Yahhoi Forest

[Merek]

Note: Yunzabit Heights is the closest area, but this does not take place on Yunzabit Heights. See map for more info - wodresurrection.proboards.com/index.cgi?board=rules&action=display&thread=1415

---

Yahhoi Forest; a lush and green ecosystem located at the northwest corner of earth’s mainland. It was rich with fruits and nuts found all around to which little critters could feed on. There were no large animals lurking through the giant forest, but there was certainly space for them; tall trees that scrape the sky create the home of many wildlife and provide shelter from the powerful rays of the sun. Regardless, the persistent pillars of light leaked through the blank spaces of the canopy above.

After so many years, nobody could have possibly guessed that great battle had taken place in that same area. Over two millenniums ago there was no forest, but vast plains as far as the eye could see, and it all belonged to a certain kingdom long gone by the days of old. Martyrs gathered in the land wearing their masks of black and white, sporting the title of justice and the favor of their gods and goddesses. The result of the war, buried in the records of time -or perhaps, nobody was ever really all that interested in searching for the clues, or maybe… someone hid them...

It is said that blood can survive for millions of years. It is known that living beings absorb radioactive carbon, and when they die that same substance begins to fade. People can date things such as rocks and human remains in this manner for up to 50,000 years. So why has nobody found him? Why has the hero of the past, stoned for eternity, not found by beings as curious as humans? Many people have crossed through the forest, whether they were human or not. The planet had been destroyed and reformed, even though the people wouldn’t remember, yet the curse of that poor soul had yet to be lifted.

This man, the hero of old, could be found deep within the forest. Covered in vines, he hadn’t moved an inch since that fateful day and continues to pose the legendary stance. He was as still as the trees which accompanied him around a millennium after the events that had taken place in his beloved land, like a statue living in a museum, where no leaf dares fall. Certainly, people had mourned for him, visited his statue and lay flowers. But eventually the flowers wilted and he was left all alone in misery and despair. People slowly forgot about his existence; he was an old memory, a legend, a tragedy, a myth, a fairytale, and then nothing…

One of the reasons he might not have been found was perhaps the amount of moss that had surmounted his figure and thus there was only the silhouette of his being, chained in vines. But would a man curious enough uncover his body, he would notice a statue with such striking detail; the expression of pain and sorrow would migrate to the observer, planting an eerie and unsettling sensation all over their body. Perhaps that was why he was still imprisoned by time, anyone and anything that found him was faced with the instinctual desire to flee. It was like that of a child running up the stairs during the night after turning off the lights, he felt as if demons were lurking within the shadows, as if something was watching them. –And the safest place after their house was the sheets of their beds which shielded them from the world and kept them warm in the dusk.

A breeze rushes in wailing through the tree trunks, carrying the salty smell of the nearby ocean and mixing with the subtle fragrance of wildflowers and the slightly rancid scent of rotting wood gave it that wholesome and pleasant earthy smell of beginnings and endings. The light and shadows dance over the statue, boarded by underbrush which took shelter in the shadows of his feet; a single brave leaf breaks the silence and falls from the canopy, gently gliding before the statue. The trees lashed and crashed against each other like drum sticks in the hands of a giant. The sound of squirrels chattering and racing atop the tree trunks could be heard. Rabbits ruffle curiously through the bushes and woodpeckers chop away at the bark. Everything was in utter harmony and followed the same rhythm. It seemed that he wasn’t completely alone after-all.

[Deleted]

A young chipmunk scampered through the tall grass and vine, crawling up the face of the hero's statue and resting for a moment. All was quiet and solemn in the forest that knew no evil, or rather no longer. The chipmunk was more than pleased with the view, reaching up and grabbing hold of a pine cone that was lowered to the hero's forehead. Pulling on it for a moment before finally peeling it from the branch it grew from, the Chipmunk ran down the statue, carrying the pine cone by one layer in his mouth. Scaling the side of a tree. All was well in the forest that had rested peacefully for thousands of years...



