Wrath of the Red Talon

[NightWind]

Standing slack-jawed, anger giving way to surprise and an increasing sense of wariness, Strynn studied the mail-garbed woman before him as she roared with laughter and eyed him like a rabid dog eyes potential prey. 'Maybe she will go berserk after all...' He certainly did not like the way her eyes glinted and flared open, the way her pupils contracted with adrenaline-fueled aggression. But in his inebriated state caution and tact once again melted in the face of irritation as her words bit through.
   "That's because little girls usually have better sense than to run off with poppa's sword in the name of some half-baked crusade, meddling in affairs they're too young and hot-blooded to understand," Strynn retorted dryly. He chose to ignore her comments on his alcoholic nature, he knew that he was a sodden drunk, as well as everyone in the town knew. And was she... Strynn had to stifle a laugh of his own, but one of incredulous disbelief- his trained military eye, despite the haze of drunkenness, recognized the beginnings of a fighting stance! "And if they would only take the trouble to listen to their elders, certain little girls would know better than to try and scrap with those they can't match up with, not to mention the only possible ally in the face of a hostile force of brigands and thugs."

[GoblinFae]

"Crusade? Is that what they called running for you life in your day?" she replied mockingly, has her fingers played with the metal of her hilt. "Besides," Tiraris continued, drawing her sword and letting it rest in a downward angle of defense, "does this look like a man's sword to you? It is a woman's sword. Surely any man who calls himself a soldier would be able to recognize that."

There was a ringing in the assassin's ears that brought a slight upturn of her lips. The song of unleashing Isilotsë was a tune only she could here that sent roiling blood into a deadly calm. She had no intention of truly fighting the man. Tiraris was not one for needless bloodshed. But, if a spar would get him off her case, she was more than willing to put him in his place. She was no little girl. Others had made quite sure of that.

"Ally? Have you gone senile old man? Assassins work alone. I have no need of you. I tolerate you. As for elders, I see no one here who deserves my respect, just a drunken old fool who keeps trying to pick a fight by calling a well-known murderess a little girl. Is death what you seek old man? You are awfully keen on it. Is a fight what you want? Will that at last shut your gob and give me some piece of mind?"

[NightWind]

Strynn readied his shield as soon as he saw the woman begin to draw her sword, his hand wrapping around his own hilt. He relaxed- ever so slightly, but it was there- when he saw her stance, readying herself to ward off an attack that, if he had his way, wouldn't come. 'If I had my way,' he thought to himself, 'I wouldn't be in a church, my home wouldn't be in flames and self-proclaimed assassins wouldn't be testing every grain of my patience.' He listened to her speak in silence, shaking his head slightly.
   Why would this fool of a woman seek a fight with the only human being in the woods that didn't want her blood? Who was she, anyway? The former soldier sighed softly and readied his own weapon, steel rasping on leather as his father's sword left his scabbard. 'Young blood...' He mused wryly. It would appear the heat of youth would be cooled by no other way than a scrap.

   But he'd be damned if he was to strike the first blow. Strynn had been insulted, mocked, and downright ridiculed by a whelp with a chip on her shoulder and he'd be damned if he was going to exert himself any more than he had to. Retaining his silence save for a "haaawk" in his chest, he launched a large glob of spittle straight towards the Tiraris' face. 'If that doesn't set her off, nothing will,' he thought as he readied his sword.

[GoblinFae]

The assassin sneered in disgust as the glob hit her in the face. She slowly reached up and scraped the spittle off her cheek before wiping it on her pantleg. "Is that the best you can do, curmudgeon? Your aim is off; you missed my eye!" Despite her attempts to laugh it off, Tiraris was furious.

Her nostrils flared and her grip tightened before loosening on her sword. The fiery ball within her, raged like a tempest squall upon the high seas, twisting and turning on itself, all the while fueling itself into something larger and more volatile. If her temper and her anger had not been flaring so blindly, she would have been able to check herself and prevent the next chain of events that would occur. But, she felt nothing but contempt and disgust for this excuse of a soldier and let her hatred for him and things past to fester within her until it had not choice but to burst forth.

