(East side of Everbridge) You Sir, are an Idiot. (11th Board)

He responded to the formal greeting from the elf with a dip of his head and filled the brief silence between them. "Yes, Talos Est-… Serenoa." It was still odd claiming his true surname, having not had much time to get acclimated to remembering that he wasn't entirely who he thought he had been. At the elf's next words he looked over his shoulder to see the prince coming their way, the brightly colored dragon in tow briefly before the armored creature darted off, taking a small number of men with it. He had to clamp his mouth shut to keep from saying something about that. They hadn't exactly established who was in charge yet, but that didn't make it any less of an offense to not consult him about deploying who he'd come to view as his men. Taking a deep breath, Talos steadied himself and prepared to hold his tongue, wanting to get through this as much as anybody else. Movement caught the corner of his eye and he looked over in time to see the newest dragon land, placing banners in the trees and came right over like he belonged here in the refugee camp.

In that moment, he decided that whatever was to happen next, they were getting better patrols. It was ridiculous how just anyone could waltz into their camp unchallenged. The next revelation he had was realizing that the banners bore the royal colors and he sucked in a breath. Not just any intruder. An important one. Great. Just great. Like he needed more slack-jawed politicians running around his camp, dragon or otherwise. Casting a glance to Armeno, he tried to assess if the elf knew what was going on briefly before stepping toward the dragon, putting himself in the creature's line of sight. First Elites and now royals… "Before you take anyone anywhere, can you be troubled te' tell us what you're here for?" He was aware that his accent was creeping back into his dialect, and Lena would probably scold him for reverting, but just at that moment he didn't particularly care.

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They were wasting so much time here trying to pull this damnable cart out of the mud. Zeal stuck to the perimeter of their group, scanning the forest for threats. She'd sent Hone out to do some scouting, but her faith in the Lash dragon's abilities to actually come back with a decent report was… thin. At best. It was only after they had already spent an hour trying to get the wagon out and the road resembled more of a mud hole that Zeal decided it was high past time to tread on somebody's pride and just get the damned job done. Walking back to the site of the issue, Zeal briefly commanded a couple of her lower-ranked companions to take up the perimeter watch in her place and studied the problem.

Three of the humans and one of the elves assigned to her contingent were pushing the cart from behind along with a an acid dragon that was shoving his full weight against the back of the cart. All of them were sloshing through mud that came up to their calves, slipping in it while the two female antler dragons of their group tried to pull from the front, their normally spotless white fur and feather flecked with a generous amount of mud.

Heaving a heavy sigh, Zeal stepped into the mess, sinking farther in because of her heavier weight, the mud clinging far past her ankles and invading the spaces between her armor and scales. Great. She'd have to put everyone on polishing detail the next time that they found themselves in a town. Sitting back on her hindquarters, she gripped the cart, hooking her claws underneath the wooden frame. "Push!" She grumbled, trying to pull the cart out of the ground as the others did as ordered. The wood groaned in protest then the mud under the wheels made a horrid sucking sound and the cart popped out of its muddy prison. Zeal very nearly lost her hold of it when it jerked so suddenly, but she managed to hold steady and place it forward and to the side of the mud pit where it sat on top of the ground instead of sinking in again. A small cheer went up now that they could finally get under way, and Zeal grinned, happy to finally be on their way again.

"Zeal, Zeal, Zeal!"

Closing her eyes, the Red Rock took a deep breath before turning around, watching as Hone pranced up, her whole front covered in mud and words tumbled haphazardly from her snout. Hone had to be the most talkative dragon she had ever met, and not always in a good way. While her boisterous personality was usually endearing, right then Zeal didn't have much patience for guessing games, especially when she saw a small contingent of men appear out of the misty forest, armed with an assortment of hastily constructed weapons that had probably been converted from farm tools. Had Hone crashed through someone's window again? If she had to report another digestive-based incident…

"Who?" Zeal asked, hoping that her disinterested tone would make Hone come to the point. "Who did you meet, and does it have anything to do with this group of… men following you?" Zeal lifted her head, looking directly at those that had followed her subordinate. She hesitated to call them a mob for fear of worsening what was probably an already damaged relationship.

