RP:Hunter Hunts Hunter

Part of the The White Hunt Arc

Summary: The runaway elf Aira stumbles across Orikahn as he is performing a ritual sacrifice to his deity, the Savage Queen. For her trespass, accidental though it may have been, the Queen possesses Orikahn in an attempt to kill Aira. This would likely have succeeded, but a mammoth interrupts the fight. This ends up being a fortunate turn of events for the elf. Aira escapes Orikahn's initial attacks, but after the mammoth begins attacking the feline, Aira chooses to defend her assailant; with a skillful shot, she slays the mammoth. This impresses Orikahn considerably.

Tattered Frozen Bridge

Orikahn sits on the near side of the bridge and tends a very small fire. The massive cat, in all his armored glory, sits chanting repetitively to himself in a strange language. In his hands, he holds a flint dagger, with which he is very, very carefully peeling a bloody scull, apparently that of a ice troll. Thin strips of hairy flesh sit beside him, still bloody. The body of the troll is nowhere to be seen.

Aira had been walking around in the wilds for some time now. The high elf held a rag to her face where a long gash ran from her forehead, across her left eye, and down her cheek. It wasn’t too deep but it was enough to cause vision impairment thanks to the blood. Aira was attempting to stem the flow, but blood dripped down her hand and arm. She pulled up short upon seeing the familiar feline seated, chanting in some arcane language that she didn’t understand. She stayed where she was, not wanting to interrupt or startle him, especially with a dagger in hand.

Orikahn has stripped the head of nearly all its flesh, including the troll's eyelids, leaving behind a still gruesomely bloody scull with two wide, peering eyes that never blink or sway. The cat's chanting deepens, and he holds the scull forward over the fire, letting the flames and smoke lick all around his gauntlets. His body is rocking, and in his impassioned chanting, the feline rocks and bounces with every guttural syllable. Suddenly, the fire flashes green, and the smoke whips in thick, moss-colored tendrils, lashing like whips or vipers. Orikahn releases the scull, and it levitates above the fire, turning this way and that as the thick lines and tendrils of smoke whip around the troll's head. The lifeless jaw shudders in a silent scream, and the eyes roll wildly, and for a moment Aira might swear the troll is reliving death's grand paroxysms. Suddenly, the smoke enshrouds the scull completely, the fire dies, and there is a moment where there is a silent, smoky sphere hovering in the arctic air. Poof! The smoke vanishes, the fire relights, and a perfectly clean, smooth, white trophy scull falls onto the dead logs. The fire leaps up again as though it had never gone out. Kahn sheathes his dagger and snatches the scull from the fire greedily, marveling and turning it about in his grasp.

Aira watched on in amazement at this unknown ritual. Sure, the ripped off skin and blood was a bit grotesque, but the high elf didn’t seem to mind. She had lived a sheltered life for so long that she was eager just to be out experiencing anything she could. Aira winced slightly as the first burst of green flames danced about and the curious actions of the skull, but suddenly all was normal and Orikahn sat there, examining his prize. Finally feeling as if she would not be interrupting anything important, Aira took a few steps forward and cleared her throat, still clutching the bloody rag to her face.

Orikahn snaps his eyes up to Aira and stashes his fresh scull into the folds of his cloak, all in one hurried gesture. The cat's hood has been up all this time, but now that he is facing her can Aira see that he's bothered to remove his visor, exposing his feline face for her to read his expressions. He looks jealous and fierce. It's plain he recognizes her, too, but the way his eyes sweep over and down her body might make Aira wonder whether or not he might attack her anyway. The cat is definitely sizing her up. "What happened to you?" Orikahn's basso breaks the still air, rumbling between them. "What brought you here? Why are you bleeding?" There is something sharp and demanding in his tone.

Aira immediately stopped her forward movements. Something in the way the feline quickly stowed that skull away, the way he sized her up, and the fierceness in his voice that was foreign to her. She dropped her hand then, revealing the cut across her face, a few trails of blood still dripping down her face. Aira stood tall, folding her arms across her chest, considering Orikahn’s questions. Copper eyes moved over his form as well as she contemplated how best to answer, remaining silent for several moments. Eventually, she dropped her arms, shrugging her shoulders. “No mean to bother you, Orikahn. I just passing through.” He needn’t know what happened to her face, not in the state he seemed to be in.” Aira turned her head this way and that, deciding to head further west.

