"The Felling of the Hunter" Log Date: 6/8, 6/10/01 Log Cast: Faanshi, Mehul (the Hunter), Soft-Feather, Geridan, WolfEyes Log Intro: Her memory having abandoned her thanks to the sickness from the Dipavali poison, Faanshi has dwelled in innocent peace for many weeks now among the Sylvan tribe called the Ettowealona. The illness of her body has been healed, but the cloud has not lifted from her mind -- and so she has looked upon the forest around her with the eyes of one newly born. Only the Varati man Mehul, who has found her in this refuge and who has brought her a name by which to call herself, links her to the life she has forgotten... and she trusts him, for something within her responds to this big charcoal-eyed Varati, hinting that they have shared something close and wonderful between them and that all she needs to do is recollect it. But there are secrets about Mehul that Faanshi never knew even before she lost her memory. Secrets about hurts he has dealt out and lives he has taken. And the very Sylvan who saw the halfbreed maiden safely into the care of his people is one who has finally uncovered that Mehul, who now diligently guards Faanshi in the forest, is one and the same with the mysterious, nameless Hunter who has viciously stalked the shapeshifters of the Ettowealona. Armed with this knowledge, Soft-Feather now gathers to him allies of his tribe as well as a friend from the Varati, the warrior Geridan Kentari Rashid, to stalk the Hunter as he once stalked graisha... for they are determined to see justice done, even if it destroys the heart of an innocent healer.... *===========================< In Character Time >==========================* Time of day: Morning Date on Aether: Tuesday, June 9, 3908. Year on Earth: 1508 A.D. Phase of the Moon: Last Quarter Season: Summer Weather: Clear Skies Temperature: Hot *==========================================================================* It's all been... odd. The maiden who's been told for many days now that her name is Faanshi, days that have rolled into weeks, has yet to really feel it in her heart. It does not seem real to her, no more than the claim of the Ettowealona healer HeartsEase that she herself possesses that same magic -- or even the loving claims of the big Varati Mehul about who she is and where she has come from. Her differences from those around her -- both the green-eyed, point-eared Sylvans and Mehul himself -- jangle strangely in her awareness each time she bends over to study her visage in the running water of the stream. Even the dog Kosha, who greets her each morning with enthusiastic lickings of her face and a wag of his mighty plumed tail, who traipses about loyally in her wake as if he were a small puppy and not a hound over a hundred pounds in mass, does not seem entirely real. There are holes all over her recollection, far more holes than the fragments of memory she can grasp. Sometimes she hears snatches of song in the back of her mind; sometimes she can see the brown eyes of a man who looks nothing like any of those around her. There is a dim sense of someone old embracing her... and a conviction as ethereal as a dream that the dawn is holy and sacred, and so is fire. The only thing that seems truly _real_ is the light of affection in the eyes of Mehul, each time he looks at her. _This_, Faanshi can see and can trust, and so as the days roll by in the forests, she spends more and more time in his company. Walking the paths with him, learning the names of trees and even how to climb one, though it is small. She rises with the dawn... and sings to it, though seldom with words. She helps the Sylvan children with their daily chores, more comfortable with them than she is with their parents and elders. But most of all, she begins to wonder where she belongs. Here? Or in this city from which Mehul says she came? It's all been... odd. The days have passed without count, without regularity, a scrolling spilling flailing mass of shapes, colors, and sounds that, with a life of its own would dance about him, pause to take his hand, and charge away in to the forests. His hours with Faanshi, slow, memorable, in which every detail is as strong as when he noticed it... and the times of the Sylvans, scattered and irratic moments leaping from one note to the next, raging, howling... gone. Reality is fleeting... and the madness creeps ever closer... cackling and whispering within his ear, calling to him and bidding him to listen. But the light of her eyes helps to keep it at bay, for she is his strength, his survival... But he has been slipping. Prone to fits he has sought recluse on occasion, away from all, but refusing to leave her. For a time his insistance on returning to Haven became strong, and it was once a day that the issue would be posed. But that would fade too, as the shroud of darkness settles over him. It's all been...odd, to say the least. The past few weeks have been weeks of suspicion for Soft-Feather. Ever since he found Faanshi and guided her to the Ettowealona, to be healed and cared for until she was ready to return to the city and her past, the Sylvan man has had a feeling of...unease. As if he had done something he should not have. But that feeling did not really firm until Mehul showed up. Since that time, every fiber of Feather's being has cried out against this man...for some unknown reason. Soft-Feather has spent many hours in ferret form, quietly observing Mehul and Faanshi...hoping to find out what it is that bothers him so much. Time spent as an animal, with other animals, has confirmed Feather's suspicions as much as possible. The only real way to be sure...would be to confront him. But how does he do that? And would Faanshi be harmed? That is definitely something to consider. Perhaps the most nagging part, at least to the shifter, is can he survive an intentional confrontation? The last one was some time ago...and he was taken by surprise... Does she _know_? The ferret who spies upon the lost-eyed healer and the man who guards her so vigilantly, even to the point of coaxing her away from many of the Ettowealona themselves, can easily determine that Faanshi seems to have absolutely no inkling that anything at all is amiss about the big Varati hunter. She looks at him with nothing but trust in her liquid summer eyes -- trust, and a shy and gentle yet undeniably profound affection. Though she seems to have trouble putting it into words, one look at her eyes can proclaim as loudly as a herald's trumpet that she has given her heart, well and thoroughly, to this Varati man. It is Mehul to whom she speaks uncertainly of the scattered pieces of her memory; Mehul, to whom she asks her tentative questions about the city; Mehul, whose opinions she seeks when beginning to struggle towards the decision of whether she needs to leave the green idyll of the woods to go in search of what she has lost. Her Self. There may well be that taint of darkness, the scent of suspicion -- but if such a thing does linger about Mehul, like a stormcloud heavy with unleashed lightning, there is no conception of it in Faanshi's guileless eyes. If a storm is coming, she has not sensed it. Do they _know_? The sound of the howling madness, the black winds which whip about and batter the soul of an innocent child crying to be free, crying to love, is all that Mehul hears now other than the beautiful melody of Faanshi's voice. Have they a thought of the coming