Naunet

The orientation of K'ile, the dais, and the billowing smoke suddenly flipped and spun around him. He twisted, tail whipping out behind him, and stumbled mostly upright down the soft, crumbling dais. Blue eyes looked to his feet for just a moment before widening, and he leapt further away from the collapsing stone. Staggering to a halt back on the ground, he dropped to a crouch and glared towards K'ile.

Anger and lingering aether fueling his strength, Thal grimaced behind the mask as he gripped his weapon now in both hands, across his chest, and dove forward. He collided with the Tia, knocking K'ile spear point to one side and driving his own red-hot weapon lengthwise against K'ile's chest. He wouldn't let up the pressure once he connected, seeking to drive the Tia off the dias.

The bottoms of his feet tingled, but Thal ignored the sensation. Steam and smoke and sulfuric fume made it difficult to see, but he caught K'ile's movement disturbing the clouds and jerked to one side. He swung his weapon again, this time towards the side opposite where K'ile held his weapon, aiming with the legth of the barb for the Tia's exposed ribs.

Aether humming in his veins, Thal pumped his legs, launching himself through the wall of fumes without hesitation or reaction. He followed after K'ile, but jumped for a part of the dias some fulms to the side of K'ile rather than for the Tia himself. As he came down, he swung the black barb out like a bat towards the Tia.

Thal tensed, his muscles reacting before his brain fully processed the searing heat charging towards him through the ground. A great lunge through him to one side, and he rolled twice before leaping back to his feet and whirling back towards the Tia. "Fine," he barked. "Just like last time - you're gonna lose again." And then he charged through the fumes, unhindered by the scalding hot air that would have burned the lungs of the living, and lept again for K'ile.

"Insane," Thal muttered. "You're insane. You're just gonna doom them to slavery beneath the Amal'jaa and beneath Ifrit. If you think they'll be treated any different than the other miqo'te in this place..." He shook his head roughly, ears shifting unhappily. "Damnit, I don't want to kill you."

Thal scoffed at that, scuffing one bare foot against the arid ground. He gestured roughly with the metal barb. "You ever take a look at all the tempered you've surrounded yourself with? I've seen the tempered Sylph in the Shroud, the Ixal - they're all the same. They're slaves. They only care about serving their primal. Family? It's nothing to them. I may not know that family of yours anymore, but I sure as hell care enough to call you out on leading them to that kind of fate. It's enough to make me wish I could go back to them, to protect them from you."

"I don't want to kill you," Thal muttered, eyeing K'ile's weapon warily but not immediately doing anything about it. His ears shifted back and he made an unhappy face behind the mask. "You seemed so concerned about your family the last time we met. And now you're here getting... tempered? Yeah, that'll definitely help your family. Enslave yourself to a primal."

Thal grimaced behind the mask and shifted his feet in the hot sand. "Big bad Amal'jaa kind of hands you your ass... yeah, you'd agree to help him solve a problem if it meant he'd leave you and yours alone, too." He let out a groan of frustration, tail swishing broadly behind him, and reached up to pull on one ear furiously. "This is ridiculous..."

Thal hit the ground with a thud and sprang back upright almost immediately, bouncing back away from the Tia to put some sizeable distance between them. The mask bore no expression, hiding the shock on his face, but his voice communicated it clearly, along with a sharp note of confusion and some hurt, "I should ask you that! What, are you so bent on killing me again that you join up with beastmen and ask one of them to hunt me down? And--what the hell are you doing here? I thought you were gonna be an Amal'jaa!"

Blue eyes flashed wide behind the mask as K'ile Tia's form came into focus. It was far too late for Thal to adjust his approach though, as his legs launched him up and forward in a leap he hadn't known himself previously capable of. He had just enough time to alter the angle of his weapon, in a hurried reaction to the flash of red-hot metal thrust forward by the other miqo'te, and as he fell down upon the Tia he sought to deflect the spiked end safely past him. The sound of metal colliding with superheated metal echoed in the stiflingly hot sanctum.

