The Lady Doth Protest Too Much, Methinks

[Aver Brand]

Immediately, the woman pursed her lips as if she'd just bitten into a particularly sour lemon.

I'd rather hit something else, she intoned, her smooth contralto never making it past her throat. Slowly, she let her arms fall to her sides as she turned to face the Beastia fully, icy eyes alight with a predatorial glint.

I am, however, still starving. Shall we hunt first and trade blows later?

 

[Quietus]

The chuckle escaping the mute's mouth would have been silent if not for the faint hiss as it hit her fangs on the way out. With the night young, arrows collected, and trails to traipse, the pair headed off into the jungles to track down their meal for the evening.

~~~~

Pale green light filtered through the canopy leaves and a stale, cool air heavy with damp earth filled the space between. For an hour they had tracked a pack of young males, the same pack that had made itself a nuisance to the workers on the Ridge. Male maalraas at this age were rank with hormones, constantly scraping for dominance and pilfering kills of the local beasts and hunters.

Quietus stooped by a set of tracks and trail of blood, a tight frown taking her expression. The tracks were large and many - a dozen at least, but this wasn't what caused her brow to tighten. The blood was of human origins and scent, which meant it had come from the building party. She hadn't planned on finding a body tonight but now that she was here it would be her duty to recover it. Or as much of it as she could. The Beastia pressed her fingers into a small pool and lifted them to her lips, tasting it. Her nose scrunched; male, young, local judging by the lingering acidity, cold blood. She spat it off to the side.

They'll be in a feeding frenzy. Distracted and ornery. They can't climb, not well anyway. If you get surrounded your best escape is up into the trees.

[member="Aver Brand"]

 

[Aver Brand]

Night slowly crept up behind them as the pair tracked the beasts into the jungle. It was a lazy thing, Onderonian nightfall, but dark and humid and above all, thick. Insects and scents arrived on its wings, giving the air a taste of spice and metal.

A second later, Aver realized the latter was blood, and by then, [member="Quietus"] was already kneeling next to the small puddle in the dirt.

“It’s human,” she said as a deep frown passed over the Beastia’s features. Nothing could ever be simple, of course. Fate saw it fit that she, Ygdris Val – former Hand of the Dark Lord, subjugator of planets uncounted, vanquisher of thousands, warmonger of the highest rank – would be forced to save a life. The universe was having a joke at her expense, clearly.

Aver mirrored the scowl on the blonde’s [SIZE=14.6667px]features,[/SIZE] but kept her reasons unvoiced.

Without another word, the mercenary nocked an arrow and wrapped her sure fingers around the bow. They were as used to holding weapons as kitchen utensils, which would be worrying if she were anyone else.

She bent in the knees and proceeded with soft steps. A mental check confirmed that the weight of her knife was still there, firmly tucked away in her boot. Faint rustling off to the side confirmed that the Queen was still somewhere in the vicinity.

Best way to kill these things?

Her question was doomed to go unanswered. That same second the underbrush ahead of them parted, and a trio of slobbering predators lunged forth, jaws full of sharp, sharp teeth.

 

[Quietus]

Rustle. Creak.

The heart.

One heavy black arrow sliced downwards from the canopy, planting itself firmly through the back of the beast nearest to Aver. THWACK-YIP. It collapsed at her feet in a heap, dead before it hit the ground.

She wouldn't get a clear shot on the other two as one leapt off to the side, spooked by its very suddenly dead companion and driven to, while the other turned it's head to snarl up at the trees in pursuit of the blond.

Brain.

SHOOP. A second arrow peeled through the leaves and into the gaping maw of the third, the momentum so powerful it knocked the creature back into a nearby tree trunk.

But only through the eye, mouth or underside of the jaw. Their skulls are too thick.

 

[Aver Brand]

It was readily apparent she wouldn’t get a chance to utilize her newfound marksmanship skills. At least not right away.

