• Mature • Troubled Path

[Max]

The battle between bandits and caravan travelers progressed while Maxine laid trapped beneath the dead weight of the Barghest she'd slain. She wriggled and shoved at the massive corpse while its brethren fell to spikes or lunged on to begin tearing frightened men apart. By the time she'd freed her torso from the creature she was breathing hard, eyes wide, and lungs hungry now that her diaphragm was no longer being crushed by the weight. The horde had long since passed her. When she turned she spied Kasoria shackling a leaping beast and killing it from below with a fury she knew too well.

Raand reached him then...

She grimaced and groaned as she liberated her lower half from the dead monster. She spit and coughed the putrid beast's blood that had waterfalled into her mouth when she'd set to killing it. A blood-soaked hand wiped the same away from her nose and eyes, smearing it away rather than truly clearing it. The Rusalka worked herself to a staggering stand on the battlefield, looking more like a cursed newborn birthed from the beast she'd savaged than any kind of soldier. She could feel the warmth of the blood covering her face, hair, arms, hands, and soaking the front of her clothes.

What a gory monument to this onslaught she was.

Her ears rang with the howls of Barghests and the screams of men. She turned toward the caravan in time to watch a Barghest lay out a man in the same manner she was taken to the ground. Drooling fangs snapped hungrily at unwilling flesh. The cries of a desperate, terrified man died in gurgles and then silence while the Barghest's snarls grew more excited with every swallowed tear. Blood and tissue glued to her gladius sloughed toward the tip and plopped grotesquely to the parched earth.

I have to go back...

Her brush with a cruel end and its wear on her body slowly began to dissipate. She seemed to remember herself, and the quiet roar returned inside her head that spurred life back into her muscles. Maxine saw Kasoria storming the field toward her. Without a thought she let her instincts start driving her toward him. Then she heard the blow of a low, earth rumbling horn from the trees.

..............

"He just decimated half of the pack with a single cast..."

"I have eyes, Noah. Rally the men for another charge."

"We should sound the retreat..."

"No! Our source in Rharne promised a worthy ransom if we take this lot, and I will not be bested by this rag-tag defense!"

"Dynira..."

Noah eyed the Avriel woman clad in leather armor with fleeting gaze. Dynira's fingers curled to hard fists. She turned away from the battlefield to seethe in his direction.

"The Barghests did as they were meant. Look at him!" The Avriel bandit leader defended her strategy. She roughly grabbed Noah by the nape and pointed at Kasoria as he shouted orders and watched the pack die and cannibalize each other on his spikes. "He's expending himself. We've taken more than a quarter of theirs with minimal losses before we loosed the hounds. Release the whelps we have left and rally the charge behind them. We're betting everything on this push. The ransom will cover our losses tenfold."

"What will you do?" Noah asked, raising a brow at Dynira's cruel expression.

"Me?" Dynira looked back toward her killing field with a deadly smirk. She unsheathed a shining short sword. "I'm going to kill a small annoyance...and see how he takes it." She opened her wings from her back. Shimmering black feathers flecked with red glistened in the fleeting shadows that concealed them. She slid a fearsome, sleek helmet over her head. "Sound the signal for the final phase..."

Noah gave a shaky nod but brought the horn at his hip up to his lips.

..............

When the eerie sound blew, the juvenile Barghests leaped from their cages in a scattered formation. Smaller but less starved than their adult predecessors, they moved purposefully toward the caravan to give them no pause. In their wake a volley of arrows erupted from the trees to pepper the caravan just before the Barghests reached their marks. Only when the first arrow volleys landed and the beasts had charged a safe distance did the cavalry reappear with refreshed vigor.

Maxine stopped in her instinctive jog to Kasoria. She turned, alone on that battlefield and slicked with drying blood, eyes narrowing as her senses picked up on something her mind hadn't yet. Her place on the field put her wide in a gap of racing Barghests that passed her by, and the volley was high above her head when the arrows loosed. She felt the thundering of hooves before she saw the riders emerging again. Her intuition screamed its alarm about something far closer.

Dynira, flying fast and low behind one of the charging Barghest juveniles, revealed herself from behind the living cover faster than Maxine had identified her. The Avriel slammed into the Rusalka at lightning speed. Their swords sung their mutual hatred while Dynira's free hand grabbed a hold of the woman, launching them both higher into the air while they were entangled. Maxine grit her teeth while she drove her gladius hard against Dynira's short sword, warding it away from her neck while she gripped the Avriel hard in turn so the woman couldn't merely discard her from their height. Upside down, Maxine could feel the impending danger of the ground below while Dynira grinned maliciously down at her.

