Even with the arrival of S'imba, the two creatures that had leered over the lalafel did not allow the situation to distract them to the point of losing focus. The creature wielding the rope snatched Rurutani's relatively, tiny and frail arms and tugged them behind his back to meet at the wrist before fastening them tightly together. Upon finishing, the Ixal that had committed him to his bonds gripped the back of his head firmly and shoved him forward into the side of the caravan, pinning him there with the strength of a single arm as he moved his attention to the pressing matter of the miqo'te that threatened his kin but a few yalms away.
The archer's glare fell upon the miqo'te as he announced his intentions to resist with a remarkable passion. It was an intriguing sight to behold, enough to bring a wry smile to the creature's face. Though the amusement he found within the miqote's words was short-lived.
His brothers had all but expected the man - whom laughably defied their dominance - to actually lay such blatant assault to them. Before they had even found true reason to ready themselves to fend off their foe, the miqo'te had already launched himself forward and lain each them down with quick and skillfully landed blows. The archer's smile faded as the first of his brothers was grounded - and had distorted into a grimace by the time the second had been struck down; though before the third and final member of his kin had fallen to join his incapacitated brothers on the soil below, his bow was drawn once more. The Ixal snarled viciously as his long and gnarled fingers released the immense tension that was placed upon his bowstring, sending an arrow soaring past his brothers to slice through the fleshy thigh of his pride-driven victim. A thin spray of crimson droplets rolled through the air like an unfurling whip and splashed into a linear design across the ground behind his prey as the arrow pierced through this leg cleanly. His muscles served as a constricting snake that instinctively clenched around it's helpless prey from the sheer pain the grievous wound had induced, trapping it effectively.
"Insolent scum..."
The aggression rumbled low out from of the archer's throat. His eyes locked on to his victim that lay immobile and confined to the ground a short distance away.
"I would see to it that you scream for a mercy that will never come.." he croaked darkly as a distant clap of thunder echoed from the distance. The malevolent Ixal slowly pushed himself forward. The soft soil squelched loudly beneath his large feet as he slowly stalked toward the downed miqo'te. The animal hide that clothed the midsection of his bow groaned with discomfort as the Ixal's grip around it grew even more intense. A low and continuous growl gurgled from the pit of the beast's throat all the while as his rising anger soon began to earn him various, silent stares from his brothers-in-arms. Some appeared to share his sentiment, others looked to fear needless slaughter, for that was not their objective; though not one would voice an opinion that contested whatever intentions he truly harboured.
The leader's presence on the hillside had been one of perpetual silence. He lay but a short distance behind the others that had moved to become involved with their targets' apprehension, his eyes following his Second closely, though with an attitude that suggested mere indifference to the archer's dangerous levels of agitation. Calm was this particular Ixal's nature. It was as though he foresaw everything that has and had yet to happen, unmoved by both the worries that had caused his kin to stir with anxiety and the rage that had silently rallied for the archer to show death to the man who slew their brethren.
"Kuzal.." the voice of a nearby subordinate quietly called toward his leader with a detectable hint of anxiety.
"Will you say nothing? Nezul will kill him on the spot"
Kuzal's glance remained on the large back of the fearsome archer, the one known as Nezul. His formidable size and exceptional archery skills had easily seen him to a level of great respect among his kin. As a result, he was not one whose opinion would be openly contested. Only a superior could rightfully do that without the fear of causing disrespect. Only Kuzal could challenge the archer's opinion.
The temperate Ixal offered his concerned clan's member no response. A slow blink, at best, seemed to acknowledge that his concerns had at least not fallen upon deaf ears, though even his glorified leader's calmness failed to fully convince him away from the shores of uncertainty and apprehension. Nezul was, and always had been, a loyal and obedient follower, but so too was he strong-willed and passionate for their unified cause. Without Kuzal's intervention it would be naive to assume that he was not capable of making his own decisions.
The archer's glare fell upon the miqo'te as he announced his intentions to resist with a remarkable passion. It was an intriguing sight to behold, enough to bring a wry smile to the creature's face. Though the amusement he found within the miqote's words was short-lived.
His brothers had all but expected the man - whom laughably defied their dominance - to actually lay such blatant assault to them. Before they had even found true reason to ready themselves to fend off their foe, the miqo'te had already launched himself forward and lain each them down with quick and skillfully landed blows. The archer's smile faded as the first of his brothers was grounded - and had distorted into a grimace by the time the second had been struck down; though before the third and final member of his kin had fallen to join his incapacitated brothers on the soil below, his bow was drawn once more. The Ixal snarled viciously as his long and gnarled fingers released the immense tension that was placed upon his bowstring, sending an arrow soaring past his brothers to slice through the fleshy thigh of his pride-driven victim. A thin spray of crimson droplets rolled through the air like an unfurling whip and splashed into a linear design across the ground behind his prey as the arrow pierced through this leg cleanly. His muscles served as a constricting snake that instinctively clenched around it's helpless prey from the sheer pain the grievous wound had induced, trapping it effectively.
"Insolent scum..."
The aggression rumbled low out from of the archer's throat. His eyes locked on to his victim that lay immobile and confined to the ground a short distance away.
"I would see to it that you scream for a mercy that will never come.." he croaked darkly as a distant clap of thunder echoed from the distance. The malevolent Ixal slowly pushed himself forward. The soft soil squelched loudly beneath his large feet as he slowly stalked toward the downed miqo'te. The animal hide that clothed the midsection of his bow groaned with discomfort as the Ixal's grip around it grew even more intense. A low and continuous growl gurgled from the pit of the beast's throat all the while as his rising anger soon began to earn him various, silent stares from his brothers-in-arms. Some appeared to share his sentiment, others looked to fear needless slaughter, for that was not their objective; though not one would voice an opinion that contested whatever intentions he truly harboured.
The leader's presence on the hillside had been one of perpetual silence. He lay but a short distance behind the others that had moved to become involved with their targets' apprehension, his eyes following his Second closely, though with an attitude that suggested mere indifference to the archer's dangerous levels of agitation. Calm was this particular Ixal's nature. It was as though he foresaw everything that has and had yet to happen, unmoved by both the worries that had caused his kin to stir with anxiety and the rage that had silently rallied for the archer to show death to the man who slew their brethren.
"Kuzal.." the voice of a nearby subordinate quietly called toward his leader with a detectable hint of anxiety.
"Will you say nothing? Nezul will kill him on the spot"
Kuzal's glance remained on the large back of the fearsome archer, the one known as Nezul. His formidable size and exceptional archery skills had easily seen him to a level of great respect among his kin. As a result, he was not one whose opinion would be openly contested. Only a superior could rightfully do that without the fear of causing disrespect. Only Kuzal could challenge the archer's opinion.
The temperate Ixal offered his concerned clan's member no response. A slow blink, at best, seemed to acknowledge that his concerns had at least not fallen upon deaf ears, though even his glorified leader's calmness failed to fully convince him away from the shores of uncertainty and apprehension. Nezul was, and always had been, a loyal and obedient follower, but so too was he strong-willed and passionate for their unified cause. Without Kuzal's intervention it would be naive to assume that he was not capable of making his own decisions.
![[Image: ecec20e41f.png]](https://puu.sh/xvMxb/ecec20e41f.png)
Characters: Andre Winter (Hy'ur) / K'nahli Yohko (Miqo'te)
