Evi Olaurae
Thus the North Gate and Fate
Ymeera could feel the dark, rolling clouds come in, even as the clouds of their observable world parted. With the rain ceased, a more formidable storm was approaching, one that smothered the northern cold with it's billowing heat and smelled strongly of a bitter wickedness. Her grandmother had taught her all she needed to know about the prediction of the weather of these lands and the many next, and the look in Evi Olaurae's eyes was enough indication that cataclysm was as fast approaching as the trio on their way to the North Gate.
"That is she."
The trio halted. Sorna stood nearly a foot taller than the female drow, his silver hair neatly tied back into a long tail. The bit of sunlight glinted off of his single piece of armor, a heavy breastplate that shown signs of worn, perhaps too majestic for a bandit to own. The warm browns and oranges of his colorful robes complemented the dark coolness of his skin, and his left hand closed tightly around the handle of his longsword as his violet eyes peered at Evi with lowered brows, then pinpointed the monk the drow had been gazing. "She?"
Before Ymeera could have voiced her apprehensions, they were at the North Gate. There were already several others gathered, and Evi noticed some familiar faces from Szazah's tent, as well as some unfamiliar faces, ones attached to bald heads in particular. While curious, she was more concerned in her own plans. With a gleeful eye, she nodded and continued, "If we are to kill Szazah, we must kill this one first."
Sorna did not fully understand—how could he possibly have known?—but he'd decided that Evi had no reason to lie to him. If she did, well, it would surely be her downfall.
He made a show of checking the weight of his blade; it had been awhile since he'd last needed to use it, and examined the scene before them. The target was a beastkin, a feline, perhaps. She wasn't alone, and it would not be his first time performing an execution midday and in the midst of many bystanders, but he knew the difficulties of doing such without any external complications. They were on a time limit though. If this creature must die to get to Szazah, it must be taken care of soon. With a flick of the wrist he tossed the sword up into the air and allowed it to come back down into the grasp of his dominant left hand. Without allowing his eyes to stray from the scene before them, he mentally scanned the area beyond, making a note of the men in the nearest tent to their right. Men that went undetected by Evi's radar, yet never let her off of theirs. His men.
He'd ordered them to remain in this tent in the case that Evi did not follow through with her orders. While Poembi had promised Sorna she wouldn't kill the female drow, he knew the witch long enough to note when her patience had run out. Still, he wouldn't allow Evi to perish by her hands. No, that duty was all his own. As well as this new duty it seemed.
Sorna watched carefully as the monk battled it out with the unknown opponent. Her moves were fast and well calculated, a sign she had experience in battle. This would not be an easy kill, but perhaps a quick one. "Evi," he addressed his female counterpart, his eyes unmoving from the blind woman and her opponent. "If anything is to go wrong, you must come act as my right hand."
The smaller drow cocked her head to the left, face blank. "And if I don't?" Discreetly, she glanced at the sword in his grasp, then at Raux, then back to the sword.
"If you don't, you'll have to deal with her," Sorna answered as he nodded at a space by the gate, but there was 'no one' there. Evi knew whom he was referring; it wasn't rare for the witch Poembi to use a cloaking spell, erasing the visuals of her presence, but the feel and strong vibes of her magic were still very real. Evi hadn't considered the witch would come back to them so early, nor act as a witness to her plot.
Sorna noticed the slight shift in Evi's countenance after he stated such, and with a smirk toward the invisible matriarch, and the other bandits accompanied in the back of his mind, he became sure things would go smoothly. Now for the feline. "Remain here," he ordered the human Ymeera, then "Come if I call for you," to Evi, who watched expectantly, still unaware of the other bandits who watched her expectantly.
