Battle:A Borderland Skirmish

Part of the Conquest:The Return of the Prek Arc

Summary: A Sage borderland skirmish between the rangers of Sage and Larket, and a hostile advanced Prek scouting party establishes initial, if accidental joint collaboration between Sage, Larket and The Fold, against the Preklek presence.

Characters: Warren, Lirithen, Kasyr, Kumorohyou

LOCATION: Sage; The Grassy Knoll

Merely a continuation of these writhing and playful lands, these hills here seem to be on the edge of a forest. There, some coniferous trees protrude from the gray-brown soil and act as heralds for the lowland forest following. Until then, however, the expanse and already-seen rolling hills and open territory that these lands embody with all the charm of a rainy day extend monotonously to the west and south.

Warren stalks through the eastern borders of Sage Forest like a panther on the hunt, the ranger's stance low and stealthy as he makes his way from tree to tree in an effort to track the small element of prekelek invaders his men have caught wind of not even an hour ago. His feet move across the lush grass as silent as death himself, harlequin eyes peering from underneath the enchanted hood that often hides the human's handsome features. Keen senses pick up upon the sound of several humanoid creatures moving through the bushes, and the woodland rogue quickly takes up a hasty fighting position and readies himself to ambush these unknowing creatures and send them back to whatever hole they came out of.

Lirithen: Pale fingers gripped tightly the sage-wood bow in the tree-born's hands, teeth gnashed tightly together to hold still the shaking of the hand which pulled the elven bowstring taut. He was alone, though he expected as such; his brothers weren't his to command, and with the Archdruid's tests gaining more and more popularity... Silver-haired head ducked low under protruding branches and waving leaves, nimble feet prowling silently over winding boughs and sturdy wooden limbs as Lirithen, like a jaguar stalking its riverside prey, crept through the Sage trees. Preklek. And... others. He hadn't paid their tracks much attention, they were careful enough not to harm the woods. But the Preklek... A blur of movement caught keen elven eye, loaded bow instinctively rounded upon the spot to release the feathered projectile. An alien gargle heralded the 'thud' of a body meeting the forest floor, then all Hell broke loose. Invaders burst from the undergrowth from all directions with intentions to swamp the human troupe below. Lirithen was visible moments later, arrow after arrow shot accurately into alien heads, necks and hearts.

Warren cursed low under his breath for his man's inability to control his nerves, and soon after the youth's arrow slips through his fingers, the experienced ranger leaped into action. The alien invaders were too close for his bow now, and as a result, the ranger had to resort to his secondary weapons, the enchanted-scimitars at his side. With well practiced and smooth motions the twin blades are brought forth, relieving one of the alien warriors of its head clean from its shoulders with little effort. As the silver-haired guardian rains down death from above, Warren begins his dance of death with those upon the forest floor. The green grass of the knoll quickly becomes stained with blood as preklek after preklek falls to either the small regiment of Larket Archers, the arrows of Lirithen, or the sister blades of Warren. Blue-tinted vitae flows like the vibrance river, staining the forest floor with its vile essence as Warren closes in upon one of the key leaders to this small platoon of scouts. The ranger, drugged by the lust of battle, raises his right sword as a call to arms to his adversary. It seems this signal for battle is universal, as the rather large lizard like creature snarls viciously, and pushes his way forth, his strange black armor gleaming in the morning light, a well-forged sword in his right hand, a shield in the other. His men fan out and engage with those remaining archers from Larket, while Lirithen continues to drop one after another from above. Things are drawing to a close, or so it seems...

