Ursa: Pride and Prejudice (Early ET)

[Quinlan Corodin]

Quinlan felt a heady combination of dread and suspense. Standing guard around the campfire, it was hard to know what to hope for. If the sergeant was right, then relations with the Terra Nova people had started off sour indeed. If they had been telling the truth, however, then who knew what was about to happen?

The activity beyond the forest's edge was slowly becoming harder not to notice. Judging by the lights, the natives were indeed taking their own advice. Turning to look the opposite way at the airskiff, the crew on board had lights of their own. Wishing he could somehow be both places at once, Quinlan hoped the crew were prepared for what was about to happen.

Quinlan hoped he was prepared for what was about to happen.

Someone on the Tal'Fea cried out. The attack was beginning.

"Hold your places!" he called out, resisting his own urge to rush toward the ship. The tribal women's words were coming true, and it would do noone any good to be ambushed between the skiff and the camp. The lieutenant decided it had to be only a matter of time before they'd have trouble of their own.

He was yet unwilling to consider what would happen if the airskiff were overrun.

"Ready..." he intoned, the fingers of his right hand grasping the hilt of his schlaeger. His buckler he had strapped to his left forearm. It had been some weeks since he had last practiced with it. He swung his arm, once again getting a feel for the weight, and his eyes looked to and fro like a bird's might as he watched and waited.

[Guido Cercatoro]

Stooping to pick a burning piece of wood from the fire and holding it in one hand, Guido moved to join Carlotta and Donelli. “We must stay near the fire. We must heed the warning we were given.” With his other hand, the curator drew his sword. He wasn’t convinced it would do much use – the flaming ember was probably more important but it made him feel a little more secure.

As he glanced around the camp, he continued to re-enforce his inner calm, spreading the pure green of his scarf across his mind to achieve a clarity of thought and purpose. Then, he sought to steady his nerve further by performing the mindcleansing exercises he had learnt in his class at the library. Breathing deeply, he built an imaginary wall around his mind in a bid to resist any thoughts of panic that the attack might bring with it.

He saw Elias drop his torch and the warrant officer rush to his aid. Fool. You were warned not to drop the torch. Perhaps some of the soldiers have not taken the warning seriously. Hearing Quinlan’s sensible cry to “hold fast”, the curator sought to reinforce it, trying to invoke a deep sense of calm in his voice as he spoke. Trying to project his voice as far as he could, he shouted in a clear tone. “Keep hold of your torches and close to the fire. The warning was true. It is our best hope.” I hope that will help.

[Niamh Windwalker]

Niamh seized a fiery brand as she slid into position, ignoring the sparks that flew and the flurry of disturbed ashes. Her opposite palm found the leather wrapping of her knife, unsheathing the large tooth of some fearsome sea creature, the weight of the family heirloom comforting in a hand that refused to tremble. Will they know me? Will they revenge themselves for defeating their kin this morning?

Her sharp eyes pierced the night's gloom, seeking the deeper, chill shadows of their enemy as she waited, balanced on toes, her limbs loose, and the firey torch casting strange shadows over her fierce features.

She listened to the exchange between Kiara and Xenovia, her own voice ringing out with conviction and familiarity.

"And we have been charged to defend these intruders - should they fall, we would bear the blame. The elders need them alive." With a twist and a shrug, she allowed her cloak to tumble downwards, pooling around her feet as she stretched and filled her place without the confining folds. "If this line of defense fails, we have no choice but to reveal ourselves in full, and regroup at their camp. Stay together, watch each other's shadows."

Niamh's quick mind murmured a constant stream of prayer to Ursa, requesting guidance, strength, endurance for a body that had little to refresh it since the previous evening - a few gobbled bites of food, a few marks of rest.

With the first lunge of shadow, she was prepared - ready to thrust the torch forwards to weaken it with light, the knife plunging rapidly afterwards, fending off any attack. Her heart beat rapidly, the quick flutter of her spirit sending blood and energy to flood her veins, she could feel the pulsing of it in wrist, neck, temple... a challenge to the shadows that she was warm, and alive... and had every intent in staying so.

The scream and raised voices from the camp left her stirring, acknowledging the task that had been laid at her feet. If they cry out, and begin to be overwhelmed... whether or not her scouting party would follow, she was uncertain, but honor demanded she defend these careless intruders, and with the primal energy flowing through her limbs, she was almost certain they were too weak to compare with a Kanthrop's defense.

Until that time, she defended her kin, standing nearly shoulder to shoulder with the flames at her back, completing the defenders encircling the bonfire. If the night erupted in screams, and if she heard the emerging sounds of a failing battle, she would scream with the defiance of her falcon spirit, an animalistic, hawkish cry, and seek to lead her clan-mates where there might be more safety in numbers.

[Brytan]

LeForestier rushed towards Elias' aid. Sword raised he charged at the creature wrapping itself around the crewman. "Ye'll not have him yet ya scurvy dog!" Sword swung down to cut down the horrid fantasm.

It struck flesh.

Elias screamed and dropped to the floor as the Cryer evaporated where the metal of the blade slid through it like it cut air, sinking it's metal deep into Elias' arm, nigh taking it off.

And then...they came.

Shadows and darkness seemed to come to life. In the flickering fire light of the ring of the kanthrop and the torches of the landing party, the darkness seemed to pulse with life, as eyes and claws appeared out of nothing, attached to dark shapes contorting in the mist that crawled along the ground. A chill wind blew in from the forest, carrying the sicking cries of the dread creatures.

You belong to us!

Carlotta let out a cry as the words crept through the camp, hiding in her tent huddled in the light of the fire outside. Este Donelli sat by her, holding a blade of his own, but not at all looking comfortable wielding it. Ardigo called out "They come!"

