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Myra sighed in relief as she drained the last of the water she had brought from her canteen, a touch of respite from the humid forest. Her eyes took in the small clearing she had stopped to rest in as the cap was slowly screwed back into place. The trail for the Tobi-Kadachi was still relatively fresh, tufts of charged fur and electrified spines lodged into the dense bark of the towering pines. She must have been tracking it for hours, but she would chalk it up as a worthy excursion to be able to learn just a bit more about its nesting habits. The small Auri heaved herself up to her feet with a groan before a new sound had managed to grace her aurals.
A resonating yet distraught horn like call. She had heard it multiple times before and knew immediately it was a Qurepeco. It was close, and those stressful calls were only given when it was endangered.
A small detour couldn’t hurt…, Myra thought to herself; trudging her way through the ever thickening roots of the temperate forest floor. The source was close indeed, barely a malm away from where she had rested. In a verdant clearing the multi-colored fowl lay bound and netted firmly in place, it’s baleful throes filling the air. A small brigade of people clad in crimson paraded about, busying harnesses, pulleys, sleds and the like.
“I can see why this merchant was willing to put out so much gil for a live capture, it’s beautiful. Didn’t put up much of a fight though.”, one Hyur comments as his hand ruffles the neon green plumage.
“Don’t touch it, he wanted it unharmed and we’re going to do our damndest to keep it that way.”, a light skinned Miqo’te hissed, tethering a large rope to a sled. She seemed so small compared to the rest of the people there, it was almost comical. “Go on ahead and get everything ready, Phearless and I will haul it.”
Myra felt her blood begin to boil as the majority of the small platoon marched off. Like a wild animal she stormed out of the vegetation, wildly signing at the two that were left behind. She felt an massive, oversized hand push on her chest to keep her at bay.
“I’m sorry, this is official Immortal Flames business.”, he spoke to her in a rather gentle voice, only to have his arm shoved away as she makes a bee line for the tropical looking bird pinned to the forest floor. She feels the wind knocked from her lungs as the miqo’te intercepts her – an arm pressed up against her neck pinning her to a large tree behind her.
“I don’t know who you think you are, but I’m not going to ask nicely a second time – leave. Now.” Myra’s hands move to pull the arm away, but to no avail. How was she this strong? Her fingers motion out a few more signs, the two soldiers looking between each other with a shrug, it had seemed like she was going to need some other way to communicate.
“Let’s just take a second to slow down. What’s your name, lass? Who are you wi-“, The Roegadyn’s words are cut off by a new sound that met his ears. The qurepeco began a different type of call, much different from the melodic and horn-like fanfare from before. It was now low and guttural, a mix between a growl and a roar. It piqued the interest of the two warriors, the larger of the two returning his attention to Myra, changing his demeanor now to one of concern. “Hey… are you alright?”
Every scrap of color left Myra’s face. Her eyes darted fervently into the forest and against the grip of the one who held her against the tree. The au’ra begins to struggle against her in nothing short of a panicked worry.
You idiots, you don’t know what you’ve done… , her mind screams out at them. The miqo’te releases her grip at last, Myra gasping for a quick burst of air as she rushes to the side of the entangled creature, coaxing and cooing while she strokes its beak.
“What is it? What is it doing? HEY STOP THAT”, the orders are barked at her as Myra begins to cut away at the tie-downs, hurriedly trying to free the distraught bird. She can only shoot her back a look between challenging and anxious, oh how so desperately she wanted to give them an earful. The bindings fell free easily, the rope taut and the knife sharp. One by one she quickly works before being yanked away once again, tossed onto the ground now face to face with the broad side of a large axe.
“You are going to start answering some questions. First of-“, the woman’s words were cut short as the guttural growling noise resonated throughout the forest clearing once more. This time much louder. The trio gazed at the large-billed creature that now remains silent, it’s eyes darting around as it breathes against its tie-downs.
Crunch.
Crunch.
CRUNCH.
The cacophony of trees being uprooted rang out, the small group of strangers now agape with awe, the woman’s axe falling into the dirt with a heavy ‘thud’. “By the Twelve…” the Roegadyn mutters, looking into the eyes of a towering behemoth of a monster. Scales of deep forest green and towering over twenty yalms high, Myra watched the streaks of vibrant crimson energy pulse through its veins. Every step it took shook the clearing, lowering its head as the massive flanged tail raises to counterbalance. Out of the corner of the eye she witnessed the larger of the two charge forward, her arms flailed but his approach didn’t cease. Whether he saw her warning or ignored it is anyone’s guess.
With a bloodthirsty cry his axe makes a wide swing, followed by the meaty impact of steel sinking itself into flesh. The axe had fond it’s mark into the side of the creature’s head – its beady yellow eyes staring down the warrior as it nary even flinches, the axe buried down to the haft into its thick scales. Phearless was a wizened combatant, and was known to push his boundaries to the limit. However it was in that moment he said something that chilled his feline companion.
“Opal, run.” He breathes out before his frame is flung from view. The wyvern jolting its turgid neck muscles around, whipping its head around brought the axe – and the warrior still holding it – careening into the forest. Its jaws open wide to showcase an amalgamation of razor, spine like teeth, followed by an ear splitting roar that shook the canopy itself.
Without thinking Myra seizes the wrist of the woman, yanking her along behind her as the two of them take off through the underbrush. Their breathing already ragged as she glances behind her, cacophonous pounding of massive feet against the forest floor as the bi-pedal monstrosity takes chase, jagged claws ripping up the very earth beneath as entire trees crack and splinter before its onslaught. She needed to get to her bow, but first she needed an opening.
Myra’s fingers kept a wrap on her the wrist of the miqo’te like a vice to keep her from falling behind. The thunderous footfalls growing ever louder before they suddenly cease. She had a split second to react, grabbing the collar of the miqo’s armor and dropping them both to the ground just in time to feel the rush of wind as a massive, crooked claw sails over their heads, the beast had stopped to pounce and lept what easily was thirty yalms to reach them, but wasn’t expecting the abrupt stop. It collides with a thicket of vines broadside, the vegetation entangling around the many spines and crooked scales. Myra frees her bow from her backside, pulling free a handful of arrows from a side pouch – amber liquid glistening from the point of each tip. Speed favored accuracy in such a situation, firing three bolts in succession that found their mark along the length of the beast. It wasn’t enough to take it down, not by a longshot, but she knew that a deviljho’s metabolism was so high, it spread anything introduced into the blood almost instantly.
Muscles and tendons seize up as the beast freezes in place, the girros’ venom coursing through the wyvern’s veins as it makes a labored whine – unable to move. Wasting no time, Myra ushers the miqo’te to her feet and flees once more, putting as much distance between themselves and the ravenous brute as they possibly could. Its ultra fast metabolism meant poisons took effect quickly…but they wore off with just as much expedience. The furious roar shook the forest once more, glancing back behind them as the foliage blocked line of sight.
A heavy hand seizes the tails of both women, yanking them backward into a recess where the upturned roots had created a sort of den out of sight. Before any protests can be made the roegadyn from before – battered and scraped up but no worse for wear - claps a hand over their mouths, shushing them as the ruins footsteps approach. Every footfall shaking the tree above them as they reach a crescendo before slowly starting to fade, the beast continuing on its path of wanton destruction in search for any morsel to sate its voracious hunger.
The three stay perfectly still and silent as the danger passes, finally all breathing a sigh of relief in unison. The hulking man nudges the miqo’te, his demeanor clearly not shaken as he gives out a small chuckle. “I think you owe our new friend here a thank you.”