Shadows in the Night (DaGlobster & Mitsu) (M?)

[Mitsu]

The velvet blanket that had been draped across the stars tonight had wrung itself out onto the prospering city of Adela. Like a bucket being thrown from a window, the droplets came violently out of now where. The gods above saw fit to finally cleanse the streets after their clouds had hovered above the city for days.  Rain drops spilled across the streets and homes with a daunting force in an attempt to wash away the filth. Other than the occasional vagrant, the streets were cleared of all life. Nothing wanted to be under the torrential force that Mother Nature imposed.

. . . except two figures.  One on two legs and the other on all four, the two souls kept close to each other for warmth and protection. The humanoid pulled her cloak closer to her chest and the glint of a sword could be seen as her cloak blew about in the wind. The beast kept his head down, but his ears perked up for the sound of those who bore them ill will. They blended into the shadows completely and only thing that gave them away was the glow of the animals blue eyes.

They walked with the hurried pace of those who were being hunted. They looked like refugees seeking shelter, but their looks of cold determination told otherwise. These were battle worn individuals who knew they were outmatched. Fear of the unknown was not what kept the pace, but rather, the knowledge of what could come.

And, to their dismay, they came quickly. As they neared one of the many squares throughout the city, the large onyx cat picked his head up and started to snarl. The long bristles on his shoulders and spine rose to dead spikes and alerted the humanoid next to him. The figure pulled her hood off to reveal a pale, sickly face filled with distress. Cobalt eyes, matching her companions, searched the night in vain. Oh how she hated rain! It masked smells, sounds, and sights and left her shivering like a drowned rat.

Bam! From nowhere, the shape shifter felt an explosion of pain in her right shoulder after an arrow punched itself into her flesh. Close, but the marksman probably didn't account for the wind, making the shot non-fatal. Thank goodness she was left handed! Breaking off the stem enough for her to fight, the woman yanked the cloak off and summoned the wind around her.  They would have no hope of hitting her now with the fury of the storm summoned by her need. The element felt her fear and anger and intensified in reaction to it.

More arrows tried to break through her shield, but were tossed away like children's toys. It was then three figures immerged from the crevasses between buildings with swords drawn, menace glittering in their eye as lightning struck above. As the new figures started to approach and circle her, the woman let out an ungodly war cry that didn't fit her size. The men and woman coming at her stopped for a moment as they watched her eyes start to glow in the night and fangs protrude from her mouth. Her nails become visible in the low lights given off by street lamps and another snarl came from the now feral being.

But these attackers were not greenies; they renewed their approach with only the slightest hint of caution. It was the woman to her right that attacked first, attempting to take advantage of her injured shoulder. The shape shifter just had enough time to deflect it before she had to block another attacker from her left.

The beast had already charged the third and was tackling him to the ground as the shape shifter parried another swing. With a flurry of practiced moves, the outnumber humanoid was able to keep her attackers at bay for what seemed like hours, but was only moments. It was just a matter of time before one landed a blow. It came to her thigh and made her scream in agony when it cut deep. The distraction allowed for the man to slice another deep gouge across her back.

Buckling down to one knee, the woman managed to regain enough composure to renew her defense.  Backed against a wall and down to her knees, tears of frustration started to pour down her cheeks. But in the hammering rain she couldn't tell the difference between her blood, the rain, and her tears. Only the heat from the red liquid let her know how much she was losing. . . and it was a lot.

The woman aggressor stabbed her target in the side of the abdomen when the humanoid blocked a swipe from her partner and smile as she watch the target crumple to the ground.

"Shaka!" shouted the target as she fell.

The beast was upon the woman in seconds. The weight on the giant cat pinned her to the ground and the shape shifter was able to hear the cracking of bones above the drumming of rainfall. A similar exclamation of pain came from the crushed assailant as her target stood in the gap of time she had. The man tried to raise his sword against the beast, but his friend dug his blade into the haunch of the cat first.

In a giant swipe the cat knocked them both back and was able to run to his companion's side. The shape shifter's eyes no longer glowed and she grasped her side in an attempt to stem the blood loss. Two more attackers joined the group when the woman accoster did not stand back up.

Now the two blue eyed souls were backed into the end of an alleyway with nowhere to go and nothing to protect themselves with. Drained of energy, the shape shifter went back to her original form. The cat looked up at her with sorrowful eyes and they both knew that this was going to be it.

No.

This wasn't going to be it. As the four humans walked confidently down the narrow passage, the shape shifter stepped forward proudly. Her white, billowy tunic now stuck to her body and had been dyed red from her blood giving her a ragged appearance. They laughed as she pushed matted hair out of her eyes and put her hands upon her hips.