A wall of writhing darkness slammed down upon the Kanthrop, or so it seemed. More Cryers than any of them had ever witnessed, sprawled together in a dark mass of mist and shadow. The fire held off some of them, but tendrils and talons lunged at the warriors in the light of the flames. Oni had been handed a staff and fended off a number of attacks, Culwago roared and charged into a rather large Cryer, pushing it into the fire. It cried and then evaporated. Tugal jumped left to avoid a blow from several fangs and pushed into Niamh who also saw several Cryers come at her over the light of flame.

They were everywhere. This was their ground, their home. No walls or watch fires to protect them. The spire in the middle of the Howling Forest was visible in what little sunlight remained, mocking them as the fight ensued.

The Festival Grounds saw a wave of darkness come at them aswell, low to the ground, dodging the last remaining strands of sunlight in the open area, misty phantom creatures crept forward like the tide. As the sun retreated, they advanced. They were strange creatures, transparent and nearly liquid in form, they did not present with a single similar body. All the men and women saw was a sprawling mass of horrific nightmarish creatures, glowing eyes and raven black claws lunging at them across the hard rock of the Festival Stone.

"Stand by the light!" They heard someone cry by the skiff. More cries came from the wooden vessel, yet it saw no signs of struggle. A deep thudd, flesh on wood, betrayed that something was happening there though. Soldiers were waving their torches at the first of the creatures nearing them. The Cryers recoiled and cried out in agony as the light seemed to annoy them, yet it did not fully stop them, tendrils lunging at the men in the front line as they stood.

"Stand by the...rggrrglll!"

The sun had vanished. The night was upon them.

Let the slaughter commence...

[Scarlet]

Her bow sung in her hands, its string whipping her forarm, flaying the skin. Her inner beast snarled, its rage lending strength to her passion and quelling her fear.

She danced in the firelight, moving from shot to shot, never letting the tendrils get close. It would be knife-work soon. It was like a wall of shadow, an impenetrable barrier threatened every one of them with death and suffering. This was a nightmare, it had no place in the waking world and so the world had rejected them and left them subject to their own fears made flesh. Scarlet had no time for nightmares.

Earth mother, Ursa, she prayed - her inner voice crying out the deity that seemed to have abandoned them. Let these arrows sear the shadows that surround us. Let us forge a path.

"We have to get to them." She called out, her words following Niamh's, her arrows singing into the shadow. "If this line of defence falls, we will all be dead, we are the vanguard. We are too few. With them we might yet last this night out."

Scarlet loosed her last flaming arrow, dropped the bow then slipped one long knife from its sheath as her other hand gripped the dry wood of a torch. They would have to carve a path.

[Guido Cercatoro]

Guido stood close to Carlotta and Donelli. He stared at the misty phantoms creeping through the camp. He stared at the claws and glowing eyes. What manner of creatures are these? It will make a fine story….. if I survive. The curator continued to reinforce his feelings of calm, envisaging the green scarf spread across his mind smoothing out and enclosing his fears. He added extra layers of stone to the barrier walls in his mind which maintained his mental defences, seeking to reach a state of icy calm and clarity with which to confront any danger.

He spoke to his nearby companions in a reassuring tone. “Keep in the light, close to the flames and you will be safe.” Well the flames deter these creatures but they still come. Perhaps those who warned us will return to assist us - it may be our only hope.

Holding the flaming ember before him, his sword in his other hand, the curator glanced around to any nearby soldiers. “Get close to the fire”, he urged them. “Help to defend the civilians.” And me. I’m only a curator not a soldier. Help to defend me.

[Xenovia Canace]

Had she not felt so aggressive toward the Cryers, their numbers would have startled her. Were her blood not boiling with rage, it would have run cold with fear. Yet when the flood of Cryers descended upon them, her lips parted as a fierce cry erupted from her throat. It was not a cry of pain, nor of desperation, but one of challenge; one that called for battle.

In an instant Xenovia was all limbs and reflexes, slipping comfortably into that half-state of mind somewhere between instinct and intelligence. This was what she lived for. Adrenaline coursed through her veins and pulled her lips further back in a cruel smile, her pupils contracting to allow more light in as the darkness of the Cryers descended upon them. She moved with the animalistic grace of a Kanthrop, and fought with the passion known to the same, her spear slicing through the darkness, biting back at the teeth, slashing back at the claws. Much like she had done in practice throughout her life, Xenovia expanded her awareness and listened closely to her Inner Animal. A hop left took her away from Niamh as Tugal bumped into her. A quick step to the right gave her the room to sweep her spear in an arc in front of her. Though her white skin was a stark contrast to the darkness of the Cryers, she too was all eyes and claws, fighting back with the fury to match their own.

Mother, she thought as she fought wildly, battling for the privilege to live another day. These creatures are an abomination. They taint our Grounds and your forests. They speak to your children as if they are naught but dogs and demons. I pray for the strength to defeat the Cryers once again. Please work through me and allow me to vanquish them in your name. Even as she finished her short yet earnest prayer, Scarlet's voice reached Xenovia's thoughts distantly through the haze of battle. Now was not the time for argument, and she had a point. With a faint nod that she didn't think anyone would spot, Xen made her way toward Scarlet, ready to run with all the speed she possessed, her stance poised for it as she continued to fend off Cryers until the last possible moment.

[Niamh Windwalker]

The wave of Cryers crashed and broke around their glowing oasis of heaving arms and cries of battle. The fearful spirit which churned within Niamh's breast, turned, cornered and furious, and she found her hand thrusting the flaming brand at the oncoming Cryers, seeking to blind them before slashing with the knife that followed swiftly afterwards. It was difficult to fight these, as one had to control descent, for when the creatures faded beneath the blade, it was important that the swing not injure her fighting kin on either side of her.

At the words of her two comrades, she cried out, loudly and evenly above the sounds of battle -- "On my mark, each grab a torch and charge forwards - Tugal, Scarlet, Xen... we will spear the shadows to break a path!"