Without hesitation, Aver dropped the useless weapon and called her trusty knife to her waiting palm. It jumped from her boot with a twitch of her fingers even as she retreated with practiced steps.
Years upon years of rigorous footwork training had kept her alive on many battlefields, and now the wilderness joined that long list as well.

She pivoted on the spot to avoid its snapping jaws as it lunged. The beast kicked up dirt as it landed, already rearing for a second attack.

The merc didn’t let it.

Instead, she ducked low when it leapt once more, jabbing upwards with the phrik blade. It let out a pained keen, a bird struck mid-flight as its momentum faltered.
A dead weight hung suddenly on the length of her knife, and Aver stumbled to keep her balance.

The tip of the weapon was peeking out from its neck, drawing a diagonal wound from the point of entry when the blade had pierced its throat.

Clean kill.

“They’re fast,” she said, glancing up at the silhouette [SIZE=14.6667px]in[/SIZE] the trees. “But not fast enough.”
A grin curled her lips and with a shrug, the merc shook off the corpse.

She picked up her bow, wiped her knife in the maalraas’ fur, and moved closer to the clearing.

Nudging aside the foliage, the woman stepped out into the open. And stared.

Sure, those things had powerful jaws and sharp teeth but frak, did they make a mess.
The soil had assumed a color of rust from all the blood it had consumed. No wonder, too. In the centre of the dell was a body. Or, to be painfully precise, what used to be a body.
Without her extensive experience with explosives and what they could do to the fragile construct of flesh and bone, Aver would've been hard-pressed to identify anything remotely humanoid in the mess of meat and organs strewn across the ground.

The merc let out a long whistle and shot [member="Quietus"] a look. “How big are those packs, again?”

 

[Quietus]

With a soft creaking of high tree limbs that could have been mistaken for a breeze the Beastia dropped back to the jungle floor opposite Aver at the epicenter of blood. There was ... nothing left to save, much to her expectations. Maalraas were quick, lethal, and efficient killers. There was little they did better than taking down prey - save perhaps eating it. She reached to pull a piece of jaw bone from the mess before standing and slipping it into a leather pouch strapped to her hip.

Quietus turned pale glowing green eyes to the streaming rays of moonlight slicing through the jungle. She did not need to see the creatures in the darkness beyond to know they were there, surrounding them on silent paws. Fingers drawing securely around the grip of her bow, the mute looked to Aver with a slowly raising brow and the faint ghost of a smirk forming on her lips.

There won't be enough arrows for them all.

Good thing Aver had her dagger.

Commence bloody, violent hunting frenzy.

[member="Aver Brand"]

 

[Aver Brand]

“No. There won’t.”

And she flipped the knife in her [SIZE=14.6667px]grasp,[/SIZE] and started carving.

Aver didn’t know how long they fought, but when the last maalraas dropped to the ground, there wasn’t an inch left of her that wasn’t covered in blood or guts. And that was fine. The firrerreo felt right at home cutting through flesh, and now that her hands worked just as well for breaking [SIZE=14.6667px]bone[/SIZE], the merc was set for life.

She lifted her gaze from the wreath of corpses and limbs splayed in the grass around her and wiped her blade.

“What’re you gonna do with the jaw?” Her phrik blade sheathed once more, Aver picked her way across the clearing towards her discarded bow.
“Told you. Useless.” She hefted the weapon with a smirk and slicked her hair back. It was red already, so what’s the difference?

A sting in her left forearm reminded her of their recent escapades, and with a [SIZE=14.6667px]scowl[/SIZE] the woman reached down to dislodge a chipped tooth from the complaining muscle.


[member="Quietus"]

 

[Quietus]

SSSSFFPT.

Just as the word useless hissed through Aver's lips she'd feel the fletching of an arrow tickle her cheekbone. A guttural snarl at her back silence stiffly as the point carved through the eye of maalraas making to pounce at her back. It landed on bloodied heap of its packmates, ochre oozing from its orbital cavity.

