Nessalir the Red

The hunter's arrow soared through the air. It arced in a graceful curve, its head perfectly aimed at the assassin Akirim dy'Gwinwyd. In other circumstances, in another life, the missile would surely have struck true.

Yet something interfered. Perhaps the dy'Gwinwyd hunter saw Finn's movement from the corner of his eye. Perhaps he heard the snap of the bowstring. Perhaps he simply sensed a subtle change in the air. Whatever the impetus, the other hunter reacted instantly. No sooner had Finn loosed his arrow than Akirim rolled forward, bringing himself out of the projectile's path and leaping to his feet.

"Treachery!" Akirim snarled, drawing his sword.

"You dare speak of treachery?" Finn demanded. He threw his bow to the side and drew his own weapon. "I have seen the body of Orov dy'Cangen! I have seen the poisoned arrows which you used to slay our fellow hunter!"

Akirim raised his weapon, keeping a distance between himself and Finn. "So, you accuse me of murder. Is this how you intend to justify yourself, dy'Blodyn? You invent some conspiracy and cast yourself as the hero? Have you led the Queen's champion astray with your lies, or did the two of you plan this coup among yourselves?"

"Finn dy'Blodyn speaks true!" Nessalir announced. She had drawn back her bowstring, and kept her arrow trained on Akirim, ready to shoot at an instant's notice. "I have seen the body of Orov dy'Cangen, slain by an arrow tipped with Bolgara."

"Your House's predilection for poisons is well-known," Finn said. "Surrender now, and perhaps our Queen will be merciful."

"I have slain nobody," said Akirim, "and I shall listen to this slander no more!"

"So be it!" Finn charged, swinging his blade as he did so. Akirim feinted to the left before bringing up his own weapon, redirecting the force of Finn's blow harmless past. He followed this with a strike of his own, but Finn had already recovered enough to parry.

Metal clashed against metal as the two Elves' blades met. For a moment, they appeared locked in melee against one another, but something flashed in Akirim's off-hand. He brought up a hunting knife past Finn's guard, aiming directly for the other Elf's heart.

Seeing this new threat approaching, Finn made the only move available to him: he disengaged and retreated, leaping backward out of the reach of Akirim's weaponry.

Nessalir saw her chance. With a twitch of her fingers, she let fly her arrow.

Luck, however, was on Akirim's side. He was already advancing on Finn, and Nessalir's arrow missed him by a hair's breadth. Scowling, the drakkowar tossed her bow to the side and drew her weapons: a sword in her right hand, and a hand ax gripped in her left claw.

As Akirim remained squarely focused on Finn, she charged at his back.

Her blood surged within her, and it roared in her ears. She was the blood of the dragon, daughter of witch and wyrm. To hunt and kill was in Nessalir's nature, and her blood sang its joy as she prepared to strike a killing blow. Her very veins burned with the fire of her heritage, and her mouth salivated with predatory anticipation.

This was what it meant to be drakkowar. Nessalir was descended from the greatest and most fearsome hunters the mortal world had ever seen. When her blood sang as it did now, she knew, none could hope to stand against her.

Her blade approached Akirim's flesh.

The trees cracked and broke. A deafening roar sounded throughout the forest. Something burst, and splinters of wood rained all around her.

Suddenly, Akirim was gone, vanished behind a mass of black fur. A long, serpentine neck extended from a leonine body, and a bestial head snapped back toward Nessalir, jaws wide open to expose razor-sharp teeth.

Immediately, she was on the backfoot. All her momentum came to a halt as she redirected herself to dodging this new and unexpected attack from the Questing Beast. She fell back, lashing out with her ax. The head of the weapon glanced off the side of the Beast's jaw, knocking it away and leaving a small line of red below its mouth. But the Questing Beast seemed otherwise unharmed.

A low growl rumbled in its throat.

"The Beast!" somebody cried from the other side of the animal, though whether it was Finn or Akirim, Nessalir did not know. The monster they had all been hunting had doubled back and, seeing its foes distracted and fighting among themselves, seized upon the opportunity for an ambush.

It spun, and a heavy tail came swinging for Nessalir, moving as fast as lightning. It was all she could do to brace herself for the blow before it connected, impacting her directly in the chest and stomach, lifting her off her feet and sending her flying through the air.

Nessalir's back impacted the trunk of a tree, and her weapons fell from her hands. She collapsed to her hands and knees, gasping for breath and fighting down the rush of sick from her gut. Her vision blurred and her head swam as she struggled desperately to get her own body back under control.

Another rumbled emanated from the Questing Beast's throat. No; a series of rumbles. As though the creature were laughing at her.

Gritting her teeth, Nessalir grasped for the hilt of her sword and, finding it, climbed unsteadily to her feet. She nearly lost her balance, only just managing to catch herself as she stood before the object of the Bright Moon Hunt.

"Beast!" a voice cried. "You shall be my trophy!"

With that, Akirim leapt upon the Questing Beast's back and buried his knife between its shoulder blades. The Beast roared with anger and pain, and it spun its head for this new attacker. The long neck twisted and coiled like a kraken's arm as it shot its mouth to Akirim and bit down into the Elf's shoulder.

Akirim screamed, and the Questing Beast tore him from its back, flinging the hunter toward through the trees. With another roar of frustration, the monster fled.

It crashed through the Wildwood, destroying trunk and branch equally in its rampage as it departed the sight of the battle. Nessalir took a moment to survey the damage.

Finn stood, blade in hand, a look of shock clear on his face. From the trees, Akirim emerged, stumbling, clutching his wounded shoulder with one hand and his sword in the other.

"I must…" he groaned. "I must kill the Beast."

"No," said Nessalir, standing before him. "You must face the Queen's justice."

"Move, dragonblood!"

Nessalir planted her feet firmly on the ground and raised her weapon. "I will not. We are going to bring you to justice, assassin. You will pay for your crimes this night."

A smile twitched over Akirim's mouth. "'We?'"

Something moved, and Nessalir glanced over her shoulder to see Finn snatching up his bow and running into the Wildwood, chasing after the fleeing Beast.

With a scowl, she returned her attention to Akirim--just in time to see him rush her with his sword.