Common Text
Xanthean Text
Kashehino Text
Cylus 10, 719 - Continued from here
Qit'ria looked through the trees at the approaching swarm of undead. She was thankful it was Cylus, her panther fur let her blend into the dark perfectly, though she wasn't sure how much that helped against the walking corpses. She watched them move, noticing how they were clumsy and feeble, their bodies quite deteriorated. She could see that individually, they were weak. The trouble was that there were so many.
Her mind flashed to her family, Blackbird's giggling, Oonah's stern face, and Faith's soft voice. She was all that stood between them and this horde. She looked down at her wrist where the mark that Faith had given her used to be, when she'd called her sister to Rynmere. It was not there now, but Qit wished it was. For once in her life, she didn't want to fight alone. Oonah and Faith had gone above and beyond proving to her that they were family, true family to her. And she'd accepted it. But she was alone now.
And she was scared.
She let the horde close in just a bit more, not bothering to draw her weapons yet. She was not about to waste her javelins so early, she didn't know how many she would need. The first skeleton walked past her hiding spot, most of the skin on its face gone, and it making a strange gasping moan. Go time.
Qit's spike covered fist shot out of the dark, piercing through the thrall's skull. It crumpled instantly, and Qit'ria hopped over it. The rest of the thralls moved toward the noise. Qit'ria dashed over to a few more, leaping on the first one, her spiked fists leading the charge. She crashed it down into the dirt, spikes severing head from body, her tentacles grabbing two more nearby, and cracking their skulls together.
Faster.
She quickly rolled away, disappearing into the shadows of Cylus once more. Her eyes swept around the small copse that was serving as the bottleneck for her last stand. She dropped to all fours, and sprinted toward the closest group of undead, barreling through several of them, her spike shelled head goring a couple, her tentacles tossing others. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw a few undead on the far side of the copse getting in past her.
Her bear jaws crushed a thrall's head and then she reached into her domain bag, pulling out a javelin. A sprinting skip and she sent the missile flying through the trees, piercing three of the thralls into a trunk. She wanted to roar, but she remembered the arrow that had shot her down. There was at least one person in this horde that was intelligent. She needed to keep her presence from them hidden until she identified them.
Qit'ria saw several of the undead tripping and bumbling over roots and rocks and an idea came to mind. She slipped into the shadows again, fetching several of her water harpoons that she kept tied to a ropes, the gifts from Enrick. At least he'd done one thing right in their time together.
Xanthean Text
Kashehino Text
Cylus 10, 719 - Continued from here
Qit'ria looked through the trees at the approaching swarm of undead. She was thankful it was Cylus, her panther fur let her blend into the dark perfectly, though she wasn't sure how much that helped against the walking corpses. She watched them move, noticing how they were clumsy and feeble, their bodies quite deteriorated. She could see that individually, they were weak. The trouble was that there were so many.
Her mind flashed to her family, Blackbird's giggling, Oonah's stern face, and Faith's soft voice. She was all that stood between them and this horde. She looked down at her wrist where the mark that Faith had given her used to be, when she'd called her sister to Rynmere. It was not there now, but Qit wished it was. For once in her life, she didn't want to fight alone. Oonah and Faith had gone above and beyond proving to her that they were family, true family to her. And she'd accepted it. But she was alone now.
And she was scared.
She let the horde close in just a bit more, not bothering to draw her weapons yet. She was not about to waste her javelins so early, she didn't know how many she would need. The first skeleton walked past her hiding spot, most of the skin on its face gone, and it making a strange gasping moan. Go time.
Qit's spike covered fist shot out of the dark, piercing through the thrall's skull. It crumpled instantly, and Qit'ria hopped over it. The rest of the thralls moved toward the noise. Qit'ria dashed over to a few more, leaping on the first one, her spiked fists leading the charge. She crashed it down into the dirt, spikes severing head from body, her tentacles grabbing two more nearby, and cracking their skulls together.
Faster.
She quickly rolled away, disappearing into the shadows of Cylus once more. Her eyes swept around the small copse that was serving as the bottleneck for her last stand. She dropped to all fours, and sprinted toward the closest group of undead, barreling through several of them, her spike shelled head goring a couple, her tentacles tossing others. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw a few undead on the far side of the copse getting in past her.
Her bear jaws crushed a thrall's head and then she reached into her domain bag, pulling out a javelin. A sprinting skip and she sent the missile flying through the trees, piercing three of the thralls into a trunk. She wanted to roar, but she remembered the arrow that had shot her down. There was at least one person in this horde that was intelligent. She needed to keep her presence from them hidden until she identified them.
Qit'ria saw several of the undead tripping and bumbling over roots and rocks and an idea came to mind. She slipped into the shadows again, fetching several of her water harpoons that she kept tied to a ropes, the gifts from Enrick. At least he'd done one thing right in their time together.
