70th of Ymiden 722
The transport through the Veil, on the back of Opal was often disorienting, but Woe found it simpler everytime he attempted to bridge these connections. Opal's white coat shone in the twilight beneath the skies of Old Dynaash, trampling down the road, with rocky terrain flanking them to either side. It did look like the ideal place for an ambush. Woe knew what he had to expect. This was Fleaface. How long had he been planning this, and what ends had he gone to in order to enact such a devious plot as tracking down someone from Woe's distant youth, in order to lure him in. He couldn't have acted alone. Someone informed him. Brigantia, or Sintra herself. Woe didn't believe Labrae was involved. At any rate, did it matter? He only had to be prepared. He...
A flash of steel glinted out of the corner of his eye, as it flew across the twilight, shining in the moonlight for a bare moment before the steel throwing axe planted itself square in the neck of Opal. Opal reared up, her veil kicking up and trying to instinctively defend itself. Woe was thrown, but managed to soften his roll as he fell to the ground. He conjured a whip out of the surrounding darkness in one hand, and a short-blade in the other, held in reverse grip.
Opal continued to rear and kick up its legs, but Woe knew there was nothing he could do for his beloved mount as two more steel axes were launched from the darkness, implanting themselves into the neck and chest cavity of the Destiar. So, as she fell dead, Woe found himself stranded, in the middle of an unknown land, hunted by an unseen enemy. What the hell did Fleaface even want? Was this a simple assassination attempt? Or an attempt at intimidation?
"Yew know what this is about, Master Woe." Fleaface growled from the darkness. His voice echoed off of the rocks surrounding, complicating Woe's attempts to pinpoint his location. "You must have seen this coming for a long time."
Strange, Fleaface never seemed the sort to monologue a villainous explanation. He must have been really affected by something. Or someone. Woe ducked behind a nearby boulder, as another few axes flew from the darkness to the left. From a different position than before. Fleaface was on the move, it seemed. But where was Lacrima?
Woe supposed it couldn't hurt to entertain his attempts at gloating. "What does she want, Fleaface?" The mortalborn shot back, from behind the rock he hid behind. He could hear the scuffing of boots as Fleaface ran through the rocky outcroppings. He didn't think he was alone, but he couldn't be sure. Fleaface didn't seem like much of a leader, but even a winesot making boasts in a tavern could recruit a couple of louts to do an easy scratch job.
"I 'on't need no leggy morty bitch ta tell me what I oughta!" Fleaface shot back, heat in his voice as he hurled another axe, which rebounded off the opposite stone and nearly caught him in the groin on the way back, planting itself in the soft ground. How many of those things did Fleaface have?
"I been waitin a long time ta do this. And you know who helped? Was your dear old grandma, Brigantia." Fleaface barked out a laugh, "Tole me all 'bout yer childhood sweet'eart."
Woe slowly got up on his knees, crawling along the stone barricade that separated him from Fleaface's sights. For all that Woe could see in the dark, he couldn't very well look now with Fleaface cocking those axes behind his shoulder at every other second.
Woe sounded out again, making his voice to echo as well as he could to the opposite stone. Throwing one's voice was not a skill that Woe had a great grasp on, but he could try and thwart the man's aim by making him think he was in a different place.
He was slowly piecing together the location of Fleaface in all of this rock-studded scenery, and grass and hillocks. He let his shadowy snakewhip trail against the ground behind him as he walked out from behind the rock, at the far side. Fleaface threw about the eighth axe he had, but hit Woe's shadow, which stuck out rather obviously. He'd have to thank Kuvarakh later for making it so. But for now, he began bolting toward his errant catspaw.
"Ahhh fuck no, you ain't got the guts." Fleaface growled, hefting a large axe. He swung at Woe, Woe narrowly dodging a blade that would've split his belly open. On the rebound, he threw his snake whip at Fleaface's eye, intending to deliver maximum pain. He didn't wish to kill the man, yet.
The whip connected with his right eye, and his hand instinctively reached for it, while the axe slid down in his left hand. Woe charged, but that was his first mistake in this encounter. Fleaface was no novice at combat either, and while he could feel pain when Woe wished to inflict it, he was made of sterner stuff than most run-of-the-mill catspaws. He thrust the blade of the axe at woe, gashing him a glancing blow against his right bicep.
Woe closed the distance nonetheless, and scratched his former servant's chest with the blade, imbuing it with the toxin of Kuvarakh. The toxin made him double back, spasming lightly. He could see the sickly glow rising on Fleaface's brow as he realized what Woe had done.
"Lucky shot." Fleaface growled, "Won't happen again."
So saying, he swept the axe low at Woe's legs, which the mortalborn flipped away from just as the blade passed beneath his feet.
Fleaface spat to the side, and waved his arms for several others to join him. Then he began retreating, like the craven rat he always had been.
Woe glanced at the two men, who were wielding each a spear. Woe didn't like the look of them. They seemed to know well enough how to hold a polearm, probably local farmers that he'd press-ganged, in the auspices of going on a bounty hunt. Bumpkins. But dangerous nonetheless when in numbers.
The two men circled around Woe, each caging him in with the points of their forks. Woe held his blade and whip in either hand as he pivoted on his heels, and they encircled him.
The first to make a move thrust their spear at Woe's belly. An admirable target, but one Woe was prepared to defend against with his blade. He caught the fork on it, and with a twist of his arm angled the spear off target, moving past it and toward the farmboy. With a flick of his wrist, he sent the whip's point flying toward the other boy. Aiming not to injure but to cause maximum pain once more. He didn't wish to kill anyone if he could help it, and these lads were only here on false pretenses, if Woe knew Fleaface at all.
The whip snapped against his neck, and the lad bellowed with agony as he fell on his rear, dropping the pole fork.
Woe meanwhile was still moving his way up through the guard of the boy that had him pinned down only moments before. The whip rebounded from the other kid, and toward the one he was fighting. He hit him low, in the groin. Once more, not aiming to do permanent damage, but to teach them a lesson. And perhaps they would learn not to follow some scraggly ruffian on a manhunt or ambush.
The lad put up a valiant effort to remain standing, but Woe kneed him in the gut, sending him to the ground as he yanked the spear out of his hand, tossing it so the side.
"Tell me where he's holing up, now. I can hurt you, but I don't want to. Just tell me where he's taking her."
The boy gulped his fear down, as Woe stood over him, his shadow casting a dark cloud over the boy's face.