Half a burn passed before Niamh shrieked, "Mark!" and charged forwards in the direction of the camp as she heard her chosen companions surge beside her, Tugal and Scarlet in between Xenovia and herself. She led with thrusting torch and spinning knife, her intent to do as much damage to the attackers as possible, but mainly to force them to fade --- for with the Cryers every fading dodge she sought to gain as much ground as possible. Her senses surged with the sweat and emotions of her kindred, fighting for awareness of each one within the scouting party, making sure that they were all together before making a final push towards the clearing.

[Brytan]

OOC: I think we can safely consider this thread impassable for the next few scenes...

Oni's naked body swirled in the fire light, sweat gleaming on her form as her staff twirled through the darkness with determination and direction. Dipping the tip of her staff in the fire every now and again, it was burning and scorched, striking at the Cryers which faded in and out as it passed through them. The features of the Kanthan were drawn sharply against the fire as she kept a close eye on her pupils.

Tugal struck at the creatures as they did at him. A wide gash stretched across his right flank, blood dripping out as he moved to strike at them with claws of his own. Culwago's dark form was barely visible as he was encircled by Cryers, Tess and Kiare close by his side.

Scarlet was firing arrows at the Cryers left and right. Her prayer mingling with the cold night as the burning flecks of light pierced the dark wave of shadow and took out Cryers where they writhed.

Took them out.

Her words mingled in with the fire. Her thought blended in with her wish to survive. As she fired the flaming arrows at their enemies, they seemed unable to dodge the flame, unable to phase out as they would normally. When struck by the fire of her arrows, they writhed and dropped, maimed or dead, dissolving into the fog which crept around their ankles. Her arrows were far from accurately aimed, but they dropped at least three Cryers before Niamh shouted her orders across the wall of darkness.

Xenovia seemed to have similar success in fighting off the Cryers. Her prayers seemed to give her strength as her Inner Animal surged with confidence when she managed to burn down the first Cryer with a singular blow to it's malformed head.

Oni, Tugal, Tess, Kiare and Culwago all moved as one when Niamh shouted her command. Trained for this kind of combat, close and chaotic, the others would also have ample time to react to it. They moved away from the flames they had started and cut and jabbed their way through the darkness, whispers of impending doom reaching their minds.

You can not escape...

They will not help you...

You will join the jail of darkness...

At the Tal'Fea, the Cryers advanced slowly still, most of the soldiers moving back in stride with the advancing wave of nightmarish creatures. Keeping them at bay with torches and swords. Quinland and Guido, both facing the forest as most of the others were, could at some point hear shouting from the forest, and then several small flecks of light break off of the larger fire which had sprung up but ten burns earlier.

They were heading their way...

[Quinlan Corodin]

Before their eyes, the intruiging, perhaps inviting Terra Nova they had first observed from the air was obscured. In an absurdly short amount of time, a veil of living darkness seemed to draw itself over everything. Malicious whispers, savage attacks, though the Cryers defied any definition of life Quinlan might have known before. It was as though the very air around them gained ferocious sentience when light slipped away.

Any of the lieutenant's pretenses about diplomacy or other high-minded ideas disappeared as quickly as the nightmare creatures came. The metal of his sword rang as he finally drew it, the sound much more confident than he at that moment.

As eyes bore down, Quinlan thrust the heavy fencing weapon at them. He slashed at claws as they drew near. He was silent where others gave fighting cries, only breathing sharply in and out with his strokes. Some offered up prayer and oath, but there were no words in his mind as it feverishly worked. Where was the next attack coming from? When to strike out again?

The blade of the schlaeger finding no purchase in the amorphous beasts, he was overextended in his first attacks. He swatted at Cryer claws with his buckler shield as he tried to recover; even so, it was only moments before he began to question if a torch wouldn't have been more useful.

“Keep in the light, close to the flames and you will be safe," Quinlan heard Guido say. Later on - if he made it there - he would remember being surprised at the calm of the curator, who had seemed rather more fidgety at other times.

There were enemies everywhere there was not light, and the officer knew his blows were too wild in his desperation. He needed control. The legionairres needed control.

The legion. The others...

He edged nearer the campfire, keeping his back to it. Stemming instinct and adrenaline, he tried to see the situation beyond the monstrous tide.

"Fight together..." he tried to say, but it came out a whisper. He sneered, and swallowed against his tight throat. Once more, with a deep breath.

"Fight together!" This time a booming shout. "Stay close, cover the man next to you!" There was the envoy and Serafini, huddled in the corner of Quinlan's eye. "Stoke that fire! More torches!"

Genius strategy it wasn't, but they had to hold out until headway could be made. What the women had said about flames seemed to hold true. It seemed to be the best and maybe only defense. And from the torchlights that were now approaching, they seemed to take their own advice indeed. Were they coming to fight alongside? Or were they being chased?

"Get ready for the tribals to join us," he called.

...as allies...have to be...

[Xenovia Canace]

Xenovia's heartbeat pounded harder, more triumphantly against her ribcage as her own exuberance mingled with the confidence her Inner Animal felt. Yes, she thought, as her spear met with the malformed face of a Cryer and stole its cursed life away. Yes, we can and will triumph. Mother! We are your children, now let us be your wrath!

As Niamh shouted her mark, Xenovia released another cry into the night. A cry to show the Cryers that they would not yield. A cry to rally the others to fight more fiercely. A cry to let the besieged intruders know that all was not lost. Xen could not carry a torch, for her weapon required both hands, but she kept near the light of the others and fought with a ferocity that would have been terrible to behold, had any the time to watch her. Her kanthar offered no inhibitions to the swift movements of her willowy limbs, sweat gleaming on her deathly pale skin as her head turned this way and that, her spear jabbing and slicing at the Cryers as her long legs carried her swiftly along with her brethren.