SHNK

Through the tree's with deadly precision the gladius blade of Cannicus right hand spiraled through the sky, impaling the small creature on the tree it had so happily been climbing on. Dropping the pine cone and twitching for only a moment the creature quickly died of its mortal wound. The silence that had been filled with the chirping of birds and the brushing of wind over brier patch was replaced with a new eloquence.

"Blood rains down from an angry sky; My cock rages on, My cock rages on!"

The drunken lyrical shanty came from the murderer of the small forest critter, a gladiator hailed God of the arena and champion of the super dome. With an empty hand where his sword had been, and a second filled with the empty bottle of a moonshine liquor, he stumbled out of the nearby bushes, is scantily dressed body covered in sticky sap and dirt from his trip up. Having spent all of his earnings on drink and cunt, he found himself now out of both and trapped in the forest. Perhaps if he had stopped drinking long enough to think about what he was doing he would already be out of the forest and currently be spending what little coin he had left of a fresh cherry and a bottle of cheap wine. Yet here he was, stumbling through the deep forests south of Yunzabit Heights.

"I put you down, I give you shit. I piss on your grave for the sport of it."

His singing was interrupted for a moment as he fell forward onto the tree that he had impaled his lunch on, taking a moment to catch his footing, he grabbed hold of the handle to his trapped gladius and pulled it out of the tree, allowing the furry animal to be trapped on the opposing end.

"HmHm....Expect no less....MY COCK RAGES OOOOOOONA!"

He finished, throwing his arm's, and lunch, into the air as if finishing for a crowd. After taking a moment to accept the applause from the butterflies and vultures now circling over head the man pulled the sword back down and pulled the dead critter from it, cutting it in half as he did so. The blood spatter from the creature added to the collage of disturbing art that was his bared chest. Looking it over form a moment lazily, and then shrugging his shoulders as if this was as good as it would get, he put the Chipmunk up to his face and began eating from the freshly cut gizzards. A few moments later, smearing the blood across his lips in an attempt to clean himself off the blond warrior looked around, speaking to himself in light of his situation.

"The Gods shit on me....No more drink"

He frowned, staring at the empty glass bottle that still occupied his opposing hand. Deciding it was of no further use to him, he leaned back and with a quick toss plastered shards of glass into an adjacent oak tree. The crash would stir the nearby animals whom were already weary of his presence, and now began to scamper off in the hopes of not becoming a crude desert.

"Hmmm, perhaps then rest would be...good"

He said taking a few steps forward towards the statue that rested within the meadow opening. He admired it for a moment, knowing exactly what he had to do.

shshshsh

Psssshhhhhhhhhh

shshshsh

Having completed the process of pissing up and down the side of this beautiful rustic statue, and releasing the final energy necessary to enjoy a nice day's rest -having been up all night drinking- the blond took a few steps to the opposite side of his toilet, and slid down the side of it, resting in the upright position. It would take only seconds for the warrior to pass out entirely. His body weary from travel, drink, and of course the memories of what he sought to forget. His zany antics while inebriated would not quell the underlying pressures of his past. When he awoke he would be again challenged with prospects of his future, and more importantly, a blaring migraine.

[Merek]

“This will mark the end of our era and the start of a new reign. The people will slowly forget you ever even existed. They will eventually come to accept their reality and give in to my will. Time will move its course and flow like the river. You had a good run, but unfortunately, this is where your efforts have gotten you; TOTAL DAMNATION!”

The man clenches his teeth. Consciousness slowly returns and like a paused video he continues the dialogue which had long since died. For some reason or another he couldn’t very well open his eyes; they stung and burned –for the life of him, he was still in the midst of war and his sworn enemy was standing at the other side of his shield. The natural colors of his body and clothing returned to their previous save state, he was exactly the same as he was before benightedly turning into stone. His feet ripped out of the moss which chained him to the ground with a single step, the vines snap and fall and certainly the man whom was sleeping at his feet would have awoken by then.