"What? Going to give an epic speech before we cut you both down? Or are you offering yourself up first to spare your friend some time?" asked the man up front, presumably the leader.

The woman smiled back and smugly said, "No, I will give you something to remember us by."

She didn't give them enough time to reply back as she raised her hands to the sky. Instantly, fire erupted from the ground despite the rain. It engulfed her being and licked at the air around her while the attackers shrieked. Though damped by the rain, the rage that fueled the flames kept it burning bright. One fell to the fire as the other three retreated out of the alley.

Pushing the fire to the mouth of the lane, the shape shifter turned to the bristling cat, "Leave now while I hold them off!"

"NEVER!" roared Shaka, "I will not leave you again! I will die beside you like I should have. "

The woman turned a confused eye to him, but did not have time to question the odd statement. He had never left her before, what was he talking about? Maybe it was the loss of blood. There was already a pool beneath them both and she didn't know how much more they could lose.
Alas, that was all she had. The fire wall dropped when she dropped to the ground. Gasping in horror, the shape shifter's companion stepped over her protectively.

"Iris! Iris wake up! Don't do this to me! Please! PLEASE!!!!" He called to her as she remained slumped on the stone. She didn't even twitch as he pulled her back when the attackers reenter the passage.

"IRIS!!!!!" roared the cat into the night.

((Sorry, it's a bit long. Haven't RP'ed in a while so it was all pent up and I tend to make intro posts long anyway. Don't feel like you have to match this unless you want to. =) ))

[DaGlobster]

Herrick hated storms.

Seated on an open roof and wearing his night burglary armor, Herrick wasn't quite sure what he was waiting for. He had overheard in the tavern from a group of rowdy looking mercenary types they they were supposed to "collect" on a bounty tonight, and being the curious type, he had decided to acquire prime seating to witness this event.

So far, he had remained the spectator, but as he usually did, he decided to intervene on a whim. There was no particular reason. Perhaps it's because he was an underdog at heart, and he favored the unknown woman and her large cat companion.

So, as the assailants were closing in to finish their job in the alley, Herrick merely stepped over the edge of the roof, Cheesecutter in his hand. He landed in the alley just behind the leader, cleaving his dagger into his skull. The blade came to a stop against the top of his brain stem, and his head flopped to the ground into two separate pieces.

The woman next to the leader spun about, throwing a wild surprised swing. Herrick ducked this with practiced ease, leaving Cheesecutter inside the leader's twitching body as he grabbed the hilt of his rapier and drew it, slamming the bottom of the wrist-protector into the woman's face, hitting her right on the bridge of the nose. An audible crunch sounded out, and she fell back agains the wall, screaming and grasping at her busted face.

He parried the attack that the third mercenary threw at him, and leveled a sharp, thrusted kick at his knee. The limb snapped backwards like a dry twig, and Herrick followed up by ramming the point of his rapier through the man's throat as he doubled over, tearing it out sideways and producing a fan of blood.

He turned to the woman, and in a moment he had his massive pistol drawn, primed, and aimed. He fired, the massive conical bullet obliterating the woman's head and making a bloody crater in the wall. The pistol itself might have been firing a lightning bolt, because it thundered louder than the crashes coming from the sky.

Herrick turned his head over to the large cat, regarding it. The entire altercation had taken about a second.

"You need some help?"

[Mitsu]

The beast was saying his goodbyes to the world and to his companion when another shadow descended from the sky. Covered in the color of the night, black, he made quick work of the assailants. Shaka watched in wonder as the new warrior hacked and slashed through their flesh like it was warm butter or cheese. He had taken them by surprise and watching him kill was like watching art; his movement as quick as the lightening above.

With the explosion of his pistol -cannon more like it- the fight ended as quickly as it had started. Shaka was still stunned by the turn of events by the time the man had turned to him and asked if he needed help. He wasn't one to accept the help of random strangers normally. But seeing as he had just saved his life, Shaka was willing to make an exception.

In a swirl of black, Shaka shifted his own shape into a tall man with eerily bright eyes for a humanoid. With shoulder length raven hair and angular face, he looked a lot like his companion. He stood naked in the rain, but didn't even shiver. It looked like he was used to being exposed in bad weather.  Even the gaping wounds on his leg and back that still trickled blood didn't register on his face. Slowly, as if trying to get used to his arms and legs again, he reached down and picked up the pack off the ground.

"Thank you for the assistance. We could use all the help we can get right now," calmly said the man with the slightest growl emitting under all his words, "Do you know of any healers nearby or any shelter we can take?"

He pulled on a white shirt and baggy pair pants while he talked that. They were a little small for him, but they managed to cover him. Within moments the new clothes were soaked, but they at least made him decent to wander the streets.