Last edited by Tegan on Mon Feb 13, 2012 8:36 pm; edited 1 time in total

Tegan watched the elf go and looked around. She really didn't want to get under anyone's feet, nor get in the way. She brushed her hair back and sheathed her sword turning her attention to Lyrian. "You're turn to be healed," she growled to herself. The elf kept one hand on the hilts of her sword as she made her way over to her dragon. "Lyrian, may I please heal you now?" she asked a loud. She really didn't feel like speaking mentally right now. Her thoughts were everywhere with how busy this camp was. She wanted to offer her help in teaching people to fight, but for now, she'd wait to see what exactly was going on in the camp. It seemed like there was a lot of tension and not everyone was here yet anyways.

The autumn dragon, refusing to talk a loud, nodded her head and held out her tail first. So Tegan got to work. She knew how to heal her dragon, and maybe other dragons, but her connection with Lyrian was what helped her heal her. She didn't have that with other dragons, so then, maybe it wouldn't work. She didn't care. She knew her dragon was hurting, and healing her was all she wanted to do right now. She finished her tail and climbed onto her back to walk down her now healed tail as she held it up to one wing at a time. The elf made quick work of open wounds, the wings took longer though. She had to heal the thin membrane of that, and it wasn't as easy as it seemed.

Akar smiled as she took the wrap, then turned his back on the camp, and her to retrieve her horse. He took the reins calmly, rubbing the horse's nose lightly and leading him over to Sorrahkin. The mare turned her head to look at the stallion and she snorted. She was going to be boss, and she wouldn't take no for an answer on that one. "Behave," Akar said softly to her. "No causing trouble please. You know I'm not the best at riding you." She snorted again, then stood perfectly still. "That's my girl," he said rubbing her nose. "Let's head home and pick up some money and your best friend. Alright?" Sorrahkin tossed her head, and with that, Akar pulled himself onto her back, tying the stallion's reins to Sorrahkin's saddle.

"Let's head out then," he said, putting his boot into the other stirrup and pressing slightly on Sorrahkin's side. "Walk on," he said quietly. "Hey Rose, I need to run home and pick someone up, if that's ok. Where you gonna be, and I'll come meet you there after. It shouldn't take long." He was quiet for a moment, then remembered something. "I'll leave your stallion with you when you can ride again and head out. Or just drop you off and head there after." He honestly wasn't that interested in details, so long as he could get home and leave as fast as possible. Harglen was defiantly not his favorite place. Exit Akar

Tatsu watched the human he'd healed, and the other dragon starting to leave. His mind had been on Zayela as she flew towards the center of the camp. "Oh umm, You're welcome." He said wagging his tail. He was worried for a moment about him trying to steal his fur or a feather, but the two left shortly after, and the life blood relaxed. He still didn't like how some of the people in this camp were watching him. It scared him, and he quickly opened his wings and took off after Zayela. He soon forgot his worries however when he landed by the tear dragon's side and heard her call. With a delighted sequel, the life blood leaped straight into the sky and started to jump around Zayela. "BRING 'EM ALL! BRING 'EM ALL! WE CAN HELP YOOOOUUUU!" he cried with a sing songy voice.

Seeing the avian’s crumpled up face, even if the man was trying to hide it, Atleon took a deep breath and prepared for the wave of anger that instantly hit him from his insides. He wasn’t sure who all these people thought they were, rising to the occasion from out of nowhere and now thinking they could boss everyone around as suited their likes. He held himself back however. He knew that Dragon’s Cove owed a lot to these occasion-heroes and he was not about to rebuke them for being there to lend a helping hand, but he was tired of accusations and was not going to stand for them much longer. He was just as exhausted as they were and had even more burdens to carry than them, because if anything went wrong in this, it was not their heads on a spike but his, even if they seemed to consider it a great honour for them to fluff themselves up like mother hens.

When he was almost at Armeno and Talos, and thus almost explaining where he had sent Hone off to, there was yet another interruption when all of a sudden a rather large dragon dropped into the camp from out of nowhere. To his dismay, there was not a single person stopping this dragon, but the animal came striding with such purpose while hanging up banners on various trees that probably nobody dared to. That, Atleon thought gloomily, is something we need to change. So much for them being in charge of this camp. They don’t even have decent sentries up.