storm, of the darkness which, with every breath, spreads itself across their sacred forest, tainting the tainted with his presence, with his hatred, with his struggle. Sanity... what is sanity? Where is the line drawn? Those words were whispered once by a voice not his ownn, by a voice that spoke to the winds a promise, solemn and fierce, words which ring to the very core of this Varati's soul today... A promise. I will come back for you. The clouds have gathered upon the horizon. Does he _know_? Yes, it would seem that way. The ferret could indeed tell that Faanshi had no idea of the identity of her dear Mehul. Perhaps that is what makes his decision so difficult to make. Yet loyalty to his people has to supercede here. There is no other choice. Soft-Feather and Geridan make their way to the encampment of Faanshi and Mehul... The rain has began...in the form of a Varati Warrior and a Sylvan Magus. Dawn. It rouses Faanshi up as it always has -- though the dawns that she has witnessed thus far in the woods have a strange air of _difference_ about them somehow, of _newness_, as though all previous arisings of the sun that she surely must have observed in the course of her life were under entirely different circumstances. But no matter one's locale, name, or station, dawn is inexorable. And it draws the halfbreed maiden out of the lean-to Mehul has guided her in building. It pulls her summer-green eyes eastward to the waxing light... and it pulls out of her the first tentative beginnings of something almost like a... song. "Dawn-Mother, touch me with the warmth of your light..." That is all Faanshi can remember, but the words resonate in her head and in her voice, carrying the sweet soprano out to meet the men drawing near the camp even perhaps before they see the maiden herself. Dawn. He remains seated, Mehul... his dark charcoal gaze observing with a silent pleasure the emergence of Faanshi in to the morning sun, observing as the rays catch her beautiful face and hair, glide about and illuminate her form in an aura of brilliance. She is breath-taking... She is his sanity, the quieting of the roar of darkness. He watches her and sighs for a moment, gazing toward her and smiling with the air of a lost boy. "Good morning, Faanshi..." he whispers, yes whispers, climbing slowly to his feet with the aid of the lean-to wall behind him. He reaches out to take her hand, squeezing it tightly... non-the-wiser. Perhaps it is her, his life, that distracts him so... Dawn...perhaps the last one. Soft-Feather walks slowly, deliberately, as he approaches the area where Faanshi and Mehul have been staying all this time. He wears his formal robes, his very bird-like robes, as he travels. The morning sunlight catches in the eyes of his headdress and the golden rays glint off the metalic-tipped feathers. Tied at the waist, the robe is, however, built for fast removal. That is a quickness Soft-Feather may need...for the time has come when all suspicions much be laid to rest. And they will be...if Soft-Feather is not laid to rest first, that is. A form follows him... Dawn. A crystalline gaze captures it, holds it, and reflects it through burning orbs of pure flame through which whisps wieldly dance across in fleet, darting over the landscape, the trees, the cloudless morning sky... and the form of the shudra healer and the Varati male... Faanshi... and the one known only to him as Mehul... and the Graisha Hunter. Geridan's sword is strapped to his hip, and his gloved hand rests upon it, stroking and caressing its lines with a peculiar intimacy, soothing gestures from a broken hand... a hand that soon must wield a blade that soon must strike. Set firm in his stride, he wears no armor, but only the colors and emblem of his clan and the scars that prove his worth. This Warrior is prepared, his body set in to motion, poised on the breaking point of tension. The halfbreed turns to smile to Mehul, her smaller sungolden hand trustingly accepting the reach of his bigger darker one, for all that her delicate fingers could seemingly be easily crushed by his. "Namaste'," she can be heard to murmur to him. "That word has come to me, Mehul..." And then the footfalls come to her ears, as well as those of the dog who has been sleeping by the remains of last night's cookfire. Kosha lifts his head and whurfs, tail wagging in lazy greeting, while Faanshi swings a startled gaze out to the approaching men. Soft-Feather she recognizes. Geridan she does not... or does she? Soft black brows wing down low over her eyes as she looks over uncertainly at the man, with far less hesitance than the last time she had seen him. "Chookma...?" she calls then, tentatively, for the Sylvan. And for the Varati who comes with him, "Namaste'...?" "Wonderful Faanshi... wonderful..." Mehul replies, lifting her hand to his lips to kiss it, and then to press it firmly against his cheek, permitting himself another sigh. His charcoal eyes, sparking, seek out her own and he smiles softly. "Soon, perhaps, we can return to-" He is cut off however by the sound of footfalls, those which he hears upon the furrowing of his maiden's brow. He turns, his body slowly pulling taut as his expression leaves her view and his gaze first... then his mind... wraps around the site before him... What is this?! What is this?! 'RUN!' screams a voice, and his vision clouds, his vision burns... the shadows roll and thunder... but no... the blood pumping through the hand which he holds keeps them at bay. "Lets go for a walk, Faanshi." he says upon returning to her, perhaps they will think he did not notice them... and the snarl that formed upon his lips without his knowledge... which has now faded. "It's such a nice morning, it would be a shame to waste it." He begins to move. Jade eyes slowly regard Faanshi, trying discern if she has been safe lately. But of course she has been...Mehul wouldn't really hurt her, would he? "Chookma, Faanshi." He bows his head in respect, then turns to Mehul. At the edge of his vision, however, Soft-Feather sees Kosha...the dog and companion. To the animal, he lets feelings of trust and kindness flow. But also a warning...to protect Faanshi. Whether or not the dog can pick up on it remains to be scene, but Feather usually has a way of getting his point across to animals. Eyes flicker back to Mehul as he and Geridan quicken their pace...golden gel slides over his eyes, turning them into those of an eagle. His vision suddenly jumps foward, crossing the distance between himself and the Hunter...his ears change as well, picking up on the suggestion of a walk. Then, sounding rather loud to him, Geridan whispers something. Feather dials down his hearing and nods to his Varati companion, then continues forward. Yes, he noticed you Mehul... The expression of a Warrior is built as that of his blade, solid, and forever unyielding. As he strikes out with the steel, so does he with the face of years of battle, of war, of watching death claim lives before you and the single solitary principle that... 