Orikahn narrows his eyes and straightens his back, lifting onto one knee, still holding the scull in one hand and out of sight. He cranes his neck to get a better look at her cut. There was nothing surprising about the blood, Kahn had seen plenty of head wounds, and even if the gash was long, he doubted much ill would come of it. Questions burn on his tongue, but instead he satisfies himself by watching the steady, scarlet flow beading and trickling down and across her eye. Absentmindedly, he licks his chops. "No bother," the sabertooth growls much too quietly.

Aira narrowed her eyes at the feline, noting the licking of his chops. Internal alarms were going off in Aira’s mind, but she remained calm, simply lifting a hand to wipe away at the trickle of blood. She shifted on her feet, making sure she felt the dagger hidden down her boot; she didn’t like the way Orikahn was looking at her. It was for that reason that when Aira walked, she back pedaled keeping her metallic gaze on the feline. She took a few steps back before inclining her chin towards the man. “No need to hide skull, I already saw it. Green flames, strange words.” Aira always had a tendency to get in trouble thanks to her tongue, and she had a feeling this might be one of those times. He was faster, stronger, and she could easily be added to his trophy collection. But still, she spoke, her whole demeanor remaining calm.

Orikahn gradually pulls the scull out as Aira explains. In truth, it seems hardly any different from the other sculls he's made into trophies, or "obeisances" as she's heard him call them. "Then you *did* see." That answers one of his questions. The cat slinks a pace forward, moving from one knee onto his next in a long, low step toward the backpedaling elf. His fingers curl into the troll's eye sockets, and the jaw falls uselessly away into the snow. "And you know my Savage Queen," the cat articulates harshly. The fog of the cat's breath is thick on the arctic air. Why is his breath deepening? His tall, narrow pupils widen, so strange in the harsh arctic light. If Aira has any spiritual awareness, she will feel something cruel and savage stirring in the air, a presence. "She is here, even now, with us." There is a change in Kahn's voice, a second tone, like a woman speaking along in unison with his words. "And she finds you appealing." The fog of Kahn's breath takes on a dark, mossy tint. He shifts a pace nearer again.

With each movement forward that Orikahn took, Aira slinked two more paces backwards. Metallic eyes begin to move this way and that, images seemingly popping up in her surroundings. This had happened to the high elf before, seeing things that nobody else could. She wasn’t even sure what she was seeing, but she quickly shook her head, gulping slightly. She was not in a good position. She gripped her bow tightly, but she knew it was no help with an ethereal being. “Appealing? What appealing about a little elf like me?” Aira noted the voice change, remembered him mentioning his Savage Queen on more than one occasion. Aira turned her head as much as she could to spot an escape route, but still keeping her eyes on the feline. She was worried now, she was beginning to feel cornered.

Orikahn is no longer the fuzzy beer-lover Aira had known from the tavern, and as he advances upon her, the elf can begin to see a flickering, shimmering shade gathering around him. Was this another one of those things only she could see, a spirit clinging close to Kahn? If, in her high-born education, Aira has studied spirituality, she might well recognize this as possession. "What in the flower appeals to the bee?" The dual tones of Kahn and his Queen grow bolder, and the green fog now raises slowly, consistently from his mouth and nostrils, like thick lines of incense, reeking like dank, peaty earth. "What in the bee appeals to mockingbird?" His broad fingers curl tight around the horn handle of his flint dagger, and he draws it up; in Aira's hand it would look more like a shortsword. "What in the mockigbird appeals to the cat?!" The last is virtually spat as emerald strings of slavering drool fall from Orikan's wrinkled maw, teeth exposed and eyes bright with predatory focus. There is no guile or deception in his advances.