The newly arrived dragon was clearly addressing Atleon – much to the man’s surprise about this abrupt appearance out of thin air - but somehow Talos had gotten it into his mind to step in and interrupt. Atleon raised a questioning eyebrow at the avian as the man moved to stand almost in front of the dragon and demanded a few explanations. It was not as if Atleon did not want to hear the purpose of the dragon’s visit either and Talos was rightly asking his question, but the avian had better reconsider who he was talking to – royal banners did express something after all – and in addition, it was not him whom the dragon had been talking to. Petty little details in most other situations but Atleon had had more than enough by now. Keeping his cool was becoming harder by the second.

“Excuse me, Talos?” Atleon said, his voice icy cold while he was trying to remain as polite as possible, utterly failing at it however seeing that his patience had almost completely run out. “I might be mistaken, but the dragon was addressing himself to me and I prefer to speak for myself, if you don’t mind. You seem to forget who I am.”

Without waiting for a reply, the prince addressed the dragon: “What brings you here?” The complete puzzlement at the dragon’s sudden arrival was put into that one question. Nobody knew where exactly Atleon was – or supposedly nobody knew – and he had not seen this dragon before, yet the animal clearly knew who he was and had been sent to him specifically. It was confusing to say the least and it raised so many more questions than just the few that were circling in his head but he was disinclined to vent that confusion openly, hoping the dragon would get the hint either way. Atleon’s mind was buzzing with questions, doubts and wonders but the man himself stood his ground and did not move a toe, waiting for the avian to back down.

Before moving to speak to Talos, Armeno nodded again at Sandy’s reply.
‘Est-Serenoa?’ he repeated in a questioning tone after the avian had responded. ‘What does the prefix mean? I haven’t come across it before.’

It turned out there were far more interesting things around than the answer to his question, however, as a shadow fell over the camp and the sound of beating wings was carried to him on the gusts of air which they produced. His head jerked back to stare up at the bizarre dragon in amazement- since when did they breed with hedgehogs?- and he drew his sword, ready to fight if need be. It seemed that the dragon was on their side, though, as it hung up some patriotic banners and then bent to speak to Atleon. It didn’t seem to be presenting an immediate threat, but all the same, Armeno moved to flank the prince and eyed the beast mistrustfully, taking his gaze from it only to frown at Talos and Atleon when they spoke.
‘More irrelevant bickering isn’t going to help us,’ he reminded them in a low, warning tone, before turning his gaze back to the dragon and sweeping his eyes over it. He couldn’t really tell how good it would be at fighting, knowing so little about whatever breed it was, but he was sure that its spines worked as an excellent defence. Definitely a good idea to stay wary. He listened attentively to whatever it had to say, as well- despite being on guard, he was as curious as the human beside him to know the answer to the question, and plenty more besides. Atleon had been the one addressed, though, and he didn't think interrupting would help matters. The prince and Talos were already snapping at each other's throats without any additional motivation to do so.

Upon gaining her bearings and getting past the pain she took the reins for her horse and looked at Akar's retreating figure. "I'll walk thank you." Looking around things seemed to get more and more out of control by the minute, which meant this place wasn't really all that safe. "Someone needs to take control of the situation and fast or this place is doomed." she muttered. Getting the supplies back here would be murder, or something close enough. She paused for a moment to watch the "festivities" of people arguing amongst themselves and decided to hurry back in case a real brawl broke out, which would prove decisively amusing.
Temporary Exit-Rose.

Now that his leg was fixed, and only aching sympathetically at the sudden lack of pain, Jackdaww got it into his head to find his way around camp. He looked around, trying to see who he knew. Well, he knew who prince Atleon was, of course, and he had met Talos while they were escaping Racksom, shortly before he had gotten lost in the city again. Those two were standing quite near each other, but he didn’t recognise the elf they were with. Maybe he’d seen him in Racksom too, he couldn’t really remember. However, he seemed to be holding a decent sword, which you didn’t really see many of within the DDC ranks, so he hade a mental note to introduce himself at some point.

