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 Posted: Tue Jan 07, 2014 3:17 pm
The puddle beside him had just enough of a chill to convince him it hadn't done more harm than good. Its waters were too florid to mirror his reflection even before thrusting his wounded paws in. Asban didn't permit his imagination to hazard a guess just how slovenly a lion leftover from the turmoil might look. His face harbored the staid expression of a veteran, but his legs trembled under the weight of his own mortality. He and Sebor had been waylaid by half a dozen of them at a glance and no one, unless suffering from an all-encompassing madness worse than death, lived through it without at least shaky paws. Living through it at all was an impressive feat.
Had she?
Slowly, cautiously, he stood all the way up and lifted his head. Cracking bones and straining muscles were a sickening chrous to most. Asban knew them as part of a viking's victory song. He detested it, yet basked in it. A product of his upbringing or proof of the wickedness within, who could say? The part of him doormat until looking death in the eye was slowly retreating, taking with it bared teeth and claws.
Excepting thralls, Kondo and the reavers accompanying him would have spared no one rampaging through these lands. The bodies strewn about told a story of savages. Several corpses were skinned, one of them carefully abraded compared to the others. Gruesome, but expected. What had stilled him was the brutality against the young and the females. At least one slaughtered cub and the mangled head of his mother had been left behind. What could these two have done to omit them from capture? That was the way of things: take the pretty ones and the cubs to offer the Warlord if nothing else.
The rainwater, decay, and knowing they were in the land of rogues, where many scents would be present, all contributed to their being ambushed. Who the strangers were that dared collude and conspire against them, he would never know. An allied group to the dead is what he assumed. They lied low until Asban turned to Sebor, said to her, "They must be close. This is the captain's work, I'm sure."
"They" referring to his group, which he had told her at some point in their superficial conversation. The rest he couldn't recall -- too much iron in the blood or too many bumps on the head, perhaps. He had far from survived the chaos unscathed, sporting bloodied paws, a head wound, various scratches, possibly a broken bone somewhere.
Further inspection of his now lifeless attackers confirmed them too thin to be warriors, all three of them. Two had pursued Sebor, so that meant there were five; one less than he'd thought.
Asban caught his breath and prepared to search through the night.
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Posted: Wed Jan 08, 2014 1:14 pm
Sebor spat out a bit of blood as she looked around, scanning the savanna with a scowl. There were no lions in sight any longer, foe or friend, and she wondered where Asban had been chased off to. The attack had come as a surprise, and she knew they were in trouble when lion after lion came over the small hill towards them. They had been scrawny lions, but sometimes it was those underfed, desperate ones you needed to respect the most. Five against two wasn't ever a fair fight, but Sebor and Asban had been quick to take things into their territory, so to speak. They knew how to fight, they knew how to survive, Sebor from her life in the rouge lands and Asban from growing up in the Stormborn. She hadn't escaped unscathed. It would have been impossible to do so. In the grand scheme of things, though, her wounds were superficial and what was bleeding was already starting to congeal and scab, save where one of the lions had grabbed her muzzle in hers and cut her mouth. She spat out more blood as she turned her head to lick a stinging a scrape on her hindquarters, soothing that ache before heading off in the direction she'd seen three lions chasing her companion. The two lions at her feet were already collecting flies, and she stepped over them without ceremony. Blood and fear drew her along, her nose leading the way. A turn here, a veer there, blood on the ground, paw prints in the muddy wake. It took only a few minutes for the scent of death to reach her nose, and her heart pounded. She raised her guard and extended her claws as she continued on. The scent of blood grew stronger as she approached a dead lion, which thankfully wasn't Asban. Another lion a little further off, and one more. None of them had the stripes of her 'friend'. She let out a little breath of relief and trotted along, following the breadcrumb trail, sure it would lead to Asban. Sure enough, at a small watering hole not far from the last two dead bodies stood Asban. He looked to be in rough shape from this distance, and as she got closer she could tell he was much worse off than she. It wasn't too much of a surprise, though. Three lions against one was horrible odds, even for a trained lion. Two against one was much better odds. "Thank the gods," Sebor murmured as she got closer, although her voice was far from joyful. "When we split up I was concerned I'd find you in pieces."
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Posted: Wed Jan 08, 2014 8:29 pm
"When we split up I was concerned I'd find you in pieces."
An expectation Asban's condition nearly lived up to. What he assessed as scratches were for the most part deep wounds, fur and flesh torn asunder. He would walk away with lasting scars — if he walked away at all. The progress he'd made between his starting point and where he stopped could be crossed by a healthy lion in seconds. It had taken him several minutes. Needless to say, the adrenaline was running thin in his blood. Too much of that blood was no longer in his veins.
"Seb --" A wheeze. More of that precious red splattered on the ground. Asban lifted his head again through sheer willpower and strained his eyes to focus on her face. Reading him now was hard as it had ever been. He murmured in long, sighing breathes words unintelligible and his gaze became fixated on the distance behind her. With no explanation, in that same direction, he started to walk.
