Arrow Lake your fight is over

@Kynareth Deagon, @Derg; fastforwarding this a week or so? vaguey-vague.

smoke cloys in the air; painting the afternoon a hazy grey. it's tangy; of burnt wood and charcoaled cedar that taints the air and masks the scents she would otherwise smell. because of this, arrow lake smells different but she recognizes it all the same. aside from the strange smoke originating from somewhere far in the distance that brings a modicum of concern to praimfaya, she keeps going.

her trip to visit her parents' grave was unplanned, but it feels right. she has a lot of questions about herself ...and while she does not expect answers she hopes that she can find some peace — peace with her mercurial behavior and peace with motherhood, as to which she's wanted so fiercely until she had it.

the boulder is, strangely, a comforting sight and draws nearer to the place where her fathers bones rested buried by her in her grief ( presumably they are still there ) and the boulder that had stolen her mother's life. hei. she croons out the greeting and settles back upon her haunches, taking in the place of her childhood; still and quiet.

The Saints have just arrived in their old territory. Everyone is exhausted, but the higher ups cannot rest just yet. They must make their rounds and make sure this territory is as vacant as they left it when they left. And if it isn’t, it’s their job to run anyone out who dares to linger in the Saints old domain. A place where the sand is as red as blood. A place that Kyn has hoped to come back to.

Now, the Grandmaster and his General move along the borders and at Kynareth’s will, moves towards arrow lake. He wants to take a quick glance of the surrounding territories as to make sure they don’t have any immediate, unknown neighbors. 

And it seems they do.

Kyn spots her first, body freezing up as his golden orbs with pupils as small as needles glare at the scarred, pale woman. Oh, such betrayal! Violent rage rushes through Kynareth and his scarred and jagged lips pull up in a grimace. 

“Derg.” He hums warningly, voice hardly above a whisper. “Look who the fuck it is.” At that point he finally takes his eyes off of her to slowly look towards his General. “You thinkin’ what I’m thinkin’?” He asks gruffly. “Let’s get her.” 

At that point, even if Derg agrees or not, Kyn would begin to stalk forward silently. Not moving too close until he has Derg on his flank in order to help.

derg can hop in at any time but in the interest of keeping this thread moving, i'm going to go ahead and post. 8/3 permission to powerplay praimfaya was given.

the sound of heavy footfalls — a pair — draws the worheda's attention; a pivot of her ears and little more. she is a confident warrior and believes that if there is such a thing as a holy place it is the resting place of her parents. or perhaps, she thinks in the next breadth of a moment as the voice rises in command, it is a cursed place. it would be easy to let her story end here; as it had for her mother and then her father moons later.

it was not as if he soul would not be reborn in another; worthy of the title of commander.

thus, she does not fear it ...or them as she turns to face them.

she is a strong fighter; capable and battlescarred and tested... but she is woefully outnumbered as kynareth and derg rush at her.

the worheda cracks a toothy grin at the rush of adrenaline, at the metallic taste of blood in her mouth and lets out a laugh that could very well border unhinged. she, like her mother before her, would become the red queen; would wear the blood ( be it hers or someone else's ) like royal cape.

wamplei kom thauz kodon. she spits the war mantra like she is placing a curse; muscles tensing in defense the moments before the attack came. if she had to go ...it would not be quietly and it would not be without a fight.

Power Playing @Derg. If you’re not okay with this Sof feel free to tell me and I’ll edit. <3

The silvery she-wolf shifts her ears; she’s heard them. Kyn leaves no time to be wasted. He rushes forward and instantly they’re engaged in battle. 

It begins with knocking teeth, a cut of two on their faces, and vicious snarls before it becomes even more violent. He knows she’s a fair warrior, but the Saints don’t give her time to breathe. Derg moves in from the back while Kyn volunteers to take the more dangerous end. Praim would snatch up a fair amount of his neck at some point, leaving a jagged raking of teeth that cause him to bleed profusely. 

She laughs, fangs coated in his blood, dripping down her chin. For a moment, he’d feel a twinge of panic at the thought of her possibly catching something vital. He thinks about his pups, wife, and pack. But then he realizes, that if it’s his time to die, then it’s his time to die. So he too cracks a wicked smirk, canary orbs wild and wide as he goes in for his own attack.

Meanwhile, Derg would snatch up a hind leg. Gripping the meat of her thigh in the deadly grip of his jaws and shakes wildly. Whether or not Praim would turn to defend herself from the agouti male matters not to him. He sees a moment of weakness and takes it. Rushing against the war maiden, he bumps her roughly with a broad shoulder and snatches up her left foreleg and shakes as well. This, no matter how hard she fights, would throw her off balance. Kyn would knock her to the floor before stepping partially on top of her. He’s beginning to feel fairly light headed — he’s losing too much blood. He needs to get this over with. 

So he does. 

The Grandmaster’s teeth wrap around her throat, but he doesn’t chomp down or shake. Rather he holds her esophagus in his mouth much like a big cat would. All the while, she’s attempting to kick off Derg. Kyn isn’t left unscathed though, her teeth are still a viable weapon even when he has her in his jaws like this. 

To prove that, Praimfaya would like puncture holes wherever she could get her teeth on. The side of the brindled brutes face, forehead, neck, shoulder, arm; everywhere. He snarls savagely at the pain that endlessly blooms. She fucked him up and even against two wolves she was a hassle. He has to commend her. 

So when her fighting finally ceases, he releases her throat. White fur sticky with blood and salvia, he rolls out a dark tongue to pant, chest heaving as he looks to Derg. He knows she’s not dead and that was exactly his plan. So when he meets his Generals eyes, Kyn smirks so deviously no one would mistake the plans he has in store for her. 

“Help me get her to the canyon.” He hums breathily to Derg. “We’re putting her somewhere fun.” He chuckles at the end.

Derg complies, assisting in lifting the large woman into both their shoulders and mule her back to the canyon of red. Twisting through the oddly shaped rocks and through both shallow and deep sands, they make it to their destination. Northwest in the canyon lies a dangerously narrow pit of about nine feet wide, fifteen foot deep, and twenty five foot long; nestled in the towering — and horribly claustrophobic — walls of the Catacombs. When it rains, it fills with water up to about a foot before draining out of minuscule holes in the rocky surface. She would be unable to escape without assistance and it would provide enough shade to where she didn’t die; only suffer. Which is exactly his intention.