Author note: This chap is a bit more violent then the rest and I used
a Max Payne quote.sue me.
It was five minutes later Deran decided to act, and sometimes one must join
with those he'd rather avoid in these situations.
The archer commander strode to the back lines where the forest began. A tough looking stoat gave Deran a scornful look. Jald's swordsbeasts had little respect for archers, they preferred battle. Deran personally considered some no better then the Death Watch but he chose to keep those comments to himself.
"What do you want, commander?" The stoat replied, and it was easy to notice the scorn he placed on the last word.
Deran narrowed his blue eyes. "Tell commander Jald I'm here to see him, stoat.be quick about it too."
The stoat gave him another sneering look and, placing a paw on the sword he wore at his side, strode into the forests
Jald Nightson was clad in his red tunic and forest green cloak, his emerald eyes were closed and he sat with his back against a tree, massive broadsword clutched in one paw. The other swordsbeasts were seated by piles of wood that were not yet lit, munching on dried rations. None of the creatures under his command were fooled by the display of lethargy. At a moments notice Jald's tranquility would vanish and he would become the engine of bloodshed and violence that had driven the Calpathions to victory more then once.
The stoat walked to his leader. "Commander Nightson!"
The black ferret opened one eye. It was a sign to continue talking
"Arakias wants te see you, Jald.I'm guessing tis important."
Jald nodded. "Take a rest, Silon. I'll deal with this."
Shouldering his blade, Jald walked to the end of the forest where the ermine archer was waiting "Commander Deran." Jald replied with a mock bow. "What does your highness require of a barbaric sword fighter?" Deran was not intimidated by Jald. The ferret was a huge creature, with rippling muscles. He was taller then Deran by a head and definitely stronger and better in fisticuffs. Deran had to be careful around the unpredictable ferret. "My archers slew a weasel, Jald.a weasel baring the uniform of a death Watch scout." Jald smirked. "One scout? Eh, too bad.my boys and I need some action. All this waitin' is boring me.Did you just wanna tell me about the death of one scout?" Deran shook his head. "We believe there to be more a short distance away, Jald.I doubt it's a large number if they only sent one scout.I want you to take six of your swordsbeasts and I want you to find the rest of his group.if they are larger then fifteen, return to us. If not, then I trust you can wipe them out?" Jald grinned, a wide grin too that stretched from ear to ear, showing his silver fangs. "Now you're talking my language, Arakias!" The ferret walked back over to his command. "Silon, Tethas, Tragor, Swiftblade, Irlis and Windclaw. Sling up yer blades and come with me. Blood's gonna be shed and we're gonna shed it." The six he had chosen grinned between themselves and rose, immediately taking up their swords and thrusting daggers into their belts, donning their green cloaks.
Jald led the party past the archers, kicking sand at the young Balif contemptuously "Watch yerself around me, laddy! And point that o' yers someplace else.pointin' a bow at me ain't safe." The fox Windclaw smirked at the rat Tethas. "That's the Manticore for you." He laughed, using Jald's battle alias. Jald was in front of the group, nearly jogging ahead, deadly grin on his face, his command just behind him with swords unsheathed. Jald Nightson didn't understand the meaning of subtlety. *** By all fairness, Larken the rat was not a stupid creature. He was only a very egotistical one. It never occurred to him one of the beasts he had picked to accompany him could have been killed and certainly not Garlaw who had been in the death Watch ranks for so long. "What the hell is taking that damn weasel?" Larken growled irritably "Ye dun suppose he found a nice liddle stream and don't wanna share, Lark?" A ferret named Krun muttered angrily as he sat by the high dune. "If 'e 'as, then I on't even bother with Algan, I'll kill 'im stone dead wit me cutlass! Killed by a pike inna ford, positively tragic. Am I right, mateys?" The eight Death Watchers snickered to themselves. "What'll we tell Algan iffen we don't find anything, Lark?" Question the stoat Sedge. "Don't you worry about that, if we don't find anything we don't find anything. Our orders were to scout ahead fer three days, and we've almost done that! Not our fault the commander was short sighted." Krun growled. "Damn the heat! I hope something exciting happens.we're fighters, not scouts." If a moral could have been applied to Krun, the moral would have been 'Be