'If you do not bend, you can not break.' So take comfort, weapon at my side, for we are invincible, and together, united, we shall win the day and the blood of our enemy shall flow. Take comfort and be strong weapon at my side, for soon is the time to strike. When the whisper is acknowledged, Geridan remains, his pace not necessarily hurried, but lengthened, poised on the edge, and so comfortable at the break, so smoothe and flawless is each motion, one would not consider him about to unleash death upon an opponent... at least one with an untrained eye. He says nothing, does nothing... but stares, his gaze switching between that of Mehul and Faanshi with a burning ferocity and the quickness of a flickering flame. He's a Varati - not supposed to smile. And it is the countenance of Geridan, more than anything else, that strikes a chord of deeper uncertainty in Faanshi's heart. She does not look like a Varati maiden should, here with the woods around her. Her face is bared to the sunshine, her arms and even parts of her legs bared as well due to the relatively scant covering of her doeskin dress. Her feet are bare, for she has not yet put on the soft moccassins the Sylvans have given her. And most of all she is looking _up_, guileless as a fawn... but now, there are great hunting hawks circling overhead, and the fawn is all at once possessed of a conviction that she should be doing... what? As Kosha lets out a little yurf, rising up from his lolling place by the embers of the fire, the halfbreed girl flashes her confused regard back and forth between the men. Finally to Soft-Feather she speaks up shyly, "Sir... is there something... how...?" Memory suddenly flashes. And, with even more hesitation, she appends, "How may we serve...?" Footfalls fall flat and silently end, trapped upon the edge of the abyss before him. His gaze raises, and Mehul lets his eyes wander about him, staring over the fields of greenery which the sun caresses with its rays of warmth... watches as the slight breezes draw up and glide down from the heavens to slide along their sparkling surfaces and toss them about, perfectly uniform, bending and maintaining to return again once the winds have passed. He listens to the song of the birds, to their praises of the dawn, of the morning... and he decides. He turns, facing the three... his love... the warrior... and his nemesis. "Yes. What can we do for you?" he asks, his voice spoken low and slightly strained. What is this...?! 'Nowhere left to run!' the voice laughs, howling and cackling, sweeping forward... Mehul manages a smile. The Sylvan Magus allows his arms to gently fall to his sides as he nods to Faanshi, "You are in great danger, Faanshi..." His voice is filled with concern and warning, "Mehul is not what you think he is." He turns his eyes, which are now returned to normal, back to the woman's Varati companion. "Are you, Mehul?" His gaze is piercing, delving, perhaps, into the very depths of this man who has killed his students, tortured him, and hidden among his people. In that instant, it is clear that Soft-Feather knows...knows everything. "It is time for this to end..." He can sense the birds above him, can feel their hunger pangs. He can also feel the other wildlife around him...eagles, bears, ferrets, deer. Yes, this forest is teeming with life...with allies. Now draw and be ready, weapon at my hand, for my life is in your strength. Taut and poised, weapon at my hand, sing the morning light. Release and let loose, weapon at my hand, life and death are yours. Still silent, the Varati Warrior falls to stop at his Sylvan companions side, his gaze coming to settle upon Mehul, rather than Faanshi, caring not for her propriety. Matters are at hand which are far more important. An inch of steel is drawn, ever so carefully, and it is clear that this one, Geridan, will not let Mehul escape. As Feather had said, the time has come to end this, and so, his face without expression, he waits, his entire body prepared. It is all too apparent that Faanshi has no idea what Soft-Feather is talking about -- for although there is mounting distress in her eyes, it is more directed towards what the master shifter has said rather than out of any distrust of the Varati hunter who has paid her such assiduous attention, and who has guarded her so affectionately ever since she set foot in the woods. "Danger...? I do not understand, sir... this part of the woods is quiet, Mehul and Kosha keep watch... and your own people..." The words proceed plaintively out of the girl, the tone of one who has already spent many weeks in inner dislocation. This, this statement with which she is presented here and now, isn't helping in the slightest. "Let her move away..." The voice... so resonate, so cold... so dead... The frigid tones spray forth and burn, searing as they settle... but Mehul is not gone... from within he cries, sobs as the darkness sweeps over him, as the tendrils engulf and surround him... and carry the weeping child away in to oblivion. He slides forth, before her, his hands slashing behind his bakc and emerging in a single gesture, though now they are secured by a pair of weapon... blades which run along his forarms, extending outward beyond the hands that hold them in place by perpendicular handles... weapons of the darkest obsidian, deaf to the shine of the sun. "Let her go!" he howls forth again, charging forward, screaming as he lunges at the Sylvan man, steel slashing forth while he rages to the sky, his body set in to a blur of motion. Soft-Feather swiftly steps back and to the side, swiveling around to face Mehul's back as the Hunter, and his blades, race past him. His foot slides out in front of Mehul as he passes...it is meant to trip him. "I have no quarrel with her, Hunter. She is not the problem here...you are." With a glance, he speaks to Faanshi quickly, "Move away...quickly!" His voice is filled with an urgency...haste for her to flee. All the while, his eyes have been only on Mehul. The best way to do this would be to take Mehul down a peg...shrink him into a ferret and break his neck. As the thought crosses his mind, tendrils of Aether stretch out and probe the Hunter's strength in blocking the magic... Steel collides with steel, and a firey gaze lunges forth in to the eyes of the charging Hunter. Geridan faces him, his sword loosed and pressed to the slashing foreblades. Snarling he growls and pushes off forward, his step carrying his strength in to the threst of The Hunter and pushing him back. "No more." Howling a warcry, the Warrior of Rashid leaps forward, his blade lashing out at he who has laid to death so many who were undeserving... and the dance begins. "Wh... what are you doing?!" shrieks the maiden, fright and panic swelling up into her liquid eyes the moment Mehul makes his roar and his blades leap forth into his hands. But even as he moves, _what_ he is doing is obvious. He means to fight these men. What is not obvious is _why_. Faanshi scrambles backwards, even as Soft-Feather bellows at her as well, even as Kosha, hackles up and a growl rumbling in his canine throat, leaps in front of her. But she does not go far. The lost shudra, she who the Hunter has somehow cajoled into his influence, stares with the eyes of a horrified child at the melee erupting before her. And as with her appearance, so too is there another difference about her, another something not-Varati, which drives her to call forth a plea like a dove's cry above the clashing of the swords: "I beg of you -- do not -- please! Stop!" "RUN Faanshi!" he screams to her as he leaps over the extended foot, his blades still gliding forth without pause after his missed target while one of he own legs just outward as he glides over the attempted trip, aiming a kick at the gut of the retreating Sylvan man... One that will be followed by his