The mirth of just a moment before was lost in the power of her magic. The playful woman was gone and all that was left in her place was a killer of the highest degree. The air hummed for a moment as he eyes narrowed on her target and then as if a string had been cut, the sound silenced right before the high windows of the old church shattered, raining down shards of glass on them both. Isilotsë flashed in the, whistling as it was dragged through the air and down towards Strynn's meaty thigh.

[NightWind]

The woman's cool tone belied the flush in her face, her overly calm motions. Strynn recognized the signs of anger, and knew how to use them. All he had to do was goad the assassin until she made a mistake, left an opening. He settled into a ready stance as he saw her shift her grip on the sword hilt- and then, a humming noise...
   With an oath and a start, the aged man raised his shield above his head as the windows blew inward, glass rattling off the surface. He started to turn wildly about in search of the raiders, figuring it to be their doing before catching the flashing arc of a blade. Instinct alone saved him a split leg and an arterial wound as he twisted his leg at the hip, the point of her sword scoring along his leather greaves as he flicked his blade downward to angle Tiraris' away from the rest of his leg. His wounded shoulder groaned with the effort of swinging his shield up so suddenly. "Fool girl! Now they know we're here!" He hissed, swinging his sword back up at an angle as he brought his shield before his body again.
   So the assassin's magic went beyond the healing of wounds and poisons. Strynn quickly resolved to change his strategy- stoking a magic-user's rage often led to drastically different results than a warrior's. Looks like he would have to end this as quickly as he could.

[GoblinFae]

"As if they did not know that already as they chased us in here," she spat back, eyes wild with the fire that had been unleashed from within. Her blade swung out again, this time aiming for his injured shoulder even as her attuned ears picked up the sounds of the creatures screeching from afar as they closed in, the thrill of the hunt guiding them brazenly forward.

A dark laugh bubbled forth from her lips as she stared down her companion. "Are you friend or foe, fool? Should it be the latter I would rather kill you now before they get here if it is all the same to you. Fighting two breeds of enemy is more hassle than its worth. While amusing to watch them struggle with you, I have no interest in doing so as well."

Again, Tiraris swung out at him, moving on light and steady feet. "Well old man, what will it be? Death by the little girl or by your people's murderers?"

[NightWind]

"We were out of their range!" Strynn shouted, hiking his shield up to cover his shoulder. He grunted as the shock of contact made his wound ache all the more, and again as he heard the screeches and whoops of the scaly invaders. "Can you really be serious? It was YOU who started this, you who chose to remain." He countered, wincing again as his abused shoulder bore the shock of another blow to his shield. He had to jerk his head back as Tiraris' blade skimmed off the top, were his shield not magically light that one would have scored a telling hit. As it was her sword drew a searing line across his cheek. The woman was fast, no doubt, and well-seasoned.
   "I have better things to do than die, especially at the hands of rabble soldiers and a hot-head youth!" Suddenly he darted forward, moving in close and lashing out with a headbutt, hoping to catch her off-guard. Since she was taller then he was it was easy to aim it right, the trick was to land the brow and forehead into the nose area of the target. Not exactly the knight's way, but rules and rites were for naught in the heat of battle

[GoblinFae]

Pain exploded across her face, temporarily blinding Tiraris and forcing her back a few steps in order to protect herself from any further attacks. Her sword came up in a defensive posture even as her body braced against an attack she could not see.

The pain though was a good thing, it focused her, allowing her to reign in both her anger and the magic that fed upon it. She was still angry with Strynn but it was dulled enough for her to concentrate on the bigger picture at hand. The creatures were still ramming themselves at the rotting wooden door and attempting to climb the very walls to slink through the shattered windows.

"Enough," she growled, the stars in her vision clearing enough to see blurrily while leaving behind a disconcerting red haze on her injured side. Tiraris rolled her jaw, trying to alleviate some of the pain and come up with a plan of action. "We can settle this when we are both dead," she finally relented before adding, "or they are."