He was dizzied and weakened. Lunging forward with his katana he attempted to blindly swipe at the ghost of his past. “HYAH!” he cried, promptly collapsing to his knees. He was exhausted, dehydrated; that yell took out more energy than it should have.

“W-what have you done to me?” he demanded. But nobody responded, only the sound of scurrying animals which had been startled by his sudden uproar and the sound of branches creaking to wind. The atmosphere surrounding him was totally different that it should have. Four of his five senses detected things which were out of place; like the lack of sunshine, the smell of trees, the sound of leaves fluttering overhead and the moist underbrush beneath his feet. His face twitched in foil to the presence of tree bark, which had been chipped off a woodpecker above. The most disturbing was the faint moisture in his brown trousers and the sharp stench of urine.

It had just started to dawn on him that he may be alone, but how could that be? Slowly, his eyes struggled to open and would view the new world for the very first time. His life had literally passed in the blink of an eye and he was about to embark on a second. One moment, he was at the center of the world facing the opposing army’s leader in the final climactic battle –where all his experiences had taken him- and the next he was in a woodland with nobody but the remains of a chipmunk in sight. At least, that’s how he perceived it.

His eyes blurred but everything was soon taking form. Wide-eyed and baffled as he was he could barely manage of gasp. He was too tired to overreact and perform such exhausting and sudden movements like he did before. He gazed at the canopy above and spotted the woodpecker which had been diligently working on the same tree. Magic was new to them; regardless, at-least he knew such a thing existed and having said knowledge he was able to conclude that he had somehow been transported from one place to another by some dark and ominous black magic. It made sense. It also explained the aftereffect of feeling completely drained of energy.

[Deleted]

"Speak quickly, and if hands move see neck forever parted from fucking shoulders"

The words came from directly behind the man, as he had gone through his rather dramatic episode, Cannicus too had awakened. The only difference being the amount of time the two had been asleep. Frankly even with the years having been kind to Merek, the hours had not been so fortunate to Cannicus. His eyes a deep shade of frustrated red, bags underneath showing his fatigue. This however was in no way a fight he had not been in before. As a matter of fact it was not uncommon for his master to throw him into fights with little sleep. No longer in a deprived state of inebriation the blond kept his wits about him. His head beating like a Satan city night club.

When Merek had awoken, the rock crumbling to pebbles and dust on the ground, and the man himself stepping from them, Cannicus had rolled out of the way in order to avoid the falling debris -after having awoken to the sound of the man's screaming before even exiting the statue-. Now his sword only inches away from the back of the man's neck he spoke keenly, not willing to show the man any kindness. In the world Cannicus knew, it was every man for himself, and so if you were not paying him in coin, drink, or cunt, you were in no way a friend. Especially not when your body held weapon's or rather strange quality.

Perhaps because of their equally debilitating state they would be able to speak without blood being spilled, yet that seemed all too unlikely to Cannicus who rarely had an encounter that didn't involve someone getting fucked, either in a most joyous manner, or one of poor taste.

[Merek]

His breath was cut short. The man’s blade whistles into position just inches away from his neck. The voice of this man was nothing like HIS, but the fact he didn’t know the identity of the person behind him was even more fearful. Slightly tilting the blade of his katana, he could catch a glimpse of his antagonist. A blond man with long hair, nearly bare-chested, he was the exact epitome of a gladiator. The stench of blood and broth was soon apparent. This man was the real deal.

“A radical?” he asked with an air of exhaustion about him. It was starting to make even more sense now. He had been transported to a place far away from the war, where one of his loyal subjects would perform a coup de grace. He snarled his lips. It was infuriating, the man wouldn’t even take the time to see through to their fight. He was a coward, scum. It was degrading and insulting. Of course, he wasn’t planning to just remain idle and hope for mercy from this stranger. He was thinking over ways to deceive the man.