Aira was beginning to feel panicked now; this was no longer her friend, if she could call him that, but a completely different being. Despite her anxiety, she used most of her energy to contain her fear, keeping her own breath steady, and eyes focused on the feline before her. Aira had never been trained in spirituality, gods and goddesses were not a part of her household, so those experiences that she had were kept silent in her heart. The high elf backed up further on the bridge, feeling the lack of traction under her boots thanks to the ice. Ice...she might be able to use it to her advantage. When Orikahn pulled out his dagger though, Aira followed suit, reaching into her own boot and extracting a blade that was about the size of his hilt. If he attacked, she wouldn’t survive, but she wasn’t lying when she said she would put up a fight. “I am not flower or bee or bird or cat. I am simply elf.” Something flickered in Aira’s peripheral vision and she chanced a look at the shadow figure. “Run!” it seemed to scream in her head. The high elf didn’t need telling twice as she used her sylvan grace to propel off the icy bridge and move in quick, sliding strides. She only hoped that if the feline chose to follow her that his size would be to his disadvantage, having trouble navigating the slippery surface.

Orikahn doesn't flinch or back down when Aira draws her dagger. Instead, he roars, a sound so loud and deep that the elf can feel it beating in her chest and ears alike. She runs. This is the moment the beast had been waiting for. With an animalistic yowl, Orikahn digs his sabatons into the snow, kicking up a spray behind himself as he wheels to cut Aira off. Too late! With eyes glued to her fleeing, sylvan form, the massive feline careens in a hasty turn, skidding roughly and leaving deep gouges in the ice leading up to the bridge, throwing up white sprays of frost as he kicks and scrapes for control. No good. The cat must dig in his dagger, dragging the tip like an anchor to slow himself before he careens off the steep, icy ledge. This does not stop him. The bridge might not be an option, but Kahn can still claim his kill. Sheathing the dagger, the massive feline sets the troll scull on the ground before him and begins drawing his bow, hastily stringing and knocking it. "Aira!" Twin roars sound her name, and the bow sings a high clear note as the string plucks and an arrow flies. Behind it, a green vapor trail streams like the tail of a comet. Whether Kahn kills, wounds, or misses will depend much on the elf's grace and luck

Aira 's first mistake was believing that Orikahn wouldn't come after her, or at least, let her go if he couldn't. Her second was halting when the dual voices called her name. Thankfully, the elf had the good sense to turn, skidding slightly to see the ghastly arrow careen her way. She dropped then, in an attempt to dive out of the way, but the ice hindered her movements and the high elf screamed as the arrow pierced into her right shoulder, causing her to drop her dagger. Aira's third mistake was not keeping her footing after being hit for down she went, and hard, her skull cracking sickeningly against the icy ground. Blood immediately began to pool around her as lights blinked across her metallic eyes. "Get up, Aira!" Someone or something was yelling in her ear. The high elf wasn't sure where she drew the strength or how, but slowly she was sitting up, then standing, despite the arrow buried deep in her arm and the wooziness in her head. She swayed on the spot but still she stood, staring down the feline. If this was how she was going to die, she wasn't going to do it in fear. She had cowered most of her life, to her parents, to her brother, to her betrothed, she wouldn't give this...entity that satisfaction. If she were going to die, she would do it standing tall, proud, copper eyes narrowed at her assailant.

Orikahn roars in exaltation as the arrow strikes, filled with predatory glee as he watches her fall. The red of pooling blood is plainly visible, a mark of victory, and Kahn beats his breast, eyes wide and raised to heaven as he roars again. A trumpet sounds in answer. The feline goes stiff in surprise. Again the trumpet sounds, and the cat turns in time to see the cresting head of a mammoth rising into view behind a snow drift, tusks and trunk raised. Drawn by the commotion, the gargantuan, woolly beast crashes through the drift, bludgeoning through with earth-shaking force and scattering snow and ice violently across Orikahn's side of the bridge. The cat barely has time to jump out of the way as the mammoth's tusks swing for him. Undaunted, Orikahn scrambles over the snowpack, distancing himself from ledge, mammoth, and Aira alike. Circumstance demands he trade one hunt for another, and as the mammoth rears and trumpet again, Orikahn knocks and fires a volley into the elephantine behemoth, peppering its mouth and jaw with arrows. The cat's capricious attention has been wholly diverted, it would appear, and for good reason.

