Fight:Ymheshphilun Battles Jerralith (and also gets a preklek prisoner)

Ymheshphilun storms the tavern and attacks Jerralith. He also gets ambushed by Triyul and negotiates a trade.

The RP

Ymheshphilun shouted, "*a rumbling noise from the west, as of an approaching wave of spiders or perhaps a train*"

Sidre runs away like a little girl.

Ymheshphilun blasted the tavern doors apart, the wall splintering in places from his rush. Not bothering to wait for anything else to happen, the centipede spat a stream of burning liquid directly at Jerralith. Should it make contact, it would stick like superglue--and spread.

Teira steps away from Jerralith as Ym enters, glancing back and forth between the two.

Jerralith lofts a brow at Teira's answer, prepping another until the blasted sound of the centipede is heard. "Blasted bug..." A malicious growl pours from his lips, drawing either of his runed axes. When Ymheshphilun bursts wooden boards apart and sprays that burning liquid, the lycan is more than ready; leaping aside, his entire form tucks protectively, rolling across the floorboards to leave the fires to contact with the walls behind, though they curiously evaporate into steam as they make contact, probably due to Mesthak's wards in place. Rising to his feet like a serpent, Jerralith assesses the centipede for only a moment before taking a running leap, his feet gaining purchase on Teira's back for a mere moment, using her height to kick off again, leaving him taking an airborne leap at Ymheshphilun. As the spell blade descends upon him, thick layers of ice envelope his axes only to shatter, scattering a cruel flurry of icy debris for the beast's eyes while the blades themselves drive home for a pair of his many appendages.

Teira growls, not liking being used as a springboard and instinctively draws her crossbow.

Ymheshphilun almost--almost--felt afraid as the ice shards came at his eyes. But even as the lycan launched himself into the air, Ym's mind was analyzing, predicting, scheming--and when the ice shattered and flew at his face, the centipede erected a mental barrier that deflected all but the most inconsequential of the spikes. It disappeared after being struck. As for Jerralith himself, the centipede reared back and swung his main claws down and laterally, hoping to grab the pest as he had done before. Two lost appendages were ignorable, and should they provide sufficient bait for this trap then they had served an excellent purpose.

Jerralith's axes lop off a pair of the appendages, sending a spray of grotesque ichor on either side. Since the lycan is still airborne, his leap concludes with his feet pressed harmlessly against the centipede, only for that aggravating claw to clasp around his waist as it has so many times before. Using the position to his advantage, Jerralith spits a drowic word of power, "Chath!" True to the meaning, either of his axes erupt in wreath of flame where its quite literal polar opposite was only moments ago; using the current position to his advantage, he drives the burning axes in for Ymheshphilun's abdomen on either side...aiming not only to slice into the body of the beast, but cook and boil his innards once they are sheathed within that despicable flesh. Surely the centipede can begin to squeeze, but if he can do so before Jerralith's hellish weapons serve their purpose is debatable.

Ymheshphilun laughed inwardly. He didn't fear fire--indeed, the heat helped his 'ichor' to congeal faster--but it still hurt, and for this the lycan would pay. Taking his other claw, Ym reached for one of Jerralith's arms, aiming to seriously injure it somehow. The crusher that held Jerralith tightened, not only because the centipede wished it but also convulsively, due to the pain of an axe being driven into his side. As he pinched down, hoping to crack something important--and quite possibly doing so--he turned towards Teira, opening the lycan's back to whatever fury the crossbow would unleash.

Teira chuckles and mutters a spell under her breath, turning the arrow in her crossbow to pure black ice. She fires it off, aiming for the lycan's back all too happily. She shoots a few smaller icy darts toward Ymheshphilun's side to hopefully ease the burn without hurting him with the ice.

Jerralith unsheathes his fiery axes from the centipede's body, the flames smothering themselves while the other claw draws near. Tucking his arm, the initial 'snap' of the centipede's claw is a deadly near miss, though the tightened grip of the claw he remains within brings the sound of flesh tearing and bones creaking to their limit, evoking a growl of pain from the lycan. Hearing the tell-tale 'click of the crossbow, Jerralith's head turns just in time to spy the frigid projectile enclosing out of the corner of his eye, his left-held axe reaching -behind- his body in a display of unusual flexibility; when the arrow meets the axe, it shatters, sending a painful shudder up his arm. Unintended by Teira, the runes of the axe react to the magic within the frozen arrow, again sending the metal of his axe freezing over. In a desperate attempt, Jerralith again drives his axe downward, this time for the very claw that holds him; the blade itself may not be so much of a worry, but the triggered enchantment shall be, more than capable of eventually freezing it solid should Ymheshphilun not release the pained lycan. Speaking of pain, droplets of blood can be seen dripping out from beneath his shirt, evidence to the unseen damage.