Bows are for hunting, not bloodbaths.

Quietus lowered her bow and surveyed the scene from her perch up in the trees. Having maintained the high ground she'd kept cover over Aver who insisted on getting up close and personal with her quarry. What was supposed to have been a hunt had turned into a massacre. A good majority of the bodies would be useless for eating or skinning - shredded by the Merc's blade - but could be rendered for other means. Pelt partials, bone, fangs and claws, all useful things and there would be no shortage of them from tonight. The rest would prove quite filling for their bellies.

Slinging her bow over her head and affixing it across her chest, Beastia reached to collect several lengths of thick vines from the upper limbs before she dropped from the branches and moved to the nearest body with one of her arrows sticking out the side of its ribs. A healthy male in its prime. A hand smoothed across the animal's pelt and came to rest on its skull where silent but powerful tendrils of will extracted images and lingering sensory imprints at the forefront of its fading spirit.

A young boy no more than eight summers, strayed at the banks of the nearby stream just a little too long. It had been a quick death - he never even heard them coming. Such was the life of the Beast Tribes in this unforgiving environment. Quietus made a mental note to investigate the stream banks on their way back, he'd dropped a carved toy in the process of dying. She moved to wrap the beast's forelimbs with vine.

I'm going to give it to his father for a proper burial, glowing green eyes glanced at Aver, lingering over her blood-slicked figure, you're a mess.

Very little blood had been spilled on her own part.

[member="Aver Brand"]

 

[Aver Brand]

An arrow whizzed by and sank into something soft and warm behind her. Aver didn’t even flinch. Gunfire and screams had been her song too often and too long, and she never batted an eyelash when death crept close. She licked her teeth, running the tip of her tongue along the sharp points. They tasted like iron.

“You bury your dead?” The merc quirked a surprised eyebrow as she watched the Queen skin the animal. She’d been expecting pyres, for some reason.

“I know,” she added, glancing down to take stock of her state. The armor was without a scratch, of course, but the exposed portions of her skin couldn’t say the same. To the sounds of flesh and pelt being ripped open, Aver watched the red streaks seal closed once more, leaving only thin white lines in their wake.

“Might pop over to the springs for a quick dip, wash it off.” With that, Aver spun around and whistled at the jungle foliage, a shrill, sharp noise. Seconds later, the heavy footfall of a mighty beast reached her ears, and Puppy burst into the clearing. She was salivating.

“The scraps are all yours,” she spoke as she scratched the hound behind her ears. “But you have to wait until Quietus’s done, okay?”

 

[Quietus]

The uninitiated and unhonored are buried, Quietus worked with dexterous hands after having hung the carcass from a branch. The organs were the first to go, though not discarded so much as set aside. Hide slivered from sinew at the edge of a finely honed dagger.

In the ground they may return to the source and be reborn in order to find their honor elsewhere, in their next life.

Words spoken without a full sense of conviction. Quietus didn't really believe these things, though she had seen enough in her own extended lifetime to know there was more to the afterlife than simply nothing. These were the beliefs of the tribes, the convictions of her people, and she would see to them with a sense of duty and a strange, detached compassion. It was a bit like how she approached the raising of her children.

The honored are burned on pyres. The taller the pyre, she glanced the dull shadow of the tuk'ata as it prowled into the clearing, the greater their honor.

Puppy sniffed curiously at the alotted bodies, saliva pooling in her jowls and dribbling down in long, sticky droplines.

She's not hungry, Quietus said as she made the incision to trim the skin from the base of the neck, they've been filling her belly all day to keep her from eating something she shouldn't... the skin pulled free with a deft snap. She rolled it and tied it off with another length of vine, turning to look at the Merc and her ... not pet, companion was the better word. There was no doubt in her mind that Puppy had her own agenda.

Hmm.

Green eyes settled on Puppy and her massive bulk. Quietus tapped a finger at her lip thoughtfully and then smiled. Yes, that would work very well.

Go on then, she turned her smirk to Aver, we'll meet you back at the camp.