A second volley of arrows whooshed past the airborne combatants toward the caravan while the cavalry rode beneath them. The two warred for a short time before the blood on Maxine's limbs made her slick enough to break the Avriel's hold on her arm. She reached that freed arm up to wrap around the Avriel's helmet, wrenching Dynira's chin toward her own chest while her gladius warred with the short sword. The breaking of the Avriel's structure combined with the offset of balance in flight sent the two off course. Dynira's wings flapped but failed to right them. Locked in a sideways stalemate, they careened toward the earth from a short height.

"Fuck!" Max protested the impact with the hard, wooden side of the wagon they struck. She felt something shift in her left shoulder that was unnatural.

"Suicidal bitch!" Dynira retorted her furious shout as soon as they rebounded to the dirt. Her nose was crooked and leaking blood, and by the way she hunched it wasn't a poor assumption a couple ribs had cracked.

The Avriel moaned but lifted herself to her feet with her sword ready. Maxine did the same, grimacing as she realized her shoulder was dislocated. She gave her bloody sword a twirl. Dynira glanced down for a moment, noticing the transfer of blood and Barghest guts on her perfectly preened presentation. Maxine saw it and smirked at the literal ruffling of feathers. As though she could read the quip, Dynira shrieked and launched herself forward.

Maxine leaned back just outside the swing of the blade and then sprung forward. She jabbed her gladius toward the Avriel's protected face only for Dynira to back swing in time to save herself. The Rusalka continued to flow, stepped off to an angle and snapping her shin into the back of her enemy's knee. Dynira's body landed flat on her back with a shocked whoosh of air knocking from her lungs.

Finish her. Then get back to The Band.

Back to Kas...

The Rusalka wasted no time pinning the flailing Avriel's sword-wielding arm to the ground with her shin. Dynira's eyes widened and her other arm reached uselessly up, heels dragging toward her body too late to form the defense she desperately needed. The wings beneath the Avriel flapped in vein, pinned beneath her. The end was near. They both felt it lingering over them in the act to come. Max rotated her grip on her gladius and moved to plunge it home.

"NIRA!"

Maxine had only a good quarter of her gladius through the Avriel when she felt Noah's spear dismount her. She couldn't help the shocked and pained outcry that escaped her. Noah's foot forced her off the end of his skewer and she hit the ground with a dull thud. Max writhed while Noah rushed to the side of his leader.

He grit his teeth in forced restraint of emotion, recognizing the loosening of the muscles in the winged woman's eyes for the onset of death. A bit of air left her lungs for the last time. He'd only been a half second too late. He rose from her and forgot the carnage around them. The thinning of his bandit brothers was far from his mind.

Max gripped her gladius and forced her head up. She spied the wound the spear had managed despite her Adamantite catsuit beneath her clothes. She felt the odd sensation of blood gathering outside where it belonged, mixing with the dried Barghest blood that clung to her still.

Then she felt the shadow of Noah over her. Chest heaving with vengeful grief, he raised his spear to even the score.

[Kasoria]

She's not dead. She's not dead. She's too stubborn to die to a fucking dog.

Kasoria kept marching towards where she'd fallen and didn't let his thoughts stray beyond that simple mantra. His eyes kept moving, roving, ever-watchful for incoming threats. The battle had moved past him, it seemed. The Barghests had roared past the creature that had hurt them so, unwilling to waste time with something so dangerous when there were weaker morsels to be ripped apart among the wagons. The cavalry had fallen back, but the archers-

CRACK

-his gladius whipped out, so fast it was just a black blur in the sunlight. The arrow that was streaking for him smacked into the heather in two pieces. Depleted ether or not, he was far from harmless. Before he was a mage, before e had twin Sparks at his commands, he was the Raggedy Man of Etzos, and-

He spat to the side and noted a lot of it was blood. He was also getting old.

Come on, girl, get the fuck-

As if by his command (and that would be a fucking first), he saw her rise. Splattered and caked and strewn in all kinds of bodily fluid, but he could tell by her stance that none of it was hers. It was too strong, too sure, none of the imbalance injury would suggest. She only looked rabid, furious... and not even close to finished.

He stopped maybe twenty feet from her. Face still set in that grim mask of bloody determination, to kill and kill again until the battle was over. But seeing her alive, when he'd been afraid... when he'd thought she was not...