She could sense them. Sense everything. The night was alive with stimuli to alert every part of her being. Her eyes glinted in the torch light, pupils so large they threatened to swallow the golden ring around them, gaze darting so swiftly that she hardly registered just what she was looking at -- only where it was, and whether or not she should harm it. Her ears heard the panting of those around her, the thudding of her own heart, the cries of the soldiers fighting just beyond those trees, the wretched whispers of the Cryers. Her nose breathed in the smell of blood, the scent of sweat, the aroma of fear and desperation mixed with defiance and fury. Her fingertips danced along the smooth wood of her spear, shifting it this way and that, brush and fur grazing along the flesh of her legs as she ran. The salt of her sweat was on her tongue, its bitterness familiar and encouraging. She was still alive. She was still fighting. She would not stop until she was dead, but she would not die. Not yet.

We need no escape. We do not run from battle! Her tongue darted across her lips, moistening them against the dryness of her breath, more salty sweat reminding her more of fighting than weariness. The Mother lends us her strength, and through us she will destroy you. Her long fingers tightened around the wood of her staff as she swung it round to cut back at the claws which sought her demise. We will never be beaten! No, they would live another night. And the intruders would live as well, if they had anything to say about it -- and when Kanthrop wanted to speak, they would be heard.

[Scarlet]

Scarlet heard Niamh call her order and felt the kanthrop move as one beast. Near the fore, Xen was a savage force, scything through the shadows, forcing the wall of darkness back foot by foot. Scarlet heard the song of her spear as it danced from shadow to shadow, defying the Cryers that would at any moment overwhelm them by sheer force of numbers. And yet, they did not. For every darkened claw that broke into their light, cold steel scored it's flesh, for every spear that stabbed the darkness, the fog of dying shadows billowed about their ankles. There were so many it was hard to miss.

Her long blade stabbed into the dark vapour, the torch in her hand causing more pain than the steel as the flames licked their shifting forms, causing them to recoil and attack again. Scarlet stepped with the pack, her golden eyes unwavering as she watched the eyes of those demonic beasts, sensing their attacks and stabbing in short efficient motions to dispatch their strikes. There could be no parry here, no block - the beast's claws just phased around the blade to strike flesh and blood. She had to move like the wind, become as formless as the shadows she fought to avoid death at every moment. The flame helped, driving off the blows that would otherwise have spilled her life's blood. But it could not last, they needed to make the skiff.

Snarling she felt her beast within her, urging her into space where moments before Cryer's had writhed in the shadows. She felt its preternatural sense guide her, her bare feet finding solid ground from which to strike or stand. It's instincts alongside her own, she hunted with more than a killer's lust, this was survival. She felt her heart beat harder, urged by her beast's raw thirst for life. She would not die, would not let it die. She would fight for both of them now.

[Guido Cercatoro]

Guido stayed close to the blazing fire, his sword in one hand and flaming ember in the other. If any of the creatures approached, he would sweep his torch in front of his body to deter the nightmares and then slash with his sword at any claws or eyes. Still maintaining his mental defences and inner calm, he heard Quinlan’s cry to fight together. He nodded approvingly, encouraging any soldiers near to him to stand close so as to protect their flanks and present a wall to the enemy.

Gazing into the forest, he saw the specks of light break off the larger fire. Let us hope these are allies, for we might have a chance if we fight together. The curator sought to reinforce Quinlan’s eminently sensible instructions. “Keep together, do not let your torches go out. Try to keep your backs to the main fire.” He sought to speak in a steady, calm and reassuring tone.

We will need skill and luck to get out of this. May the One grant us our lives.

(OOC: Guido has his birthday lucky card primed and ready in his pocket)

[Niamh Windwalker]

Maintaining momentum, her torch swirled and her hand spun, the dull glint of her knife flashing midst the shadows, the sharp edges diving one direction, only to yank back another, seeking to surprise the shadows and injure them before they could phase that portion of them.

"Keep moving! We near the strangers!" Maneuvering was becoming easier, their passage not as easily thwarted by more sparsely positioned trees. Despite the chill night, heat steamed from her body, and sweat dripped from limbs that simply never stopped. Were she less focused on the path she was etching, she would marvel at the living entity that was a kanthrop pack they moved in fluid awareness of each other, and even Niamh, leading the cluster, anticipated the movements of her kindred.

She hissed in the shadowy face of a cryer as she slashed it with her torch, charging as her kindred allowed, ready for the moment they would break free from the trees. Her voice immediately raising to cry to the strangers.

"Allow us passage to your flames!" The depth of her voice, the timbre, all reflected similarity with one of those who had challenged them before. In the rush of massed bodies charging from the trees however, one would have difficulty determining more than a slight, wiry frame that blurred with those of her companions. "We come to stand against the Cryers!"

After Xenovia's comments, she hoped they would not misinterpret the approaching body of fighters, but a flicker of recognition gave her hope, the two who had spoken, and seemed to have positions of authority, were on the side they approached...

[Brytan]

It was difficult...

Cryers were everywhere. As soon as the kanthrop scouting party broke off of their main fire, the assault seemed to intesify. Staying close together did not give them very much freedom to swing adequately at their foes, who swirled around them like liquid darkness. As soon as they enetered the more open space, Culwago broke off of the main group and lunged himself at a Cryer which evaporated almost instantly, only to materialise soon after. Tugal stayed near Tess and Kiare, both of whom defended themselves, instinctively more than anything else, their concious minds clouded by fear, their eyes introvert.

The group would appear swiftly to the eyes of the landing party, most likely the strangest group of people they had ever witnessed. Waving torches and spears, brandishing bows with blazing arrows the small group of eight rushed to the main fire of the encampment on the platform of solid rock. Niamh and Xenovia they had already seen, the huge tiger and panther running with them they had not, nor the naked woman who was waving her staff around like something out of a monk's dream. There were three others dressed similarly to the two the men had spoken with briefly before, wearing cloth and leather. Brandishing wooden weapons and torches.