As he surveyed the rest of the area, a spiky-looking dragon landed just outside camp – fairly near where he and Measle had found their way in. Jackdaww had never seen a dragon like that before, but it didn’t /look/ like it meant harm. He looked at Measle, as if expecting some information from him, and received only a shrug in return. So, they were in a damp little camp in the middle of nowhere, with what looked like an argument brewing a little way away, and neither he nor Measle knew what was going on. Great.

A little way off there was a little group of people holding less than convincing weapons and surrounded by in-obedient horses. Jackdaww presumed it was the closest thing to a training session he was likely to find in the near future, and took off towards it, deciding to avoid the sparking emotions between Atleon and Talos for the time being. He joined the little cluster, and looked at the horses. So, they were going to attempt a cavalry, were they? It was certainly a stronger basis for the army than a vague rabble of infantry, but it baffled him. He’d never actually seen a horse that close up before – when he was younger they had never bothered training with horses, as the castle didn’t need mounted guards half as badly as it needed fast, skilled ones on foot. He didn’t even know how to sit on one, let alone ride it.

Measle watched him go with a roll of his eyes. Typical Jackdaww: find the closest thing to the old knights training grounds and tag along. He thought about following, but gave up, choosing to wait near the edge of camp and keep an eye on things. It was all getting a little heated, and he figured /someone/ had to keep an eye on it all.

It was a cheering sight to Hone to see that the Elite’s cart was finally out of the mud they had been struggling against for what seemed like aeons, the rest of her patrol looking quite tired, but pleased. That had to put Zeal in a good mood too, to know that they could finally be on the move again. Good too, for Hone- there would be no dallying on their way back to the Everbridge, and Prince Atleon who waited there!

The red rock dragon brought the haphazard Hone back to her previous point, and she looked away from her muddy claws. “Oh, t’most exciting person! Only, an’ you’ll never believe me, but I jus’ met Prince Atleon!” She did a funny little tap-dance on the spot, too excited to stand still. “Really really, I did jus’ meet him! He’s real nice, an’ then he said t’come an’ get y’all an’ bring back t’the Everbridge. That’s where he is, y’see, with loadsa other people.” She grinned, not even out of breath for her fast speaking.

At the mention of her little group of following humans, Hone turned around and gave the few men who were just making it up to the Elites a wide grin. “Sorry f’leavin’ y’behind, Zeal likes t’know stuff straight off though, an’ ooh, tellin’ her tha’ I jus’ met Prince Atleon is awfully important!” She giggled, too keyed up to contain her excitement.

Ugh, what impudence. Does this Avian not see he was addressing someone else at the moment? Ericius spared a moment to give the man a quick once-over, but immediately turned back to address his prince. "You don't know why I'm here? Oh well, I suppose it was some sort of a secret, had to keep you from getting upset..." He shifted slightly, hollow spikes rattling on his back gently, the sound matching the rain. "Well, in a nutshell, I'm your-- Excuse me, who are you?" He quickly looked up at the offending man, brandishing his sword, and huffed. "I dare say if you have any quarrel with me you could at least wait until I'm available. Begone with you."

Tossing his head, ruffled, Ericius turned back to Atleon. "Well, as I was saying, I'm your partner." Lowering himself down to a sitting position for comfort, he continued. "After the tragic loss of your previous partner, your father decided it would be best if you had a new dragon by your side. So I've been in training for quite some time, in order to make myself as useful as I possibly can be to you." Resisting the urge to shake the water off of his body, he lowered his head, bowing to him. "I am in your service."

"Irrelevant bickering-" Talos hissed, trying to not murder Armeno with his glare, "Is all these people that keep poppin' up outta nowhere an' interrupt us while we're tryin' to figure out what t'do afore Zartear marches his gods-be-damned ass over here an' shoves our faces in the dirt again! That's irrelevant bickering! An' you, dragon, I don't give two plods of dirt if you're gifted by bloody Ariold 'imself to waltz in 'ere an' start decreeing' what-have-you. So, unless Atleon's gonna pack 'imself up on yer back right this instant then fine, leave! But if he's gonna stay here an' help us figure out what to do about this sodding mess that we're in, then wait your bloody damned turn."