Aira wasn't sure if she believed in a god but she was thanking the heavens when the mammoth joined in the fray, breaking Orikahn's concentration on her. Now was Aira's chance, and she took it, running not from, but towards the feline. Heading further west seemed a mistake, so on shaky legs, the high elf began to slide her way back down the bridge. She stumbled often, landing on her knees only to slowly stand back up and continue on her way. She skirted around the mammoth intent on heading back east, when something caught her gaze--the skull that Orikahn had been toying with lay forgotten in the snow. It was nothing more than intuition that turned Aira around, bending down to cradle the skull. Something with this skull, the fire, the feline's actions, they were all connected. Aira didn't know what made her do it but she stood and aimed the heel of her boot down, slamming it into the skull in an attempt to damage it in anyway. She grunted as she used her remaining strength to continue to pound down on the thing, until she heard and crack and sunk down to her knees. She didn't even see if she had damaged it for her copper eyes rolled to the back of her head. Aira wasn't even sure -why- she wanted to destroy the thing, only that it had something to do with the arrow in her shoulder and if she couldn't take it out on Orikahn she would take it out on this bone. The high elf dropped her bow in the snow and clutched at her shoulder which was still bleeding profusely, staining the snow beneath her, her whole body trembling.

Orikahn is locked deep in combat with the mammoth, and Aira's movements are entirely overlooked by the two. The behemoth rushes the cat, and Kahn must sprint to dodge the great creature's feet, narrowly avoiding being trampled, and he must duck as the tusks sweep after him, narrowly avoiding being gored. Beneath the mammoth's relentless assault, the feline moves as quickly as he is able, trying to regain some ground if he can and just put *space* between himself and his quarry. Then, something unexpected happens. In the middle of their pitched combat, Aira smashes Orikahn's freshly offered scull, and it earns an agonized wail from the hunter. If the elf should bother to look, she will see him hesitate on the snow, bent double and clutching his bow against his head, green light and black shadows dancing spasmodically around his armored body. This is just the moment the mammoth needed. Orikahn catches the broad side of the mammoth's swinging tusks, and he is knocked flying, shadows and lights and all, spinning through the air before he lands with a noisy crash and skids several meters more, flying across the frozen landscape. The scull, meanwhile, shudders beside Aria and begins crumbling to dust and powder. With a trumpet, the mammoth rears high.

A minute went by as Aira slipped in and out of consciousness, falling sideways into the snow. Whether it was the cold wetness of the ground below or the trumpet of the mammoth, the high elf began to stir. She was exhausted. She was in pain. She had lost a lot of blood. But that shadow figure was back, jostling Aira. With a noise somewhere between a whimper and groan, the high elf attempted to rise again. Copper eyes flutter open at the scene before her as she sees the feline get caught up in the tusk of the beast and go flying across the landscape. Again, the runaway seemed to be running on adrenaline and intuition because she was on her feet, bow in hand once again, running towards the mammoth. Yelling out in pain she reached back and plucked an arrow from her quiver, tying it and sending it flying at the beast. She wasn't sighting, just attempting to draw attention to her. Her plan worked because with a shattering cry the mammoth turned and moved towards her. With another arrow in hand, Aira shot one into his open mouth. A second quickly followed the first. For a large creature it was fast and Aira soon found it upon her, her loss of blood and foggy brain causing her to move less quickly. She dodged then, avoiding a tusk by dropping and rolling onto her side, coming up on one knee. She reached back for another arrow only to find her quiver empty. Without even questioning her next move, Aira clutched the arrow in her shoulder and yanked as hard as she could, letting out a hellish scream. Not bothering to look at the gore, Aira loaded her her bow, aimed at the mammoth's eye and let it fly. The high elf was able to let out a soft "ha!" as she watched the arrow hit her target right before she collapsed, unable to fight consciousness anymore.

The arrow disappears into the mammoth's eye, piercing even past the fletching, and the horrible creature can scarcely even cry out in response. It goes oddly rigid, mouth opening wide as it crashes forward, landing hard enough to make the ground lurch. When Aira finally ascends from the grey emptiness of oblivion, she is laying on her back. Above her is a low ceiling of coarse hides. She is inside a wigwam. At the center is a small fire, and it vents through a small hole in the wigwam's top, through which dimming twilight is visible. She is laying in her bloody clothes on a bed of wolfskins. Should she examine her wounds, she will find the gaps in her flesh have been filled in with green moss and are still tender to the touch, though not bleeding. Her bow and any other belongings are beside her. Orikahn sits opposite from her by the fireside, still clad in armor. With his visor on, it is impossible to see anything of his face in the low, dancing firelight. A gentle sizzling catches Aira's ears, and she might see him roasting cut of mammoth on an improvised bone skewer.

