If you think you saw this story before, you might have, I took it down and re-edited it. It goes much farther into the story now, with fewer flow problems!

Disclaimer: I own nothing. Tyria is a world belonging to Arenanet and NCSOFT in the form of the Guild Wars franchise.

I also only in part own the Foundation-Hub (. org) unofficial universe, in which this story coincides.

Chapter 2: Vicious Mark

Orla caught up with the rogue cow, Hilda, and laid a firm hand on her side. "Come on you grand dame. Time to go home."

The bovine looked at the girl with an expression that seemed to question Orla's intelligence. To relieve the girl's lack of understanding, the cow took a step back, showing the binds which tied her to the hedge.

"Who did that to you–?" immediately, Orla realised she had been lured into a trap. Her fear was confirmed when from the hedge three men, clothed in dark leather, emerged and surrounded her.

"Hello young one," one of them said in a smooth, sultry voice.

Bandits? Here?!

She turned to look at the speaker. He was young, but with chiselled features and dark complexion. His noble Ascalonian features made him very handsome, but something behind his eyes made Orla cringe on the inside. However, the young woman maintained her composure. "Excuse me, but you and your fellows don't belong here. If any of the Diessa patrols sees you, they will give no quarter. You should leave, now." She gave her sincerest smile to emphasise that she wanted no trouble.

The attractive leader chuckled. "Oh sweetie, don't worry about us. We know the patrols. We also know your masters are nothing but a cripple and a geezer. You can escape, why not? You don't belong here."

She tried to keep smiling but knew she resembled a sick hylek, and she worried that her raging heartbeat was audible. "D-don't worry about me, I'm well fed and cared for, I think I will just… stay, but thanks for the concern." her voice wavered as he stepped closer.

With a gloved hand he brushed her cheek tenderly. "Well you know what I think, you want to get out of here, I can see it in your eyes. We'll even rid this sorry land of two more scum-cats for you."

Actually what I want to do is break your fingers, she thought while trying not to glare.

She recalled a moment from last week. A notice letter had been sent out to the Diessa ranchers, so she perched on Srykar's knee to read it with him. One of the topics mentioned a string of murders where ranchers had been attacked. She stopped reading as soon as the article began detailing what had been done to the poor charr. There was one thing she could do to save her friends from a similar fate: Scream.

—-

Orla's desperate cry started a fire burned in Seven's gut, igniting his senses, strength, and willpower. The only thing that kept him from running out bare-handed to rip the source of the man-stench limb from limb was his bum leg. Which in hindsight was a good thing, as it forced him to properly equip himself with his rifle and keep a steady hand as he aimed and fired.

—-

Srykar would often complain how Orla was the source of so much disorder, which in a small way was true, since she had not been through all the rigorous military training.

But, never had the girl seen an action of hers cause such outright chaos. Within seconds of her scream, she felt warm fluid splatter on her neck, followed immediately by a loud 'crack!' from the house. She knew she did not want to look behind her. In her shock, she neglected to flee and found herself tumbling into the hedge with the ruffians.

The bandit leader was furious at how one of his henchmen had been killed right before his eyes, as if to mock him that he could have been hit just as easily. A spray of bullets whistled through the higher branches of the hedge.

Orla could hear Srykar and Seven shouting and roaring in rage. Before she could call out to them a giant arm snatched her around the waist, squeezing the air out of her. A man, larger than any she had seen before, slung her over his shoulder as the group of bandits ran out of the hedge and towards a stand of wooded hills.

The leader shouted to the large man, "Some stealth would be nice!"

Orla's carrier stopped, offering her a chance to get an upside down view of her captors. Besides the leader and huge man carrying her, there was also a slender, blond young man, or a woman with short hair, she could not tell, who had not been with the others when they surrounded her. The blond had a great-sword slung over his back. He looked at the big man questioningly. It was then that she felt the air buzz with a strange hum.

The man carrying her thrust his fist out and the world took on a purplish haze. Glancing at her hand, Orla discovered that she and the bandits were transparent as glass. However, she did not have time to stare in wonder. She heard the faint groan of a bow as the bandit leader nocked an arrow. Srykar burst through the hedge, as the arrow shot out of the ward and appeared mid-flight.

"Dodge!" she screamed.

Srykar halted a moment, staring at the oak shaft protruding from his chest and shrugged. "Good shot!" he called. Then he raised his own longbow. "But learn something from a master!"

His arrow went high and long, passing over the bandits' heads then exploded in an black powder flash, destroying the ward. The men and Orla immediately reappeared.

"Got you rats!" Srykar roared, ripping out the arrow from his chest and nocking it as his next shot.

"No you don't!" the blond "man" muttered. He had drawn but a sliver of his great-sword from its sheath, when he vanished from sight, leaving only a blue mirage behind. In a flash of light, he reappeared in front of Srykar, his blade held low, readied for an upwards slice. The blond grinned in pride.

CLANG

The blond's sword clashed against Seven's musket barrel, stopping it mid-swing. The charr's eyes were aflame in wrath as he pushed down with his musket as if it were a quarterstaff, defending his elder.

The blond grit his teeth angrily, then flicked his blade down and spun around like a top, bringing the great-sword in a powerful slam downwards.

Seven knew his bent musket did not stand a chance against that kind of a blow, but he raised the ruined gun for his defence as he prepared to move backwards. The barrel was cut clean through and the cherry wood body shattered. At the last moment Seven stepped back to avoid the blade and reached for his pistols. However, the front of his body was sliced as if by the air itself. Blood sprayed out before him as the enemy's transparent, blue aural sword shrank back into its blade.