foreblades which... are caught! Charcoal eyes lock to those of crystalline flame, and The Hunter starts in surprise, but it is only a moment. "Out of my way!" he growls, kicking back and away as he is pushed off and striking out at the Varati's extended blade, parrying as he moves back and his free weapon lashes out at Feather and he howls at him, "Get your filth away from her!" Soft-Feather stretches out to the Aether and begins to draw it into himself. He acts like a conduit, the energies coursing through his entire body and centering in the finger tips of his right hand, which is extended out towards Mehul. His index finger is curved down, but raised slightly above the others, which have a slight downward curve as well. Still, though, each digit remainds pointed at the Hunter. Bright golden points of light glow with brilliant intensity as the shifting magic gathers there. Through half-lidded eyes, Soft-Feather regards Mehul through his concentration. The barrier surrounding the Hunter is strong...but Feather's will is stronger. It will just take a little more time. "I beg of you -- do not -- please! Stop!" Faanshi's words pierce into his brain like a sharp stick through mud. His heart aches as he knows it must be hard for her. If she truly cares for this man as much as she seems to, capturing and executing him will tear her apart. But he cannot give in to her wish...he mustn't. The lives of himself, Geridan, and many others depend on him too much. He stares at the women, these thoughts flashing though his mind for only a moment, but it is enough of a distraction.... A blade slashes across his forearm...the energies gathering at his fingertips fades. There is an audible sigh from Feather. And so steel rushes forward, the dance ensures,and Geridan charges, his weapon lashing out forward, striking toward the Graisha Hunter. "No trees to hide behind this time!" he throws at the man, struggling to get his attention as he pushes forward, his weapon slamming against the sole extended one of Mehul's battling,s trugglignt or each. Parry after parry comes, but that is the dance of steel, ceaseless motion. Feather is cut, but other than a curse, he has no time for it, only redoubling his efforts, sword hacking, thrusting, slashing, sweeping. First blood -- and though it might not be a severe wound, it is enough to deliver a hammer's blow to the consciousness of Faanshi. Something stirs within her, blocked in the back of her faltering mind for weeks now; it rouses from its slumber, growling not at all unlike the dog who has planted himself between her and those who strike and slash at one another. And all at once the maiden is aware of that small pain in Soft-Feather's arm, an awareness that slices across her expression and redoubles the urgency in her voice. "I can't--" comes her cry to Mehul. Her hand shoots up towards the shifter, all unthinkingly, aether beginning to roil in her blood as well as his. She can't leave, not until she understands. Not until this madness that has shattered the peace of the morning ceases. "Leave him alone!" she wails. It is not a command, not from this gentle creature, but it bursts forth from her with all the force of one. Her hand shakes as it does, and her eyes turn despondent. "Stop -- stop fighting--!" The draw of blood brings a viscious smile to the lips of Mehul, watcihng it flow forthf rom the arm of his nemesis... but it is short lived. Steel rings out against steel and The Hunter turns, forced to focus his attention upon Geridan. Growling, his eyes burning, and his body lunging forth in a whirlwind of motion, his foreblades lash out relentlessly at the Varati Warrior, from either side, across, down, simultaniously, from one side, his body shifting sliding beneath swings, pivoting, lunging within the arc of the man's arm, neverending motion carrying him forward, propelling him, the madness cackling in his mind, calling to him, guiding him, enveloping him. "Faanshi, run! NOW!" Concentration interrupted, but not broken completely, Soft-Feather begins to gather the energy once more. With your normal every-day-avergage-person, this would not be so difficult. But with the barrier of Aether magic to break through, it is taking extra effort...and with the cut distracting him, he finds his concentration drifting outward through his 'field of responsibility.' He senses the animals once more...and perhaps they are just the distraction he needs to give him time to complete the forced shift. Invisible tendrils of energy strike out and through the forest, finding purchase in the minds of creatures in the area. Though he can only reach a few at once, he can get others by focusing on the 'leaders' of the enclaves. At least, he tries to do that. A few bears, ferrets, and eagles...they lumber into the grove here, dart through over there, or descend from above. The target for the birds, visualized and put into their minds by Soft-Feather, is Mehul...his back, really. They swoop down and peck at him...hoping to distract the Hunter even more and give Geridan an opening. The bears and ferrets move in a menacing way towards Faanshi. In reality, their goal is to form a protective barrier between her and the rest, to keep her safe and out of the fight. But with Kosha jumping in, they need to appear threatening to Faanshi...to give the dog another target that will take him out of the fray, to keep him safe. They will not attack him. Meanwhile...Feather begins collecting himself once more. Just needs a little more time...time, he realizes, is a resource that seems to be in short supply. The golden energy collects at fingertips again...then moves down through his hand and swirls into his open palm. And the firestorm and the whilrwind collide. Impact upon impact rings throughout the skull of the Warrior of Rashid, burning throughout the muscles of his arms, jarring him to the bone as he slides agaisnt the efforts of Mehul, finding himself quickly on the defensive end of the two deadly blades. Cought upon the inside his blade rolls, cuts, dashing from side to side blocking one strike after another, his form leaping back as the man charges or cuts from each side at once, steel flipping down to block low, up to block high, arcing parrying, and lunging, cutting for the infrequent and futile attack. He is losing ground... Yes, his life does rest in the hands of Feather... for while he is holding his own, Geridan can not keep this up much longer. Kosha has no more cognizance of what is happening than his poor confused mistress -- and therefore the dog, seeing only that a friend is under threat, bunches his powerful legs beneath him in preparation to spring upon the nearer of the two targets. Geridan. He springs, but as he does the man is in motion, and so Kosha only strikes him a glancing blow... But still, a hundred pounds of dog is a solid thing to strike one's back, even in passing. Kosha does not manage to damage him, and even as he falls away something large and furry comes springing out of the underbrush. The hound howls, seeing this new threat disturbingly near Faanshi... and so he skitters back, still snarling, fur still lifted all along his body, to surge back to his mistress. "MEHUL!" screams the halfbreed in terror, as she sees a pair of hawks descend -- and then there is the young bear, drawn out of hiding by Soft-Feather's inexorable magic. She whirls to see it come up beside her, and her call of the Hunter's name chokes