careful What you wish for.' Larken turned sighed. "Oy, Gen! What're you doing sleeping? Gen? Gen?" The rat was unable to answer due to the tiny dagger in the side of his neck. "Save the big rat for me, the rest are fair game. Kill who you want, I want no prisoners." Larken turned to look to the left. He saw Jald Nightson on the top of the doom, green cloak flowing behind him, broadsword wielded expertly in a single paw, one dagger empty from his belt that he had used to slay Gen with. His wide, wicked smile the face of death Larken saw in his dreams. There was no warning, Jald sprang, sliding down the sand dune, six other beasts following him, each wielding their blades with veteran confidence. "Kill them!" The death Watchers panicked. They were facing sword masters. They were facing Jald Nightson. The Manticore: a legend in the mercenary world. Before they knew what was happening, Jald leaped forward and swept a rat's head off with a powerful swing. Sedge was next to die, the Death Watcher had decided it would be better to at least die fighting then in blind terror, seizing his dagger he hurled it, sending it into the left arm of the stoat Silon. It wasn't the stoat's sword arm though. Silon sprang forward and the hilt holding the blade came out in a punch, knocking Sedge to the ground on his face, the ferret tried to scramble to his feet when Silon's booted foot slammed on his back, making the ferret howl in pain. The final cry of agony was silenced when Silon drove his sword downward below the shoulder blades with such vehemence it cleaved the ferret's spine in two. Of all the Calpathion swordsbeasts, Tragor was the most unluckey. Tragor had sprang upon a stoat, cleaving his paw off. His next slash was to the throat but before the Calpathion could recover the rat Larken had sprang forth and thrust his cutlass into Tragor's back. Larken pulled his cutlass free, only to see how hopeless the battle had become for the Death Watchers. Krun had attempted to flee when Windclaw caught him, a slash to leg dropped the rat his knees before the fox's sword ran him through the chest. Irlin, Swiftblade and Tethas's opponents hadn't lasted minutes. Irlin's blade had cleaven his opponent's skull in two pieces, stepping back to avoid blood and small bits of bone soiling his boots. Swiftblade's opponent lay decapitated in the sand while the fox calmly wiped his sword upon the corpse and Tethas had sustained a minor chest wound before he dealt his opponent a killing thrust.
Terror spurred his movements, before the Calpathions turned their attention to him, Larken ran as he had never done so in his life. Windclaw grinned savagely and made to chase him but Jald raised a paw. The meaning was clear: Wait here. With speed belying his size, Jald ran after the rat who's desperate flight was somewhat hampered by the sand dunes. Jald knew one thing from his long career of violence: Never mind an angel but its fear that lends beasts wings. Larken screamed in futile terror. He screamed because he was doomed. He screamed because he knew he couldn't escape the merciless ferret. He screamed because it was all he had left to him. Larken tried to scramble up a sand dune when a booted footpaw kicked him on his back, The rat thrust with his cutlass, to find the ferret sidestepped easily, bringing his broadsword on the old pirate blade. Jald's broadsword had been made to last by the best blacksmith in his homeland. Larken had cheaply purchased his in a seaport. There was a shower of sparks and Larken found himself holding a hilt with no blade. Jald put his sword to the rat's throat. "My, my, my.what is an idiot like you doing in this harsh land?" Larken's eyes widened in fear. "Please, Manticore!" He cried. "Don't kill me! I'll do anything!" Jald simply grinned. "Your commander, where is he, who is he?" "A-Algan! He's two and a half days away from 'ere! That's the truth! I swear it!" Jald nodded. "I believe you, rat." Larken almost sobbed with relief. "S-so.you'll let me go?" Jald smiled. "Its Larken, ain't it? That's what one o' those idiots called ye." Larken nodded, Jald grinned. "Just wanted to know what the plaque under your head should say. Jald's blade lifted and fell, neatly cutting off Larken's final wail with harsh finality. He raised his broadsword with a grin and lovingy licked the flat of the blade along the blood channel, licking up a good amount of the rat's blood, wiping his sword clean n the corpse, Jald picked up the severed headed and walked back to his command, his smile back in place. For the Manticore, the day had just become enjoyable. Such was the mercy of Jald Nightson the Manticore. The most feared, reviled and respected swordsbeast in the mercenary world.