Kasoria opened his mouth and-

The horn blew. She looked behind her. As a fresh horde of smaller creatures hooting and snarling with a higher pitch, as if they were the ravenous young of the sturdy beast that came before, came tumbling out of the trees. Kasoria gripped his gladius tighter and pulled a fresh knife from one of the sheaths under his arm. Five left. He'd have to go back and collect them all when battle was done, but that was just-

Should have kept your-

"Shit!"

Something big and fast and fucking flying came roaring out from behind the new pack and snatched up Maxine like a hawk would a wild cat. Swooping its black-and-scarlet wings back it whooshed over Kasoria's head so low and fast he almost ducked instinctively-

-carrying the girl with her, swords grinding so hard they sparked and in a flash he saw her face-

That was when he smiled. Seeing that look of teeth-gritted anger that wouldn't let injury or surprise of fucking flight rob her of her desire to win the fight. He spun around as they zipped across the field, then Maxine did... something, he couldn't see. The Avriel let out a bark and corkscrewed like a bird with a clipped wing and-

Kasoria winced as woman and bird-thing smacked into the side of a wagon and parted from the impact. He stirred a foot and-

THUNK

-grunted in pain as something smacked into his arm. Something sharp and annoying. He turned to glare in the direction the arrow had come from, raising his arm to study the area of impact. Not quite skewered, and no muscle or bone damage. Just... irritating. Growling softly, he whipped his gladius up and cut the arrow close to the head as he could, preventing it from snagging on anything as he moved. He knew better than to yank it out, tearing an even bigger whole in the doing and risking blood loss, too.

That's what you get for not paying attention, wanker.

He was inclined to agree, especially since it reminded him of the juveniles tearing towards him-

-injured arm flicking out, arrow not effecting his aim a jot as he sent the throwing knife slamming into the creature's forehead at ten paces-

-gladius sweeping down to shear through another's neck in mid-leap, ripping through flesh and muscle and soft scales until it bit into bone-

-free hand already seeking another blade as he whirled, flickering shapes and crunching grass alerting him to the threat all around, some charging past him, others wanting to succeed where their dead siblings had failed-

THUNK

-another knife, another eye socket. Kasoria knew that would be the last chance he'd get. There were too many now, and he had to get close-

-sidestepping and beheading a beast as it lunged for him, not bothering to see head and body go flying away in a rough, comical V-shape, drawing his karambit instead-

They want close up and nasty? More the fucking fool them.

Only there was no more left to kill. They ran ahead, avoiding him, and then he felt the trembling ground and realized-

They're being driven.

-the cavalry behind them were the real problem. Many of them bloodied, some with shirt-sleeves and crude bindings around wounds. All of them howling and whooping and wide-eyed and blood-mad and following their leader with desperate courage. Kasoria wouldn't begrudge them that, if it bothered to cross his mind.

But it didn't.

With a roar he darted forwards, into the charge, diving between the two nearest riders-

-karambit ripping into the flesh and muscle of the one to his left-

-Shadowslayer cleaving through the foreleg of the one to his right, longer and heavier blade cracking and crunching bone and nearly cutting it clean off-

-rolling hard on his shoulder as his dive came to an end, coming back up to his feet and spinning around-

-seeing the two maimed horses go down, flailing, shrieking, screaming, riders thrown, one pinned, and he didn't hesitate-

-leaping over one thrashing horse and impaling Shadowslayer through the trapped man's chest, ripping it out and hurling himself-

CLANG

-into the swinging ax from the second man, sword parrying the blow, karambit coming up, catching the man in the belly-

-ripping, tearing, flaying, until his whole world is screaming horses and human and red horrors spilling out of a eviscerated stomach-

-until his jutting crown cracks the man's nose and ends his shrieks-

Kasoria pushes him aside and in a blink sees the rider barreling towards him, spear lowered, barely an instant to react-

This is going to fucking-

CRACK

-spearhead shattering against the brief Shield he throws up, infused with Backlash, sending the strength of the blow back into the rider's arm, ripping it from his hand. The horse reared up and Kasoria slashed out, beating down the pain and his wailing Sparks-

-slicing clean through the leather strap holding the saddle in place under the horse, and the rider goes howling off his back and into the ground. Struggling upright and throwing himself at Kasoria with a curved sword-

-parries and slices open his throat in two blinding moves, an almost bored look on his face-

Still they ride, still they come on. Flying past him now, thundering in their final charge, their last attempt. Aside from the bowmen in the trees, Kasoria can see no other elements of the bandit assault. The Barghest, their pups, the reordered riders... this was all they had. By likelihood, for one, and by the fact their leader had now got involved... at least he assumed that's what the Avriel was.