Orla's heart stopped, her eyes riveted on Seven as he fell, blood still spraying into the air. Seven! No! Not Seven! She was helpless, upside-down on the back of a massive man. I can't do anyth–

Suddenly, her grieved face went blank, as if she was asleep. But her body moved on its own accord, twisting upwards and snatching the huge man's muscular jaw. With a quick twist, followed by a snap, he was dead and she was free.

The bandit leader grinned at the blond's handiwork, glad he had him in his group. "Hey, I'll take the girl Hurs–" He turned in time to see his large partner fall over dead. He was so distracted, he did not notice the girl's hand grab his neck,. Without taking another breath in this world, she forced him to the ground, followed by a bone shattering punch which imploded his chest cavity.

The last thing he saw were the blank eyes of his killer.

—-

Srykar drew his dual headed axe as he faced off with the blond guardian. Both swung their weapons, but they never made contact. The charr's adversary had vanished. He looked up in time to see the petite swordsman fly through the air and smash into a venerable pine. Looking down, Srykar saw Orla recoil from her kick, then take off in a blur after her victim. As she approached the pine, she made a flying roundhouse kick, which ended in her recklessly smashing her shin into the guardian's gut. Despite the inefficient and off kilter strike, the results were devastating. A crack ran up the pine and the base was obliterated, effectively gutting and prostrating the old tree while smashing the human into an unrecognisable pulp.

But in her rage, Orla was hardly done. As her power waned she straddled her enemy's waist and repeatedly punched what looked like was once his jaw. With every strike she shrieked as tears streamed down her face. Glowing, yellow, branchlike lines had grown up her neck to the base of her jaw and began to exude smoke along with the stench of burning flesh. But if the marks were causing her any pain, she was oblivious to it. Finally, covered in the blood of her enemy and her own, her fists slowed. Yet still she continued striking, breaking yet another of her knuckles.

Large arms wrapped around her middle and pulled her back. She tried to resist but she was already so weary. Finally her senses returned and she heard a frantic voice.

"It's alright Orla! I'm ok! Stop! You can stop! He's dead."

Orla let out a relieved sob as she twisted around to see Seven's worried face.

He smiled at her. "Well, it seems you can hear again. I thought you had gone deaf."

She backed away and looked at her friend's chest. There was a line of blood-soaked fur peeking out through his shirt, but the cut seemed much shallower than she had feared. Then she tucked her head into his shoulder and hugged him, but when her hands touched, she gasped in pain and pulled back, looking at her mangled fists.

"What happened?" she asked as she turned her head to look.

Seven started to warn her but was too late. She saw the guardian's mangled remains and gasped, whipping her head around and burying it into Seven's collar while she tried to regulate her breathing.

After a few deep pants she asked, without looking, "Who did that?"

"You did," Srykar replied simply, though his tone seemed to be prying for an answer.

Then she noticed the overwhelming stench of blood and bone. She pulled her face out of Seven's white fur and saw it was marred with blood from her hair and face. She looked at her shirt, her pants, her hands, they were all splattered with the red, stinking fluid. Vague memories filled her head, churning her stomach.

It was too much. She bent over and vomited. Her friend reached for her, but he pulled back, unsure of what to do. Once she finished, she allowed herself to be helped to her feet, keeping her eyes carefully averted from the smashed corpse.

Srykar spoke up, "Crazy rampages aside, let's head back and tend to our wounds. Then you all get to help me bury them so we don't attract unwanted beasts."

Orla nodded weakly, anticipating the grizzly task ahead, while reminding herself that was not much worse than slaughtering cattle. Still, she felt a strange feeling creeping up on her but she did her hardest to suppress it.

I've been through worse,

she reminded herself. I've had to kill before, before I came here. But, they don't know this… so… how shocked should I act? Do I even need to pretend? I feel so sick. I don't want to become what he wanted.tSrykar tried to get her attention, "Orla, you well?"

She opened her mouth to speak but instead the world turned dark and she was alone.

A deep voice echoed in her head, mumbling words she did not understand. She would have cried out but her voice was robbed of her. Out of the murk a disembodied hand flew out and its clawed fingers grasped her head holding her in place. Her eyes darted around in terror, recognising the presence. She felt moist breath on her neck followed by five claws piercing her skin, drawing a strange design.

She needed out. She was not going to go through this, not again. Though her arms felt heavy as lead, she raised them, ripping away the hand from her face. Quick as the world changed, it was back to how it should be, the sun was shining, banishing the darkness. Srykar and Seven returned into her view, both having backed away and looking cautiously at her, wondering if they were next to feel her fist.

She tried to smile reassuringly, tell them that nothing was wrong, but the words never left her lips. Instead there was pain, as if someone had set the left side of her neck on fire. Crouching down, she shrieked.

Thoughts?

I'm just going to say now, that I too am annoyed how similar I ended this chapter and the previous chapter, it bothers me, but I needed a breaking spot.

*sigh*

That aside, I hope Orla comes across well, even though she's a bit... ahh... her character goes places (literally and figuratively) so I'm happy with who she becomes later, but in the first two chapters she seems slightly "Mary Sue-ish" to me.

Also, the giant man is not a norn here, but he is the huge human model that's apparently possible in Tyria.