The archer commander strode to the back lines where the forest began. A tough looking stoat gave Deran a scornful look. Jald's swordsbeasts had little respect for archers, they preferred battle. Deran personally considered some no better then the Death Watch but he chose to keep those comments to himself.
"What do you want, commander?" The stoat replied, and it was easy to notice the scorn he placed on the last word.
Deran narrowed his blue eyes. "Tell commander Jald I'm here to see him, stoat.be quick about it too."
The stoat gave him another sneering look and, placing a paw on the sword he wore at his side, strode into the forests
Jald Nightson was clad in his red tunic and forest green cloak, his emerald eyes were closed and he sat with his back against a tree, massive broadsword clutched in one paw. The other swordsbeasts were seated by piles of wood that were not yet lit, munching on dried rations. None of the creatures under his command were fooled by the display of lethargy. At a moments notice Jald's tranquility would vanish and he would become the engine of bloodshed and violence that had driven the Calpathions to victory more then once.
The stoat walked to his leader. "Commander Nightson!"
The black ferret opened one eye. It was a sign to continue talking
"Arakias wants te see you, Jald.I'm guessing tis important."
Jald nodded. "Take a rest, Silon. I'll deal with this."
Shouldering his blade, Jald walked to the end of the forest where the ermine archer was waiting "Commander Deran." Jald replied with a mock bow. "What does your highness require of a barbaric sword fighter?" Deran was not intimidated by Jald. The ferret was a huge creature, with rippling muscles. He was taller then Deran by a head and definitely stronger and better in fisticuffs. Deran had to be careful around the unpredictable ferret. "My archers slew a weasel, Jald.a weasel baring the uniform of a death Watch scout." Jald smirked. "One scout? Eh, too bad.my boys and I need some action. All this waitin' is boring me.Did you just wanna tell me about the death of one scout?" Deran shook his head. "We believe there to be more a short distance away, Jald.I doubt it's a large number if they only sent one scout.I want you to take six of your swordsbeasts and I want you to find the rest of his group.if they are larger then fifteen, return to us. If not, then I trust you can wipe them out?" Jald grinned, a wide grin too that stretched from ear to ear, showing his silver fangs. "Now you're talking my language, Arakias!" The ferret walked back over to his command. "Silon, Tethas, Tragor, Swiftblade, Irlis and Windclaw. Sling up yer blades and come with me. Blood's gonna be shed and we're gonna shed it." The six he had chosen grinned between themselves and rose, immediately taking up their swords and thrusting daggers into their belts, donning their green cloaks.
Jald led the party past the archers, kicking sand at the young Balif contemptuously "Watch yerself around me, laddy! And point that o' yers someplace else.pointin' a bow at me ain't safe." The fox Windclaw smirked at the rat Tethas. "That's the Manticore for you." He laughed, using Jald's battle alias. Jald was in front of the group, nearly jogging ahead, deadly grin on his face, his command just behind him with swords unsheathed. Jald Nightson didn't understand the meaning of subtlety. *** By all fairness, Larken the rat was not a stupid creature. He was only a very egotistical one. It never occurred to him one of the beasts he had picked to accompany him could have been killed and certainly not Garlaw who had been in the death Watch ranks for so long. "What the hell is taking that damn weasel?" Larken growled irritably "Ye dun suppose he found a nice liddle stream and don't wanna share, Lark?" A ferret named Krun muttered angrily as he sat by the high dune. "If 'e 'as, then I on't even bother with Algan, I'll kill 'im stone dead wit me cutlass! Killed by a pike inna ford, positively tragic. Am I right, mateys?" The eight Death Watchers snickered to themselves. "What'll we tell Algan iffen we don't find anything, Lark?" Question the stoat Sedge. "Don't you worry about that, if we don't find anything we don't find anything. Our orders were to scout ahead fer three days, and we've almost done that! Not our fault the commander was short sighted." Krun growled. "Damn the heat! I hope something exciting happens.we're fighters, not scouts." If a moral could have been applied to Krun, the moral would have been 'Be careful What you wish for.' Larken turned sighed. "Oy, Gen! What're you doing sleeping? Gen? Gen?" The rat