Ymheshphilun was in prime position. Even as the axe raced downwards, the claw which had missed swept forward and around--a backhanded swipe, aimed to both intercept the onrushing weapon and knock Jerra senseless. A rapid shake back and forth of the claw that held him about the waist, as well as that ever-increasing pressure, would act as both added whiplash and sawing motion. If this worked... well, let's put it this way: Jerralith may end up needing two separate coffins.

Teira gazes at the two, completely confused as to how Jerralith managed to dodge her attack...

Jerralith tucks his head and brings his right arm up protectively as the other claw sweeps forth, knocking his intended blow aside and making probably half the impact desired with his body, leaving him seeing stars and more. Even so, the lycan's life is a stake as Ymheshphilun's claw tightens, a very distinct 'snap' heard - probably a rib or two - as he seethes in pain. Veins in the spell blade's head bulge and his face flushes red, an ear splitting scream heard a mere few moments later. Fueled by adrenaline, desperation, hatred and so many other factors, both axes sweep down for the centipede's claw, a faint blue aura seen about them as they near the points of impact. The intent is the same as last; to force Ymheshphilun to let go lest he lose his claw to frostbite, but this time the angle and speed of the weapons are quite different, no doubt spurred on by desperate strength and inherent prowess.

Ymheshphilun felt the impact of the claws, felt the cold begin to seep through his armor--and reacted on impulse, reflexively throwing Jerralith into a wall. Deja vu, anyone? Shaking the crusher out, the centipede slowly advanced on the hopefully-fallen lycan, snapping his mandibles ominously. Things didn't look too good for Jerralith.

Jerralith half-expected to be thrown, and as such tucks his body and braces for impact, sliding either of his arms to protect the back of his head. Landing with a bone-shuddering -crunch- against the wall, his arms protect the back of his head and his consciousness, though he still drops to the ground with a dull thud. Pain sears through his broken ribs, his veins pump with something akin to battery acid, but the instinct of a wolf and the will to live drive him forth to one last effort. Straining to his feet only to be greeted with the sight of the centipede encroaching, the lycan issues a pained grunt, lifting his still enchanted axe to drive it through a nearby chair; the wood of the furniture piece freezes over near instantly as it is split in half, leaving Jerra to slam his arms against either side, propelling them toward Ymheshphilun. Given that his nudge was rather weak, only one half of the chair splinters as intended, scattering a myraid of large, razor-like icy shards for the body of the beast. The other frozen half simply zips through the air, the only chance for damage being if it shatters against the centipede's body and rebounds the spiny pieces into it. Of course, if this all doesn't work, the spell blade's last resort will be an immediate escape, given his battered and weakening body.

Ymheshphilun twisted at an odd angle, rearing further from the floor--what struck his body mostly glanced off, with a few exceptions. The cold of the ice was awful, but Ym shuddered once and observed his opponent. His stance was weaker than before, so the attacks (and defenses) would probably come far more slowly. He shifted the tail end of his body, curling it around the doorway, making an effective barrier. He hissed, a dreadful, bone-chilling sound. ~Surrender,~ was broadcast to the entire tavern, but of course was meant for Jerralith.

Teira watches the centipede trap the lycan against the wall with a fair bit of amusement. Teach him to screw with her and her clan.

Jerralith snorts, taking this time to rest, though the axes tuck closer to his body in a defensive stance, still tensed for a sudden movement if needed. "Surrender?! You started the assault, bug...so you must be the one to stand down. You may think me as beaten, but I will press on until the last breath leaves my lips...how much do ya think will be left of you then?" Giving a pained grin, Jerralith feels soemthing loose in his mouth. Spitting to the side, one of his teeth bounces off of a table and slides across the floor.

Ymheshphilun considered this for a full second--then screamed. A long, mind-rending wail that tore at the senses and dulled the mind. It was keening and throbbing at once--a polyphonic blast of pure auditory overload.

Teira stares at the centipede for a moment before turning her gaze toward Jerralith, "I think you have just given up your life, lycan."

Triyul heard the scream from outside. As did most of his guard, who seemed to appear in an alley two streets down out of no where. Odd. Anywho, all had hands on there hips - where no weapon lay, but poised as if to grab a hilt. The male sent a lone scout ahead to peer through the window, the only sign there were even any Preklek present.