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Posted: Wed Jan 08, 2014 8:40 pm
When blood spattered the ground in front of Asban, Sebor knew he was much worse than he looked, and that was saying something. Her ears pressed against her skull as she moved forward, trying to intercept the lion, his eyes fixed on some point in the distance. "There will be none of that," she said briskly, her bloody paws planted firmly on the ground. She didn't think she'd need much force to keep him in one place, though. It looked like the slightest breeze could knock him over. "You need to lay down and rest. Walking around will only make those wounds worse." Thankfully they were by the small pool of water and, although he'd soiled it with the blood, it would settle and clear soon to give him some water. She looked around for anything to help with his wounds, to stop the blood at the very least. There were a few leafy bushes not far off that she could press into the wounds, but first she needed to get him down on the ground. "Quickly now, we haven't got all afternoon," she said, her words clipped but with an undertone of worry. The blood in the general area was mostly his, she realized. He'd lost much more than she thought. He probably had a deep wound somewhere that she hadn't seen yet. His face and chest, which she had the best view of, were pretty banged up. His nose was bleeding from a deep gouge that went clear up to his eye, and it was a miracle it stopped there. The front of his legs were also very scratched up, but nothing life threatening. A wound to the stomach, perhaps, or a hind leg.
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Posted: Wed Jan 08, 2014 9:02 pm
Clearly, she didn't realize just how right she could be. "Sebor." His tone had ranged from bitter sarcasm to genuine consideration when speaking to her, but never before had it managed to say so much with so little. Look at me. Listen. "Think," Asban ordered. In the past he had groused to himself about her neglected feminine side. To him, females were doing a disservice to all of them by disregarding their duties to nurture and heal. When she unknowingly appeased him, still he complained.
Their crucial circumstances played a large part in his agitation. He was aching, angry, and they were both still in grave danger. "What will we do if more of them come?" he managed to ask. Both were so fond of rhetorical questions.
The truth was more attackers was unlikely. Gambling on it wasn't worth tainted water and resting.
"We have to move."
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Posted: Wed Jan 08, 2014 9:26 pm
Sebor paused in trying to find the source of the horrible blood loss when Asban spoke, dragging her gaze up to his own with his voice. She narrowed her eyes and waited for him to continue, and when he did, she gave a quiet snort. "Yes, what will we do if more come? If they do come it doesn't matter much where we are. They'd catch up to us at the speed you'd be moving at." She moved around him then and found the source: huge gashes along his hind leg and down to his belly, teeth marks scoring beside the deep claw wounds. "Gods above, it's a wonder you're standing at all," she murmured, leaning in just a bit. Not deep enough to see the bone, thankfully, but with the way his leg was resting she wouldn't be surprised if there was a break in there somewhere. "I'm going to ask you once, Asban," she said, turning to look at the lion once more, her gaze serious. "Lay down. If lions come, we'll do what we can. In the mean time, I'd like to patch you up so I don't go back to the pride alone." It wasn't even a matter of bragging and proving herself anymore. It was saving a life, a companion, an uneasy friend. Regardless of gender or how they stepped on each other's toes, they were pridemates, and Sebor would see herself torn to pieces by rouges first than let Asban walk himself to death.
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Posted: Wed Jan 08, 2014 9:47 pm
Walking was probably a generous word for the wobbling limp Asban was forced to resort to. The longer he stood, the worse it was. He could blame that for his yielding — blame the blood and bones and bad luck. Maybe what he saw when he stared at her had a bit to do it with, but this would be considered at a later time, if at all. Regardless, she could claim victory over three as well, two by their deaths and one by his simply lying down.
He stayed some on his stomach, some on his side, with his front legs stretched before him and the back ones to the right. Surveying the damage was easier from this position and he was so absorbed in it that if she were to speak, he wouldn't know to answer.
That's how it seemed.
There was always room for one more in Asban's mind. One more thought, idea, question. Trying to keep the web from getting tangled was verging on futile with blood loss, pain, and tension slowling everything down. His injuries weren't the only thing distracting him.
"Who would you rather have as your Warlord?" The question was abrupt. The way he asked was not: he presented it calmly and patiently, watchin her again. Staring down his wounds wasn't doing much to heal them, anyway.
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Posted: Wed Jan 08, 2014 10:04 pm
As Asban settled down to the ground Sebor felt a weight lift off her chest. Good. Well, not good in the sense that he normally rebuffed her statements with little more than a glance. That he was complying meant he was in serious danger from his injuries. As he settled, she moved over to the bushes she'd spotted earlier and tugged up a few of the largest, leafiest she could find, Dragging her prize back to Asban, she began to tear up the smaller ones into smaller strips with her teeth and claws. The question caught her off-guard, and she glanced up for a moment from her work. After turning the leaves into strips, she was carefully applying them to the wounds, helping to soak up the blood and stop it from flowing so freely. She frowned in thought before returning to her work. "Who are my options?" she asked, unsure of why he was talking about this now. Perhaps to distract himself from his pain. "You can't ask 'who' without giving me some sort of criteria to match. Out of all the lions I've met in my life? The Stormborn I've come across? Or just my version of the perfect Warlord?" Yes, keep him talking, keep him thinking. If he passed out his chances of survival were even worse.