Aira thought, if this was death, it wasn't so bad, just darkness. However, when she stirred her body fought, her muscles heavy and sore, and there was an awful throb in her shoulder. Wait, if this was death shouldn't there be no pain? Slowly, Aira's other senses came into play, and she heard a crackling fire, smelt the aroma of cooking meat. Suddenly, her eyes flutter open and she found herself staring at unrecognizable hides. She blinked a few times but still saw the same thing. Slowly, and with an audible groan, the high elf propped herself up on a tented elbow to take in her surroundings. The mesmerizing metallic eyes of hers seemed to shimmer in the dancing firelight as she suddenly tensed as those irises land on the feline across from her. She remained silent with pursed lips wondering where her weapons were. After several moments of silence she offered him in a hoarse voice, "I guess I not appealing enough. You no kill me after all." With great effort and a sharp intake of breath, Aira pulled herself up into a fully seated position and began to prod her shoulder where Orikahn had pierced her with an arrow.

Orikahn turns his visor to face Aira. He gives a gruff "hmph!" and looks back to his cut of meat, turning his roasting skewer to the other side so rivulets of fat and juices can roll off and fall into the fire with noisy hisses. Sitting up, Aira will see her belongings laid at her feet, including her weapons. She will also see the cat's other intact sculls still at his hip, along with his dagger in its sheath and his red foxskin quiver. "You broke my trance," the cat speaks at last, "You escaped my teeth, and you slew my mammoth." Orikahn shifts himself a little, folding his legs indian-style and leaning forward, observing his cooking. "After all that, you think I would kill you, whose blood I have not earned? Tsk! Tsk!" He clicks his tongue reproachfully at the very thought. "Not tonight, not tonight! Maybe never, you slippery elf. My pride couldn't take another thrashing."

Aira continued to prod at her injuries, leaving her shoulder alone to run slender fingers along the cut on her face, which was fairly superficial. She winced as she moved on the bed her muscles crying out in pain. Aira went back to examining her shoulder wound which was covered in moss when Orikahn mentioned the mammoth. She perked up then, sitting a bit straighter and turning to face the feline again. "I kill beasty?" She thought about it for a moment and shrugged her shoulders, which brought a groan from her lips. "You had shot it, too. I just trying to blind him." Aira leaned back then, resting against the wall of the wigwam. She noted her bow at the end of the makeshift bed but sighed upon not seeing her dagger. She had lost it on the ice bridge, she would have to get another. "You still got me good with arrow. Lucky I turn around and see it coming. And I no know how you got out of trance."

Orikahn nods, impressed. "You did, in fact. Killed it dead on the spot. You shouldn't be surprised, or had you forgotten?" He touches his left eye, then his right ear, his right eye, then his left ear. The meat gives another noisy hiss, and he quickly grabs the spit with both hands again. "I wasn't about to make kill shots yet. I needed to exhaust him first; it takes me a long time to take down large prey alone. You," he points and wags a finger at her, "took a risk and gained great reward. The kill was yours, so," Orikahn lifts the meat up away from the fire, still sizzling and offers her the spit, "you get the first cut. You get the scull, too." He throws a nod toward the doorflap where, outside apparently, a mammoth's head awaits her.

Aira felt a smile begin to curve itself on her lips in spite of herself. Her first -real- kill, that wasn't a small critter. She contemplated this fact for a moment and ran a hand through her tangled hair. Orikahn reached forward with the spit of meat and she quickly grabbed it, wincing with the movement in her shoulder. She didn't have a knife to cut she so settled on pursing her lips and blowing off the steam before taking a tentative bite. She had never had this type of meat before but she wasn't in a position to be picky. After a more hearty bite she hands the spit back to Orikahn. "I admit I just not want beasty to trample me. I saw him hit you with tusk, and you go down. Don't know why I didn't let him finish you off." There was no malice in her voice when she spoke and her eyes twinkled mischievously. When he mentioned the skull, Aira's copper gaze slid to the flap of the wigwam and she let out a chuckle, a soft thing that once again drew attention to her young age. "And what is little elf like me supposed to do with big skull?"