The most practical approach being to turn on his feet and quickly parry the blade. He was most definitely capable of such a feat, especially since he had a visual reference of the juxtaposition between the two. The shadow of his sword allowed him to calculate exactly how fast and precise his movements would have to be. But would his body do as his mind dictates? Or would it collapse and bear the anti-climactic fate of dying by the hands of a common grunt.

“Fate has begun to move its course and you are no longer present in the plans of its following days. You won’t be around to see the falling action of this war, but I think you and I both know how this will end…”

It wasn’t the first time he was caught from the back like this, but it was the first in which he had to endure such odd and intense fatigue during those circumstances. So this is what he meant, he thought. But he wasn’t planning to die here, the people, the entire kingdom was waiting for him. Peering at the man reflecting from his blade, he studied him. He’s tired, he thought. The language in his body said it all, mostly his eyes; perhaps he could roll forward and dive under the swishing blade. He peered at the tree ahead, the sun-dappled ground was soft without traps or protruding rocks.

“How unfortunate,” he spoke up. Ignoring the man’s previous warnings he embedded his sword into the ground for support and pulled himself to his feet. “Trapped like a rat by some fool’s hound dog. Is this my fate?” he smirks.

His long black hair flowed with the breeze, a likely distraction. Suddenly, the man turned swiftly and thrusts his blade in an upward, uplifting the dirt from the ground. His intentions weren’t to strike, but further distract the man as he got at a considerable and safe distance.

(I know you said not to move but that makes it hard to post. xD Let me know if you disagree with my actions? xP I know your character probably meant what he said in the most literal way possible but words could distract anyone, no?)

[Deleted]

Cannicus recognized action of innocence. Gladiators often surrendered by forcing their swords into the ground in an act of respect and mercy to the crowd. It was often futile as gladiators rarely left the arena alive, but Cannicus was not one to harm a disarmed man. With his sword in the ground Cannicus would in fact do what he knew better than to try, he would drop his first sword to waist level, drawing his second now that time had granted him such a courtesy. With both arms now armed he would be well equipped to dispatch the man if he made any movements that did not please the blond.

His voice was calm as he spoke, and the man himself seemed well kept. His tunic had seen battle, that much was obvious, but it still held an elegance not commonly seen from battle. The uniform of a soldier was so official and tame. This almost seemed medieval as though Cannicus had traveled back in time to slit the throat of a woodland mercenary. Whoever this man was his story would be interesting. For starters why had he so mercilessly destroyed the statue? Was it for training purposes or out of anger? Perhaps it was an attempt on Cannicus life to crush him with stone...if that were the case why was he caught at the tip of his blade.

Cannicus was not a man of words, he found they did not help any situation as well as steel, but also would not kill the man without explanation. His evaluation of Cannicus had been taken as an insult however, and that would not bode well for the flamboyantly dressed sword bearer. His eye's widened as he was compared to a common blood hound, and as if the world were moving in slow motion the man before him twisted around, pulling his sword not up and out, but as if using it as a shovel aimed to scare Cannicus off with dirt. Either this swing was made by a man incapable of properly handling a weapon, or the man took Cannicus for a fool. Either way he would learn quickly that his light swish would not be accepted.

As the sword pulled from the ground Cannicus lunged forward, putting the sole of his left foot on the base of his opponents sword, and using it as leveredge threw his right leg up into the air in an attempt to kick his knew opponent in the head. Once that was done, either succesfully or not, Cannicus would twist to his right, following the momentum of his foot, and landing on his heel, and then dropping into his normal attack stance, his right sword pointed out at chest height, and his left held above his head pointing towards his opponent. He would wait for the warrior to gather his bearings before speaking or attacking further.

I am no man's dog. You would do well to remember that!

He growled. The words stung worse than Merek may have realized. Having spent half of a decade in slavery to the cruel GSF it was not so long ago that the man had been reduced to wearing a collar and dragging chains. Their combined confusion was making for a strange encounter, but Cannicus was not prepared to ask further questions. If the man explained himself perhaps things would mend, but seeing as neither one was entirely sure what was going on, it was more than possible that a fight was the only thing this meeting would bring together.