Hhhhrrrrmmmmmurrrr said Puppy.

 

[Aver Brand]

When [member="Quietus"] elaborated on their customs, Aver gave a small, but victorious fist pump. She’d been right after all. Well, partially. Whatever.

“And you know that how?” she asked with mild bemusement, glancing from the Queen to Puppy and back again. Astonishment briefly replaced the puzzled look, and then she prodded the Hound’s side with an accusing finger. “You talk to her too?”

A mournful noise crept up the beast’s throat, prompting Aver to narrow her eyes even further. She knew that look. The Beastia was up to something.

“I better get her back in one piece,” she threatened half-heartedly, gave Puppy a final scratch, and marched off into the woods.

Returning to Scarside Ridge was a much more pleasant experience. For one, meat and blood didn’t stick to every facet of her armor. The body beneath the suit was also squeaky clean, which helped immensely. Combined with the cool evening air and a clear night sky, Aver ended up bounding up the footpath with a wide smile on her face.

Scattered fires were the only sources of light now, with silhouettes of the tribespeople flickering past the crackling flames every so often. The camp had quieted down significantly from the bustle of the day, and she could swear she heard a singing and the heavy thud of drums in the distance.

With Puppy nowhere to be seen, Aver beelined for the heavy red canvas of the Beastia’s tent and slipped inside before anyone could question her presence.

 

[Quietus]

It would take some time to tend to the numerous bodies of maalraas from this...slaughter. Quietus found herself in a strange state of dejection at it all. Wasteful as much as it was excessive. Half these bodies would do nothing but rot, feed the other local wildlings. Many of them were not salvagable even for their skins with as many gouges had been made by Aver's skillful blade and it would take far too long to collect all the bones.

She would send someone tomorrow to take whatever remained after the wilds had their fill.

Puppy became a pachyderm in the most figurative sense. A pack animal she was not, but a predator sated from indulging all day she was, and easily persuadable as the Beast Master found, but not in the same way that most beasts were. Puppy was a beast of body but something much more of mind. Quietus was not familiar enough with the arcane nor the arts of alchemy, not like Dissero was, but she sensed a presence within the jewel on the tuk'ata's collar, and it made her wonder if Aver had not.

Perhaps Aver had been too steeped and saturated in the Darkside to pick it up. Such a presence would be normal to her. Perhaps not.

They arrived back at the camp nearly an hour after Aver swept into the Beastia's tent. Several tribesmen and women arrived to take the skins and carcasses to clean and prepare the meat. Quietus slung a small satchel of collected claws and fangs over her shoulder as she untied the last of the pelts from Puppy's scaly back. The hound ambled off but she did not watch to see where to.

Someone, in the time since Aver had let herself into the tent, came in to light the campfire at the center. They paid no mind to Aver but went about what was otherwise a normal nightly routine. Fire at a healthy crackle, fresh water and mead, a platter of local fruits, bread, vegetables sat upon a low table around which rugs and pillows made from beast hides were arranged to sit on. Several small braziers throughout the expansive cloth home were also lit, throwing the otherwise pale-skinned Merc into warm, red relief.

Shadows danced around the tent, the front entrance flap rustled.

Quietus stepped in smelling of hot coals and blood. Behind her two tribes people arrived with what would be the evening meal for the Beastia and her guest. Meat freshly quartered from their recent kills, wrapped on a pike to set over the fire. She moved to a nearby basin of water to wash the night from her face and arms, setting the bag of collected trinkets on a nearby table. As she scrubbed the layers of grime from her skin the glint of Aver's armor set over in the corner caught her eye, made her remember. The Merc was over by the eating area, cleaning her knife and looking nonchalant.

Your old armor, said the telepathic voice to the red-haired woman's mind, what did you do with it?

