Feral Fury

JP with Lucian and Omni

Tarmen fought like a wild animal, caged and afraid of capture. It was a feeling he had known since youth and even now it spurred him on.
The men fell one by one, his machete biting into their unarmored bodies like a living beast, forever starved. He had lost feeling in his hands and feet, swinging out of pure instinct.

The biggest of their number was almost toying with him, batting aside his swings and even smacking him once or twice with the butt of his spear. It wasn’t hard to exploit this arrogance.

When the man went to block the expected swing, Tarmen instead switched hands halfway through, sending the blade into his exposed leg. When it didn’t immediately come free, he took no time in lunging at the bulging throat and tearing with his own teeth.

Tarmen spit the wad of flesh back at its owner, not even waiting to see the life drain from his eyes before retrieving his machete.

He hadn’t realized the Arbiter’s absence until now, surrounded by the remaining mould-folk.

Seeing how close they were to victory brought a surge of rage and bloodlust through Tarmen as he charged them from behind. A savage bellow escaped him as he nearly cut the first man he came to in half, then fell in with Voah to complete their slaughter.

Down the narrow passage she moved, spinning her make-shift blades, stabbing into chest and neck until she pushed past to the mould-woman who had hunted them down. The look of Voah covered in blood must have been terrifying because the mould-woman turned to run. It was the Arbiter's turn to hunt.

Her shaking legs allowed her one last sprint as she ran downhill and jumped with her spear tips raised to pierce down into the back of the mould-woman. The tackle took them both down and Voah crawled back over on top of her enemy. Her Gods were with her, in her body, spirit and on her lips.

The mould-woman spoke in pained, panicky words before Voah covered her mouth and pinned a spear tip dagger against the woman's lower abdomen. She contemplated digging it into the woman's womb. That hateful vengeance stoked. Voah glared into the fearful eyes of the mould-woman, breathing heavily, her feral teeth were bared and spit hung from her lips as she whispered prayers to Vastad. But it was the voice of Gonyaul who answered instead. 'Hate not look good on you...' and then 'you are a spiteful little girl girl girl girl...'

She yielded... body shaking, her eyes glossy with tears, and her mouth twisted in anger. It would be meditated evil to kill a fleeing woman who knew she was in over her head. A woman who, perhaps, regretted her decision.

Voah pushed herself off and sat up against the the tunnel wall as the mould woman lay there grunting in pain and crawling slowly on her back away from the Arbiter.

She looked to Tarmen in a daze. The spores made her head throb.