Shaking her head, the assassin tried to clear more of her vision but it did nothing except worsen the pain behind her afflicted eye. 'Starstruck. Perfect. Just what I needed right now. You are a dead man when this is over old fool!'

She moved to stand with her literal blind side facing one of the stone walls. It was the only defense she was going to get given that her pupil was constricted from the magic overload and the blow she had taken. "You were once an authority figure, what do you suggest? Or is the reason you are out of commission is because you cracked? I would not be surprised given...your attitudes."

[NightWind]

He straightened out, wincing slightly. Strynn was definitely not as young as he used to be. "So, the young see reason." He said cynically as he lowered his own sword. The shock of the headbutt, coupled with his come-down, made for a nasty sensation. "I just knew you'd come around."
   He sighed and sheathed his sword. "I'd rather it be them, unless you have any objections." He said, hauling on one end of the nearest stone bench and pointedly choosing not to respond to her biting comment. "Help me move a couple of these against the door. Two leaning upright and one bracing those two. We've got a defensible position here, if they can only come at us through the windows we can hold them off. If we're lucky, the main force moved on and there should be no more than a handful- maybe fifteen, most."

[GoblinFae]

Tiraris growled, letting her blade roll across the back of her hand in a swinging arc at her side to relieve some of the anger and frustration that still roiled within her. As much as she wanted to pummel the old codger for his high and mighty attitude but for now she had to reign it in enough to not kill him where he stood. At worst he could still be a useful distraction for the beasts outside while she attempted her own escape. At best he could assist in the massacre that was about to occur.

Wisely, the assassin kept her tongue curbed and heeded the order. She shuffled a bit wobbly over to the benches to assist in placing them in the specified formation. Her eyes squeezed tight in long blinks that still did nothing for her vision and only served to irritate her further as she stewed in silence.

Her ears though were straining to listen beyond the cold stone walls of their sanctuary. Strynn was right in part at least; the entire force had not come to vanquish them. But fifteen was small in comparison to what she suspected she was hearing. It was hard for her though between their screeching howls and the way their piercing voices ricocheted off the stone walls. In her mind's eye Tiraris imagined nearly double the perceived number and clasped her blade tighter. They were in for one hell of a night, provided of course they actually survived it.

"Old man," the assassin called softly, eying him from the corner of her only seeing eye. "You ready for this? I would rather not die tonight because you decided to wimp out on me."

[NightWind]

   Strynn dashed about, making small preparations for the upcoming fight and hoping fervently that his estimation of the forces they'd face was accurate. He was going by memories of raiding parties past rather than ear alone, but one could never really tell. 'We are in a church,' he mused silently. 'If ever there was a time to pray...'
   "Ready as I'll ever be." He grunted, rolling his shoulders and wincing as he clapped a hand to the injured one. "I could use a quaff of something strong about now, but there's nothing for it." His voice still had the thickness of one deep in drink, but he shook his head to ward off the ache and focused his bleary eyes on the assassin. She still seemed to have trouble focusing. "What of you? Are you alright, girl?" As he asked, he snapped the straw off a broom and propped it in the corer of a window. Grunting, Strynn hefted one side of the bench up until it rested on the other end of the broom over the window and stepped back to cast a critical eye over his work. The window was now rigged so that one could not enter without disturbing the broom handle, resulting in a heavy stone bench over the head.
   The old soldier picked up his crossbow, drawing back a bolt. He set several more in easy reach so that he may snatch them up and reload quickly. "Something tells me you haven't come this far just to take a sword in the gut tonight."

[GoblinFae]

Blood-red eyes peered out from the side to silently glare in the darkness at the old fool. "You have marinated long enough soldier. Take a whiff of yourself, and I am sure that will be enough to sustain you. Perhaps the smell of you will be enough to kill them."