Lirithen grasped at thin air from his quiver, a single curse muttered in that musical native language of his blood before his shoulders bore on the meager weight of the exquisite ranged weapon in favour of fair hands diving into the depths of the ranger's plated overcoat. Deft movements flicked the handles of a pair of gleaming silver hand-sickles, curved blades seeming to grin evilly down upon the unfortunate invaders. Warren was viewed, for a moment, with some small measure of admiration; for an archer, he wielded blades well. His weight shifted to perch a boot upon the very tip of his resident branch, a sudden forwards duck dragging his body into gravity's embrace. Once, twice, thrice went his head over heels, then a bright silver flash brought a spray of exotic blood upon the forest floor as another alien body fell. The lithe male leapt, the heel of his boot landing firmly upon the broad shoulder of another alien scout, a backwards kick forcing the creature into the path of an oncoming arrow of Larket as a sickle scythed forward across the chest of another oncoming preklek. Momentum gained from his acrobatics helped carry the tree-born up to grapple a low-hanging branch, the tail-end of the armoured coat travelling with the rest of his form to perch precariously upon the walkway nature provided, emerald gaze scanning the beleaguered troupe below for where next to strike.

Kasyr can't help where his feet take him. Be it a goblin encampment, a dragons liar, or even a convent, the hybrid simply drifts from place to place, finding troubled spots despite all odds. Which is apparently what brings the hybrid to what would otherwise be a serene patch of nature- as the lush scenery currently plays host to a rather violent and bloody altercation. Not that the tiefling’s -concerned-, given that his immediate reaction upon espying the preklek is an altogether enthusiastic waving of arms to get their attention. "Aww. I get to start my day killing despotic invaders- This es great!"

Warren is drawn from his murderous frenzied state of survival and bloodlust by the rather odd statement made by the tiefling as he appears. An error on his part, as the shield of the large preklek commander meets his left cheek and sends the man stumbling back from the force of the blow. Quick recovery is the key here, and without hesitation the ranger is once more back to business, sister blades gripped tights as feet move in unison to close the distance upon the alien warrior and the human ranger. A feint to the left is quickly overshadowed by a well placed slash from the right, alien flesh penetrated deep by the elven blade of this woodland rogue. A twist and pull leave a deadly wound, though Warren is far from finished. A spin to the left brings his body under the clumsy blow made by the obviously untrained prek. The scimitar in his left hand finding the aliens right kneecap, and successfully cutting straight through his foreign armor and causing the brute to fall to half his height. The finale comes swiftly, as Warren's right scimitar delivers the killing blow by means of a furious upward thrust, the soft and unprotected flesh of the invader's neck providing a momentary sheathe for the rogue's blade as he rises once more to his full height, his lips busted open and bleeding profusely. The preklek commander falls into oblivion on his side, as with an swift motion Warren recovers his blade from the corpse and prepares to finish this skirmish here and now...

Soft leathers and nimble forms fell upon winding tree-limbs, noses high in the air, keen gaze darting this and way to penetrate the surrounding woodland greenery. Some bore longbows, others had fingers gripping tightly the pommels of elegant blades. All wore expressions of stoic determination... Until they happened upon the scuffle they tracked. Visages cracked into a variety of grins and frowns, the air similarly filled with the whizzing of long arrows and clanging of blades to armour. They had been unsuspecting, unaware... And thus, were late. Lirithen solidified his resentment in glares to any would glance his way, before finally allowing tensed shoulders to relax. With the arrival of elven reinforcements to whittle down the already dwindled preklek numbers, there wasn't much point in diving back into the fray. His only personal contribution was a single thrown knife, which buried firmly between the eyes of a particularly resilient lizard. But he went down for the final time.

Kasyr looks altogether disappointed as a rather large number of elves intrude upon the scene, that altogether thrilled look he'd been sporting all but faded now. Robbed of his entertainment, the hybrid simply stuffs his hands into his pockets- before watching the preks do their best pin cushion impressions. Admittedly, they are quite adept that that.

Warren watches as preklek after preklek falls to elven arrows, and takes this time to scan the battle for his fallen comrades. Swift strides take the ranger to soldier after soldier, the man inspecting each of the Queen's men for any serious injury before designating a few to care for the dead. It was a small loss, only three out of the twenty-five, but each death was felt by all. Harlequin eyes turn to elven warriors as the ranger awaits one to come forth and discuss the battle...