was unable to answer due to the tiny dagger in the side of his neck. "Save the big rat for me, the rest are fair game. Kill who you want, I want no prisoners." Larken turned to look to the left. He saw Jald Nightson on the top of the doom, green cloak flowing behind him, broadsword wielded expertly in a single paw, one dagger empty from his belt that he had used to slay Gen with. His wide, wicked smile the face of death Larken saw in his dreams. There was no warning, Jald sprang, sliding down the sand dune, six other beasts following him, each wielding their blades with veteran confidence. "Kill them!" The death Watchers panicked. They were facing sword masters. They were facing Jald Nightson. The Manticore: a legend in the mercenary world. Before they knew what was happening, Jald leaped forward and swept a rat's head off with a powerful swing. Sedge was next to die, the Death Watcher had decided it would be better to at least die fighting then in blind terror, seizing his dagger he hurled it, sending it into the left arm of the stoat Silon. It wasn't the stoat's sword arm though. Silon sprang forward and the hilt holding the blade came out in a punch, knocking Sedge to the ground on his face, the ferret tried to scramble to his feet when Silon's booted foot slammed on his back, making the ferret howl in pain. The final cry of agony was silenced when Silon drove his sword downward below the shoulder blades with such vehemence it cleaved the ferret's spine in two. Of all the Calpathion swordsbeasts, Tragor was the most unluckey. Tragor had sprang upon a stoat, cleaving his paw off. His next slash was to the throat but before the Calpathion could recover the rat Larken had sprang forth and thrust his cutlass into Tragor's back. Larken pulled his cutlass free, only to see how hopeless the battle had become for the Death Watchers. Krun had attempted to flee when Windclaw caught him, a slash to leg dropped the rat his knees before the fox's sword ran him through the chest. Irlin, Swiftblade and Tethas's opponents hadn't lasted minutes. Irlin's blade had cleaven his opponent's skull in two pieces, stepping back to avoid blood and small bits of bone soiling his boots. Swiftblade's opponent lay decapitated in the sand while the fox calmly wiped his sword upon the corpse and Tethas had sustained a minor chest wound before he dealt his opponent a killing thrust.
Terror spurred his movements, before the Calpathions turned their attention to him, Larken ran as he had never done so in his life. Windclaw grinned savagely and made to chase him but Jald raised a paw. The meaning was clear: Wait here. With speed belying his size, Jald ran after the rat who's desperate flight was somewhat hampered by the sand dunes. Jald knew one thing from his long career of violence: Never mind an angel but its fear that lends beasts wings. Larken screamed in futile terror. He screamed because he was doomed. He screamed because he knew he couldn't escape the merciless ferret. He screamed because it was all he had left to him. Larken tried to scramble up a sand dune when a booted footpaw kicked him on his back, The rat thrust with his cutlass, to find the ferret sidestepped easily, bringing his broadsword on the old pirate blade. Jald's broadsword had been made to last by the best blacksmith in his homeland. Larken had cheaply purchased his in a seaport. There was a shower of sparks and Larken found himself holding a hilt with no blade. Jald put his sword to the rat's throat. "My, my, my.what is an idiot like you doing in this harsh land?" Larken's eyes widened in fear. "Please, Manticore!" He cried. "Don't kill me! I'll do anything!" Jald simply grinned. "Your commander, where is he, who is he?" "A-Algan! He's two and a half days away from 'ere! That's the truth! I swear it!" Jald nodded. "I believe you, rat." Larken almost sobbed with relief. "S-so.you'll let me go?" Jald smiled. "Its Larken, ain't it? That's what one o' those idiots called ye." Larken nodded, Jald grinned. "Just wanted to know what the plaque under your head should say. Jald's blade lifted and fell, neatly cutting off Larken's final wail with harsh finality. He raised his broadsword with a grin and lovingy licked the flat of the blade along the blood channel, licking up a good amount of the rat's blood, wiping his sword clean n the corpse, Jald picked up the severed headed and walked back to his command, his smile back in place. For the Manticore, the day had just become enjoyable. Such was the mercy of Jald Nightson the Manticore. The most feared, reviled and respected swordsbeast in the mercenary world.