EU || The Final Battle

Karyss exhales as they finally leave the crucible, releasing her hold on the shield that had been protecting the three from the unbearable heat. Looking back as the chamber cooled, she could see several instances of melted crystal and rock before the elementals of the tribe reverted the chamber to what it was previously—waiting for the next Reoseans, she supposed. 

She turns her head towards Prophet and Damocles, both of whom were focused on the crucible they had just exited from. She slowly relaxes when she sees no visible burns, taking note that she had protected them.

“I don't think the testing is over,” Karyss comments tiredly, drawing the pair's attention away from the cooling stone. “It was probably a way to weaken us, as they have similar abilities to our own.”

Prophet bobs her head, brows furrowing as she twists her head back to the cavern they had momentarily been trapped in. “I believe they succeeded. You're magically exhausted—have been since those crystals, and Damocles is already injured.”

A low, gleeful chuckle turns the trio towards the source. In a darkened corner, Shira stood tall and proud with her head lifted above them, chin raised as eyed them with a narrow look. “You are right, of course. After all, no one could get past the Order clan without going through a beating. The Brutes had to start somewhere, you know.”

Karyss twitches, muzzle wrinkling. She could see the similarities, but that didn't mean she had to like it. At least the Brutes were after gold, not tests that could kill them slowly and painfully. She much preferred them to the Order.

“You're aiming to be the highest among Oris’ ranks,” Damocles surmised, looking Shira up and down. He eyed her antlers warily, limping slightly as he watched her carefully. “Your tests are chaotic, without pattern. Or at least, any noticeable pattern. No one who passes through here lives long enough to compare.”

Shira's expression twists into one of outrage as she lunges forward with a ferocious shriek. Karyss yelps, erecting a shield while pushing the others away. Damocles was injured and would only be further in the way. While Prophet had experience as a battle healer, it wasn't enough to fight against a leader who lived in violence and death. 

It looked as though it was up to Karyss to fight the leader of the Order clan while the others made sure she stayed alive.

What battle knowledge Damocles held, he relayed to Karyss as commands to avoid the brunt of Shira’s onslaught. The blotched puller listened intently as she clashed with the leader in heated battle. Damocles could only grunt at his own pain as he shuffled along the outskirts of the area, eyes fixed on Shira to predict her moves before they came for Karyss. Prophet was equally attentive, passing her skills as healer to keep Karyss on her feet when she got knocked down. The young puller was fierce, Damocles gave her that much. A fire that pushed her through any hesitation and uncertainty, to keep her on the winning side the best it could. 

“Come on, Karyss!” Prophet said, gritting her teeth as Shira’s claws grazed the puller’s pelt; just a bit too close for comfort, “You can do it!”

Her ears just flicked in acknowledgment, but she dodged just a little too late. The leader’s claws raked over her pelt, leaving her with a nice set of scratches that the healer would have to bandage over later. She hissed, and rolled away. The movement caught Shira by surprise, and Damocles couldn’t stop himself from a proud dip of the head. Instead of seeming frustrated, though, the large haedian’s lips curled into a cruel smile.

“So, you’ve got some fight in you, after all. That’ll make it more fun when I grind you into a pulp, whelp.” She recoiled, looking for another chance to strike. The mark she’d made on Karyss’ side hurt, but this was no time to nurse her wounds. Damocles steeled his jaw as he surveyed the scene, skilled eyes lighting on the haedian, trying to see any sort of weakness he could call out, help her with–

Shira stood back, rearing her head, shaking it as she made a mad dash. She pointed the crown of her head, the nest of horns, directly at Karyss, who looked rather terrified as she saw it coming toward her. She was frozen as she saw death approaching.

“Move, for gods’ sake! MOVE!” Damocles roared, “Use her momentum against her!”

It was as if he’d shaken Karyss from her trance using those words, and she dashed out of the way at the last possible second. Shira moved right on past her, barely stopping herself from ramming into the cavern walls. But still, it was a little too late. Karyss hooked onto her horns, trying her best to divert some of the energy away from it.

Shira roared as her neck twisted, face quickly coming into contact with the dirt. She’d underestimated just how feisty this puller would be.

“Go on, Karyss!” Prophet yelled, “Show her what you’ve got!”

Karyss snorted as she jumped on Shira’s neck, surprising her. She held on for dear life, clamping her jaws at the base of the haedian’s skull, threatening a bite.

“GET OFF OF ME, PUNY SURFACE-DWELLER,” she bellowed, trying to shake her off. But she couldn’t. Karyss had wedged herself between her horns, claws gripping onto flesh. The more she struggled, the more Karyss latched on. Though she was quite the fighter, she hadn’t found herself in this sort of predicament before. Other haedians were much too large to attempt such a maneuver, but, well-

Karyss growled in response, a clear “no.” At least, not unless she yielded. Which she wasn’t liable to do. She kept trying to shake her off, but the clear pressure at the back of her head told her it was futile. She snarled, “I said, get off!”

“You must yield,” Damocles demanded, stepping forward, “It is her right.”

“There is no right or wrong in a fight!” Shira growled, “Only winners and losers.”

“Yes,” Prophet said, clearly relishing this moment, “And it appears you have lost.”

“Nothing of the sort,” she said, “I grow tired of this game.”

“Really?” Damocles said, raising an eyebrow, “I thought that you had only just begun.”

“Are all of you on the surface so insufferable?” Shira scowled, “Matriarch alive, just get off. I yield!”

Those seemed to be the magic words, and Karyss loosed her jaw. She scrabbled off the haedian’s neck and relaxed her muscles, trying her best to look intimidating still.

“Well?” she crowed, “How was that?”

“Great,” Prophet beamed, as she moved to her side, “But you’re bleeding!”

“Oh, pooh, no one has ever died from a little scratch,” she retorted, but she wisely shut up when Prophet gave her a Look.

“Yes, excellent performance,” Damocles murmured as he moved over to congratulate her. Shira eyed the trio with some disdain.

“Does this mean I pass, or whatever?” Karyss said, clearly directing the statement toward the haedian. Her eyes went dark for a moment.

“Just because you have passed this one test, does not a great one make,” she hissed.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever! I just wanna move on from this clan,” Karyss shot back, tossing her head. Prophet looked up from bandaging her side, clicking her tongue rather reproachfully.

“Karyss! Be nice.”

“What!” she said, grinning, “I won!”

Damocles just shook his head, “Come on, you two. We’re going to have to pick up the pace if we’re to approach the next clan soon. I’m sure whatever you’ve put on her for right now is fine, Prophet.”

“Who’s next, again?” Karyss yawned, “I can’t keep them all straight.”

“The Caregivers,” Shira spat, “Soft ones, the lot of them.”

“I’m sure they’ll be absolutely delightful,” Prophet said, “I can’t wait to meet them.”