Lirithen fell in his usual agile manner upon the ground, landing crouched as green orbs scanned the surroundings. A frown drew tightly around his lips as he deliberated briefly what to do with the bodies, he doubted they were be very edible for the plant or animal life. They'd have to be burnt. Taking a moment to wipe the blue-tinted fluid from his fingers onto his leggings, and waving in his hand in a 'sort it out yourself' kind of gesture to any elf whom looked as if they posed a question, the woodland archer followed his feet in a quick approach of the Larket commander. “Lucky you were here,” voiced the male gratefully, casting a baleful eye over the bodies of the felled soldiers. He would personally see to some sort of monument... Maybe Lauria's shrine would accept planted flowers for each man.

Kasyr is a bit less formal than the others present, a fact which is displayed rather prominently when he proceeds to wander over to one of the preklek bodies and begin to kick it. "I forget... Edible ou non?" It's with that said, that the hybrid simply grabs the arm of the carcass he was kicking, plants his foot into it's side and promptly tugs. Before any one of the surrounding soldiers can issue a protest as to his proximity, the poor dead alien’s limb is wrenched out of it's socket, neither flesh or sinew proving to be enough to halt the hybrids curiosity. Once properly 'armed', the hybrid simply proceeds to shoo away a soldier with the now flopping limb, before his attention once more falls upon his prize- both flesh and metallic plates having more than earned his interest. "...Maybe not so edible."

Warren turns from his mournful duties to look upon the elf known as Lirithen, harlequin eyes peering deep into the rogue's emerald gaze as he replies. " I swore an oath to protect this forest, and on my dying breath I shall see that vow is never broken." As for his men, they now rest within the halls of their father's, and their bodies shall be set aflame so that their bodies may be forever part of the winds.

Lirithen said to Warren “So it would-” the ripping of flesh, bone and armour plating stabbed sensitive elven hearing, a painful grimace passing down the entire length of the tree-born's spine. A brow lofted high after he rotated to bring Kasyr into his field of vision, the gory spectacle viewed with a mixture of awe and disgust. “Is ah...” Warren was given a quizzical glance, “is he with you?

Warren said to Lirithen “The ranger's attention is finally diverted to the rather unusual presence of the tiefling- " No... I thought he was with you."- And exchange of looks between the two is given before the ranger simply shrugs off the stanger and says.-" I thank you for your help, it was greatly appreciated."- A small bow, a rare gesture, is given off to the fellow ranger.-

Kasyr pauses for a moment, becoming distinctly aware of the fact that he was being heeded. Not that it was going to really stop the hybrid from his current focus. All it really meant is the hybrid simply proceeded to wave to the pair- with a cheer that seemed to defy the morbidness of his activities. And then he's simply focusing on the arm anew, working to pry apart the metal plating on the arm in relatively uniform strips, before they're placed in his pack. It's only when this odd little ritual is finished that he proceeds to nauseate the elves watching him, by taking a large bite out of the arm. A few moments are taken to savor the tainted flesh, before the hybrid simply takes a seat atop the cadaver and continue his not-quite-picturesque picnic.

Kumorohyou swiftly makes his way towards the, the shaman carrying a satchel over his shoulder containing a box of glass vials. Surveying what's left of the carnage, the shaman opens the box, retrieving a syringe and several vials.

Lirithen said to Kumorohyou “Be swift, I want to get rid of the corpses as soon as possible.”

Kumorohyou waits for some of the bodies to be formed into a pile by the elves, before proceeding to fill the vials with Preklek blood. While it was uncertain whether or not their blood would contaminate the soil, the shaman still wished to get the samples before they burn the cadavers. The panther also draws his wakizashi, cutting a section of intact muscle tissue from one of the dead Prekleks. This sample is then placed in box filled with some sort of gelatinous suspension fluid, along with several scales taken from the head and limbs.

Kumorohyou seals the vials, placing them carefully into the secure box along with the tissue-filled case. His work here was finished for now.