In the meantime, the soldiers had trouble of their own, as the Cryers seemed to intensify their attack on their camp now. Ardigo was moving back towards the larger flames, fending off several Cryers with the aid of two of his men by his side, their faces hard to distinguish in the darkness. The only reason Ardigo was distinguishable was because of his shouting;

"Watch out, cover the left flank!"

"Keep that torch up you silly git!"

"Move away from the ship, get over here you morons!"

Slowly the group was gathering around Guido and the other two civilians. Privates Iocca and Rao were stacking wood onto the flames to build it higher, afraid for their lives as their eyes watched the onslaught of demonic darkness at the edges of the circle of light.

Quinlan had his own troubles, watching the Kanthrop moving in he suddenly had a Cryer upon him. It came from below and to the left and he had but a flicker to respond to it as the blood red eyes and black fangs and claws lunged for his throat.

To Niamh, words from the tents seemed to indicate they would allow them in. Apparently their leader had recognised them.

Then Kiare fell.

[Niamh Windwalker]

OOC: Since posting rates seem to be varying, I'm just going to charge on ahead to keep things moving - with so many of us, I'm guessing whatever posting order happens, happens at this point? If we want to stick to a posting order, I promise to do so the next round if that's what folks want.

IC: The shift from dirt to hard, stable rock was instantly noted by Niamh's heightened senses, her feet manuevering easily through the transition. Despite the swift pattering of a heart equally furious and terrified, she was quick to fight the last few steps until they could merge with the strangers. Enemy of my enemy... Expecting, along with encouragement, room to be made, she didn't even hesitate.

She found herself stepping in to one side of her kin, next to one of the strangers whom she recognized clearly from the earlier confrontation. Although her back itched, as she aligned herself with them, there was a greater danger to be fought. She could smell the fear of these strangers, sweat from the fire's heat and their own activity... their strange, exotic scents filling her nostrils.

As the Kanthrop woman faced the night, her senses screamed with change. There was absence, where there had been a moving, fighting form but flickers before. With a furious battle-scream, "KIARE!" Niamh dodged back among her kindred, arms thrashing the Cryer's with torch and small blades, seeking as much to drive them back as to damage them, her body weaving and tucking as she sought to stand over her fallen comrade. She didn't bother with instructions, fighting with the ferocity of a wild animal defending it's kit and expecting the others to fetch Kiare back to the assumed safety of the bonfires and warriors.

I defeated your kin this morning, struck them down with rays of sunlight! Her thoughts focused, tauntingly, on her attackers, reason departed as the battlerage claimed her, seeking to draw them from whatever they might attempt on Kiare without attending to the danger she placed herself within. Ursa, grant me the means to destroy these beasts! Help defend me! Defend your children! Grant us moonlight in this place, grant us flames that will not die! She was Kanthrop. She was young and strong and remorseless. With the fury upon her, she noticed no injuries, nor impediments - it would take something severe to jar her free.

[Xenovia Canace]

The fury of flying limbs and weapons, made up of several adrenaline-charged Kanthrop, was not long in bursting back into the strangers' camp, though the journey had been a challenge. The welcome was not overwhelming, but Xenovia could sense some relief out there, amidst the fear, anger, and determination. They were not faring horribly, it seemed the newcomers had a bit of nerve about them -- which was well, for it took much to stand up to the fury and terror of the Cryers. It was only blind determination and battle-lust that kept Xenovia from feeling the fear hiding deep within her heart.

This way and that she lunged, throwing her weight into the thrusts of her spear and then using the momentum to carry her willowy frame round so that she might thrust again. Over and over she twisted and turned, the weight of her weapon and the inertia it created feeling familiar to her. It was her teeth, her claws, the answer to the Cryers' attack; and she answered loudly.

It was Niamh's shriek that stumbled through the haze of battle in her mind and drew her attention to the fallen Kiare. As Niamh turned, Xenovia did as well, following her kin to where Kiare had fallen, guarding both furiously. They had competed. They had played tricks on one another. In any other situation they were a mix of friend and enemy. But though Niamh was a year older than Xenovia, there was something about her that had always made Xen protective of her, and the taller Kanthrop had always been the only one who was "allowed" to pick on Niamh. Cryers were certainly not on the list of acceptable antagonists.

"Up, Kiare! Come on, we've got you." Though she could not lend a hand to the fallen Kanthrop, Xenovia defended Kiare's other side as Niamh did her own part. No kin would be left behind this night if it could be helped. Though unaware of the Cryer lunging for Quinlan, Xenovia would not have hesitated to choose Kiare over the stranger. He was an intruder; Kiare was family.

[Guido Cercatoro]

Guido nodded in satisfaction as he saw the group of soldiers gradually gathering around the fire. They are keeping their nerve. Let us hope it continues. The curator held the burning brand in front of him ready to use it to deter any attacker and then lunge with his sword. He saw the soldiers build the fire higher to maintain the circle of light. Then, he spied Quinlan under attack from one of the beasts. May the One protect you, my friend. May the One protect us all. If ever we needed your protection it is now. Guido prayed to his God for himself and Quinlan.

What the….Even Guido’s calmness could not protect him for being startled at the sight of the natives who broke out of the jungle to head for the fire. He recognised the two women from their recent encounter but accompanying them appeared to be two wild animals and a naked woman. What manner of people are these! It is if I am in the midst of some fantastical story. This will make a fine history if I survive…..

If they startle me, then what will they do to the men….stay calm Guido. “Friends, they are friends, make room for them,” he shouted, once again using the most reassuring voice he could muster, whilst continuing to reinforce his own feeling of inner calm. He beamed a quick smile of gratitude to Niamh and Xenovia but the two were quickly engaged in helping a fallen comrade.