His legs moved with a sure swiftness they'd never before had, limbs emboldened by the rush of aether from the dead Amal'jaa behind him. He kept his silence as he ran, though, footsteps as light as he could manage, and shook his head to let the hood of his robe fall back from his ears so he could better make use of their sense. They swiveled as he ran, and he breathed deep through his nose to take in the scents around him. A red glow coalesced at the terminus of the shadowed crag. It throbbed ahead with an almost palpable heat, growing larger as he neared where the gap opened. There could be no hesitating or planning now, he thought to himself tensely. If Shang'Gai Chah was still there, it was almost certain he already knew of Thal's approach. Securing his grip on the black spear, pulling it back slightly in preparation, he lengthened his strides, testing the limits of the aether that surged through him. He burst from the shadows in silence and leapt for the first figure his senses fell upon without fully processing the sight of it.

Thal staggered as though struck, stumbling half off the body, one hand still gripping the weapon. He'd felt the aether in the air, as surely as he used to feel aether in the plants throughout the Shroud, but it didn't remain there. It hit him like a blow to the face, warming the mask against his features and sinking into his skin before running like water down his spine and outward to each limb. His tail shivered and lashed. He flexed his fingers, feeling a strength in them that he didn't recall knowing. The aether that had fled from the Amal'jaa vibrated under his skin and pulled him upright, and then as soon as it had come, it was absorbed. In its wake, Thal stood wide-eyed and feeling more rejuvenated than he had in years, despite the gash across his chest. He let out a long breath through his nose and, almost absent-mindedly, yanked the barb out from the dead guard. "So that's the old man's trick," he muttered in half disbelief, and stifled a shudder at the disconcerting thought that followed. "... Guess it'll be useful for this," he added lowly to the corpse. Stepping around it, Thal glanced back the way he'd come through the crag, suddenly anxious that the Amal'jaa's cries might bring others. He saw nothing immediately, but that didn't mean they weren't coming. Turning quickly, he broke into a run down the crag, keeping to one wall and gripping the barb at the ready.

Thal found himself crouched on the back of the Amal'jaa when the beastman began to flail. Ears pressing back at the roar, he struggled to maintain both balance and grip before levering his weapon down in one direction, with every ounce of strength he could muster. He tried to ignore the sick crack of bone and scale and organ as the metal spike tore upward through the thrashing Amal'jaa's chest.

For a moment, Thal remained frozen behind his rock. "Convenient," he muttered low under his breath. Though he thought it also might mean he had less time than he'd like. After a few moments, he crept from behind the rock to sidle towards the gate. When nothing immediately impaled him, he continued at a more hurried - though hopefully not too obvious - pace, keeping to one wall. His bare feet moved with a natural silence across the packed sand, and soon he crossed through the gate. Now, though, he found himself a new challenge. The Amal'jaa tasked with retrieving the Chah moved ahead of him, and the crag was too narrow to pass unnoticed. Blue eyes narrowed to slits in the shadows of his mask as adrenaline directed his thoughts efficiently towards staying alive. Or, at least, animated. Well, it was just one Amal'jaa. And the spike he'd found was very sharp and nasty looking. If he took him by surprise, perhaps... Not allowing any more time wasted on thinking it through, Thal slipped the weapon free from his robe and hastened his silent steps along the rocks. When he was only a short distance behind the guard, a worry flashed that maybe this wasn't the best idea. Then he was in the air and driving the metal barb into the beastman's back.

The Amal'jaa hunter had been correct when he'd told Thal the disguise would let him pass unnoticed. Still, it had been difficult to walk through the stronghold of Ifrit's children as though he belonged. The roars from the beastmen and their drakes as they went about their tasks left him jumpy, and as he skirted around the occasional clusters of tempered miqo'te and hyur, he prayed silently they wouldn't look his way, confident they would see right through the disguise and recognize him as not one of their own. At least he had managed to find a weapon early on and now hid the black metal barb beneath his stolen robe. The kid better appreciate him after this. He didn't think about what he might do if it turned out Baoht Zuqqa Roh was lying in his promise. When the drake he followed approached a pair of Amal'jaa who loomed in front of a massive gate. When the spear went through its neck, Thal froze, and when it screeched and thrashed, he skittered behind a close rock. There he listened to the growling voices and silently cursed. If he could barely take on one Amal'jaa, what hope did he have in succeeding to cross two? None. Ears laying flat, he shifted behind the rock and thought hard. Perhaps he could simply walk past if he behaved as a tempered going about his work? A grimace behind his mask tossed that idea. If it didn't work, he'd find himself skewered just like the drake, and though it wouldn't kill him, it would definitely blow his cover. Leaning his back against the stone, Thal inched towards one side and peered around and up along the cliffs that lined the gate. Perhaps he could sneak past another way...?