off in her throat. The animal attacks occur simultaniously. Arching forward, Geridan growls as the dog strikes his back, his body thrown toward Mehul, his blade bending in a pain-coiled wrist. Bone tears in to flesh, and blood runs free. Pecking, clawing, the birds tear in to Mehul's shoulder, and The Hunter plants his feet firm where he stands, pivoting suddenly, sending the birds to flight and even striking them down with his arcing blades, bringing them back down as he turns once more to the Varati Warrior. They meet. A gaze of burning coal collides with that of flaring crystalline and the whirlwind and the firestorm pause, both striking out at once, sword thrusting forward and blades slashing down and across. Screams of pain fill the air. A hilt of carved flame falls to the grass, along with that of its owner. Geridan lays there, a gash across his chest and slowly... Mehul turns, slouching, a hand covering a wounded shoulder. One thought rings in his mind... Soft-Feather. He feels the magic. The two bears, male and female...most likely mates...stand in front of Faanshi, blocking her just in case Mehul goes crazy and decides to harm the woman he cares for so much. After all, if he knows he will die, will he went her in the afterlife with him? Kosha is given looks of repressed natural instincts. The urges to strike back at the dog, if he strikes at them, is strong...but they have been asked to simply knock the canine away with as little force as possible. The Varati woman's shriek hurts the delicate ears of those bears...but they stay, anyway. Seeing that the bears have things covered, the ferrets turn and aim for Mehul. There are four of them...and they climb up both right and left legs and begin to bite at whatever is closest. Soft-Feather sees the dog leap at Geridan...sees him falter...but also sees the determination in the man's eyes. He cannot let him die here...not today...not EVER! With an even stronger intensity, the golden light shimmers and sparkles as it pools in Feather's outstretched palm. With one last mental push, it is ready. His arm cocks back and then thrusts forward. A golden beam of light, which flows much like rippling waves, reach out and embraces Mehul and, though he still battles on, begins to break through that barrier and change him into something more...manageable. So strike forth and true, weapon at my heart, for his is as much mine. Drive hard and deep, weapon at my heart, let me fall with him. And take his life, weapon at my heart, but keep me breathing at your hilt. The grass rises around him, caresses the back of his head... and Geridan's gloved hand lifts, coming to fall upon the wound that lines across his chest. He can feel it pulsating, breathing, burning... the blood flowing forth from it... He actually smiles... very faintly, his gaze burning, flaring... but hazing, the crystalline hardening to cover the infernos... He watches The Hunter begin to change, satisfaction pulsing, along with his life-blood, through those emptying veins. Pain. It shoots into Faanshi's consciousness from several directions at once, making Kosha's howling and the stern efforts of the pair of mated bears recede to the back of her mind. The hurts of the birds as Mehul strikes at them. Soft-Feather's wounded arm. Geridan's injuries sustained from the obsidian blades. And Mehul's. As Soft-Feather's magic lashes out to ensnare him, without time for subtlety or grace, she feels his body's own scream of protest. And only now, after weeks of being told by the Ettowealona that she herself is a healer, does she begin to believe it -- for it is as if her very nerves have been set afire with pain. "MEHUL!" The wound had weakened the barrier, shattered the focus that had held so strongly, Feather's magic at bay. But it is gone... and with wide eyes, The Hunter gazes out at the changing world before him, the beam that strikes him and causes his body to recoil, to shake, his jaw gone sloak and his breath caught in his throat... But to where those burning coals tavel is to the shudra maiden... The remaining foreblade is dropped, clattering to the earth while he struggles against the shift, his form screaming in protest as every fiber works against it... as he howls out, one step... two steps... taking him toward her... Breathing... hard... to keep breathing... It is only a change, but he fights it so hard, scrapping together all the Aether he can. "Faa-aa-nn-shi..." he strains, a gelatenous hand reaching... "L--ooo-vee... You..." He collapses. The golden energy ripples over the form of The Hunter, flowing through him now and changing the makeup of his body. Arms melt and puddle at the feet, which are melding together are taking on a gelatinous form. As he steps, his form destabilizes to the point where he simply looses molecular cohesion. He is no longer recognizable. With a mental command, though a strained one, that gel shrinks and reforms...into the shape of a very confused ferret. As fur sprouts and color suddenly fills the gaps, the little creature finds himself trapped by a ring of four other ferrets...these a bit larger than himself, to be sure. Soft-Feather staggers forward a little, sweat dripping from his forehead and his eyes glazing over. He sees the shift was successful...and this brings him joy. But he also knows the pain it will cause Faanshi. Despite that, though his heart goes out to her...she that has lost so much and seemingly gained so little...he detatches the bag from his belt and reaches down. He plucks former hunter up and stuffs him in the sack. Tying it shut, Feather gets to his knees beside Geridan. "Are you...alright, Inkana?" He swallows hard. Little blood spurts forth from now parted lips as Geridan chuckles, managing quite the convincing grin as he looks up at his companion through still brightly burning, if slightly glazed eyes. He takes a moment to just stare, his gaze shifting over to the sack in his Inkana's hand. He nods to it. It is done... Looking back to him, he takes one sharp breath and manages to say easily enough though quietly... "Just don't let them heal the wound completely... I want the scar..." Groaning, his form shifts, putting more pressure upon the wound and making an effort to shift his head more comfortably to see Faanshi. The injury is indeed a gash... though it doesn't appear to be fatal... "MEHUL!" _She_ has not changed form -- but nevertheless, Faanshi's scream is barely recognizable as coming from a human throat. Her magic roils through her at full strength, the aether around her seeming to shimmer in a sungolden sphere as her power howls demands to connect with the various pains around her, like a warrior sensing his... or her... mortal enemy. She does not cry. But the eyes she turns upon the two intruders have turned nearly black with a look of one whose soul has suffered an absolute betrayal -- and all at once, the Hunter's name trailing off into a piercing keen from her throat, she hurls herself at the men. Only once in her life before has this shy maiden, this timid shudra who would normally dare to raise a hand to no one, been provoked to try to deliver a blow. Then, it had been a threat of magic to her beloved hound. Now, it is a much more profound threat to a man whose love of her has been these last many days one of the few things solid in her erratic memory. "NOooOOoooo...!" Heedless of what the bears might do, heedless of the swipes of paws that might be lashed