(Ariold, god and overseer of just rulership and judgement in Turich.)

*~*~*~*

Zeal snapped her gaze to Hone, feeling her mouth drop open for the briefest of seconds. "Prince Atleon? He's here?" She looked to the mob, examining their members more thoroughly as if she could find the prince lingering in their ranks. She stood and shook the rain water off her hide, the rings in her horns jingling with the movement. "I thought that we would never see the Prince again. Good job finding him Hone. The group must be the survivors of that attack in Racksom we heard about on the road." The mob's presence took on a big more meaning now, and se recognized that they were probably soldiers, or at the very least a shoddy representation of what soldiers should be, given their lack of supplies and training. Her heart broke for these people, obviously farmers but had bravely stepped up to defend themselves. They might be weak, but at least they weren't cowards. "If the Prince is here, then we must see to him immediately and aid him if he requires help."

Turning to the others that had been standing by, Zeal drew herself up and used her best order-giving tone. "We move out! Hone will lead us back to the prince. Form up!" Glad to get far away from the mud hole that they'd been stuck in, the Elites formed up around their caravan. "Lead the way, Hone."

Atleon was confused to say the least but he tried not to let it show too obviously on his face as he looked at the dragon more closely. It was indeed a magnificent animal and a somewhat rare breed as well from the little Atleon knew about dragons. Anyone would be proud to be called partner by such a creature and be able to ride it, yet the fact that Atleon’s father, the King, had decided this for his son without consultation of the matter first and without even having let an inkling of a hint pass to his son, Atleon was a little miffed at the situation, and not just a little bit suspicious. His father had something planned, he was sure of it, but of course he had left the prince in the dark again as to what it was. He only hoped it was something that would help the defenders of Dragon's Cove in the long run.

On top of its stunning exterior, the dragon had quite the way with people as well apparently, the royalty indeed embedded in his blood it seemed and Atleon quite liked it. The fact that someone else has basically said what he thought but could not quite express in the same way because of his position made him calm down quite a bit and his tension eased up a little again, up to the point even where he was willing to indulge some more of Talos’ rage.

He did not have to wait even a second for that to come as the words suddenly poured out of his mouth like a waterfall, and they were not the nicest, though they could still be worse. The avian still somewhat had a hold on himself despite the accent growing thicker with every word he uttered.
“Would you please get a grip Talos? You are not the only one here who is worried and who knows that every bloody person in our vicinity is in big trouble. That still does not give you the right to scream and shout at everyone as you please and send them away when they’re merely offering to help or in this case, have messages for people who are not you!”

Glancing at Armeno, the prince muttered: “I think you can keep the sword sheathed, he does not intend any harm.” Looking back at the dragon, he finally replied to the creature: “I don’t quite know what to say to this and I will need a bit of time to digest it all. I would suggest we talk about this later, when everything else is settled. As you can see, we have quite a bit of chaos at our hands which needs attention before anything else.”

A few drops of spittle flew from Talos' mouth as he snapped angrily at Armeno. The elf leant out of their path with a distasteful expression, before replying coldly,
'That is indeed irrelevant bickering. As is this. I suggest you try to get a grip on yourself before we continue, Talos.' His respect for the avian was shrinking by the second; at least Atleon had retained some self-control and dignity, whereas the avian had completely lost it in a difficult situation. He errantly wondered which part of the island the accent had come from as he turned to Ericius, thankful that he didn't have to look up anymore as the dragon knelt to Atleon's level. 'Rough as Talos' words may have been, I agree with his sentiment-' He paused, nodding again at Atleon's last words. 'While of course any help offered to us at this time is welcome, there are important matters to be discussed and now is not the best time for your arrival, dragon. Although I'm sure you'll make an admirable partner for Atleon.' He glanced at the latter, telling him in a low tone, 'I do not have any need of your advice as to when it is safe for me to put my weapon away, my prince. I have been practising sufficient caution to keep myself alive for over sixty years.' Nonetheless, he stabbed the sword back into its sheath, letting out a sharp breath as he did so. 'Now, perhaps we should try to actually discuss what needs to be discussed.'

