten him, dead!

“Unless you think y'can fight a creature that's not on the floor."

“Aw, that’s cute.” Lorna sneered, noticing his fear. Fear was a thing she thrived on. She lifted her whip but left the saber at her side. She’d not fight with a blade today, too fast and clean. “I hit the nail on the head, didn’t I?”

"Ladies first."

The vixen didn’t need an invitation, she was already on the offensive, striking out at the squirrel.

[[Please don't kill her]]

[Tirael]

In a split second, Lorna had swung (no pun intended) into action, the vicious ends of her cat-o-nine whistling toward Brush. Fortunately, he was endowed with all the swiftness of a squirrel; dodging to his left, he managed to divert most of the strands with his javelin, though a few still managed to swipe his snout. Growling, he took his weapon in both paws and slammed the haft at her with as much force as he could muster, hoping to knock her over or at least injure her ribs.

All truth be told, he wasn't fighting to kill; he would if he had to, but Lorna wasn't his to kill. He was from Southsward, he didn't have the claim over the land that his fellow rebels did, and they deserved to get their revenge much more than he did. Besides, all that mattered was that he get Enon out safely and to a healer. She looked very still...