The steps Sorna took toward the monk were even; he wasn't in any rush. With each step, the details of his target became clearer, the staff, the cloak that graced her shoulders, the softness of her fur, the man between her legs. Within five feet of the target he came to a stop and rose his left arm, the tip of the blade leveled with her head as he stared down upon her. "Hello, beast," he greeted with a curious frown and the raise of a brow. "Lovely show you've put on, and I'd hate to interrupt, but I'm here for that beautiful head of yours. Be a dear, and hand it over."
The beast in question raised her ears momentarily at the sound of the voice. The man between her legs' strangulation paused for a moment giving him a brief moment of respite, though he remained firmly locked in place. "A gentleman," The monk asked, her head turning to point her nose towards the individual who spoke towards her. She took a few measured sniffs, to identify him while she could. The raksha made a mental note about how oddly the man approached her. Even steps, calm heart, and a casual touch to his tone. A cocky and sure male - is what she decided. But something did not sit right. The man smelled of the sea. She slowly lowered her hands to the ground to twist her body and sit up. "I do appreciate you announcing your intentions. But under who's name do you wish to take my head? Or perhaps it is for an art collection? I can not see my own face, but I am sure it would be a fine addition to a homestead when mounted above a fire place."
Sorna paused at her response, confused for a moment, then smirked. She was a clever woman, and blind (he now noticed), but mainly clever. That made her dangerous. "Mounted above a fire place you shall be," he spoke as he clasped the sword with both hands and rose it above his head, "It is not my concern to offer my victims my name, but a flower such as you may call me Sorna, leader of the Port Jinn Protectors." His smirk broke into a grin revealing a mouth full of large teeth, and his voice rose as he brought down the sword swiftly, with all of his might, as if to split the beastkin cleanly down the middle.
The beastkin's ears flicked when the clasp of skin to wood and steel had reached them. The sound of cloth hugging the arms and flapping in the air signaled the blade beginning it's motion. This little sound drove her to action. Thinking quickly the monk lifted the leg that was strangling the ruined rogue and kicked it to spin her body in the muck, letting the momentum carry herself over his body with her back to the air. The quarter staff that had been tucked under her arm was whipped behind her with the motion and slapped the blade to the side with a sharp clack. And as if sensing the impeding danger of being hacked off, her tail quickly retreated out of reach of the blade and allowed it to strike the muck. Now to her feet, the beastkin was standing over the gasping male. She was crouched with her quarterstaff raised. A hand on the butt, one hand on the mid section, and the longer portion reached out in front of her while pointing downwards.
"Victim," Raux asked in her soft voice with a small smile. She inhaled deeply with her jaws parted, and her tongue slipped free from her lips for a moment. The scents all rolled over it, letting her taste the air and better identify her surroundings. She stepped closer, or rather ahead of the wounded thief, and gave him a nudge with her foot. The man, thankfully, took the message and began to move out of the way. "If you do see yourself as my predator, then I prefer the term cornered prey."
Evi watched with anticipation rising almost as much as the rising presence of the witch Poembi, who remained in hiding. She kept a close eye on Sorna, waiting and searching for any signal of distress, but his body language showed he was quite amused. The male drow cocked his head to the left and then to the right, loosening the taut muscles in his neck with his gaze on Raux's weapon and prepared stance, ignoring the unknown man who had fled as if he were not even there in the first place. "Cornered would be the better term," Sorna conceded with an agreeing nod, as if the monk could see him with her eyes, "In fact, I think it suits you very well to be my prey." In one fluid motion he folded himself, sliding closer to her as he kneeled into a low crouch, still holding the blade with both hands, one leg pointed outwards towards the raksha and the other under him, then came up, his blade clashing against her staff. "And I always get what's mine." The excitement of battling again warmed him, and the muscles in his arms tightened as he pushed upward, intending to use enough force to knock the staff out of her hands.
