The tabaxi was in pain. Mazhrim could see it in her eyes, but she remained eerily silent as the three gnolls tortured her with their spears. She had received at least a dozen cuts on her body since they had arrived in the clearing. None of the wounds were mortal, her tormenters were careful to cause as much pain as possible without overdoing it. Even though she was making no sound, the gnolls knew they were achieving the desired result by the way she was jerking away from the spearheads as they sliced through her fur into her flesh.
"That's enough, Razhara," Mazhrim snarled at the largest of the three gnolls. The other two paused their poking and turned to look at Razhara for instruction, while Razhara himself turned to confront Mazhrim. Mazhrim didn't need to see the other two properly to know who they were. Jarrah and Lorka were pathetically loyal to Razhara and they rarely left his presence.
"You do not give commands to me, Mazhrim. Do it again and I'll rip out your tongue before shoving it down your throat," Razhara dominantly growled. Mazhrim responded to the larger gnoll with a challenging snarl and pointed at the tabaxi on the ground.
"She is more than prey to be played with," Mazhrim argued aggressively. He was filled with hatefulness as he saw the wicked smile forming on Razhara's lips.
"Of course she is," Razhara said coldly, "once we've had our fun we're going to rip her apart, piece by piece, and devour the bitch... just like we did with her companions."
"So that's what delayed you, is it? Not your terrible hunting skills?" Mazhrim taunted through a clenched jaw. He had noticed the way the tabaxi was trembling after Razhara had spoken, and the sight of her wounded and at their mercy gave him a fearlessness he couldn't explain. Razhara's smile had vanished and was replaced with a visage of murderous intent. The other two behind Razhara had turned their attention to Mazhrim and were growling menacingly at him.
"I dare you to repeat that," Razhara said in a deadly growl.
"Your hunting skills are an embarrassment," Mazhrim growled back. It was a dangerous venture challenging Razhara, he was well over a foot taller than Mazhrim, but Mazhrim couldn't see any alternative. It would have come to this eventually, and given the circumstances now seemed like the best time to resolve their hatred of one another.
"I accept your challenge, Mazhrim," Razhara said as he spat on the ground at Mazhrim's feet, "and when I'm finished with you I'll piss on your corpse and leave it for the worms. Eating you would be worse than eating shit."
A crack of thunder distracted Mazhrim from Razhara's sudden charge, and the smaller gnoll barely managed to raise his spear in defense as his larger adversary thrust their spear at his heart. Wood grinded on wood as Mazhrim pushed Razhara's shaft away with his own. He didn't have the strength to offset his opponent's balance, but what he lacked in raw power was negated by his heightened speed and reflexes. Mazhrim used the momentum of his deflection to step in close, effectively closing the awkward gap between them, and once he was shoulder-to-shoulder with Razhara he rammed the crown of his skull into his attacker's jaw.
Mazhrim felt a sharp pain in his head, felt the gratifying sensation of crunching bone, and despite the heavy falling rain he felt the warm sticky feeling of blood on his head. He wasn't sure if it was his own or his enemy's, and he didn't care. He only cared about ending the fight as quickly as possible.
Mazhrim snarled ferally as he bashed his shoulder into Razhara's chest, and to his surprise he felt the other gnoll's body shift and fall into the mud. In a flash Mazhrim had thrown aside his spear and launched himself onto his fallen foe. His claws and teeth were just as deadly as his spear, and he focused his vicious onslaught of claws and jaws on Razhara's face and neck. Mazhrim inexblicably received no resistance from Razhara. The fight had ended just as quickly as it had started, or so Mazhrim thought, until he heard the very close-by feline wail of agony and felt the weight of another bearhugging him from behind. Jarrah and Lorka had made their move. The fight was only beginning.
It took Mazhrim only a moment to understand what he saw seeing through the storm's gale. Jarrah was only a few feet infront of him, but his back was turned away from Mazhrim and he was leaning over the prostrate tabaxi. Mazhrim could see the spear extending from Jarrah's claws, but he couldn't see the lethal point of it, for it had sunken somewhere deep into the tabaxi. Judging only from the angle of Jarrah's stance, the spearhead had likely passed all the way through the female and was embedded somewhere in the mud underneath her. Jarrah had skewered her on his spear. This was the last thing Mazhrim remembered before he blacked out.