He started jogging back in the wake of the cavalry, zig-zagging every few meters to throw off the aim of any archer cocky enough to have a crack at him. The odd arrow thumped into the ground around him but the caravan was the real target... and he was pleased to see they weren't quite an easy nut to crack. The guards hadn't bolted, nor hid. Where would they flee to, after all? Where would they hide? But Kasoria had seen it before, caravan guards give up and parlay with bandits. Agree to all the pillage and rapine they wanted, so long as they were spared.

That was clearly not the case in the Eternal Empire. And not just because of the guards.

More than a dozen travelers had joined the fray. Wielding swords and shot spears, they fought efficiently, determinedly, and some of them died the same way. Soldiers of the Empire or hoping to be one trial, they hurled back the riders and swarmed a long Barghest whenever they got the chance. Kasoria saw a snatched image of one such beast skewered on three separate spears, before a long sword came down like a meteor and took its head off. Then he heard a roar far more familiar-

He grinned. Miki was in fine form and finally off his leash.

Mikiros erupted with sounds like giant, warring beasts as he waded into the swarm of younger Barghest. And oh, was that not the right word. They broke against his broad shield and massive form, as waves would a boulder. Moving fast for a man his size he heaved the heater up and slammed the pointed tip into the neck of one creature, cracking vertabrae like pieces of chalk-

-longsword sweeping around like a blood-dripping apocalypse, cleaving clean through one Barghest junior, then another, until the horde's fury could not last and they bolted away from him-

Kasoria's smile died. He looked past the big, beefy, roaring man and saw-

The spear in her back. Her victory marred and made her grave by the desperation of some callous cunt backstabbing her. She went down heavily, first to her side, blood spewing from under that queer tight armored suit she wore. The Avriel was doomed, a couple of inches penetration more than enough to rip into he heart. The spearman's face was twisted in grief, in horror, in hatred, in-

Fuck.

He started to run. Even with overstepping sending shocks up his legs, he ran. His arms pumped and every footfall sent another spasm through his nerves. He didn't care. He didn't notice. He couldn't tear his eyes from her. On her back, bleary and finally drained of her defiance... save for her face. Eyes brimming with inexhaustible malice but her flesh and muscles just would not obey. Noah raised his spear, savoring the moment, and if her was just faster, faster-

-the spear came down and out of instinct he roared-

"Uh?"

Noah couldn't move, couldn't finish vengeance for his mistress. Everything around him seemed... solid. Like he was a bug trapped in amber, unable to move. Looking up, Maxine would see the expression of sheer, baffled confusion on his face right before-

-three feet of jet-black steel separated his head from his shoulders, shattering the Shackle at the same time. Noah and his spear fell off to one side... while his head rolled forward... stopping close to her own. Staring for a few absurd moments with real, obvious panic in them... before going dark forever.

The Old Man crunched down to his knees in front of her. Panting hard. Spasms making his arms and shoulder twitch and shake, like the marionette of a lunatic. But he'd come for her. He panted, steaked with blood, seeming to breath steam in the warm air, using his downward-thrusting gladius as a crutch... until he heard behind him what she could likely see.

The horsemen. Still coming. A mad handful unable to accept defeat, but by the fucking gods they would have blood instead. The attack was broken, the ambush routed. Men were fleeing on foot, horses ran without riders, but some were too stubborn, desperate, or had lost too many friends to consider retreat. That core of bastards were now charging on the pair of them, having seen and heard just how much blood these two had drawn from their comrades.

Well, fuck 'em. They started it.

Kasoria dragged himself in front of her. Ignored whatever words she would say, if she did. Focused solely on heaving himself slowly, painfully up to one knee. Gladius held with two hands now, even as it jinxed and dance in his unstable grip. Only his face remained still. Eyes black and calm as buried opals. He breathed deep... exhaled shakily... then they were-

"Fuck're you doin' down there, Kas?! We got business!"

It would have been a fine death, by a warrior's standards. Kasoria wasn't even a warrior and he could understand that. But Raand and The Band had a differing opinion.

[Max]

Baited by blood, Maxine had failed to see that spear coming before it dealt its blow. She cursed him. She cursed herself more. Her hatred was mirrored in his defiant expression, and his prepared spear swore to have the final say. Her strength was waning. She readied herself to swing her gladius ineffectively from where she laid anyways. It was better to die swinging than laying there to bleed.