And in turn, the Raksha listened closely, for her ears were her eyes. She listened to the stance falling low, the the sound of the air slicing in two coming from a much lower position. A mental picture formed in the Raksha's head, and she stepped forward. Her weapon moved to match the motion in the opposite direction, but raised to avoid being struck asside. Once the blade passed harmlessly under the staff, the point dipped downwards towards the earth, and braced it's self on the earth. With the monk's forward motion, the staff was now standing straight up and braced against the earth with the length near the guard. The staff was positioned to deny, or at least delay the weapon from moving back into a position to fend her off while she closed the distance.
Once the cougaress believed she was close enough, she lashed out with an open fist -providing little in the way of a tell- in a fast and powerful downwards swipe aiming for the head with the sound of breathing acting as it's guide. Once it made contact, the claws would extend and grab hold of what ever it could; hair, skin or cloth it did not matter. It would be all the same as the iron grip would hold the man in place for a hard knee to the side.
Sorna buckled as the knee came into contact with the organs of the right half of him. Seeing the attack coming but not moving nearly as quickly enough, he had initially attempted an orchestrated duck and roll out of the monk's range, but neglected the fact his hair had grown long enough to take hold of. He let out a sharp breath between clenched teeth, in pain but mostly from shock. He had known the beastkin were generally very powerful beings when battled, yet that didn't dawn on him until he felt the knee drive in like a hammer.
Unable to do much else, he fell to his knees, his head hanging. Evi and Ymeera watched in shock, but still, he did not signal for help. They couldn't quite see his face, but he held up his right hand to wave off their worries. If there was one thing the male drow may have had in advantage, it was stamina. Of course with such powerful attacks he wouldn't be able to hold on as long as he was accustomed to, but he often enjoyed a challenge. Knowing he was in a vulnerable position then, he now attempted the roll, and as he came up onto his feet he—without an ounce of reserve—lurched forward to the monk with his blade pointed straight outwards to be settled deep within her stomach.
The monk felt the strains of hair in her hands go slack as the male escaped, her smile turned to a grin as she stepped forward to pursue the male as he tried to gain distance. She clearly was not going to give up her advantage so easily. And when she heard the cloth scrape against his body, she quickly spun off to the side. The blade tore through her clothing and nicked her body, but it wouldn't compare to the tradeoff the beastkin was about to make.
The unholy and unnerving shriek of a cougar quickly ripped through the air as her body spun, one leg brought up high mid spin, and being brought down in the path of a cresent to slam the heel into the male's jaw or collar bone.
The drow heard the sound before he registered the attack. The unforgiving shriek stabbed deeply into his eardrums, making his entire head reverberate. He looked upwards, brows lowered in partial confusion, partial fear. The high-pitched sound made the sun seem brighter than ever, and when he witnessed the monk's spin, her being appeared to be shrouded in a ghostly shadow, one dark enough to resemble an angry Lloth. In that single moment Sorna's judgement failed. His violet eyes glanced sorrowfully at Evi, who seemed even farther away though she hadn't moved an inch, as the kick landed hard against his collarbone. The drow collapsed onto his back, dust from the impact billowing up and around, coating his colorful robes and lacing itself in his silver locks.
There seemed to be a long silence after. Ymeera looked on with both her hands covering her mouth in shock. If Sorna had been human, perhaps his cheeks would then be flushed red. His expression grew angry. He didn't like to be shown up, even less by a female. Once again he got to his feet, wobbling slightly. Ymeera reached out a hand, fingers spread as if to use her magic, but Evi grabbed the hand and shook her head no. The human was not to interfere. To the bandits still hidden in the tent, this move of the female drow was greatly suspicious.
Sorna stabbed his sword into the dirt to help himself straighten up, catching the breath that had been kicked out of him by his opponent. The sorrow he felt had dispersed. All he could feel now was a boiling rage. Blind with fury, he began lashing out with the blade. From the upper left down, from under then straight up, from the upper right then down left, he attacked over and over, the energy absorbed from within the ground rising up within himself and out his fingertips, his hair dancing with each lurch, his breath coming in angry gasps, his hurt pride leaving him wide open to a vicious counter attack.