After he finished dressing, he picked up Iris up and threw her over his shoulder like she weighed nothing. His powerful muscles bunched noticeably in his wide shoulders, but the strain once again did not show on his face.

Now he surveyed their newcomer.

He was a wiley looking character with a glint in his eyes that Shaka didn't quiet trust, but nonetheless looked like a good person. He was pretty sure that this helper would do as he said and not cause too much trouble. Shaka hadn't lived this long without learning how to judge character.

Without much more hesitation, he stuck out his hand to shake. It was an odd gesture considering the situation, but he offered it anyway, "The name is Shaka and my companion here is Iris."

[DaGlobster]

"A pleasure, Shaka. It's not every day I get to meet a shapeshifter and her...cat...man." Herrick stumbled, not exactly sure what term to use to describe Shaka. sticking out his hand and shaking Shaka's with a carelessness that suggested he hadn't just ended the lives of three other human beings.

"As for the healers, none of the good ones will open their doors to you at this hour. There's a lot of burglars around here who pretend to be wounded just to get inside. However...." He trailed off, glancing backwards, and then back towards Iris. "Wait...did you get whoever hit her with that arrow?" He asked, turning around and beginning the process of loading his pistol, hunching over to protect the cartridge from the downpour.

[Mitsu]

Shaka nodded his head gravely as he took in the information that this new character ((lolz)) had given him. As a mostly honest beast –man- whatever, he wouldn't have thought to rob someone by pretending to be in need. But, it made sense after the man mentioned it. It was a shame that people with real need were turned away because they scum of the earth ruined it. Shifting his weight under Iris, he narrowed her eyes as she churned over what to do. Shaka couldn't heal a fruit fly even if he put all his might into it. His only magical ability was his shape shifting.

Sighing in resignation, he waited for the man to present his other option. When he switched his line of thought and asked about the last assailant, Shaka shook his head this time, "We didn't. He ran off when he saw my companion catch fire." He felt the urge to pick his ears up and twirl them around to hear, but caught himself when his ears only twitched backwards.

It wouldn't have done him much good anyways since the rain was still droning everything out. With his human ears, he felt stuffed in a muffled box where only half the sounds he normally heard made it to him. Subconsciously fiddling with his ears, Shaka wished he didn't have to stick in one form for so long. It disoriented him something terrible. He was a shape shifter, meant to change his appearance like the wind changed its course. Iris was the only shifter he had seen who preferred her natural form a majority of the time. He knew of others who would change themselves as often as they changed clothes.

But that wasn't going to do him much good now. He was too tired to be changing himself; he had lost too much blood. Turning into a human took all he had left and holding Iris was taking the last of all his will. He needed a healer. She needed a healer. And they both needed somewhere to rest.

Growling, sounding more beast than man at that moment, Shaka surveyed the area, "We'll have to watch out for him, but we need to move locations. Either way, we are sitting ducks right now."
Picking up the pack onto his other shoulder, he looked to the new fighter, "Lead the way. . . ?" Shaka trailed off looking for the man's name.

((Shall we have the rouge bowsman come after them when we find a healer? And please excuss my typos; work is so distracting! Lolz :P))

[DaGlobster]

"Right..." Herrick commented suspiciously glancing up towards the rooftop edges above the alley before returning to his pistol. Its mechanism was unique to say the least. Rather than load through the muzzle, the entire barrel unhinged itself and hung forwards, allowing Herrick to load it through the back with relatively little effort. He reached into his bandolier, and took out a single, conical bullet. He put it in the breach, and reaffixed the barrel with the other hand. The barrel clicked into place, and Herrick placed the hand-cannon back onto his rear hip.

From his belt, he took a much more mundane looking pistol, and dropped it at the feet of one of the men he killed.

"As I was saying before I interrupted myself, I know a guy. He owes me a favor from a gig back in Connlaoth. Remind me to tell you all about it when we get there. For now, put some hustle in your step. We've got a few streets to cross." He explained as he kneeled down to pick up Cheesecutter, sheathing it in a small chest-scabbard. He crept up to the edge of the alley, and peered around the corner.


(hmmm, I think that's a good idea.)

[Mitsu]

The gun, cannon, whatever, was sure a strange device. It packed a punch he had never quite seen in a weapon before and was loaded in an odd manner. It didn't even look like it was made of metal. Whatever it was, the man handled it was ease of many years training.
"Will do," was all Shaka said to both statements. He would be eager to hear about their savoir, but he was more eager to be dry of rain and blood.