[member="Aver Brand"]

 

[Aver Brand]

Though she may have seemed distracted to the tribesmen who busied themselves around the tent, Aver paid precious attention to her surroundings. She liked to think that she was capable of shedding all the baggage of old skins, but it was far from true. Paranoia had stuck to her skin like a persistent tick, an inevitable side-effect of spending a decade among Sith. As it turned out, irony had made sure that she was the one who did the betraying in the end. Talk about a cosmic joke.

The heavy tread of a beast reached her ears moments before [member="Quietus"] pushed aside the flap of the tent, grayscale bleeding into color the closer she drew to the fire. Its warm crackle grew doubly inviting when skewered meat was placed to sizzle above it, and Aver felt her stomach clench. The excitement of the fight had pushed all thoughts of hunger to the side, but the adrenaline was long gone from her veins now, and her needs were making themselves known.

It would be a while until the hunk of flesh was ready, though.

Her cool eyes followed the Beastia’s movements across the wide space, fingers practiced enough to complete the task of cleaning a blade without the aid of vision. She tilted her head slightly at the question, and her hands paused for a moment. Then she smiled.

“Ygdris are resting,” she said softly, peering back down at her knife. The gleam of blue stared right back at her, piercing like the tip of the weapon itself. “They have plenty of space and a regular diet of frakkers who are stupid enough to challenge me.”

She continued as she slipped the blade back into its sheath, setting it down beside her cot. “I miss them, though. Dead armor is… not comparable.”
Nothing was, really. Having another creature work in perfect unison towards an end goal wasn’t something she could replicate in any other shape or form. Not even when she fought back-to-back with [member="Loray Tares"]. They were connected as deeply as two people like them could ever hope to be, and it still didn’t come close to the visceral kiss of flesh against flesh.

“It’s like having this… super intimate relationship, and then you’re cut off and get a… a frakking toy as a replacement. You know?”
Inelegant and blunt as only Aver Brand could be, she finished her answer and clamped her mouth shut before the metaphor got any stranger.

Or, Force forbid, raunchy.

 

[Quietus]

Quietus considered the metaphor and chuckled silently to herself. She supposed she could relate, though intimate mates had never been in short supply for the Beastia. Yet in the way they work and bond with their beasts ... it was as if someone took Mir away and asked her to drive a speeder instead. Into battle no less.

She fething hated speeders.

Is all Vong armor like that?

It was a rare instance where curiosity was openly pursued. Quietus did not much care to learn of others but she had found an innate interest in the Merc's living armor since their last encounter. It had crossed her mind more than once since then, fleeting thoughts based upon a knowledge that was sorely lacking. Vong were as much a mystery to her as she could readily admit.

Leaving the basin after drying her face, Quietus joined Aver at the meal table where she sat cross-legged on a pelt and helped herself to fruit.

[member="Aver Brand"]

 

[Aver Brand]

“Depends, but mostly yes. If you want to be efficient using it, certainly.” She flashed the Beastia a smile as she took a seat opposite, bathed in the flickering orange of the campfire.

“And I do love efficiency.”

Thoughts played openly across her grinning face as she pondered a particular idea. On a whim, Aver leaned forward and dropped her voice to a conspiratorial whisper, eyes alight with mirth.

“I’ll bring you a gauntlet the next time, and you can try it out.” She was only half joking. Fact of the matter was that [member="Quietus"] had a way with beasts, that much she’d seen. Ygdris were indeed bonded with her – and her alone – but they would obey her commands. Besides, seeing her expression as the armor sank its sharp legs into her flesh… totally worth it.

“That how your skreev work? Bonding?”

Almost came out as bondage. Force of habit, you understand.

 

[Quietus]

There came a noticeable lofting of a single wheaten brow. Intrigued but reticent, Quietus said nothing to the supposed offer. Was she incredibly curious? Yes. Enough to actually try on the armor? Well, she would cross that bridge when she got to it, without knowing more of the nature of Vong armor. The Beastia had her suspicions there was more to the armors bond with its host than met the eye.