Ericius pursed his lips at the Avian's outright butchery of the common language, but only stared at him wide-eyed, surprised at his gall. "You have quite a tongue, sir. I suggest you watch it, or it will land you in more trouble than you know." He would continue berating him, however Atleon had other plans. He quickly nodded and stood, giving a quick swish of his tail. "Very well. I will see you when you're done, ah, discussing matters." He gave the other men a quick nod, then turned around and strode off, sitting himself down a few dozen yards away, waiting for their squabble to be over and done with. Oh, they had so much to discuss!

"I will not get a grip when there's dragons swooping in outta the sky willy-nilly like it's their right t'do it. I had people watchin' fer stuff like this, an' where was the alarm? You probably sent 'em runnin' off with that damned hooded woman that attacked my wife or that rainbow-colored dragon without askin'. Sure, leave us to fend fer ourselves at Racksom, show up a week late, an' then decide that you're gonna take control of the whole bloody camp. Excellent plan. Excellent." He took a deep breath, crossed his arms over his chest, and glared at Armeno for a moment. "What we need is to have this… this… dragon-" he gestured sharply to Ericius "-to go back to Didenne, tell the bloody Council that we're done being fodder while they sit safe an' happy eatin' sweetmeats an' forgettin' their duty to keep us safe. Maybe Atleon can finally be useful an' keep his new friend on track an' timely so that by the time they get back with reinforcements we're not all just a puddle of blood." He chose to simply glare at the dragon when it rebuked his earlier statement, knowing that for all of his bravado, there was no way he was taking on a dragon in open combat and coming out alive. "Bloody spiky lizard." He mumbled under his breath.

Armeno’s words once again struck a note, and not a good one, no matter how reasonable the elf was. Of course the prince knew that Armeno knew what he was talking about but he had not thought that every damn thing he was saying would mean that he was stepping on someone else’s toes. If this was going to keep up for as long as this war was going, they might just as well give up right there, right then. He himself was not helping the situation, he knew that, but he was also just a man, and being aggressed all the time was practically demanding retribution, one way or another.

Yet, even if the dragon was willing to let them be for the time being so they could discuss all they needed to talk about, Atleon sensed that Talos was of a different opinion as the avian began rattling down accusation after accusation again. At some point Atleon simply saw red, he did not want to hear any of it anymore, tired of being accused for just about everything that had gone wrong simply because he was a prince and who better to blame than him.

He wasn’t quite sure what Talos was babbling about, to him it all sounded like hissing and fuming. Indignant at the way the avian just assumed to know everything about everything and everyone pushed his buttons, and severely so. The little farmer had no idea but he was going to learn.

Without further ado, Atleon swung his fist straight into the avian’s face, shouting at him, dark red in his face: “I will have you locked into the Surselea for a week and will personally see to it that every damn apparatus is explained to you in detail. I will make sure that you will finally get the respect you need to learn beaten into your head until you beg for mercy!”
He was furious and he was already bringing his fist up to land yet another punch if the avian dared to challenge him one more time with the same useless accusations. Even though he sounded like a barbarian at the time, he had not meant the words to be quite as harsh as they had come out, but what was said, was now said.

'Thank you, dragon.' Armeno practically spat the terse, clipped words, but managed to wait until the dragon was a reasonable distance away before he turned on Talos once more. 'These random and unfounded accusations you insist on hurling at us don't get us anywhere,' he snapped, his ears flattening back as he glared down at the avian. 'You need to grow up and-' He was interrupted by Atleon's yell, instinctively sliding backwards as the fist flew alarmingly close to his face before flashing out his own arm and grabbing the human's wrist in what had to be a painfully tight grasp.
'How you two came to lead this army, I don't know,' he hissed. 'But I completely understand how Dragons Cove came to be in this state.' He was sorely tempted to knock the pair's heads together, but he satisfied himself with throwing Atleon's arm back down and shoving the two firmly apart, eying them threateningly.