Do it, bitch.

Sucking air into her chest was a painful process she was still freshly understanding, so the words remained thoughts to be projected in her dark gaze on the warrior raising his weapon to end her. The apex of his lift was revealed with the pause of the spear tip in the air. It would be coming down now like the pointing finger of fate itself. Her gladius arm flexed and she hissed her immense discomfort at the slightest shifting of her trunk. She waited to brandish him at the golden moment.

It never came.

Max blinked at the frozen man. He seemed just as confused as she was before understanding dawned on them both with the slash of a cruel blade. Noah's head soared from her field of vision. She found herself turning her head, following its path like she was watching a bird in flight. It crashed and the body followed with a larger thud. Max turned her attention back to the headless mass laid at her feet. Then, she stared with wide eyes up at the Old Man who had had his say.

She found him there beside her on his knees, panting, spasming with bloodied lips. The Rusalka had seen him in bad way before when he expended himself using his magic. He'd suffered then to save her from herself. She was a blight upon him again now. Less than a break before he had forsaken her.

Was this consideration for her now? Or merely a stubborn Old Man reinforcing the value of his word? After all, they weren't in Korlasir just yet.

Doesn't matter.

Maxine would survive for at least a few more breaks of chaos. The narcotics on board dulled some of what would otherwise be a nearly debilitating wound, but fuck was she still wracked with pain. The continuation of thundering hooves and warring men reminded her the threat was far from finished. She rolled slowly to her side and clutched at the stupid wagon that broke her fall and dislodged her joint. Using it like an anchoring point, she agonizingly yanked her feet underneath her and pressed her back to the wagon to face the six horsemen stampeding, roaring their final stand.

Kasoria, the noble hero of her story for now, had bravely placed himself between her and them. He had broken off bits of himself defending her life already. She would not permit him to carve any more. The horsemen, too, would be denied their share. Besides, what was the harm in one last twister?

The horrific wind began to swirl as The Band called out to their leader. The tornado thundered into life before Kasoria, traversing forward to split the remnants of the cavalry down the middle. They predictably split with hollers to one another before the twister sucked one rider up, and then promptly spat him out. The second twister twirled one of the bastards straight into one of Kasoria's spikes. The Band set to the rest.

Belial's arrow settled in the rear of one horse's mid-step, and the beast flung its rider forward into the receiving end of Vaul's cutting swing.

Raand drove Maxine's horse to bring another rider to a halt to address him. His try for a beheading as beautiful as Kasoria's was challenged with the expert maneuver of the enemy saber. Mikiros pulled that rider from his saddle and slapped him down to the dirt so he could beat him with the heater. When he was swiftly through he turned to jam his blade into the chest of another horse racing toward them. He made short work of felling both beast and man squirming out from beneath his steed.

Belial's next arrow sunk into the chest of the final challenger. That rider, lonesome and wounded, slumped on his saddle and turned his horse to follow his retreating brethren.

The sound of fighting was dying down. Men were turning tail or being cut down, and Maxine felt the new danger that came with what happened when the adrenaline dump was through. She lost her firm footing and rode the wagon's side down to the ground with a groan. Raand got off his horse and The Band moved in to assess their number.

"Gettin' too old fer this shite, eh?" Raand offered lightly to Kasoria along with the pat of a bloodied hand on the man's shoulder. "Nobs 're whinin' 'bout gettin' us on soon as we shook 'em. Can't help but agree."

"Worse fer wear, wee monster," Vaul lamented, kneeling down beside her. He offered a hand.

"Get me up," Maxine murmured with a wince, taking the help with her own bloodied hand. "Get me up off the ground. Please. Get me up."

Vaul's brow rose at the insistence. Miki's dubious smiling faded, hearing the veiled fear in her words. Vaul coaxed the gladius from her grip first and handed it off to Mikiros, who turned stiffly to watch all their backs while they set to maneuvering their wounded.

"Ah, bloody shite," Vaul sighed at the violent flinch when he moved to help her. His eyes spied the odd shape of her shoulder. "Dun bite yer tongue..." Without any more warning his hands were on her, jolting the dislocated shoulder back into its place. She gasped, clutching onto the man who then eased under her arm. Slowly he raised her up from the ground. "Easy..."

"Thank you..."

"I'll see to gettin' us off," Raand assured Kasoria earnestly. Their fearless commander had seen better trials himself, and he had a mind to remind him why Raand was his right hand man in these endeavors. He jumped back in the saddle and clicked his tongue, coaxing the horse toward the Delegation's wagon nearby for a quick assessment.