[Quinlan Corodin]

It was chaos. A tribal people dressed in rags - was one of them nude? Wild beasts of prey running alongside. And monsters, everywhere monsters, which made Quinlan more than happy, for the moment, to give his back to these strange people. He would've held discourse with a hedgehog at this point if he thought it would help.

Quinlan once again echoed the calls to fight together.

Somewhere in his mind he decided it would be a twisted relief to be attacked by one of the beasts, anyway. At least he had some idea where the vital bits were on a wild animal.

That quirk was the problem, after all. How did one kill a Cryer? They disliked light, and perhaps heat, but that amounted to a very thin defense indeed. Where was the heart to pierce? Did they feel fatigue, or would they come all night, until the last of the defenders was exhausted? The idea threatened at the edge of his thoughts, just as the Cryers threatened at the edge of the firelight. Such was the first consideration of death at the formless hands of these things. Flesh, bone, resolve, desire, clawed to shreds.

No! I refuse...

A Cryer came terrifyingly close, punctuating the thought. Reflexively the legionairre closely guarded his chest with the small shield strapped on his left forearm. His sword he held defensively in front of him, across the waist. At what was truly the last flicker, there was no effort for the lieutenant to waste on a flailing counterattack.

Within the melee, the fire was safety. An oasis of light where the defenders were congregating, and Quinlan was determined to make his way closer until he could practically feel the flames on his hind end. With his fighting implements raised against the fangs and claws, he darted to his left, pivoting away on same foot and making the sharpest angle he could against the direction of the monster's lunge.

[Brytan]

The fire burned fiercely as more wood was being stacked on top of it between the tents which had been set up to provide shelter. What would have been a smooth spring night, a soft breeze rustling the trees as the moon and stars shone their light over the majestic Skymyst mountains had turned into a nightmare of hellish proportions.

The soldiers whom had come along with the air skiff had a bit of a hard time figuring out what to do. Their orders they received stated that these people were friends, but the appearance was all but friendly. They were foreign and alien, brandishing archaic weaponry and accompanied by fierce pets. As the group approached the camp fire, one of their own fell, which met with a response nothing short of panic. Two of the tribal people immediately forgot about their own safety and thrust themselves back into the menacing darkness to grab their companion, forgetting all about their own personal safety.

Meanwhile, into the light, the vision of these beings was even more terrifying than it had at first appeared. From between two of the tents a huge black panther jumped into the fire light, shrugging off two Cryers, but having sustained a massive wound to it's left flank. With the main group a tiger walked, seemingly defending the group, also wounded but no less fierce it roared as the naked woman beat in on one of the shadow creatures, which faded in and out of existence as easliy as water parted for a swimmer.

Words came from these people.

"KIARE!"

"Up, Kiare! Come on, we've got you."

The two who dove after their companion met with Cryers setting on their backs, their own flames forgotten Niamh sustained a nasty cut to her left arm as one Cryer clawed at her chest. Xenovia felt the skin being peeled off of her back as she bent over to grab Kiare, who was unable to walk, her tendens severed at the heel. She was bleeding heavily, and now the two others were aswell.

"More flames, protect them!" The naked woman cried out fiercely, to which another of the women responded by rushing to their friend's aid and frantically waving her torch around at the Cryers, pathing their way to the ring of light.

Guido sat with Donelli and Serafini. Taking in this chaotic scene from a relatively safe position. "Their eyes..." Donelli muttered, his voice breaking. "Their eyes...they are demons. Possessed! They are demons! Run!" He got up, staggering out of the tent, gazing at the tribal group before turning around and rushing into the fields, into the darkness. Making his way away from the camp.

Their eyes were not human.

Not one of these people, on closer inspection, had human eyes. And some of the soldiers noticed this aswell. They appeared to be...feral, animal. Some gold, some blue or black. Pupils narrowing in the light of the flames, had they before been large and round. The naked woman seemed...bird like...for some reason. Her nails and fingers were long and pointed, her facial features very sharp, her nose almost beak like. Were those feathers in her hair?

Fortunately for the kanthrop, the soldiers had enough to worry about just now. The Cryers set to drive them back to the fire, lashing out and clawing at any who strayed into the shadow.

Your fires will die...

The darkness is ours...

You will not escape...

The dawn is far away...


More screams echo'ed through the night, coming from the direction of the skiff, where all light seemed to have been extinguished. Quinlan ducked around the Cryer lunging at him, his sword passing through it like through a dense mist. He nearly lost his footing as he darted around and into one of his own soldiers, who fell into one of the tents, dropping the canvas. A Cryer set onto him from the right and ripped his throat open.

Lady Serafini screamed and threw up.

Most of the tribal people seemed not to care, they looked at the fallen soldier but stayed focussed and determined. As they moved to the fire, with Quinlan close by, they covered his retreat and moved with a grace and agility barely human.

"Tugal, to your left!"

"Drag her into one of the tents, hurry!"

"Build fires around that one, we need walls!"

The bird woman spoke to Quinlan as the tiger dodged to his right, and the tent Guido was in was being pointed at. Her golden eyes piercing his gaze. "We need to make more fires, build a circle around the tents. I hope you have enough to burn, otherwise your visit may be cut short a lot sooner than you could have imagined."

Then she turned to her own people;

"Get the horn! Get Kiare's horn! We need help!"

OOC: Considering all the lucky cards and small wishes being used and at the ready, the horn will still be intact and no lives are yet lost. Great writing so far. If you guys need a hint on how to proceed at any point, I'll gladly trade a gift for it.

