The Four~Act One: The Blood-drenched Plateau

As the sun doth sink low in the sky, so doth my advantage of sightlessness wax. I prowl back, forth, and back once more as he doth circle continuously, looking for an opening. He is not so kind so as to bequeath unto fate a quick end to this combat.

My joints and bones, though grown they have to be in strength as the mighty willow and in movement as the fanged snake, have with the unmerciful wait of sunhigh stiffened. I do exploit this opportunity, one of prowl and uncertain outcome, as it eases though slightly the tensions of the day. Soon, whatever nocturnal creatures shall prowl the night, though it is doubtful that a great number roam such a barren landscape what would show the necessary strength and prowess to challenge any of us Four. Nevertheless, if such creatures of night and hunger are sent mine way, I shall not be wasteful of such an opportunity to gain an upper hand.

As it is, though the Gentleman displays a curious lack of concern as to either of our fates, mine knowledge of his skill with a blade remains as darkened as the new sky. Keeping caution close, I do swipe mine totem with one hand at his feet, in an attempt to upset the man if successful or, at minimum effectiveness, cultivate mine awareness of his abilities.

Adaire Lestate. Quite, original. She smiled as she repeated it in her mind. It had a good rhythm to it, echoing someone of importance. She crawled over to the edge of the plateau and briefly peered across the flat plain. The glass and the hag were circling. Good, they could deal with the animals on the plains however they liked. Crawling back down towards the fire, she paused to think, then uprooted some more dead bushes, letting the fire grow a bit more.

"Nice name, defined, stable. Much better than having a first name for a last name I guess." She pulled the Sixgun out of her belt and placed it on the ground, glad to be relieved of the awkward pains it produced in her hip when sitting. "Twitches don't bother me, well, at least while I'm sane. When I'm not..." She shook her head. Her stomach was beginning to get at her, begging for food. Without explanation, she got to her feet, Sixgun in hand, and began scouting around the area for her backpack.

A wolf howl made her shiver. Instinctively, she rested the barrel of the Sixgun on her wrist, keeping it aimed in front of her as she searched further and further away for the backpack. A second cry had her flicking her head around. Two different directions, a very bad sign. Spotting the backpack, she wasted no time grabbing for it, holstering the Sixgun and lighting a bush on fire. The fire held beside her waist to avoid signalling anyone on the plateau, she bolted for the campfire far in the distance. Not looking where she was running, a stray bush tripped her up, pelting her into the hard sand as the sounds of more and more animals joined the ambience. Blood Drenched was an appropriate name, from the sounds, it had most likely become a feeding ground...

She shook her head, struggling to get up. As much as she wanted to rest, now wasn't the time. Leaving the bush to smoulder, she raced back to the fireside, dumping the backpack at the base of the rock. Scanning the surroundings with the Sixgun, she prayed the animals were fighting each other. Minutes passed before she finally relaxed and opened her backpack. "I haven't got too much in terms of food, wasn't expecting anyone but myself you know." Dragging the backpack closer to the fire, she opened it towards Adaire, casually chewing on a leather-wrapped sandwich.

Salvador dodged the blow all fine and dandy; but in the process, one of his heels hit the line he'd drawn. He wasn't outwardly agitated, but there was a momentary change in his breathing that hinted at an internal expression of displeasure. He paused for just a moment, then resumed his circling.

He faltered again when he caught sight of tiny specks off in the distance in addition to stark red waves streaking the sky. Faint howls reached his ears moments later, like the rumble of thunder after lightning. He wasn't entirely sure what to think of them. Wolves were dangerous, but also numerous.

"Perhaps we should cease this game until our canine friends depart," he idly suggested, "although if you'd rather fight, I'm all game." He sheathed his knife, which would have been a bad idea had he not been better at dodging than at blocking. "I believe the other two have made peace. Perhaps a temporary entente is in order."

----

The instant Teyla was gone, Adaire wanted to run. He just wanted to get away from here, especially when the wolves made their collective presence known. But-- surprise-- the Armor didn't let him. He'd be safe, it told him, he just had to keep his head clear of their teeth if they even found him, but that was hardly reassuring.

He legitimately fell over at Teyla's arrival, again with one of those yelps, and almost tried to run-- well, crawl-- off, but then she offered her the backpack and he went perfectly still. Was this a trick? Poison? Wow, she'd been quick to get all treacherous. Really quick.

"Wh-wh-wuh-wh-what...?"

Hiss, I do, at the man's agility. It appears to land even the least effective of blows on such a nimble adversary will require more effort on mine part. I prepare to attack again, or at least to make attempt to close the gap between us, when the sounds of strange creatures unfamiliar to mine ears resound throughout the night. A hiss escapes mine maw. After a moment, I turn to reply to the Gentleman.

"S s s. P e a c e, I... m a k e... n o t. Y e t, i t... i s... t r u e... w h a t... y o u... s a y... o f... t h e... o t h e r s, a n d... v i c t o r y... d o t h... l i e.. i n... g r e a t e r... a s s u r a n c e... w h e r e... d e f e a t... i t s e l f... d o t h... e a s i l y... f a l l."

The strange howls of nocturnal beasts grow closer. I straighten mine posture, planting mine totem once more in the ground. For the first time, I do notice the faint indentations of a circle marked in dirt, and do understand an earlier confusion at an uninterpreted action of the gentleman's.

"P e a c e, I... m a k e... n o t. B u t... m i n e... d e a t h... a n d... t h i n e... I... w o u l d... d e l a y."

The vile creatures are not far removed from us; smell, I can, their fetid breath, their orderly prints. Hear, I do, their cries of the Hunt as they do try to encircle us, loping low against the ground. I begin a solemn chant, praying for the favor of mine patron for his permission to slay such beasts.