If anything, Shaka did have hope they would make it. Sure, they had been attacked while trying to escape after being previously weakened by a mystery illness. Sure, he was now bleeding and trying to run in the rain after assuming a form he hadn't done in over 400 years. Sure, things were looking really bad. But, in living all the years he had, Shaka knew that sometimes surviving it one step at a time was all the options you had left. After all, he had closed his eyes not thinking he would open them again to find that he would live a hundred years more. He had done it again tonight with the help of this stranger.

Whether he had found a saint or a sinner, was left for time to tell however. It was not for him to know the intentions of others, he had no such gift. He had honed his skill as much as he could and now hoped that fate had rolled a good hand. If things did end up in their favor, there was a sizable purse of coins in his bag that he would have this man's name on it. Shaka knew his worth enough to rewards someone for saving it. But it was nothing in comparison of Iris's.

As he half-blindly stumbled behind the nimble man, Shaka tried to ignore the nagging feeling that Iris had finally pushed herself pass her limit. He hoped that she wasn't now dead and he carried nothing but a corpse on his back.

He dispelled the thoughts as they started to near a set of squished together buildings. They looked like a bunch of toads that squatted together on a log in the rain. Shaka barely noted this however since exhaustion was heavy on him now. He was painting openly now, but continued to hold the pain off his face. It was almost as if he didn't quite know how to use it. But he sure did grit his teeth as he adjusted Iris on his back again. It looked as if the man in front of him was slowing, but it could have also been because he spotted something. Holding his breath, Shaka waited to see if their journey had ended.

[DaGlobster]

Herrick's walking was deliberate and confident, despite the fact that there was probably an archer hunting them. It was the walk of a man who had seen the worst of the world, and even of worlds beyond, and had lived to tell the tale with a smile on his face. Herrick was definitely an interesting specimen, walking a strange sort of purpose. It was almost like every step on this stormy, dark street was a new possibility for him, and he peered around corners and into windows as they passed them.

His pace was relatively light and quick, but he moved just slowly enough for Shaka to keep up, keeping at least five feet ahead of him,

Finally, he stopped, and walked backwards a couple paces to a building they had just passed. It was a shabby looking establishment, but it reeked of herbs and alchemical reagents even in this deluge. A sign hung from the door.

Crembor's Herbal and Alchemical Solutions

"This is the place." Herrick said plainly, and walked up to the door. He raised a fist to knock, but quickly lowered it, instead preferring to draw his heavy pistol and knock on the door with the butt of it, the dense, wooden thuds produced by it echoing down the street.

"Who's there?!" Came a crabby sounding voice from the other side after a couple of seconds.

"The only man crazy enough to go to you for help, Crembor. Open up." Herrick replied, placing his pistol back where it belonged.

"...Herrick? Piss off!"

"You OWE me, Crembor. Open this door, or the next knock will be with my foot!" Herrick yelled, and after a few quiet seconds, shuffling could be heard on the other side, followed by the sound of the door's bolt clicking open. The door opened just a crack, and a pale, balding old man stuck his head out. He was tall, almost as tall as Herrick, and there was something awfully ghoulish about his pale, stretched skin.

"Friends of yours?"

"No, Crembor. I only take my enemies to doctors." Herrick said flatly as he pushed through, brushing Crembor out of the way. Crembor practically snarled, but he remained quiet. Herrick motioned for Shaka to follow him into the dimly lit apothecary's shop, clearing a table of metal silverware with a firm swipe of his arm, and motioning for Shaka to put Iris on it.

[Mitsu]

Shaka had been worried for a moment when he saw the man pull out his gun to knock. Why would he need to use that instead of his fist? But the cat. . . man didn't worry too much longer when nothing dangerous happened. The only thing to come to the door was a tall, pale man. He looked like a skeleton with skin pulled over to cover the decay. There wasn't much to him and his eyes seemed to pop out of his bald head. If Shaka wasn't dizzy from the blood loss, he would have wondered if the man was a ghoul. The resemblance was uncanny, that was for sure.

But he didn't have time for that or pleasantries. He followed after the hand cannon wielding man and only muttered a small thank you and apology as he went by. Shaka guessed that if he had a real problem he would have shot him in the face by now.

Pulling Iris off his shoulder, he looked to the table that she was supposed to be laid upon. From the sound of metal utensils clashing to the floor, Shaka guessed that the poor man was either working or eating before they came in. But, it looked clean enough and at this point did it matter? He and she had both dripped blood all over the floor and as he laid her down the blood started to pool there. His white shirt had a red river running from his shoulder that was not from him. Shaka had to hold his breath for a moment so he wouldn't become emotional.