towards her slender form, she tries to charge the Sylvan and the remaining Varati. Soft-Feather is exhausted. Perhaps that is why he topples over so easily when Faanshi's form smashes into him. The sack rolls from his grasp and Feather, quite dazed for a moment, lays there... Geridan watches in quite a degree of alarm as Soft-Feather is toppled by the shudra maiden, his gaze going wide and his body attempting to move, his arm falling behind him to push him up be the elbow. But he coughs, hacking and cringing, coubling over in pain as his chest throbs and blood flows forth, causing him only to collapse and roll... away from the pair. Kosha howls again, horribly confused, horribly alarmed, and does his best to dive after Faanshi as she practically tackles Soft-Feather. Her dainty hands balled into fists, she begins to try to pound them against the Sylvan, shrieking "CHANGE HIM BACK! Change him -- why?! Why did you--" The moment her hands touch him, however, it is as if lightning strikes. The aether surges out of her, an electric current of unleashed power that jolts through Soft-Feather. Half a heartbeat later it passes, taking with it his pains, leaving healed skin and flesh in its wake-- And the halfbreed, just as jolted by the expulsion of her own power, falls sideways. To the sack. Agony etched into every line of her features, she scrambles to it. She reaches out for the frightened ferret, with no thought in her head now but to take the creature who had just been the man she loves into her hands. Inside the sack the ferret scrambles, clawing, squeeking, screeching, writhing and worming in an attemp to get out. Darkness. Darkness. Flee. Flee. Run! Without relent, its energy spending without bounds, he reaches for anything and then... light! He bolts for it... and in to the hands of the shudra maiden... Familar... Gentle... Kind... Round eyes look up in to the face of this creature... and the struggling ceases... the ferret settles in to her hands easily now... only a few silent noises reaching out to her... calling to her... The lightning travels through him like fire, but instead of leaving pain...it seems to remove it. In fact, he's feeling quite a bit better now. And as the sudden realization that Faanshi has let the ferret out of the bag strikes him, Soft-Feather gets back to his feet. No longer trying to get to his feet or make any motion at all... crystalline eyes burn upon the form of Faanshi as she removes the ferret from its bag... watching both it an her... his brows falling and his mouth pulling in to a tight frown... The pain... horrible as it is... is forgotten for the moment... The heart of a husband and a father... of Geridan Kentari Rashid... whose wife is Kerani and whose son is Zahir... reaches out to her. She has arisen to sing to the dawn. She has turned to take the hand of the man who loves her -- but violence and havoc have torn her morning asunder. The birds and beasts have swarmed out of the surrounding wild to lend an air of the surreal to the brief vehement battle. And Mehul has been changed. Faanshi drops to her knees, cradling the ferret against her breast and staring down with heartsick eyes at fur the color of Mehul's hair. At tiny ferret eyes that should have been the charcoal orbs of a man. And it is too much. She does not cry, not even now, but while she holds the changed Hunter close she cries out, "_Why did you do this?!_ Holy Blessed Mother... why...?!" She does not look at the others, neither Soft-Feather nor Geridan... but she does not need to. Confused... but content... does the ferret allow himself to be taken, to press against her... to settle in to her arms and nuzzle against her skin and body... still looking up at her, its nose twitching, its tiny eyes dark and searching, and its little squeeks still sounding up at her... no longer frightened... but utterly bewildered... Familar... Friendly... Love. There is a time in everyone's life where they have to be the bearer of bad news. Where they have to risk breaking someone's heart. And that time has come for Soft-Feather. At least, he thinks so. Faanshi cries out to her Holy Blessed Mother...but he feels he should respond as well. "Mehul...the Hunter...killed some of my people. He has hunted those whom the Grandmother gave the gift of shifting. He has put them through great pain. My people have lost good children to him, children of my tribe have lost a parent to him...and I have lost some of my students. I do not like having to do this, but...if we do not, the killing will not stop." He hopes she can understand...but does not expect her to. A glance is given to the ferret...to his gift to the Hunter, in a way. When in animal form, such as Mehul is now, the former is forgotten. He will leave the world peacefully...without conflict. "He must leave now. That is the way of things...the way of life." He fills his voice with a somber tone, but one which also carries understanding and compassion. Will she trust him as she once did? Perhaps not. But at least now, she knows. Geridan lays still... The price of justice. In avenging the lives of those who were killed, who have died and gone... look at that which they are destroying... the life... and the love of two people. Clutching a hand to his chest, the Varati Warrior manages to roll over on to his side just enough so that he may look more easily at the two... at the ferret. "Inkana... maybe... we should change him back first... so he can at least pass... as himself." Why he would wish this is even beyond him... but maybe part of him worries about whether or not his soul will be perserved by Khalid if he passes as such... not a Varati... and that he wont continue on to the next life, even if it is only to pay for the crimes of this one... Faanshi's green gaze shoots up to Soft-Feather's face as he addresses her -- and it is almost as if the man is uttering an entirely incomprehensible language. Her eyes go round at the mention of killing -- of _Mehul_ killing. Her shoulders begin to shake, and denial begins to make her mouth quiver. But no sound springs forth from her, not until Geridan speaks, and only then does the meaning behind _his_ words sink in. _They're going to... no, no, oh blessed Ushas, Holy Mother, -no-...!_ Her head begins to shake back and forth in vehement refutation, and words escape her at last as she cradles the little black ferret protectively to her. "You can't -- no, it can't be true! I won't let you hurt him anymore, I won't, I won't...!" Squeek, squeek, squeek! The ferret is craddled, crushed against her, and still... it does not protest, its eyes actually seeking to close within her embrace... but not... continually staring up at her face... always up at her face... The human part of Soft-Feather sympathizes...and wishes to go along with it. It would give Faanshi closure and would allow Mehul the chance to say good-bye. But what if she heals him? The exhaustion that comes from undergoing such a change would be removed...and he, Geridan, and Mehul would be at it once again. He would like to oblige her, but how? It's a... His thoughts are interrupted by the sounds of feet moving trough the tall grass here. Sounds of tree climbing can be heard as well as the ring of archers forms around them. Before Feather and Geridan left, they gave notice of their destination and requested archers to come back them up. If Mehul should happen to be healed and go berzerk, they will have him