[Niamh Windwalker]

The haze of her fury seemed to heighten her senses, and the prickle of blood only incensed her rage further. The torch, which had lasted some little time, had finally been extinguished by the darkness, and as she lunged and fought beside her companion, Xenovia, she wielded the torch's unlit stump with random erratic moments. Have we killed any? Defeated any? Frustration lent her to vary her technique until she could hear the attackers shriek in pain. She held nothing back, gritting her teeth as she faced down the creatures, swinging her weapons. As the fire grew behind her, she saw the light glint dully from her organic blade, and thrust it viciously just at that moment so that it struck even as she kept her body from the path of the bonfire's glow.

Sensing her kin's retreat into the group, she guarded their movements step by step, not turning her back on the enemy. Something dripped along her left arm, hot and warm as it seeped from the gash etched beneath her shoulder. The blood kindled in her veins like fire, her inner spirit and herself fighting with a single cohesive purpose - it had sensed the injury, and it shrieked angrily at the Cryers through human lips.

Niamh would later recall the words spoken around her, the flight of one foolish man from one kind of 'demon' to another, proven evil, the fearful cries of the soliders, and Oni's cry to attend the horn. She would later feel the weight of weariness and pain that was now held at bay, but until the moment she collapsed in place, she defended her kin and the others with every beat of her heart and every slash of her weapon, and was startled when her retreat was covered by wildly waving torches.

Her back prickled, sensing the fear of those she fought with, praying that no weapon strayed to fight the Kanthrop instead of the true enemy. As Xenovia pulled Kiare within the flame-guarded circle, slipping between the front ranks of defenders, Niamh slid to the side, limbs darting and weaving flexibly as the blood continued to coat her left arm, actions occasionally flinging drops of red liquid upon those who fought near her.

The creature within was angry, focusing Niamh's senses on the creatures of Shadow. Oni and Quinlan had exchanged words not far from where she now stood, suddenly finding herself between two of the Intruders. And yet she seemed to not notice the distinction, dropping the dead torch and withdrawing another strangely curved knife as she fought, one edge ragged, as if a tooth from some gigantic creature. The garments wrapped about her body allowed her freedom of movement, and the firelight glinted from her wiry limbs, taught with feminine muscle and glistening with blood and sweat.

[Xenovia Canace]

Xenovia had expected Kiare to get up on her own, but a quick glance downward and a narrowing of her golden eyes brought her to realize that Kiare would not be going anywhere on her own for some time, if she did indeed survive this night. Though she could not defend herself well with one hand and a two-handed weapon, Xen swapped her spear to her right hand and leaned to fetch Kiare, forgetting in her moment of concern that she was not surrounded by torch-wielding kin. As the skin of her back was torn into, a shriek like the whistling cry of a bird issued from her throat and she spun round to slice at her attacker with the sharpened end of her spear, her mind racing, but none of the pain yet registering in her flesh. She couldn't pick Kiare up, then they would both be doomed.

Help us, mother!

It was Oni that issued the cry to aid them, and once they were surrounded again by flame Xen leaned down to assist Kiare once more. Her spear in her left hand, she scooped her right arm under the girl's armpit and crouched down, turning her body round in the same movement and using the inertia to pull Kiare onto her back. Her muscles flexed, glistening with sweat, blood soaking into her Kanthar and no doubt into Kiare's as well. Yet she thought nothing of it as she carried her kin back to the safety of the fire, depositing Kiare in one of the tents. A swift nod of reassurance was given to the young kit ere Xenovia was outside once again, spear at the ready. This time, however, her attention was on the fires.

We're not going to survive by slashing at the shadows with our weapons all night long. We need more flame, more fuel...

Her eyes searched desperately. They could not fell trees, the onslaught was far too powerful. Round and round the camp she looked: over the tents, the soldiers, her kin, the endless onslaught of Cryers, the airskiff, the torches, the-- Her heart leapt with joy and an unhappy realization. Their ship was wooden, they could use it for fuel all night! Yet if they did, the intruders would have no means to depart again. But if they die they won't be departing at all, and we will be blamed through their ignorance. A scowl turned her dark lips downward. Their people would no doubt blame the Kanthrop for the intruders' destruction and then all would be lost. No, they must live.

All of this transpired so quickly that by the time the call for Kiare's horn was given, Xen was already distanced from the tent. Her aim was Guido, for she recognized him from earlier and it was an intruder she needed to say this to. She must have looked quite a wild thing: her eyes wide with determination and a feral frenzy, pupils expanding in their golden prison to compensate for lack of light, her hair matted and skin flecked with blood, spear in hand. Yet she opened her arms in submission as she approached him (much like an animal might show its belly), lest he panic and forget that they were allies -- for now.

"Warrior!" Though this was hardly the proper title for Guido, Xenovia certainly wasn't going to call him brother. "Heed my words," she said as she skidded to a stop near him, turning her back to him (blood dripping through claw marks in her white skin) and watching for attack. "The flames are our only hope, and you have little fuel. If the fire dies, we all will die with it." She gave him a few flickers to digest this information before continuing. "We need more fire. We need more wood. Warrior..." Would he listen? "...your transport is made of wood!" If it is not broken down and burned, then we shall be beaten down and lost.

[Quinlan Corodin]

Oh no...

Quinlan's heart continued to drop in dread. The Tal'Fea was being overrun, he knew it. And one of the soldiers was falling. His soldier, and Quinlan had ran into him. The lieutenant had knocked down his comrade, and the Cryers did not miss the opportunity. Of course they did not miss it, they were constantly pressing, constantly closing in.

My fault...accident, he thought even as he thrust out with the schlaeger, trying frantically to fend off the monsters. Quinlan couldn't tell who the fallen man was. Moschini? Danton? He didn't truly want to see, he just wanted to drag the man to safety. But, he dared not lower his guard and give the Cryers a chance to take them both.