Orikahn accepts the spit back when she offers, though he hesitates. Had he expected her to eat the whole thing? Nonetheless, he raises his visor and takes a bite. Kahn, the scoundrel, has managed to escape any facial injury, be it bruises or otherwise. Another bite, and Kahn's already eaten half the roast. He offers it back. "Lucky you didn't," he speaks through his mouthful, "let him trample me, you know. It would have been your right," Orikahn hurries to acknowledge before he goes on, "but you would have frozen to death in the snow, too, unconscious like that." He throws a sidelong glance toward the door. What would she do with the scull. His expression turns grave. "You can do with it as you please." His conversational tone fades into standoffish silence, and he pulls his visor back down, turning his face toward the fire.

Aira graciously accepted the spit once again, leaning back against the pelt wall, and tucking her long legs underneath her. A hollow laugh escaped her lips. "No one miss me if I freeze to death. At least I die out in world and not in some house." Aira took her time with the meat, chewing and swallowing very slowly. She hadn't eaten in a few days and she knew from experience that to eat something hearty quickly, well that just wouldn't end well. The pair sit in silence for some time, Aira eating, Orikahn, face covered by his visor, presumedly staring into the flames. Aira ate about a quarter of the remaining meat before leaning forward to hand the spit back. "I had my full," But before Orikahn can pull back, Aira kept hold on the spit, attempting to catch his eyes with her metallic ones. "I cannot tell if you impressed or angry with me."

Orikahn offers no comment on Aira's thoughts regarding her own death, and indeed do the two fall into a silence that seems to amplify the fire's crackling. When, at last, Aira reaches out to offer the food back, Kahn looks up, and she succeeds in catching his attention. The cat weighs her words. "It's is only the matter of the head," he accepts the meat back but does not yet raise his visor to take a bite. "Your kill commands respect, but it is difficult," he pauses, perhaps to collect himself, "it is difficult for me, because I know that you will not make holy sacrifice of your kill. This pains me."

Aira quirked her brow then, finally relinquishing her grip on the spit. "I not raised with gods and goddesses in my home. I not pray, I not believe. Well," she contemplated her own stance for a moment, "I not raised to believe anything. But I know there is something after," she stated matter of factly, but offering no further explanation. She raised a finger to point at Orikahn, "You give that other skull as sacrifice to your queen, and then you both try and kill me. I kill beasties, yes, but I no want to hurt people, at least no people that don't deserve it. I just passing through and I almost die, why? Because I just there?" Aira narrowed her eyes as she spoke then, however her voice remained calm and even. The high elf wasn't expecting an answer so she sat back again, gently running her finger along the cut on her pretty face.

Orikahn shakes his head at Aira's words. The meat waits forgotten in his grasp as he looks back down to the fire. "You have never tasted the divine." He swallows, and the elf might hear him grinding his teeth. Kahn leans closer to the fire. "You would not believe or approve or even understand.” In the fire, shapes seem to dance: prancing gazelles, women, rabbits, and foxes of flame that swirl and gallop until struck by popping sparks like arrows, whereupon they fall and fade into the coals. "Your place, in that moment, was to die, or to struggle and live, or to act a part, your part and no one else's, in the Sacred Hunt. She chose you, perhaps because you were there, but that was your fate nonetheless. Bah." The cat tosses the last mouthful of meat into the fire along with the spit. "The work of the great spirits is not like the work of us mortals."

Aira lifted her gaze to Orikahn when he spoke, a quizzical expression etched in her features. "Fate," Aira repeated trying to find the elven equivalent for the word. "Nothing by chance," she said, attempting to understand. "I sorry I no believe in woman who only seeks to kill. I believe in balance, like the sky," she said, lifting her copper eyes to the small opening in the top of the wigwam. "We have sun and moon, light and dark, man and woman." She sighed then, swinging her legs back on the bed and easing herself down to a laying position. "I know of spirits," she offered rather dryly. "They not all bad, sometimes try and help." Aira gulped then, feeling as if she had said too much and quickly searched to change the subject. "So what happens now, kitty? Your queen chose me to hunt, she want me dead. But I escape her. What she must think of me now," the high elf mused, turning her head to the side to peer at Orikahn through her locks of golden hair.