"This is a proper mess, Kas," Vaul sighed. He released his hold on Max when he was somewhat convinced she could lean upright against the wagon again. He stomped over to the mage, spitting off into the grass before anxiously leaning in toward him. "Girl's in rough shape. We need ta clean dat wound up and git movin', else yous won't be waitin' 'til the city ta be done wiv 'er."

Fuckin' bandit cunts...

Max let the back of her head hit the wagon and she slammed her eyes shut briefly. After a couple uneasy breaths she opened them again, lowering her chin to take inventory of herself. She was a festering mess of Barghest, bandit, and Avriel blood. Minor cuts and bruises, and the ache of her shoulder, were long forgotten in the wake of the opened wound that opened through her back to her front below the ribs. The sensation of her own warm blood spilling onto her flesh and clothes was still maddening. The image of her own tissue out in the shining sun was even more unsettling.

Not so lucky to-trial, Rusalka...

She swallowed hard. She could feel eyes other than Mikiros' on her. Concern, for her. She loathed it, but more so because she had an inkling it was entirely justified and she should share it. A flurry of facetious, obnoxious lines more suited to her personality raced across her mind. They were not what she settled on. A different pattern of thought and emotion won her tongue.

"You never needed me on this job," Maxine all but whispered the truth, turning her head so that her shameful eyes could settle on something other than the Old Man or her injury. "You told me you did because you wanted to save me again. You should've left me there to rot where you found me. I only kicked it and held out a little while because you were the one asking."

She could feel her body relaxing, and a small urge of panic stirred in her. The sound of Raand's return neared. She gripped the wagon tighter.

"I never wanted to be sober, Kas..."

Maxine forced herself to let her haggard albeit vulnerable visage find him. Her voice dripped with regret.

"Not even for you. I'm sorry."

[Kasoria]

Fucking girl, always gotta have the last word.

Ain't all about you, old man.

Whatever Morty Maxine was in thrall to, willingly or otherwise, they had storms in their arsenal. Thus, so did she. Another twister was unleashed on the horseman, like a tame beast she could send them scattering with. Kasoria's vision swam, but through the black waves and shuddering spots he could see... victory.

Men went flying. Impaled. Eviscerated. Battered. Horses fled or died with their riders. He could smell smoke through the blood and the sweat and the electric haze of ether in the air. Grey and black wafted across his vision... but he didn't fall. Even when his arms failed him and hung limp as his side. The throbbing in his left was more pronounced now, as the flood of adrenaline started to dump out of his blood. He blinked... for what seemed like a long time. Until voices from a hundred leagues away muttered into his ear... and he awoke to find them right next to him, and a hand on his shoulder.

Not a good sign.

"Gettin' too old fer this shite, eh? Nobs 're whinin' 'bout gettin' us on soon as we shook 'em. Can't help but agree."

"Gimme yer hand," he managed to grind out, after swallowing what threatened to choke him instead. A mouthful of blood went into his guts and he bit back the urge to vomit it back up. "Ain't... ain't gonna lie down... fronta' them..."

The rest of the caravan was beginning to notice them. They handled their dead and wounded, then did much the same for the bandits, only with far less mercy. They were trials away from the next stop, after all. Not much point in taking prisoners. Kasoria listened to the sound of begging cut off by crunching, piercing, chopping denials without comment. He'd heard it before. Raand got him upright and he leaned against the wagon. The nobs were a couple of wagons away, clustered together like ducklings without a mother. Fagan Manclin was at the center of them, eyes wide and worried but voice dripping with aristocratic command. Scared, yes, but not witless.

"I'll see to gettin' us off."

Kasoria thought to argue that for a moment. Maintain his position as leader, even in his battered, weakened, overstepped state. His muscles were still spasming at odd moments. His Sparks were... silent. Not even trying to show themselves and interact in a word that would punish them for trying. Every breath was a hardship now. Not through pain, but sheer exhaustion. Wielding magic was no different to swinging a mace or running a dozen leagues; it took a toll, and his body was paying it. But that didn't mean he wasn't still the leader, wasn't still-

"I know yeh will."

He nodded curtly and Raand was dismissed. There was a reason he'd hunted down The Band, these four men alone, out of the dozens of names he could have recruited. They could be relied on, to take the weight of leadership from his shoulders when he needed them to. He looked over at Vaul working on Maxine, resetting her shoulder with the brutal efficiency of a gutter healer. None of them would be considered doctors in any refined place; all of them had seen as many wounds as any learned man with his scrolls and books and certificates.