[Merek]

The boy gasped; his aggressor was very agile and skilled. His hand was forced to lower by the weight of the gladiator’s foot pressing against the blade of his sword. It was incredible that he could even stand on it. The katana was known for its smooth thrust, people usually compared slaying humans to hot knife through butter. The boy was standing awestruck and the man seemed as if he were painted in midair. His head cocked sluggishly back, missing the foot for half an inch. A drop of sweat would leisurely crawl down his face and reach the soil below. Their movements were suddenly limited, akin to being underwater.

After that moment of adrenaline, time seemed to return to its natural flow as he tumbled back and dropped to the ground with a thud. “Ugh!” he yelped. His katana dropped beside him in the grass and the man landed into what seemed like his fighting stance. Wearily, he quickly grabbed the handle of his sword and got back to his feet. Tsk! He snarled. A fight was definitely in the making, but he didn’t have time to mingle with strangers. Every moment he spent here was another life fading by the hands of that monster! He could already hear the pleading words of the villagers as they begged for mercy, but their words fell on deaf ears. His grip on the handle tightened with frustration.

The two warriors gazed at each other from afar. Watching each other’s every move in utter silence. Only the trees with the wind made sound as they began to debate who would come out victorious. I’ll have to end this swiftly, he thought. His eyes narrow and peer at his opponent, studying his form and searching for any openings or weak points; watching out for his strong points. He had definitely seen battle, his hands were callous and cold. The man had experience. He would definitely press for close combat and probably exceed at it. The boy lowered and readied his blade into position. Clink!The chainmail beneath his blood red tunic tinkled as the individual pieces gently clashed against each other. He cautiously took a few steps back, with an unwavering and concentrated stare. His eyes were slanted of the other’s. Anyone would have expected he was about to perform some kind of odd and ancient technique. Until…

He ran.

“Rain-check!” he said as he turned and scurried into the barricade of bushes behind him in the blink of an eye. The act was probably so random and unexpected that it probably left the man drifting in the air before he realized what just occurred. He wasn't a coward, but he just kept thinking about how he didn't have time for this little skirmish. He had other priorities.

The leaves rustled as he sledded through small crevasses between trees and bull-diving through thickets, only to find himself gliding down small, but alarming hills faster than a freight train with his katana balancing outward. His surroundings faded into green scribbles as if he were fast forwarding. He couldn't help but compare the trees hindering his escape with the people he struck down only moments ago. He maneuvered around them with such nimble feet it was as if he never touched the ground. He kept picturing himself slicing through the bark and the light shining at the end of the woods was where HE would be waiting for him.

[Deleted]

As the tension grew Cannicus was unsure as to what was going to happen next. At this stage the crowd would often chant his name and beg for the man's blood, but now he had a choice...he could let the man live. The only problem was that this person had nearly brained him with rock and stone from the statue above, and now drew sword against him. His thoughts swirled with idea's of what a free man would do, and he decided that a free man would not take the life of another for simply throwing a rock at him. Just as his sword began to falter, and Cannicus prepared his words of mercy, the man in front of him turned and ran.

"You little shit!"


Much like playing dead for a bear and awakening prematurely the fighter had ran, reigniting Cannicus passion for blood. Not wasting a moment his legs took off in pursuit, sliding through the brush and around a lob-lolly pine. He could still see the tunic clad fighter recklessly tearing through the forest, and Cannicus could keep up his pursuit. He followed, keeping a short distance between the two of them, not wanting to wind himself by sprinting ahead. He would wait for his opponent to tire out or in this case, realize that he had no idea where he was going, and that was when Cannicus would make the strange man regret forcing him into pursuit.