in an instant. Feeling as if he used up his personal reservoir of magic, Soft-Feather gathers impressions of the animals arounf the area..and though the contact is very faint, he understands. The archers have arrived. It is safe now. Gently, he takes the ferret from Faanshi, doing his best not to hurt her or the ferret, and sets him down some distance away from Faanshi, on the forest floor. He half-closes his eyes and stretches out to the Aether, pulling it inside himself and acting as a conduit once more. Golden energy begins to swirl around the ferret, flowing then back up into the outstretched palm of the Sylvan man. Soon, the ferret becomes a naked Varati man, who lies gasping for air on the ground. Soft-Feather sags against a tree behind him and slides to the ground. "It..is...done." Going at it once again?! Hardly! Geridan can barely manage to stand... as he does now... leaning heavily upon the sword whose tip is burried in to the earth while he still keeps one hand clutching fiercly to his chest... The bleeding has begun to slow... but not by much... If Mehul were to attack again, this Varati Warrior would provide only a momentary distraction... as long as it took The Hunter to strike him down. He watches, swallowing hard, a nod given to Soft-Feather along with a very small smile... A little gasp of protest bursts out of the maiden as Soft-Feather takes the ferret from her -- but perhaps some still-rational corner of her mind senses that at least in that instant, the man intends no threat. And that he does, in fact, intend to restore Mehul's true shape to him, as she herself has begged him to do. She hears the noises in the trees, but they are immaterial. So too is the hound who slinks up uncertainly behind her, his ears laid back along his skull and a plaintive little whine sounding in his throat. All of Faanshi's senses, every scrap of attention she is capable of giving, goes to the crumpled form of the man who lies upon the ground once Soft-Feather's magic has reversed its work. The halfbreed scrambles to him as quickly as she can manage on her and knees, not waiting for permission or leave, drawing his head up into her arms and cradling it with the same tenderness with which she'd held him in his ferret form. "Mehul?" she whispers hoarsely, her power still roiling in her -- for Geridan is still wounded -- but not spilling out into the Hunter. She has great magic, but Faanshi cannot create strength out of nothing. His body shivers, convulses with the change and he gasps, his eyes shooting wide open and leading to coughs while his arms wrap around his naked form, his chocolate skin becoming covered in goose-bumps... Blurred his gaze finds nothing, his hearing dulled and muddled while the change still sets in... but as his head is lifted and as his darting charcoal orbs begin to settle and focus... the image of Faanshi fills his vision... "Faanshi..." he whispers out, barely audible, an entire breath required just so speak that single word... His brows furrow deeply and he shakes, no longer just being cold... Mehul is afraid. Soft-Feather watches the exchange with sympathize, but knew knows it will have to end soon. This is not story of an innocent man being executed for a crime he did not committ. This is a story of a man who will be killed in order to stop him from killing others...and for the previous crimes, as well. He gives the archers the high sign...if anything happens, fire. By looking at the Sylvan shifter, it is easy to see he is tired. He has only been up for perhaps two hours now...but he is ready to sleep for a week. But he must see this conclusion... Morning-Sunrise, resident Healing apprentice to HeartsEase, waits at the edge of the clearing. She will help when needed. With one hand upon the elaborately carved hilt of his blade, Geridan presses himself to rise to his full height, to address the situation with the proper respect it deserves... the highest a Rashid member can give - an absolute and silent military attention. His hand remains upon his bleeding chest... and the other... upon the handle of his sword, caresses once more the lines of the spiraling flame. "Is it true...?" That's all that Faanshi says, three softly murmured words, as she desperately searches Mehul's face for some sign of proof of the wild claims the men behind and beside her have made... or some sign by which they may be contradicted. But while she whispers the fateful question, she smooths his tangled hair back from his brow, and she begins to sense the fear that limns his dark features and alters the set of his frame against her. He is afraid -- and Faanshi's heart constricts in her chest as a small part of her wonders if it is because what she has just been told is truth. To see the truth through the eyes of a sun-golden child... he who peeks out from behind the greenery of a bush, with a wild and care-free smile to greet the world... He who now emerges from behind the charcoal orbs that no longer burn... He who, digging his toes in to the ground, draws from behind his back a timid hand to wave at Faanshi... to greet her for the first time in the open daylight. Mehul is terrified. "Yes." he replies, his breath returning to him so that he might speak that single word solidly, in that beautiful and melodic voice that has told of his love to her in whispers that caressed her ear. But it is a voice too filled with sorrow... bewildered and confused... but... whole. A tear wells up beneath one of his eyes and his fingers reach forth... reach to touch her face... A changed man he may seem, but the end has come. Silently, Soft-Feather waits for the realization of the truth to hit Faanshi. What will her reaction be at finally knowing? Soft-Feather did not want to be right. Not at all. Yes, he wanted the Hunter gone, but at what price? But he knows this is right... A statue, Geridan remains absolutely motionless, ignoring the crying of his aching muscles, the screaming of the gaping wound that burns his chest and cuts short his breathing with bolts of pain that run the course of his entire body... He remains, a Warrior of Rashid... at attention. She'd looked at Soft-Feather as if not comprehending a single word he'd told her -- but now, at Mehul's single syllable of confirmation, the terrible truth of Faanshi's understanding begins to fall across her eyes like the moon moving to eclipse the sun. As she sees the wetness trickling down his cheek her own remain dry, summer's green gone stark in her ashen face... but nevertheless she moves a thumb to tenderly smooth the tear away. "Then you have broken the holy surahs, beloved," Faanshi whispers. "And these men have brought you justice." "Yes... I have..." Eyes close as the tear is brushed away and the Varati Mehul leans his face in to her touch, his own fingers coming in contact with her cheek, holding it, caressing it before his charcoal gaze opens to take her in again... "I'll meet it..." Another tear rolls down a dirtied chocolate cheek and he swallows hard, trying to shift his body closer to her. "Never let anyone tell you I didn't love you Faanshi..." he whispers at long last, still cupping her face. "Think well of me... if you can..." He has accepted his fate... he is aware of those around him... The Hunter is still there... but the darkness has cleared... within the ferret there was brought a purity... an essence of being devoid of the cackling madness... Everything is at -Mehul's- disposal... He smiles... "I love you... Ok?" His voice cracks and his eyes draw tight... "I love you..." And his fingers loop about the back of her head, tangling lightly in her hair, trying to draw her down to him. Memories still swirl and collide within Faanshi's head -- but pieces are beginning to fall into place. The Holy Mother of Khalid Atar. The first battle she witnessed, and the raging response of her power to it, echoed here again in this clearing. A succession of faces, bringing to her word of deaths of ones she has loved. And memories of this man, ever kind, ever affectionate, ever protective and loving even in the grip of primal, instinctual protectiveness. She does not want to believe that this man has killed innocents -- but she has heard the truth in Soft-Feather's voice, and she sees it now in the expression of the man she holds. "I have always loved you," she murmurs, "from the moment our souls met. Go to Ashur Masad and Holy Ushas, and I will pray for you. Each day... for as long as I shall live." And Faanshi curls her arms tighter around him, lowering her head down to his to meet his lips with hers... until at last she must pull away and release him to the justice that has come to claim its due. WolfEyes comes across the narrow walkway from the Great Oak's upper limbs. WolfEyes has arrived. His eyes well, both now, with tears that will not be stopped... and at her words... they flow... the smile upon his lips broadening to touch them and guide those droplets of water down his cheeks to the earth below. Mehul is free. He embraces her at the kiss... pressing her lips to his, so fierce, so passionate, yet more tender than any they have ever shared... his skin but a brush to hers as they share their last... "Be strong, my love... Be brave... and be free. Take my strength... Find love... bear children... and be happy... Never let anyone stop you from that..." He who was The Hunter rises, lifting himself from her cradling arms to come to his knees before her, to cup her face in either hand and to caress it while he gazes in to her eyes. "Thank you, Faanshi... for saving me..." He then turns... faces Geridan and Soft-Feather... and nods slowly, once... bowing his head down. Deep in the forest, in the clearning where Faanshi and Mehul have stayed, does the half-breed woman lean down to kiss her beloved one last time. And Mehul, he who killed innocents and now faces justice, has gone from ferret to Varati...so that he may say goodbye, and leave this world in a way that will please his gods. Soft-Feather watches this compassionately, but knows what must be done. So does Geridan. Mehul weeps -- but Faanshi does not. She does manage a small smile at his tearstreaked countenance; so too does she manage meeting his eyes with hers. But she cannot manage tears. There is something uncannily familiar in what she is experiencing now, echoes in her memory of death and loss and even a beloved voice in her dreams urging her to try to be strong and be happy. Something in her soul, battered and exhausted, protests that it has no more strength to do anything more than simply exist. But here, at least, she manages to cup Mehul's face between her palms as she drinks in his final words and answers them with three soft ones of her own: "Goodbye, my love." Then, and only then, does she pull away from him at last and step back to give room to what must be done. It takes Geridan some time to move... but not because of the injury that spills blood across his chest... He can only stare at the two of them, and realises, that with their words... so has gone his strength. Leaning upon his blade, he returns the nod of Mehul, and the Varati Warrior only then breaks his stance of attention, limping over to Soft-Feather and giving him the sword. "This is yours, Inkana..." he whispers... but the frozen crystalline eyes add, 'I can not...' Placing the hilt of the blade he has used for so long... that weapon which was made out of the shattered pieces of that of his father's before him, refurnished by the dearest friend he has ever known... he turns, and with nothing more to lean on, walks back away to stand in front of he who is about to die, to meet his gaze and do nothing else. The undergrowth rustles, and another Sylvan emerges, bent low to the ground and obviously following a set of tracks, though she looks up as the vegetation parts. WolfEyes stops, framed in the doorway, her eyes taking in the sights to be seen and especially the people; her lips draw back over massive canine teeth as she starts to growl, her eyes narrow, and she begins to swiftly dissolve into magical motes of amber, bronze and blue leaving only rage-filled amber eyes behind. Soft-Feather looks down at the sword...a piece foreign to him. He has always been a peaceful man...vowing to do no harm, unless he had to. There were times he flirted with that line...but had never crossed it. This was one of those times. For if he did not do it, Mehul would continue the killing. 'This is right,' he tells himself...and he is correct, it is. But for him...to a peaceful man like him...taking the life of another seems wrong. Yet, there is no other way. Faanshi has accepted it. Mehul has accepted it. Geridan has accepted it. And now...the dealing out of judgement falls on his shoulds, and his alone. He represents his people...and those who have gone before by the hands of the hunter. With a grim nod to Mehul and Faanshi, he raises the blade... They say that life can be unfair. That's true, to be sure. But sometimes...fair is relative. What is fair to some is not so fair to others, such as in the tragic story of Faanshi and Mehul...two lovers broken apart because of murderous rage in the man, and because of a woman who had now way of knowing who he really was. As the blade falls...and as it takes a life away, the circle is complete. Life has been returned to the earth. Soft-Feather backs away, holding the bloodied blade in his hand...then looks to Geridan, and then Faanshi. "It...is...done." And with that, the Sylvan magus sags to the ground...the blade falling from his hand. It's bloodied end smearing on the fresh green grace as a gentle breeze envelops the clearing. "Goodbye... I love you..." With his soul, these words lift up in to the heavens... carried upon the wings of a dark eyed child, bathing in the sun of a light he had never known... he who is now free... he who no longer must fear the darkness and live in death... Mehul is free... and The Hunter dead. The sound of the blade striking home -- and the sound of Mehul's head flying from his body -- is enough to make the healer maiden twitch violently and slam her eyes shut as if it was she that the weapon struck. When they open again, it is on a gaze gone bleak and hollow, a gaze that stays that way even as she turns to walk to Geridan. Her touch is fleeting -- but at least for a few moments the maiden's hand stops upon his shoulder, and power surges forth out of her to close his wounds and stop his blood from flowing. She says absolutely nothing, neither to him nor to the Sylvan; all she utters is a quiet, "Come, Kosha." And a three-note whistle to bring the dog to her heels. The archers in the trees, what ones of Soft-Feather's creatures may yet remain, even Wolf-Eyes who has come late upon this spilling of blood... all of them are ignored as the halfbreed maiden begins to walk, pointing herself to the east... Back towards Haven. [End log.]