Talos was getting ready to tell Armeno that he had no business rating his maturity level when it happened. He quite honestly never saw it coming. The first, or Atleon's sudden rage. All he knew was that suddenly he was staggering backward, flaring his wings to keep balance and went down on one knee. He caught himself with his hand in a puddle of mud, the other touching his now throbbing cheek with a dumbfounded and absolutely bewildered look on his face, staring at Armeno first then the Atleon's enraged face.

What? What?! WHAT? He didn't even hear Armeno. Didn't hear half of what Atleon was saying either. Who cared what Surselea was? Who cared if he had grievously offended one of the most important people in all of Dragons Cove? Talos sprang to action before he could even begin to consider the ramifications, leaping from his crouched position with an enraged yell and swung his mud-covered fist straight at Armeno's face before promptly turning and leaping at Atleon, tackled the prince around the waist in a fierce bear hug, and brought them both to the ground.

He might have been prepared for a comeback from Talos, but he had not been ready to be tackled with such ferocity. His arm was practically ripped out of Armeno’s tough grip after the avian first punched the elf before the prince and Talos landed in the mud with a loud ‘oomph’ on Atleon’s behalf and mud splattering in all directions.

The time for words was over and no matter how bad an image they were giving off to the outside world right about now, this needed to be settled. Wriggling like a snake in Talos’ hug, Atleon kicked with his feet, trying to somehow gain the upper hand. He was pushing his mudcovered hand into the avian’s face, turning his head away from him, and ramming his fist into his stomach this time in an attempt to make the avian back down. Within a matter of seconds, the fistycuffs were under way and the men were covered in mud from head to toe.

There wasn’t a lot of spare time for Armeno to consider what he should say next; he was rudely interrupted by a mud-covered fist flying at his face. Even with his speeded reactions, he could do little more than lean back as the punch hit to soften its blow slightly, and he received a faceful of mud along with plenty of pain. A flash of fury rippled across his features before he ripped his sheath from his belt, threw it carelessly onto the ground behind him, and dropped to his knees beside Talos where the avian had dragged Atleon into the mud. Ignoring the prince’s attacks on the avian, Armeno grabbed the back of his dirt-encrusted clothing and dragged him up, smashing him on the top of the head with a balled fist before forcefully dunking his face into a particularly watery part of the puddle. He barely noticed as his knee landed on Atleon’s leg when he moved across the ground.

He had just let go of Atleon's waist, sucking in a breath after getting punched in the stomach when he suddenly found himself face-first in a puddle and flailed wildly, trying to catch air as the adrenalin in his body spiked. He rammed his elbow into the chest of his attacker, using a combination of his wings and arm strength to turn around and slam his fist into the side of Armeno's face, lying now on his back awkwardly and covered on all sides with watery mud but hardly caring. With his rage now directed at the elf, he forgot about Atleon for a second, scrambling to get off his back and flinging mud everywhere when his wings snapped open to assist in getting to his knees and grabbed a fist-full of Armeno's shirt, the fabric giving some way when he yanked the elf forward for an attempted left hook so that the bruise on his right cheek would match the one on his left.

Atleon suddenly had ‘help’ from an unexpected source when Armeno lifted the avian off of him as if he were a light-weight. The motion ripped Talos’s shirt out of the prince’s hand, the latter having just been about to grab the avian himself to throw him off. With a loud tear, the cloth went flying as Armeno pushed Talos face-first into the dirt.

A painful gasp escaped his lips when not only Armeno inadvertently crushed his knee into Atleon’s leg but the avian also hit him square over the face in his attempt to rid himself of the elf by flailing his limbs in every direction. An avian having wings, there were quite a few limbs and they all hurt!
Abruptly, the prince pulled his leg away from under Armeno to avoid having anything more than a huge bruise the next day, but just as he thought he could use this chance to back down out of the fight, thinking it would be better to behave in a more civilised way, one of Talos’ wings hit him straight in the face, on the exact same spot the avian’s hand had already landed an unexpected punch in all this chaos.