He had lost a good pint or two by now, but he was suffering from only cuts. Some were deep, but he didn't have an arrow still lodged in his chest. He had been proud to see her snap the shaft off and continue to fight. She had been taught well, but now was paying the price. Could she recover after bleeding out so much? She was so small compared to him. . .

Snap out of it! chided Shaka to himself, She is a tough one and will live to fight and sing another day.

He hadn't been this wound up since. . .

Iris hadn't been attacked like this since they had been on their adventure. He never had to see her that . . . pale.  Gah, what had gotten into him? One would wonder if he had seen hundreds of years and thousands of deaths before.

He turned glowing blue eyes to the man who had shut the door and now looked at them with a narrowed glare. Before he could snap at them, Shaka took a giant step forward to close the gap between them. Look down at the man still, Shaka snarled, "She's a good girl that hasn't done any wrong to no one. I've got coin if that's what you're concerned about, I won't cheat the man trying to save my . . . companion's life."

Yanking the few coins he had pulled from the bag -enchanted to only be seen to the owner- he showed that he wasn't lying. He would pay any amount of money at this point. He wouldn't be so reckless normally, waving money and words around with abandon, but he didn't know what else to do. Iris and him traveled the world and played at human interaction. It wasn't their forte by any means.

Swallowing his pride and panic, he added at the end, "Please."

((Sorry, didn't have much to add. After the guy starts work on Iris, you want to take on the last baddy?))

[DaGlobster]

Crembor looked at Shaka, and then at the coins. He smiled, showing his oddly sharp teeth, and made to take the coins with his thin, bony fingers before he caught sight of Herrick, glaring at him from behind Shaka.

Crembor cleared his throat, and returned his hands to himself, idly rubbing his hands together. "No need to pay me. Herrick's cashing in on his favor." Crembor said with a light growl as he moved past, apparently unimpressed by Shaka's assertiveness. He pushed past Shaka, his touch as cold as the grave itself (and somehow even a bit numbing). He moved over to the table, looming over Iris as he evaluated her situation.

"Just on time. You've brought her just on time..." He muttered, and leaned in to inspect her wounds closer. "Thankfully, nothing too important's been...damaged." He continued to nobody in particular. He took off his overcoat, showing the sleeveless vest he wore underneath, and walked over to the counter where he had a pair of dirty, old-looking spectacles.His body was just as bony and stretched looking as his face. One could almost make out the workings of his elbow joints. He put the spectacles on as he searched behind his counter, coming back with a moderately sized box that clinked and clanged. He opened it up, pulling out a leather apron and several wooden trays filled with surgical tools.

Herrick observed Crembor almost too attentively. Almost like he didn't fully trust the old man himself. Thankfully, the tension was broken by an arrow flying through the window, grazing Herrick's shoulder plate and embedding itself in the rim of the table Iris was on. Immediately, Herrick spun around, diving to the ground and rolling towards the window, remaining in cover.

"Cut off your tail, Herrick. If I miss a stroke here, this young lady's as good as cooked." Crembor growled, and Herrick nodded.

"I'll leave you alone, Crembor. But so help me if you-"

"I know how it goes. Spare me your threats."

Herrick nodded again, before peering out of the window. Another arrow buried itself in the windowsill, and Herrick went back down.

"Any ideas, Shaka?"

[Mitsu]

Herrick was their new companions name, eh? The thought momentarily distracted Shaka before he heard:

"Just in time. . ."

Those words were all that filled his head for a moment or two. They almost overwhelmed him so much that he felt slightly dizzy. . . . Or was that the blood loss? He couldn't tell anymore and didn't care. She had been close to dying and his every effort had counted. It balanced itself out. He leaned against the chair that occupied the space next to him and took the second to breath. Today would end well. As long as she lived, the day would be fine.

Shaka put a silent prayer into the air to whatever higher power was listening. Something up there wanted them to live and for the time being he appreciated it. Only time would tell if he would regret it. There were fates truly worse than death.

Wiping his brow from the sweat collecting, he tried to ignore the look that the rouge gave the healer. It didn't sit well with him that even their guide wouldn't trust him as far as he could - actually that was a bad analogy. The man was so thin that one could probably throw him very far. More appropriately, he just was trustworthy as a ghoul.
And -

THUNK!

-an arrow buried its head deep into the table in front of him! ((O.O)) ((<- sorry had to put that there)) He ducked to the floor with cat like reflects and barred his teeth defensively. Realizing that he wasn't a giant black panther, Shaka stopped growling and started crouching like a humanoid. He heard the undead men tell him to lose the archer or else he would be butchering Iris's surgery. He could not have that!