Raux was already in motion to continue the attack. However she hesitated when she heard the drow's body hit the ground. Her ear flicked, and her raised quarterstaff was lowered. She spun about face on a single foot and strutted away from the man a few paces. She turned again, and waited patiently for the man to rise back to his feet. She could hear the breathing, and she offered a smile. Then his attack came.
She worked efficiently to slap each attack away with a bat of her quarter staff. Her paws worked themselves with a dancer's grace to move her body about the field. But her play came when her foe had made one final slip. Through his furious swinging, his arm had overstreatched for a mere moment. The beastkin had sensed this and immediately stepped inside the other's stance. His arm struck against her side, the blade would not be able to harm her.
One hand removed it's self from her quarterstaff to lash out and grab hold of the male by the collar of his shirt. She gave him a hard push and a tug to throw his stance off, and then allowed her skull to meet his at force with a loud clack. Before he could fall away, that same hand released the collar, and grabbed hold of his neck instead."You should always fear those who are considered weak in a world where the healthy dies young," her voice rang out softly. It held the tone of a teacher sternly scolding his student.
She hoisted the male up with surprising strength, and twisted her body. Her efforts quickly brought the man crashing to the ground, with her own body straddling his. Now with both hands empty, her fist balled together and unleashed an unrelenting storm of heavy blows with all of her mass behind it.
This was more than enough to alert the rest of the bandits. Upon seeing their leading being pummeled into the ground, they launched out of the tent, all five of the large brutes in a single file with their weapons drawn. Without so much as a word they came up behind Ymeera and Evi, and took the drow and human into their clutches as they'd been instructed. Ymeera kicked and clawed at the man holding her, but he simply squeezed her even tighter under his arm and lifted her up. Her legs flailed in the air.
Evi did not waste her energy by fighting back. She realized then that Sorna had masterminded all of this. Perhaps he predicted her betrayal. She watched as the beastkin monk's fist bloodied Sorna's once handsome face, and could not keep a small smile from creeping upon her face. He must have also predicted his own demise.
"Evi Olaurae and Ymeera the human girl," the brute clutching Ymeera started. Evi then noticed there was a dagger at her throat, cold and deathly sharp. "The Port Jinn Protectors will hereby execute you by order of Sorna, our matriarch's great henchmen, on account of your treasonous actions." The words came out loud and in a rush, as if the dim-witted brute found the speech itself frustrating and unnecessary. Ymeera kicked even harder, grunting and on the verge of tears, but his hold did not loosen an inch. Frantically, she glanced at Evi, her brown doe eyes begging her friend to do something. Anything.
The perfidious drow only watched Sorna. The beastkin's fists were unrelenting, and the pummeling lasted an eternity. For some reason, the male drow did not fight back. Blood covered his face to the point where the origins could not be traced. His right eye had already swollen closed, bleeding, as well as his mouth and nose. Was what Evi felt at this moment remorse? She'd never felt like that before.
In a last burst of energy, Sorna moved. He did not lift an arm to defend himself from his opponent, but to ward off his men. His eyes were devoid of light, but the signal was understandable enough. He didn't want them to kill. He was taking back his orders. Perhaps, in that moment, he was suddenly thinking of all the mistakes he'd made, all the people he'd taken from, and there might have—Evi considered—been remorse, the same she'd felt for that earlier instant, that was now replaced with a gleeful relief. Sorna had protected her again. She'd gotten away with it.
As the brute released her from his grip and removed his dagger from her throat, she glanced once more at the gate. Poembi's presence had vanished. She was no longer there. And Sorna had fallen unconscious. Whether he had died or merely fainted, Evi didn't know, nor did she think about it. She'd been freed, and that's all that mattered. She dusted off her cloak in the areas where the dirty bandit had snagged her, and held back a grin.
She owed this fair monk a great deal. Perhaps she'd made a new friend.