[Merek]

Their encounter had ultimately become a pursuit as both ran after completely different targets. A distant thrumming sound emanated from the bright light ahead, like the steady rumble of a drum roll. The boy recognized the sound to that of a waterfall –no, it was too weak, it had to be a river. He smirked, river’s led to civilization and civilization led to information. If he could pin down exactly where he had been transported, he’d be able to return to the battle field in no time, but as his heart continued to pound against his chest with death following his tracks, he couldn’t help but feel it might be too late by the time he finally arrived.

Bold and steady he charged into the blinding light, crossing twilight; from the shadows of the racking trees to the sun-lit vicious stream roaring through glossy rocks like a pumping heart. Unfortunately, he tripped on that first step, leaving the mark of his slipping foot over the moss-slick rock. The boy fell face first into the water and was dragged meandering a few feet before catching his foot. The river was anything but steady, yet he felt inner peace upon rising over the water as butterflies filled the air.

It was hard to stay sharp when the rushing stream threatened to drag him another mile with the slightest slip. By now, the man would have caught up to him and he would have been virtually trapped without being able to move efficiently in these treacherous waters. Turning his back once again could prove to be fatal, he wouldn’t be pulling one of those tricks again –after all, you can’t step in the same river twice…

The boy climbed over a slick rock which was as dangerous as the water cascading below it. He aimed the tip of his katana at his persecutor and carefully slid his feet across the glossy rock to open his legs and bend into a more combat-ready position. Words, should they be spared, would have to be spoken much louder if they pretended to overshadow the loud and thundering roar of the thrumming river.

“I’m all sticed out…” he murmured as a conscious note. He was already exhausted the moment he became aware of his situation, running through the forest like that only worsened his condition and their fighting scenario was deadly. A treacherous field full of unsightly ends and drenched clothing and chains wearing them down –er, him down. The blond man was barely dressed compared to him. His chest throbbed to the rhythm of his beating heart, heavy eyes gazing across the river.

[Deleted]

Dashing through the tree's, and narrowly evading collision with their trunks. Cannicus found himself a short distance behind his attacked. His swords shook with excitement as his cognitive functions began to return slowly. Nothing like combat to pump the blood and return ones mind to the slaughter. The oddly dressed man was nearing the edge of the shrubbery when suddenly...he disappeared.

Cannicus heard the pounding of the mighty river against the rocks and assumed the man had dove in to escape by sea. This was a fairly decent tactic, but before diving in after Cannicus would survey the river. As he approached the waters edge the athlete jumped to the right, his foot making contact with a tree and springing him to the left, where his left foot would do the same. Jumping up the two tree's he finally found himself at a sturdy branch that his body would not break and with one final push found himself atop the tree itself, looking down on the rushing river, and the waterfall nearby. His first instinct told him the man had chanced the waterfall, yet down below he stood, soaked upon a small rock off of the river bed on the opposing side.

Leaping off of the tree like the acrobat he was Cannicus did a single frontal flip, his swords gripped tightly on either side. Landing on the other side of the Bank, only a few feet from the rock that his opponent was now defending, Cannicus looked back up, the bright sunlight finally taking its toll on his figure. His rather impressive acrobatics, and the chase itself would be shattered in form as Cannicus looked quickly to the left, and released himself from his earlier squirrel lunch. After a short vomit on the rocky shore of the clear river Cannicus looked back up, his mind again cleared of his ailing drunken disposition.

"You've run out of places to go assassin. Speak quickly or see head parted from fucking neck."

He said, now more curious than ever as to why he had been the target of a failed assassination. More importantly why had the man not tried to slit his throat, this was one poor assassin if he thought that a few rocks would kill a man. Or perhaps in the process of sneaking up on him he had accidentally knocked the statue over. Whatever it was Cannicus wanted answers. Was this Geurin's attempt at taking him back?