He scuttled over to where his pack was and yanked out the bow and quiver. Thank goodness Iris kept these! He hurriedly slung the quiver across his shoulder after stringing his bow. Hundreds of years ago he had been a brilliant archer; not the absolute best, but he impressed a girl or two. But could he do it all these years later? Especially without practice and not even being in a humanoid form? Frankly, it didn't matter either. He would have to be good enough.

When another arrow stopped at the window seal, he heard Herrick ask, "Any ideas, Shaka?"

Did he have any ideas? He had a bow and some arrows. But what was he going to do with them? He grumbled under his breath as thoughts darted in and out of his mind. Damn this fuzz around his brain! He didn't have the energy to be chasing this archer around.

Or did he have to chase him down?

Shaka turned his head to take his nimble friend in. A smile started to form across his face as he painfully crawled to Herrick. Quickly, he explained his crazy idea, "Alright. If you can spook the archer out of his hiding spot, I'll pick him off. I saw a set of barrels to the left of the door so I'll set up there. If you can get him to run between the two buildings in front I'll be able to hit him. I have a feeling that he isn't too far away. After all, there is no vantage point outside this alley way."

He searched the man's face in front of him for an indication of how he felt about the plan.

[DaGlobster]

Herrick thought about the plan, scanning the ground idly as he thought. The rain had started to die down, reducing to a heavy drizzle from the torrential downpour of before. After a few seconds, Herrick nodded, cracking a smile.

"I'm on it, Shaka. Be ready."

He popped his pistol forwards again, sliding out the bullet that was already there in favor of a fairly bullet-sized glass container filled with small metal balls and a milky white substance. "I've only got one of these, so let's make this count. You ready?"

(Short post away!)

[Mitsu]

Shaka watched with some resignation as Herrick loaded some odd white glass container in the chamber of the hand cannon. What was thing that he loaded? Was it magical in nature or a child of science? What would it do upon impact or firing? So many questions he had and no time to ask. The one question he really wanted the answer to, but had no what of getting it was: would either of them going to live through the night?

But he had to continue on and fight like he was. Giving up now would only make him pass out. His will was all that kept him going at the moment. Glancing over once more to Iris lying on the table, he steeled his will. That's when he heard "You ready?"

Turning to look at Herrick again, Shaka nodded his head sternly. Shaka couldn't be more ready with any more time. In fact, time was of the essence. Blood was still running down his leg and side and the dizziness was at its pinnacle. Without another second to spare, he ran in a crouch towards the door while another arrow whizzed past his head. Whoever this was, they were sure determined to get the bounty on their head. How the archer tracked them all the way here was a mystery. Even with the blood trail left by both of them, the rain should have washed it all away.

One, two, three. . . , counted Shaka before he flew out the door and around the corner to the barrels. Another arrowed buried itself into the used keg before him while he notched his own. He thought that he heard Herrick exit the house, but that thought quickly was absorbed by another. Could he even pull the arrow back?

The first try to pull back the arrow was a failure. When he tried the world started to black out around the edges and he almost fell over. After a breath, he tried again with more concentration. This time he went slower and was able to get it back all the way, but wasn't able to hold it for long. So he would have to listen hard enough to hear the archer coming through the rain so he would have time to draw the bow. Then, he would have aim quickly enough for his arm not to give out. Great.  . .  Sounded like half a plan to him

Poised with the box ready in his lap, Shaka trained his eye through the crack of two barrels and forced his ears to transform. The act almost knocked him out again, but he managed it. He needed to hear more than anything right now. When it came time to shoot he would release the transformation, but for now he had to spare the energy. Not he just had to wait.

[DaGlobster]

Herrick burst through the window shortly after Shaka exited. He dove, coming to a rolling stop outside the store. An arrow grazed his leg, an uncomfortable run of bad luck, but he was able to identify where the shooter was. He was in the opposite alley, concealed by shadows.

Herrick leveled his pistol, actually taking up the barrel in a second hand for this particular shot.

"My turn, you fucker"

When he fired, what came out of his gun was partly white cloud, partly flaming torrent, partly white hot metal pellets which trailed white fire. The sound put ringing in Herrick's ears, and the recoil sent him flying clean off of his feet. He hit the store's wall with a thud, and then hit the ground, dazed.

The archer came running out of the alley in a panic, patting at the white flames that were spreading on his armor and yelling with distress.

[Mitsu]

((SORRY! Had my birthday this weekend and I bet you can imagine what recovery was like. I promise this is the last weekend I miss posting. Usually I'm so good ^^; But busting through a window, eh? Is that why the call it window pain? Lolz!))