Roaring with anger, the prince grabbed at the avian’s wings and tried to push the annoying things aside while trying to get yet another hit in, wanting to incapacitate the avian as quickly as possible so that he would finally stop talking. The adrenaline rush of the whole fight was too much for his brain to keep thinking in straight and royal lines. Atleon’s back suddenly throbbed in pain as it was caught on a slightly sharper edged stone he was sliding over as he was half-dragged to his feet along with Talos, who was trying to get the upper hand against the elf.

Before they knew, each and every one of them was standing there, shirtless and covered in mud, one more angry than the other, trying to land punches at one or the other, not really caring but wanting to get hits one way or the other.

The air in Armeno’s lungs was forced painfully out as Talos elbowed him. Choking for another breath, the elf drew his head back in an unsuccessful attempt to avoid the barrage of punches which were raining down on his face and slammed down his arms to support himself as the avian yanked him back down. His knees had slid out behind him in the slippery mud, but he now jerked one of them up into Talos’ groin, grabbing his wings for anchorage. He heard a slight ripping sound as a few feathers were ripped away by one of his fists, leaving a somewhat bare patch on the top of the wing. When a punch aimed at the back of Talos’ head by Atleon hit him square in the face, he gave a snarl and lashed out with a spare limb in reaction, glaring briefly at the prince.

Any thoughts of their maturity were non-existent by this point.

His world went black for a second as he dropped fully to the ground, only barely keeping from face-planting again by bracing his forearm against the dirty ground. The radiating pain in his face, stomach and wing were eclipsed by the low-blow that Armeno had dealt him and it took a second for him to regain his breath and muster enough strength to grab Armeno's leg and pull hard enough that the mud he was standing in gave way under his foot. Struggling to his feet, Talos braced himself and rammed into Atleon with his shoulder and a mangled growl, prepared to wail on the damned prince until the man stayed down and take Armeno with him.

Somehow they had all ended on all fours again, scrambling for hold in the slippery mud as they tried to land as many punches as possible. When Atleon lost his footing in the mud and the punch he had actually aimed at Talos, hit Armeno, the prince knew what was going to come for him. He had counted on a fist however and not a lug, thus he was not prepared when the elf’s foot suddenly painfully connected with his groin, making him crumple up in pain for a moment, before he took revenge.

Armeno certainly had hit the right area and Atleon was starting to see spots but there was no time for him to recover as Talos rammed into him, effectively making the remaining air rushed out of Atleon’s lungs as the prince flew back into the mud, still doubled over in pain over his lower area.

With a half-hearted attempt to get Talos down as well, next to Armeno, the prince slammed his leg into the back (POPLITEAL REGION) of the avian’s knees but he was out of strength now and could barely pull the leg back after the move. He was exhausted and in pain.

When his foot suddenly shot out sideways from beneath him, Armeno sucked in a startled gasp before crashing onto his back, winded yet again. He barely registered Atleon crashing down beside him, instead focusing blurrily on a bared ankle beside him. Throwing all dignity and caution away and instead obeying only some animalistic instinct which surely didn't belong in an elf, he jerked himself forwards and sank his teeth firmly into Talos' calf, head twisted uncomfortably sideways to get a better angle at the exposed muscle where the avian's trousers had ripped up from the hem and they flapped open up to his knee.

Talos was already off-balance, not quite quick enough to recover fully from the prince going down so easily when his knee suddenly gave out from under him. In a moment of panic he flailed and tried to catch himself from falling, but gravity won the fight and he suddenly found himself draped over Atleon like a wet rag, his cheek planted firmly against the prince's bare chest. He only had a second to try and scramble off of him when pain flared in his leg and he looked down, horrified to see Armeneo biting him. Partially enraged, but mostly freaked out of his mind, Talos did the most logical thing he could think of and back-handed the elf in in the side of the head, twisting around as he did so and ended up sitting awkwardly in Atleon's lap.

» (Eastern Everbridge Camp) Settling the Score at Everbridge (14th Board)
» (North of Azure caves, east of Racksom) ~~~~Peace in the Everplains~~~~6th Board
» C1 Racksom~~~~And then, there was War~~~~(5th Board)
» (C1, Racksom) The Making of Men (12th Board)
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