Jerralith grits his teeth at the horrible sound. Again the veins in his head bulge, and as may be expected, the lycan himself screams! It is a shrill sound, full of arrogance and hate, as are the words that follow, if any even hear them at this point. "Yoooou meaningless insect! Your screams are only those of failure! You know me, you fear me, as I am only one man, yet you know I can slay you where others have failed. Fear not! I will do so soon, after I finish watching the house of the Lotus crumble like the miserable structure that it is. Rest well knowing your head will be severed by my axes alone!" With that, the lycan returns his axes to their loops and willingly drives his own fingers into his ears, perforating his eardrums with the force coupled with that mind numbing scream of the centipede. Now Jerralith hears nothing more than a dull ring, deaf to much else...knowing he cannot continue to fight effectively, his entire body shimmers, broken bones rearranging, torn flesh shifting and patches of fur appearing all along it. Within moments a black wolf lies there, though he appears little more than a blur as he zips toward the window, which has long since shattered due to that hideous sound of Ymheshphilun's straining scream. Bounding through it, the wolf narrowly misses the pack of Prekleks before slipping off into the night.

Ymheshphilun stopped, and made a grab--and missed. Staring hatefully out the window, the centipede hissed again, this sound full of loathing and promises for no mercy next time.

Teira watches Jerralith make a run for it, jumping out of one of the windows. She lets out a sigh of disappointment. So he was still going after the Black Lotus after all. Darn.

Triyul :: The scout returned - reported what he saw. A giant centipede. Immidiate thought sprung through the generals mind. Cloning that beast, well, it would certainly give him an advantage. Now, if only he could catch it. Secretly. He whispered an order. To surround the building, and wait. Triyul himself took up a spot in a tree, well intent to wait until that creature departed the tavern, and well intent on capturing it.

Triyul whispers another few orders, his guard waited for the ambush.

Ymheshphilun stared around at any would-be challengers--there were none, haha!--and pulled his body closer and around, making a rather huge mess of things in the tavern. Tables were shifted, chairs were thrown to make room for the centipede the turn around in side the building. Once this had been achieved, Ym began to stalk his way out into the night.

Triyul :: He said it to himself, more than anyone else. "Now." A whispered word, quiet, full of determination - from the safe perch in the tree the general watched as ten Preklek would come in toward the centipede just as soon as his -head- was out of the tavern in a half arc formation. They needed him alive. Time was too short to reverse engineer. They appeared unarmed. Appeared, until one noted the the nitch in the thigh of their dull, black armor. A simotaineous 'clack' may be heard and suddenly - all were wielding blades. Not just blades. They pulsed, glowed a dull, dark blue. One spoke words Triyul could not hear 'come with us' and the rest - well, they seemed mighty ready to simply cut the beast in half.

Ymheshphilun stared around at the sudden ambush without moving anything--compound eyes can be extremely useful in that regard. There was a short pause as the only Scolopendra Primamplio known to exist considered his options, rearing up as if to look the speaker in the eye--and then firing an adhesive net from his top five pairs of legs, aimed for the soldier's head. Should it be successful, Ym would then draw the preklek closer and position him right below his gnashing mandibles faster than some would believe. The implied was obvious--leave me alone and your friend lives.

Triyul :: That one singular soldier was ensnared, and already blade sought to cut through - the rest hesitated. Took wary, half steps back, but an arrogant voice rang from the shadows of an old, withered tree. "Come with us. We mean you no harm." It sounded sincere enough, "Or give us a piece of you." He knew not how else to word it, "Something...a token, of our encounter." The net may work. Maybe. There were too few of them. Far too few. To suceed, deep within an enemies territory, capturing this...this creature.

Ymheshphilun gripped the lone soldier with crushing claws, working to pry his arms away from resistance. An antenna scrabbled over the preklek, looking for some sort of head opening. It eventually found one--a nostril. Driving his mental probe deep, Ym tried to Connect with his prey, so that it could be a mouth to speak with. Should this be successful, the soldier would groan for a moment, and then-- "Bah. I follow no one. And I deny your other request, also--though perhaps a trade. I'll let you take one of the severed limbs that lies in the tavern, if you'll let me keep this soldier."

Dawn oocly nasty >.>

Veriun oocly nods, agreeing...

Triyul observed. And was, to put it simply, absolutely fascinated. Even in his life prior to this odd reincarnation - his return to alien flesh - the male had never encountered anything remotely this...unique. In seventeen thousand years of saurian life, on the fringe of the world, never. "Deal. Retreat." All fell back now, around that tree. Except that lone creature. Stuck in the binds of a giant centipede.

Sidre oocly thinks it's AWESOME.

Veriun ooc it's cool. but also disturbing. XD

Dawn walks in, sees the goings on, then walks right back out again quick smart.

Ymheshphilun caused the preklek to laugh. It was a terrible sound. Then--it's eyes went blank, then closed. The gigantic obsidian Beast From Below crawled off, carrying the unconscious preklek in his claws, an emotion something like amusement following him like an aura.

Sidre stalks off from where he was previously hidden, not wanting to see whatever else would occur tonight.

Sidre said, "ooc) Nose penetration."

Ymheshphilun said, "ooc: I know, right? Awful."

Dawn ooc nice

Triyul enters and takes one of those legs, leaves, and disappears a few streets down in an alley. So does the rest of his entourage. Odd.