That depends, said the Beast Master as she picked up another piece of fruit and slowly began to peel the hard casing, on the nature of the beast. Some will only bond with one rider in their lifetimes, others never form a singular bond. It's all about how they are raised, trained, used. Mir, my skreev, was hatched, raised, and trained exclusively by me. He will fly only for me. There are others here that can be ridden by those with the training and knowledge to do so, but even they can be choosey if they are not impressed. It is a rare skreev that will fly for anyone and everyone...

Depositing the fruit skin into an empty bowl, she fed herself a segment.

 

[Aver Brand]

“That’s not a no,” Aver said when [member="Quietus"] quirked her brow, all skeptic-like. “I’ll pencil you in.”

As the Beastia spoke of her mount, the merc felt around the camp for her own beast. She found Puppy lounging by a sentry fire at the edge of the cliff, keeping company with a an unfazed, grizzled old tribesman and a terrified milkdrinker. Her stomach growled again, and the firrerreo cast a scrutinizing gaze over the bowl of fruit. Then over at the chunk of leg. Then back to the bowl.

Hrm.

Finally, the woman made to reach over, but in the last moment changed direction to try and pilfer what remained of the blonde’s fruit. (Certainly there was opportunity for euphemisms here, but the writer valiantly restrained herself.)

Some called it laziness. Aver, she called it efficiency.

“How about drexl?” Whenever Onderon or Dxun came up in casual conversation, people only ever thought of two things. Mandalorians and drexl. She’d met the former and hadn’t been impressed, but the latter still held her interest.

I mean. Motherkarking dragons.

 

[Quietus]

SMACK.

Lightning fast, the encroaching hand was met with the bite of the Beastia's own.

Ah, a hard edge formed within her gaze. This was the same testing she'd gone through with Arathul as he grew through his fledgling years. The boy knew better than to even think about stealing food directly out of the Beastia's hand. Lesser people had lost their own hands for such an offense. Uh-uh.

Her smirk returned as she pulled another segment apart from the main fruit and held it up, gesturing to Aver with her other hand and indicating for her to catch it with her mouth. She aimed and tossed.

Drexl cannot be tamed by ordinary men, came the answer. She'd offer another segment for Aver. For the Beast Riders they require at least three men to ride a Drexl. It is not so, for me, but I have the advantage that they do not.

 

[Aver Brand]

This was why she was still here, Aver realized. Why she hadn’t marched off when [member="Quietus"] told her the mark was permanent.

A chit-eating grin curled her lips before she pulled back.

SNAP.

Lightning fast, she closed her jaws around the piece of fruit.

She wiped the juice off her chin with the back of her free hand and made a note to try again when the Beastia was distracted. Failure had never been a deterrent for the firrerreo. Merely incentive to improve her approach to the problem.

“The Force?”

All sorts of legends surrounded the beasts, but Aver preferred getting her information first-hand. Who better to sate her curiosity than the Beast Queen herself?

She leaned over to the meat, tearing off a sizzling strip. It was still plenty bloody; just the way she liked it. In a heartbeat, the morsel was gone the way of the fruit, and Aver was ready to gnaw the hunk of leg to the bone. Her phrik knife was back in her grasp and then she was cutting. Three times the merc sliced, dropped the blade, and grabbed her half.

The other she offered to the Beastia, all smirk and teeth. “M’lady?”

 

[Quietus]

Yes, said the Beast Master as she finished the last segment of the fruit, the Force.

Among other things, but as with anything - never reveal all your cards.

Quietus moved on to pouring herself a carved bone cup of mead before leaning back into the pillows. A blond brow propped at the Mercenary's offering and she smirked in response, taking a slow drink and then lowering the cup. It is for you. I have eaten my fill already.

In the jungles, traversing the path-less overgrown floors with the tuk'ata hound hauling their bounty upon its back, she'd feasted on the raw meat of a smaller maalraas. Frequent, small meals were key to a lifestyle that saw very little downtime. The Beastia motioned for Aver to help herself.

[member="Aver Brand"]