Teyla casually grabbed one of the leather parcels and slowly unwrapped it. Roasted chicken. She began to eat, taking her time while keeping an eye out on the distance. Stuff the animals, she was hungry. At least her position wasn't so precarious this time. By morning, she'd probably be her insane self again, then, then the animals would fear her. Adaire could leave if he wished, for the moment she needed him.

"What meat I could gather from hunted beasts is salted enough. I have never caught food posioning by my own hand yet." She removed a small canteen from the backpack and took her fill of watered down whiskey. The mild burning taste made her shudder for a few moments, but it was better than suffering dehydration. She left it in front of the backpack, wiping the lip with her sleeve.

Returning to the sandwich, she took her time to finish consuming it. Adaire seemed edgy still. No problem, she didn't expect him to trust her right off the bat. Her vision blurred for a moment as she continued to gaze at him. Closing her eyes, she felt herself slump to the side, circled around the fire. The warmth was quite comforting, allowing her to properly re-cooperate.

"Cease-fire, then." Salvador said, stepping outside of the circle he'd drawn in the dirt, "I'll step back in if you change your mind, of course; I merely presume that you'd rather this... skirmish be ended by one of our hands and not by the teeth of beasts."

----

It was hunger alone that drove Adaire to finally, with painstaking slowness, scoot forward a little and fish-- with great hesitation-- his own sandwich out of the bag. He held it for a moment, looking at it like it was about to burst into flames any second now, then ran his tongue over his cracked, thoroughly chewed lower lip as if to wet it. His tongue was dry, though. The motion was purely reflexive; his tongue was barely wet.

"C-c-c-ca-an I?" he asked, pointing. His entire arm quaked so badly that it was actually somewhat difficult to tell he was gesturing to the canteen.

She groaned slightly as Adaire interrupted her soft slumber. "Suuu... re..." She rolled onto her back, enjoying the relaxation the alcohol had finally unlocked in her. Drinking wasn't a habit she intended to develop though. Her eyes opened weakly as she released a small hiccup. "You're... pretty decent." Her eyes closed again as her brain finally decided to rest. While she always assumed she was better off insane, immune to emotional swaying and the like, a small part of her mind was praying she wouldn't go back...

"Th-th-thhh-th--" Adaire cut himself off with a frustrated little grumble and just took the canteen. He held it in both hands so he didn't spill its precious contents. Which was alcohol, apparently. Or mostly alcohol. Reluctance to consume it was probably expected of him, even with the whole fear of being poisoned thing not included, but he drank with surprising familiarity. He'd lived on cheap liquor for a few years now, so yeah. Familiar.

He only took a small gulp or two, not wanting to anger Teyla by drinking too much, before he hastily put it back down and moved back to his original position to cautiously unwrap the food. The whole process of him getting it to and in his mouth was ridiculously slow. He seemed to have trouble with his mouth and tongue twitching while he was trying to take bites and chew. So much twitching.

"A g r e e d, f o r... t h e... m a w... o f... t h e... h u n t... h o n o r s... t h e e... a n d... I... o n l y... i f... h u n t e r...
i s... t h e... o t h e r. R e l i s h, I... d o... n o t... b e c o m i n g... p r e y... t o... f e e d... t h e... u n d e s e r v i n g...
b e a s t."

I do reach into the pouch that hangs from my neck, and from it withdraw one of several leaves of rare herb that do with saliva become noxious. In preparation, for the beasts are nigh upon us and linger with distinctive prowess on the edges of some vast, unseen circle, I do slip the rotting plant into my mouth, grasping it under my tongue to savor its effects so that they may be most effective when most needed.

The creatures, breathing raggedly with excitement of the hunt, stay their attack still - perhaps they find us curious, or perhaps they rearrange themselves with tactical precision. I do perceive, even in my sightlessness, the creatures' deference to an alpha; they yip and avoid him, simultaneously allowing his movements to guide their own. It is this beast I thrust my focus upon, emitting a growl from the depths of my throat. It seems only to excite the creatures, and their movements become more frantic, slobbering tongues hanging loose in the wind as they dash noisily across the trampled brush of the plain.

Interrupted from this my task earlier, I do finish the Chant of the Hunt, speaking more easily in the familiar words of the Olden Tongue. "Phnn'gra... sah... drg'lagn, gol... go'lahgn... f'drgn... phnn'gra, phnn'gamgr'dral... hofn'gdra." Placing trust in the Gentleman's vow of temporary respite from our rivalry, I do turn my back on him to face the creatures, totem held crossways of mine chest.

Her eyes opened, not in the manner of a sane person... She crawled away from Adaire, grasping the Sixgun. She had to get out, only one way to escape. "Keep the stuff." She pressed the barrel of the gun into her ear and pulled the trigger.

The roar of an angry beast did I expect, but to hear another, and so familiar a cry? The shot of the unnatural weapon doth ring out across the plains, causing mine sensitive ears to wince, and the beasts to whimper with terror. This blasted noise must indeed mark the death of the sufferer - or, least, some manner of betrayal amidst the two that did run.

The creature that doth lead this pack is strong of spirit, for rally doth he his followers and chooses this, a moment of uncertainty, to begin his assault. I do sense his lunge and whip around with mine Chosen God's mighty winds in mine arms, his arm in mine hands, and the fist of this mine totem doth drive the very breath from the creature as it stumbled to the ground, rasping its pain. Short-lived is mine respite, however, as the rest of the pack hath been summoned forth to assist in the kill. Fearing an unsatisfactory end to such a confrontation, I doth rack my brains for the most effective means of striking down the vile creatures...