[Merek]

The boy cringed having been witness to the other man gagging his lunch onto the once pure river. It also struck him odd that such a muscular and ostensibly athletic individual would disgorge his bowels from a brief jog like that –then again, this day was full of peculiarities and it was about to get even more confusing. He scoffed and narrowed his eyes suspiciously, wondering whether the man attempted to lighten the mood with a really bad joke.

There he went again with the exact same threat he made from the start of their most joyous encounter. He seemed to enjoy demanding for answers while threatening to decapitate his victims. First it was ‘neck from fucking shoulders’ now it was ‘head for fucking neck’. Was there a difference? Was the latter more gruesome than the former? Did it sound cooler?

“Assassin!?” he exclaimed in disbelief, “You’re the one who snuck up behind me!” he turned his shoulder to the man with his head high and gazed askance as he contemplated his situation. “And I’m not hiding anywhere,” he said, “I was merely making a strategic retreat.” He smirked.

The thought of allowing the river to flush him away had occurred to him, but making a closer assessment he decided that doing that might lead to a severe concussion. The river wasn’t all that deep, it flowed quickly without remorse and wouldn’t pity the smallest and most harmless of critters if they were unfortunate enough to fall. The main danger lie in the protruding rocks that barricaded his escape route.

[Deleted]

"You pelt me with rocks from above and have nerve enough to say that I did in fact engage you? I should see tongue ripped from throat for that slander"

He said, his swords already pointed at the wet man. The confusion was obviously coming to some sort of consensus however as Cannicus felt less and less like actually killing the man. Frankly the longer he stood there the more ridiculous he felt. He had just chased this man through the forest under the idea that he had attempted his life...with rocks. The man was not as coordinated as Cannicus, that much was painfully obvious from his dance in the river, but he couldn't have been entirely without skill. His handling of the thin blade he held was reasonable at the very least, and it was not as simple as hacking and slashing. Cannicus could tell the difference between a man trained, and a man playing soldier.

"Then let thought spill, or see blood follow in its place"

He was willing to listen to Merek's explanation. If his words rang clear enough perhaps this day would not end with the death of the strange man, or for that matter Cannicus, whom had not discredited the idea that perhaps there was yet another assasine, or worse yet that this had all been a trap to begin with. The only thing keeping his sword from slicing through the plush skin of his victim was the fact that the sunlight was causing a rather fortuitous migraine, and to clash swords with this man would be nothing short of brutal torture.

"Well!? Explain yourself!"

[Merek]

Merek glanced over his shoulder with heavy eyes. The path was reasonably vacant with barely any obstacles; there was a conspicuous trail among the trees and broken branches here and there. Large animals probably pass through them to get to the river and drink some of its fresh water. Merek could easily attempt to run for it a second time, but chances were the same thing would happen; he runs, the other follows, he grows exhausted, the man catches up. His gaze shifts toward the nearly bare-chested man, it seemed a battle was inevitable now, and he could use the sun’s ray to his advantage –that is, if the sunlight doesn’t weaken him first.

Merek snarls in disbelief, “I pelt you with-” he holds his head with his off-hand without looking away from his aggressor. His eyes narrow, trying to focus his vision and rule out those tiny gray flecks that flee whenever he tried to focus on one. He didn’t acknowledge it though, he at-least knew, that only he could perceive them and the man before him was completely unaware of the mystical little objects crowning his presence. He grips the hilt of his katana, lifting the tip of his blade towards the enemy. “Listen, you won’t fool me by spouting nonsensical jumble of words and expect a reasonable response. It seems to me you have had one too many drinks. I’ve got a war to fight and a kingdom to save. If you’re not my enemy then stay out of my way, and if you are…” he paused briefly, masterfully stacking up the suspense; a mischievously crooked smile creeps up his face as the mere thought of saying it brought him infinite joy, and he did so in the most identical yet ridiculing way and acutely as possible. “See head forever parted from fucking shoulders!”

He grins, finally releasing the very much evident pleasure he had in retorting back with the man’s favorite phrase. Without further ado, Merek withdraws his blade into the sheath and begins walking away.