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Posted: Wed Jan 08, 2014 10:18 pm
He'd live or he wouldn't. Asban didn't let blind hope fool him into thinking some leaves would decide his fate. Her intentions were good and her actions noble (in the aftermath of murder, it was the kind of humor he'd laugh at), so why not let her try? Though if he had his way they'd still move elsewhere and not sit heedlessly out in the open like this.
"I'd have thought someone so... outgoing would have met most of the vikings by now." Still well enough to throw in some smartass undertones. That was a good sign. The ensuing silence, not so much. Was he just taking another stroll alone with his thoughts? His expression definitely qualified as pensive.
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Posted: Thu Jan 09, 2014 12:17 pm
Asban's words made Sebor snort softly. "Believe me, I've tried. No one seems to want to talk, though. Too busy, they say, or they just walk off without a word. Either the pride as a whole needs to be taught some manners or my reputation precedes me." She gave the lion a pointed look as she continued ripping up the leaves, layering them over one another to create a very crude cloth of sorts to help clot the blood. It was working, thankfully, and the more she added the less blood oozed out of the wounds. She moved from gash to gash, taking her time to ensure the leaves would lay flat and stick to one another with the help of the blood. "Now, you're not to pull these off once I'm done," she warned as she moved to the next large cut. "You're to let them fall off as they will once we're walking again. If I catch you picking or scratching, so help me, you will not be a happy lion." Her voice carried more concern than threat, though. The last thing she wanted to do was bring more pain to the lion.
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Posted: Thu Jan 16, 2014 12:38 pm
Manners? Yes, a bunch of savages like them needed to hone their manners. Asban chortled just enough to prompt an involuntary wince. She was insane. That was the only reasonable explanation his mind could generate with the haze of blood loss clouding his thoughts — and diminishing his motor skills.
"You're to let them fall off as they will once we're walking again. If I catch you picking or scratching, so help me, you will not be a happy lion."
That was his cue to start the process of standing, which would lead to walking, which would take them away from here. It wasn't agonizingly slow by any means, but should she choose to, Sebor had ample time to decide whether or not to raise a ruckus about it.
Until then, Asban had a once-over of the... scenery.
Hm.
If she had been talking, as he often did, Asban simply spoke over her: "Good work." As good as slaughtering distraught mourners could hope to be. By the last syllable his eyes were back on her. His expression favored neutrality and the issued praise wasn't exactly enthusiastic either. Baby steps.
Just like his walking would be.
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Posted: Thu Jan 16, 2014 12:47 pm
Sebor let Asban's chuckle punish him as she finished up layering the leaves on the last wound. She looked over her work with a critical eye before nodding just a bit. They would hold as long as it took to stop the bleeding and, once the wounds began to scab on their own, would flake off as they lost their adhesive. It was a trick from her mother that she'd learned, and she was thankful for it. That particular leaf clung well to wet things but, as it dried, didn't stick. That way the leaves wouldn't become a part of the scab and pull the whole blockage off if tugged free. A very suitable bandage when out in the rouge lands. She turned to watch Asban struggle to his feet, but knew better than to offer help. She had forced him to lay still for so long and he had done so nicely, whether or not it was completely voluntary didn't need to be asked. He could be a big, tough male now and limp along in pain while she followed beside him. The praise, although hollow, was taken graciously. Sebor bobbed her head once Asban was looking at her, ears quirked up now that her attention was no longer focused on her task. She turned to look around, but there was still no sight, sound, or smell of any new opponents. That was good. While she wasn't nearly as beat-up as Asban, she had a few wounds of her own and wasn't nearly as energetic as she had been before the fight. "Shall we continue, then?" she asked after the male had a moment to collect his balance and his wits. "If this doesn't attract more lions it will certainly bring in scavengers." Birds she could deal with, but a pack of hyenas would pose a rather unfortunate problem.
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Posted: Fri Jan 17, 2014 1:00 pm
SilverLutz Lemme know when you wanna do a continuation of this. <3 Figure they're going to have to take a few days at the least given the distance and injuries.
His temporarily slowed movement could be dismissed as the backlash of his injuries. That he glanced back at the mauled cub could be chance; his eyes could have landed anywhere. Harder to explain was the shake of his head, but Asban would offer no justification for that or for the look of disgust that crossed his face like the flickering light of a fire.
One could hope the next Warlord would have better things to outlaw than female reavers...
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