"Ugh, that--gah, hey, wait!" Leaning forward on his toes, Thal hesitated long enough to cast a glance over his shoulder towards K'aijeen. She wouldn't be able to see the apologetic look he gave her, though, and he quickly turned back. The drake was already a good distance away, moving between a number of cliffs, and he let out a curse before springing after it. No time to think about this more. He ran after and hoped that the Amal'jaa had a habit of leaving weapons conveniently unattended.

He caught the cloth, but not without twisting his face behind the mask in a look of distaste. "Eugh, what died and... uh, on second thought, nevermind." His ears shifted, and the short fur along his tail prickled up; it wasn't hard to imagine how the drake had obtained such an item. The thought of wearing it was almost as unpleasant, but there didn't seem to be many other options. And it made a sick kind of sense, if he thought about it. "Just a hunter's cloak," he muttered to himself has he shook the sturdy cloth out and hastily pulled it around him. It had a hood, which he fidgeted with before pulling it up over his head. Who knew how well these people recognized their "pets". Turning towards Baoht Zuqqa Roh, he lifted both arms out to either side of him in a shrug. "Alright, then. Off I go?"

Rolling his eyes unseen, Thal bit back a quip that maybe it would be more honorable if this hunter killed his enemy on his own, instead of asking some wimpy Child of Man to do it for him. But that probably wouldn't end well. "Mkay, then," he muttered, ducking his head to rub at the back of his neck. He breathed deep, the gesture accompanied by a faint whistle of escaping air through his chest, and spent some time picking apart the loose scents of the sands around them. In a space so open, he felt like his senses had expanded to fill the space.

Thal quirked one brow, which could not be seen, but the ear that followed the expression could. "O...kay. Any more elaboration?" He kept near K'aijeen for the moment, hoping his presence would at least comfort her and knowing he couldn't really do much else. Swinging his weight from one foot to another, he crossed his arms. "I mean, this is a great view and all, but if you've got a plan, I'd love to hear about it."

Tearing his eyes from the sands, Thal squinted at the drakes and the object in the beastman's hands. "I didn't think you'd care about comforting me." How sweet, he almost added in jest, but for once wisely held his tongue, more than aware of how powerful this hunter was. Turning from the momentarily, he sought out a small stand of rocks a few fulms back the way they'd come and gently set K'aijeen down behind them. "Okay, kiddo, you just rest up here." He didn't let himself wait for a response before straightening back towards the Amal'jaa.

Thal looked up but was slow to break his silence, instead peering past the Amal'jaa to stare out across seemingly endless dunes. He felt like he might get lost in them, but that prospect strangely didn't scare him. Finally he spoke the the beastman's question, in a tone far more somber than his usual, "Yeah. I am." He didn't know how he knew this, but it felt true.

Blue eyes rolled behind the mask with a muttered, "Fine, whatever." He would follow the hunter in silence afterwards.

"Right, but, I've never met the guy," Thal felt like he should just reiterate that. Sure, he could kinda sorta understand someone who had once known him wanting to... re-kill him. As unhappy as that made him feel. But some random beastman? Tilting his head back, he swung his tail in vexation. "Man, whatever. I'm so tired of this. Starting to think I should've never left that forest."

"Eh?" Red ears shifted uneasily as he made to follow the Amal'jaa. "I've never met the guy. How the heck would he know to, uh... hunt me?" The talk of tempering disturbed him as well, but strangely not as much as the former. He made a face behind the mask and shifted his grip to hold K'aijeen a bit closer, absently petting her hair with a few fingers.