"Someone get this man!" he yelled. His voice was rough; as the flickers of the attack raced on, his voice began to fill with anger. "Get this man off the front! Closer to the light!" If the shadowy creatures could ever be staved off, maybe he could be helped. Someone had to be able.

The officer's ire rose with each ineffectual strike he made. Expedition crewmember and tribal alike were all going to the Nether in a handbasket, and swinging their weapons around wasn't even slowing things down. It was enough to break a man, and break Donelli did. Quinlan had heard the envoy begin to panic. The frantic cries were the sound of the official's self-fulfilling doom prophecy coming to completion.

'If anything happens to me, I hope you're prepared to take over negotiations and to make decisions...?' Such were Este Donelli's words in the Turcotte's portal lobby back in World's Mouth. It had been just that morning. Noone could have imagined what the expedition would find on only the first night. Neither could anyone have imagined that the envoy's question would become so poignant on the first night.

"Donelli?" Quinlan called out, lips pulled tight across his teeth. He looked, but Donelli was already gone. "Donelli?! Gyaaa!" He screamed his frustration against the maddening whispers of the Cryers. It scarcely entered his head to give chase. With the swarm that surrounded the hapless defenders, Quinlan didn't think the envoy was anything but killed, and now his words seemed like a curse.

Oni's gaze brought him back into focus. Meeting eyes with the naked bird-woman was disconcerting, to say the least, and it became quite clear that these people were a breed apart. This tribe didn't just traffic with wild animals. In some way, they were like animals themselves. Amazingly, amid that observation, even amid the insanity all around them, her words got through to Quinlan.

"Wall..." he uttered. "Fire wall...yes." If they could get the light between them and the monsters, it would hopefully give them the break they needed so. "We need a wall of fire around the camp!" he barked. "Tents, fabric, crates! Grab anything that will burn, quickly!" Gritting his teeth, he fought alongside the strange warriors to defend the others in camp. Working up a second wind, he held to the thought that they could make a makeshift defense against the nightmare creatures. Out of the corner of his eye he could see Guido near the pale, muscular fighter, and he called out to him by name.

"Guido, the wall!" he called, though he was oblivious to Xenovia's designs of destroying the airship for firewood. "And somebody blow that girl's horn!" he added, remembering some more of Oni's words.

[Guido Cercatoro]

As Donelli fled out of the camp, Guido could only look on with dismay. The thought of trying to stop the man went momentarily through his mind but he knew that to leave the safety of the camp would mean certain death. Serafini’s frightened screams pierced his ears. He grabbed the woman firmly by her shoulders and spoke slowly and directly. “Keep your wits about you. You must not panic. Stay within the shelter of the fire. Gather anything in the tents that will burn. Fire is our only hope of safety.” Guido began to gather anything nearby that could be used for fuel.

Xenovia’s call of “warrior” startled the curator and he turned towards her. He saw a wild-eyed woman moving towards him, spear in hand, arms outstretched and body splattered with blood. Without his mental defences, he would have been sorely tempted to run. Yet he recognised the woman and heard the earnest tone in her cry. Warrior. A kind thought but I fear that I am more at home with the quill than the sword. As he digested her words about the airship, he heard Quinlan’s call for the building of a wall of fire. He turned to Serafini and any nearby soldiers to echo the Condotierre’s call. “Pile the wood around the tents, we need to build a circle of fire to defend ourselves.”

The import of the warrior-woman’s further words struck home. The airship….of course. He looked towards the skiff but he knew that to make any attempt on his own would be suicidal. He needed to get the information to Quinlan who might hope to organise any attempt. Giving a quick nod of thanks he shouted towards the officer in the clearest and loudest voice he could muster. “Quinlan, the airship… if we don’t have enough wood for the fire wall in the camp, we must strip or dismantle the ship… there is much wood there.”

Having relayed the information to the Lieutenant, he continued with his task of retrieving anything combustible from within the tents, still keeping his lit torch at hand.

[Brytan]

At Quinlan's and Oni's call for a wall of fire, there was a momentary pause. Soldiers and Kanthrop alike looked at each other with a sense of distrust, only to be brutally reminded of the harsh reality of their current position when the onslaught continued and another one of Quinlan's men was nearly cut in half by a Cryer who plunged himself into their midst, only to be struck at quickly by several swords, and torches, causing him to disappear shortly after.

"Tear it down!" Ardigo yelled.

And within flickers, the camp which had been carefully constructed by his own hand was being torn up ten times swifter. Only the tent in which Guido sat was left standing, though it's contents were quickly removed by about half of the group, including Guido, while the other half struggled to defend their friend's efforts. Carlotta had passed out, Xenovia and Niamh succeeded in dragging Kiare to the safety of the canvas. Tess kneeled down by her friend to tend to her wounds, shredding her kanthar to stop the bleeding.

Outside the fire was build bigger, as more and more chairs, crates, supplies, poles and canvas was lit and dispersed along the perimeter of the tent. The Cryers seemed to be drawing back at the sight of so much light in their way. Or, they did not seem to advance much anymore. Rao and Danton had grabbed their fallen comrade, and dragged him into the tent aswell, his throat severely bleeding, spraying blood on the two soldiers. There was not much to be done for Generici, who's face showed now that he was brought into the fire light. Rao took quick measures to cover him with a piece of canvas not yet burnt.

"We won't hold out long like this." he muttered.

"Be quiet you idiot!" Ardigo yelled as he fired his hand cannon, blasting the night apart with gunpowder and pellets of lead. Cries went up beyond the fire.

Slowly a perimeter was being secured. Quinlan noted a disturbing absense of some more of his men, though it was hard to note whom exactly as some were busy beyond his vision and the glare of the fire to expand it.

Then...

Silence...

The whispers had stopped, the wind had died and it got a little warmer on the rocks of the Festival Grounds. It even seemed to get a bit lighter. The Cryers seemed to have...gone...

But for how long?