Shaka saw an explosion of white fire and smoke ripple out from his left like a dragon's belch. The sound bounced energetically off the walls and careened into his eardrums with a thud. The sudden pain of the sound killed whatever concentration he had left to keep his ears transformed. They formed back into rounded humanoid ears as the light threw him off balance in the dark night.  It all was enough to make the swirling in his head unbearable. Arg! He did not need this seconds before the target was going to come running outside.

But it turned out that Shaka didn't need specialized ears to hear the bowman coming. He cried out in pain and panic while flailing his flaming arms. With that signal the weary man started to pull back the arrow while ignoring the violent shake in his arm. He needed to be stable! With another howl, the lone warrior came running down the alleyway right into Shaka's view. The enemy tried vainly to pat out the white flames starting to engulf his armor, but the magic intertwined with the fire wouldn't give. Not even the drizzle doused the flames that lit the man up like a beacon.

The fear of the man was twisting his face and his eyes into something almost non-human. What was that all about? No matter. Shaka knew the man was too preoccupied to no notice him, let alone shoot at him.

Now was the time to shoot. With precious seconds trickling by, Shaka slowly raised himself over the barrels and took aim. Like riding a bike, feeling the tension in his legs and arms felt natural through all the distress his body was in. It swung him into habit while he peered down the shaft of the arrow at the man. Now green eyes glowed out from the white fire.

This detail was irrelevant to Shaka's trained mind. A breath came to his lungs without beckoning and eyes narrowed in practice. For this single moment, the beast-man was not exhausted, bleeding, or sorrowful. He was one with his bow and his bow one with the arrow. Like a cobra trained on a flute, the metal tip was trained on the man's chest as he bounced about.

One. . .  (watch the wind), Two. . . (watch your breathing), Three. . .  (watch your target) . . .  RELEASE!

Whoosh - thunk!

The glowing green eyes looked down to the arrow that now stuck into his neck. The gurgling noise that he made couldn't be heard above the den of the rain. He fell silently to his death clutching the protrusion.

Panting, the world came back into Shaka in a rush of sensory overload. The rain was too loud and cold and his body would sleep a thousand years. The bow dropped to his side and sweat renewed its flow down his face. Wow. He didn't think he was going to make it. It was a million to one shot -at least in his book- and somehow he had made it. Sometimes, thing worked out because he had no other option if they didn't. Was it the gods who showed him blessing or himself that wouldn't allow failure? He wouldn't know that answer for some time.

The only thing that kept him standing was the want to see Iris alright. He dragged himself back to door and pushed it open with his shoulder. Nodding once to Herrick for thanks, he turned his attention to the man standing over his companion.

"How is she?" croaked out Shaka.

[DaGlobster]

Herrick's head swam, he couldn't really focus on anything right now. He barely processed the fact that their opponent was shot down, the whole thing playing out like some kind of moving picture where only about half of the original images were displayed. He saw the man run out, and the next thing he knew, he was on the ground, an arrow firmly protruding from his neck.

Herrick shook himself off, finally regaining his bearings. Shaka had gone inside, inquiring about Iris.

Inside the building, the scene was quite bad-looking. The table was covered in a coat of blood from Iris, but her chest still moved with her breaths. In a small wooden tray on the table, an arrowhead and a small piece of shaft laid, still covered in crimson. Discarded on the ground were empty potion vials, and Crembor' front and arms were covered in a light coating of Iris' blood. His bony hands were in the process of sewing up the wound in her side. her shoulder wound was already cleaned, stitched, and bandaged, and the minor cuts were treated as well.

Upon hearing Shaka's question, Crembor nodded. "She'll live, but she's going to need much rest after I've finished."

[Mitsu]

Shaka sighed, relieved at last.

Bowing his head in appreciation, Shaka said between pants, "Thank . . . you.  . . "

He felt a wave of nausea flow over him as all of the night's events kept pounding down on his weary head, but he still had one thing left to do: save his savior. He tried to ignore the strong smell of metallic blood as he turned and made his way to the door. It creaked in annoyance when it was pushed open again and Shaka peeked his head out.

The rain had picked up a bit in the last minute, but nothing like earlier. The beast man scanned the shadowed cobblestone looking for Herrick's figure . . . . or body. He really hoped that his fight hadn't taken this man's life. That would weigh on his soul pretty heavy. Luckily, illuminated lightly from the window he had busted through, sat Herrick slouched against the wall -breathing. Shaka sighed another breath of relief. It looked like the gods were in his favor tonight. Walking back out into the rain, Shaka came before Herrick with a mild look of concern.

He looked disoriented, but otherwise fine. Offering up a hand, Shaka helped Herrick stand and make his way back into the shelter of the healer's house ((It's a minor gm, but if not okay let me know)). Once they were back inside, he helped Herrick to a seat and then seated himself in another wooden chair. The ghoul finally finished stitching Iris's wounds and now made slow work of cleaning up the mess of blood.