Vaul gave his diagnosis, Kasoria not looking at him as he did. His eyes were on her. A bald healer traveling with the caravan had arrived, hands already bloody from his business among the rest of the passengers. He had a couple of assistants with him, faces pale from what they'd seen but hands steady, willing to learn. They looked to him and he shook his head, pointing to her.

"Take care a' her. Gimme yer forceps."

The healer blinked a few times, as if surprised that Kasoria would know that word, but obeyed. Then he turned to Maxine and started to examine her, even as she began slowly slumping down to the ground.

"You never needed me on this job..."

The Raggedy Man listened in silence, as she spoke and the bald man worked. They all did. Vaul and Belial, Mikiros looming over them all like a blood-splattered mother hen. Face pinched and hard from fighting back the pain, he used his good hand to dig the forceps around the arrow shaft... then spread the wound... pushing deeper to grab the arrow head. Simply ripping it out would do just that: rip flesh, widen the wound, increase bleeding, make it all the harder to stitch. This way was better... and far more painful.

He barely felt it. Just another wound. Another scar. Another dead cunt who'd tried and failed.

"I never wanted to be sober, Kas..."

Metal and wood dropped down to the grass. Kasoria flexed his hand and judged that his arm wasn't useless. He snapped his fingers for a dressing and wound the pure white fabric around the wound. Later he would stitch it; for now he was worried more about the bleeding.

"Not even for you. I'm sorry."

She was on her side now. Letting the healer and his students go to work on her back, and... Fates, her fucking front, too. Kasoria was crouched in front of her, unable to do anything but watch. He couldn't help her. The irony was not lost on him. He watched as the men jabbered in a tongue he didn't know, cleaning the holes in her, packing in gauze, picking out shards of wood and metal from her catsuit with painstaking care.

I'm sorry.

He sighed, and to her eyes, he must have looked every inch the Old Man she'd always known him as. Moreso, these trials. Best years behind him, along with all his regrets. Pushing on through bloody-minded refusal to die, force of habit, and the nameless hope he could... be better. Do better. Even a little bit. She was another example of that, and his anger at her was as much because he saw his own failure as he did her own weakness. Of the two, the latter was stronger, and he'd barely considered it.

Stupid old man.

"Don't die a'fore we get to the city," was all he managed to say. His mouth opened again, and maybe she could see something hidden and ill-tended he finally had the balls to voice. Something he trusted her to hear, and The Band to ignore. But then he thought otherwise. The moment past. All the was left was sadness and regret... and that ironclad decision he could not turn back on now. "We're not done yet."

He sat back on his haunches as the healers worked. As they patched her up. As the caravan collected its wounded, buried its dead, stripped their dead enemies of food, weapons, armor, coin, anything of value. When they were ready to move again, they lifted up Maxine onto the back of a wagon, healer adamant through a translator that she couldn't ride.

Kasoria didn't move from her side when they did. Still not speaking. Not looking at her. But not going anywhere.

"Well... when you are..."

The words could have been her imagination. He didn't say them again. Then they were rolling onwards to Korlasir, leaving nothing but corpses and crumbing spikes in their wake.

[Kasoria]

Rewards Requested

Notes/Warnings: Trouble, drama, bloodshed and magic on the road to Korlasir! Serious injuries for them both, more physical for Maxine, Overstepping for Kas.

Thread: Troubled Path
City/Area: Korlasir

Skill Knowledge:
1. Athletics: Diving and Swinging a Blade in the Same Instant
2. Endurance: Ignoring an Arrow in Your Arm
3. Leadership: Commanding More Than Just Your Own Men
4. Medicine: Removing an Arrowhead
5. Medicine: Arrowheads are Made to Cause Damage Coming Out, too
6. Medicine: Cleaning, Packing, Dressing a Spear Blow Through the Torso
7. Endurance: A Friend in Danger Can Motivate Through Agony
8. Endurance: Just Another Wound
9. Mount (Horse): Directing Horse's Direction Through the Reins
10. Combat, Ranged (Shortbow): Targeting the Vulnerable Parts of a Horse
11. Tactics: Targeting the Mounts of a Cavalry Force
12. Abrogation - Shield (Master): Forming a Dome of Protection Around a Wagon-sized Area