Restlessly she rolled her shoulders, flexible chain-mail softly crackling and rippling like the muscles that rested beneath the surface of cloth and skin. The assassin felt like a caged animal waiting for the lock to be sprung and the freedom that came with it. She wanted to kill, to scream, to release the beast battling within her soul.

Her hand fiddled with her grip on her sword, flexing and relaxing to try and not lock up. The last thing she needed was to die because she was not properly prepared for the fight to come. 'Round two. I can do this. Fought worse. Suffered worse. This is nothing.'

A pink tongue darted out to lick cracked lips. Outside the screeches and hollers were right outside their doors. Bodies slammed into stone and wood. For now it held but not long. A few more well aimed hits and blood would begin to run. Tiraris expelled a heavy sigh before at last replying. There was nothing else to do while they waited. 'Not like he will be silent if I ignore him/'

"I am not like you old man. I am not afraid to die. I go into a fighting expecting it," she spoke calmly, with a smirk curling her lips. "If I die then it was my time. If I live, then it was theirs. Just..do not do me any favors. I am not going to save you. I do not expect the same. Enough of this sentimentality," the woman growled, shaking her head and readjusting her footing. The pounding of beasts ran in time with the beat of her heart. Adrenaline was pumping. Someone was going to die tonight.

[NightWind]

   Maybe this strange warrior-woman was right. Maybe he had felt sorry for himself and stewed his problems in alcohol long enough. Maybe he had marinated long enough- not only tonight, but for the past several, several years. It made him a little ashamed. But then, every time he hid behind a bottle of whisky or rye he felt a bit ashamed. And then he felt sorry for himself. And then he decided to drown those feelings in more whisky. Yes, he could definitely use a drink right now.
  Strynn blinked his bleary eyes and shook his head to clear his mind. Now was not the time and place for self-discovery. Now was time to focus, to fight and kill and win. He chuckled at Tiraris' words.
  "My my, aren't we bleak this evening? You seem to be awfully accepting of the idea of fate." The creatures outside rammed the door again, knocking pieces from the door and forcing it open slightly. He coolly brought his crossbow to bear, aimed carefully down the body, and shot. The bolt glanced off the edge of the door and sped into a scaly face as one of them tried to get a good look into the church. Grunting at his shoddy aim, he quickly set his foot in the loop built at the end of his bow, yanking back the arm until it clicked into place. "As for these "favors" you mention, you've already done me one. You've taken up arms at my side, and that makes us comrades." He informed her. "The way I see it, we-"
  Strynn broke off suddenly as he aimed his crossbow, suddenly hearing the scrabbling of claw on stone. "They're coming in through the windows!" He barked, whirling and sending a bolt into the one who sat screeching in the high opening. He heard a crash and the grinding of stone on stone as they at last threw the door open and shoved the benches inward. "Get ready!" He shouted, setting the arm of his crossbow and nocking a bolt with blurring speed.

[GoblinFae]

She was right, he really could not keep his mouth shut. It took all her effort not to swing her sword at his head again in an attempt cleave it from his shoulders. Tiraris could not stand him and his self-assured, self-righteous attitude. She sought no companionship. By fighting she was not choosing to be his comrade-in-arms. How dare he assume such things of her! He had no right! She fought for her own survival. If he managed to make it out of this alive too then more power to him. It had nothing to do with her.

Thankfully the presence of a true threat saved her from having to converse further. His warning fell on deaf ears as the assassin raced forward to meet the intruders head on. It did not matter to her that Strynn was notching up to strike them down from a distance and could very well miss and hit her in the process given his formerly intoxicated state. The agitation and anticipation of fighting drove her forward, perhaps even recklessly into the oncoming wave of adversaries.

The first wave was always the smallest, those that still struggled to open the doors would be cut down while their brethren pushed on behind them. She let their screeches guide her in her dance of death. Their cries of blood lust telling her where her sword should swing home. Those that made it past her were not her concern. For while Tiraris considered herself not honor-bound to protect Strynn, the soldier was the kind of man who would feel such things. He had her back, for now at least.