Normally, Shaka would have helped. He appreciated everything that the man had done and wanted to give back to him in some way. It was just his nature. But as of right now, he couldn't lift his head off the chair even if he wanted to. Managing to snag the bag that he had tossed close to the chair, Shaka pulled out a blanket and immediately fell asleep. His eyes didn't stand a chance against the exhaustion that crashed down on them.

*                *                *

In the morning, Shaka found himself on the table. He jumped from being startled awake by a sharp pain in his side. Azure eyes opened wide in shock and he was about to strangle whoever was trying to kill him before he heard death in his ear, "I wouldn't move if I were you."

It was the ghoul. He was stitching up his side up and by the stinging in his leg he could tell that the wound there had already been taken care of. While he lay still, Shaka slowly evaluated the rest of his body. All the other major and minor wounds had been taken care of and his side was the last to be repaired.

After about another hour on the table, Crembor finished up and shooed him away from the table as he started to clean.

Shaka nodded his in thanks again and made his way down the narrow hall. Off to the left, he felt a pull. She was there. For some reason, he had always felt a pull to her. She could have been miles away and he only needed to close his eyes to feel her direction. He didn't know if it was the animal in him or. . . .

He didn't want to think of such things. As it was, he could no longer stay in this form. Iris had never seen him in his human form. In fact, she didn't even know he had a human form. To her, he was a panther and nothing more. She never questioned if he was a shape shifter like her. Why would she?

Steps before the door, he slipped into his previous form. It was hard and slightly painful process with the stiches, but everything managed to stay shut once he finished. Shaking himself out, Shaka felt out the form he had been in for so long. It came quickly for him and made him wonder for a moment if being humanoid was more foreign to him now than being an animal.

Shaka quickly pushed open the door that was slightly ajar to ignore those thoughts. Iris sat on the bed with a quill and paper in hands with an intense look of concentration furrowing her brow. When she heard the door open, her blue eyes searched the door way for a split second before she recognized the furry creature standing there. She let out a squeal of utter elation and jumped off the bed towards him.

Being careful not to hurt him, she wrapped her arms around him with tears gathering in her eyes, "I thought you were gone! I couldn't find you anywhere. Where have you been?"

Shaka made up some excuse about needing to go to a different doctor and that's where he had been. She readily accepted that answer and continued to hug him. 

((Sorry, did a time jump since I really couldn't see that night going anywhere else. If there are any problem, please let me know! I figure we'll regroup and head out?))

[DaGlobster]

(The minor GM's no problem, but you kind of really stepped on my toes when you completely took over Crembor. I know it sounds a bit whiney, but he was my NPC, and that whole exchange was really not consistent (at least to me) with how I've played his the character so far. Just letting you know for the future)

Crembor watched Shaka  go down the hall and into Iris' temporary room, a slightly distasteful look on his face. "Shapeshifters..." He muttered to himself, and the sound of an opening door behind him caused him to turn around. It was the storefront door, and the man entering was Herrick. He was in more civilian clothes this time around, with a wide hat to help conceal his face from the local guard. He still had his rapier on his belt, but his pistol was not on him.

Such a unique weapon could easily be used to identify him.

Crembor was wiping Shaka's blood off of the table, and then wringing the cloth he used into bottles. "Gods above, Crembor, do you really have to do that?" Herrick said, his face twisted with discomfort.

"Hey, you brought them here, not me. If you didn't want a ghoul in the healing process, then you should've taken them somewhere else. Besides, I've got to get something out of this. I've done more than my part."

"No Crembor, you've done what you owed me."

Crembor scoffed.

"Been alive for a hundred fifty years...too old for this." He muttered, and placed the semi-full bottles in the pantry. "Your shapeshifter friend's finally up. He's with the bard." Crembor said, pointing to the hallway behind him with his thumb.

"In my own damn bedroom as well."

"Crembor, you don't even sleep." Herrick retorted as he passed the lanky old ghoul.

"It's the principle that counts, Herrick. The Principle!" Crembor snapped, and Herrick chose to ignore him. At times, he wished he had let the confrontational old ghoul to be found by the church back in that razor-close job back in Connlaoth, but he supposed that decision had paid off. It doesn't mean he didn't like turning a blind eye to Crembor's cannibalistic practices, but there were some evils that had to be lived with.

Herrick reached the door, taking note that Iris was up and hugging Shaka, and he lightly cleared his throat, standing at the door frame.

"So, how're we feeling this lovely morning?" He said in a cheery voice, trying to ignore the glare that Crembor shot him before returning to his clean-up.