MAXINE

Skills Used: Detection (Grandmaster), Unarmed Combat (Master), Athletics (Master), Combat, One-Handed Blades (Master), Deception (Master), Endurance (Master), Intimidation (Master), Tactics (Master), Leadership (Expert), Resistance (Expert), Strength (Expert), Mount: Horse (Novice)

Skill Knowledge:
1. Deception: Hiding Drug Use
2. Deception: Exposing Secrets to Manipulate Opinions
3. Intimidation: Challenging Staring Eyes
4. Mount: Hoisting Onto a Saddle
5. Mount: Spurring a Horse to Charge
6. Mount: Maintaining Balance While Swinging a Sword
7. Mount: Steering Between Enemy Calvary
8. Mount: Riding Two in a Saddle
9. Endurance: Weathering a Spear in the Back
10. Blades: Driving a Gladius Into The Heart
11. Blades: Butchering a Barghest’s Underbelly
12. Unarmed Combat: Driving an Avriel’s Chin to Their Chest to Disrupt Flight

!	Message from: Pig Boy
	Done!

[Pig Boy]

Max

Rewards

• Renown: 10
• XP: 15

Knowledges

• Deception: Hiding Drug Use
• Deception: Exposing Secrets to Manipulate Opinions
• Intimidation: Challenging Staring Eyes
• Mount: Hoisting Onto a Saddle
• Mount: Spurring a Horse to Charge
• Mount: Maintaining Balance While Swinging a Sword
• Mount: Steering Between Enemy Calvary
• Mount: Riding Two in a Saddle
• Endurance: Weathering a Spear in the Back
• Combat: Blades: Driving a Gladius Into The Heart
• Combat: Blades: Butchering a Barghest’s Underbelly
• Combat: Unarmed: Driving an Avriel’s Chin to Their Chest to Disrupt Flight

Kasoria

Rewards

• Renown: 10
• XP: 15

Knowledges

• Athletics: Diving and Swinging a Blade in the Same Instant
• Endurance: Ignoring an Arrow in Your Arm
• Leadership: Commanding More Than Just Your Own Men
• Medicine: Removing an Arrowhead
• Medicine: Arrowheads are Made to Cause Damage Coming Out, too
• Medicine: Cleaning, Packing, Dressing a Spear Blow Through the Torso
• Discipline: A Friend in Danger Can Motivate Through Agony
• Endurance: Just Another Wound
• Mount: Directing Horse's Direction Through the Reins
• Combat: Ranged: argeting the Vulnerable Parts of a Horse
• Tactics: Targeting the Mounts of a Cavalry Force
• Abrogation: Shield (Master): Forming a Dome of Protection Around a Wagon-sized Area

Notes:Yay, a nice long story. I love those.

I'm impressed that the Band took the dangerous but faster route through the Forest of Corpses. It at least ensures the Band won't be bored in the slightest, which is probably half the point of gonig that way. It'd be easy to take the safe route, and then get blind-sided by some clueless bandits who catch you unawares. But here everything wants to kill you, so at least you know where you stand.

And oof for Maxine getting caught in her relapse... And worse than that, trying to hide it and putting on an act of withdrawal. The sense of betrayal for Kasoria was well executed here. Addiction is a sensitive and personal topic to address in fiction, but you two do so well at it witih sensitivity, accuracy and poise, without treating it like a gimmick. I really appreciate that.

Maxine's retort was perfect tho, calling Kasoria on his greed for magic. I do wonder sometimes if that greed for power will tip him over into the side of revelation, bringing him that much closer to Immortalhood than the mortal he was.

The fight with the bandits had a way of mending those rifts. Mutual danger and battle always has a way of sealing rifts in a group that truly is loyal to each other. Even when cracks form, that's the glue that can bring them back to a single unit.

The action scenes here are just too fun and well-written to really even go into detail here. Maxine and Kasoria make a hell of a team, along with their Band. It feels like a proper campaign, as they cut their way through bandits using all of their tricks into the bargain.

The flanking maneuver by the bandits, withi their beasts... or are they the corpse monsters of the Forest? I wasn't sure at first until Maxine mentioned they were Barghests. Damn, these bandits have to be hard to survive in the Forest of Corpses, so they put up a suitable challenge to these two.

The intrigue of the flash of a scene with Noah and the Avriel were an interesting bit of intrigue to add to this. I have to wonder who exactly sent these bandits against them... There are always so many nuances to these stories between you two, really an epic series of threads from one side of the continent to the other. I can't wait to see more.

Great fantastic writing you two!




If you have any questions, comments, or concerns regarding this review, feel free to PM. Enjoy your rewards!