"Saving" Princess Aeliana: Vamen Telavos, Aeliana, and Gwynlyn

"No! I don't want to sleep in the woods again!"

"It can't be helped mistress. Please refrain from removing our money from my pack whilst I am bathing, escaping to town, agreeing to give it to a man who "promises that he will give you back double in a few hours time", and then NOT consulting me immediately, if you desire a room in town. As a room requires money, and we no longer have any."

"But you could take on those loan sharks he was paying if you tried! You are amazing with your sword!"

"That may be, but we can hardly afford to make ourselves any more obvious than we already are, and so we are to be sleeping in the woods tonight."

"But I don't waa~nna."

"No buts my lady, it is unbecoming of you."

"Fiine..."

"Now hold this branch, while I tie it."

"Okay!"

Aeliana holds a stick, about three and a half feet long, it's ends is punged into the ground, but Gwynlyn never wants her charge to feel left out. With the stick steadied, she ties a piece of cloth to two pitons that she had driven into a nearby tree, making a small shelter big enough for a single person to sit under.

"It isn't time for us to sleep yet, but shall we test it out mistress?"

The response is accompanies by enthusiatic nodding, and a curtsy. "I would like that very much Miss-Gwynlyn."

And so they assumed the familiar positions, Gwynlyn sitting with one leg sitting underneath the other, with the second being perpendicular to the ground to act as a support for her mistress, and the first being parallel to the ground, to keep her mistress from dirtying herself on the ground. Gwynlyn pulls her scabard from her side, placing it, and the sword it contains, on the other side of Aeliana from her. Lastly she encloses the circle with her right arm, creating a form that they were both familiar with, considering the startling frequency that they were required to use it when sleeping. It was really a perfect way to ensure the comfort and protection of Aeliana, protecting her with Gwynlyn's body, left leg, sword, and right arm in such a way as the blade could be drawn in defense immediately, and cowardly attacks from other directions would not strike the one she tried to protect.

Aeliana buries her head in the soft leather pillow of her servant's upper leg, nuzzling up against it as though to try and go to sleep.

"It is wonderful as always... Thank you Miss-Gwynlyn... Thank you for everything..." She descends into "hmm"s of contentment, as Gwynlyn gently strokes her hair with her off hand.

"It is no problem at all my lady."

They spend several minutes like that, sharing one of the moments that cements their relationship.

Vamen loved the wilds of the Impereich; the dark brooding mountains, muddied knolls, and the gnarled trees of the old thick forests that dotted the land. He loved the cool night air, especially the air before a storm, as it was now. Already he could see the dark tumultuous waves amassing over the distant mountain peaks preparing to crash over the land.

What he didn’t love was his reason for being here. Were he of his own will he would ascend to the nearest high ground and watch the ocean of oncoming clouds consume the heavens. Gaze at the lightning sparking defiant light in the ensuing darkness. Instead he was forced to go trudging through the densest parts of the forest brush searching for fugitives.

Two fugitives to be precise. One a capable swordswoman and the other a small girl. The latter royalty that the former was sworn to protect. Escaped from the Sun Palace in Eadhaolin they had fled here for gods knew why. Mayhap they had thought the Impereich would shelter them in order to spite their pompous neighbors. If so they could not have been more mistaken. The Wolf King had more than enough trouble dealing with the season’s poor harvest and the ravaging of wild men from the south. The last thing he needed was an excuse for the Eadhaolin nobility to invade Impereich’s tribal territory and spark up a new conflict. Unfortunately not all men shared the wisdom of the king. There were tribes among them that waited with relish to wage war once more with the knights of the plain. Tribes that inhabited the very region he now travelled. The Wolf Throne could hardly claim a Kings Howl to reclaim an escaped princess among men who would see her kidnapped and ransomed. So he had done the next best thing. He had sent his Fangs.

And so here Vamen was. Stalking silently through the brush on a trail he knew would bring him to his prey’s camp. These women of gilded cities were no foresters. Their trail was brutish and obvious despite the weak attempts their guardswoman had done to conceal it. As far as the King's Fang was concerned they might as well have left a trumpeting band of heralds behind to mark their presence. It was just his poor luck that he had stumbled upon them before the others Fangs had.

With a scowl on his face he finished following the trail and entered the edge of their camp silent as a wolf stalking its prey. He paused a moment and took stock of their shelter and shook his head. The thing may as well have been prepared by wild beasts. Though he supposed he should have expected no better from Eadhaolins. His scowl deepening, he considered what to do next. It was possible the girls bodyguard would resist him if he demanded their return and the girl refused. He hoped the fully grown swordswoman would be reasonable enough to understand their folly but he could not count on it. She had allowed the girl to escape to begin with. Briefly he considered notching an arrow and delivering a non-lethal but debilitating blow to the bodyguard. He could then take the girl and request one of the other Fangs to fetch the bodyguard later. But his orders stressed the need to have both individuals unharmed. Growling at the necessities of politics he ground his teeth before shouted out from the brush, “Princess of Eadhaolin! My name is Vamen Telavos. I come on the order of the Wolf King to ensure you safe passage home. Do not be alarmed I mean you no harm!”

Despite his words he still notched a gray steel arrow in his bow. One could never be too careful.

Their moment of peace was interrupted in an instant.

Aeliana struggled slightly in Gwynlyn's embrace, and let out a soft "~uuu" noise. She was sick of being hated, sick of being chased, and that created a great burden upon her master that she tried to move to herself whenever possible. Instead of letting the situation draw out, or forcing more stress upon her ailing charge, Gwynlyn took the onus of dealing with the man upon herself.

"My Mistress has no desire to return to that place. If you truly mean us no harm, then you will leave us be. However if you wish my mistress harm... We will have problems."

Gwynlyn presses lightly but firmly onto Aeliana's shoulder, a simple gesture, but one filled with meaning. They both raise from their position at the same time, the bodyguard's hand resting on the shoulder of the one she would protect, and keeping herself between the man and Aeliana. The distance is too great to warrant drawing her weapon, or initiating a combat by drawing, so she merely stands at the ready, eyeing the bow cautiously.

Vamen's arrow string grew taut as the woman rose from her position but her blade was not drawn and he relaxed slightly while remaining tense among the leaves, masking his presence in complete stillness.

"That is impossible. My orders are clear. You will come with me," Vamen stated with authority brought on by years of experience and the knowledge that he was a living representation for the will of the lands strongest man. He had no intention of coddling them. They needed to understand saying no was not an option. But perhaps there was a way to appeal to their own internal reason while doing so.

"If you truly wish to serve your mistress and keep her from harm you will come with me. These forest hills belong to the Beuer tribe, whose chieftain is Beoren, whose fathers corpse rest on the plains of your homeland. His oath to the Wolf Throne is strong but there is no assurance that he or one of his men would not repay in blood the blood that was taken from them. I know not the events that led you here. But I know what event lays in store if you stay."

His voice entered what he hoped was an assuring tone but came out as little more than a bark, "Come with me now. I will see you to safety."

"Answer only to my mistress, not to you, not to your warning, not to this land or its people, only her. If this tribe comes then I will kill them, like I have all the others who have tried. I will not deliver her unto the very ones she ran from, now will I render her to be used as a tool in..." Her face twists and sours, pure bile spewing forth in the form of a word. "...Politics" Gwynlyn stews for a moment, wondering if any substance were capable of washing out the foul taste of that word.

"I will be her sword, for one her age should not have to wield one; I will be her shield so she has no need to suffer the pain of constant attack; I will be her mother, for her own does not love nor care for her; I will be her pillow when she has no place else to lie her head, her bed when she has no floor beneath her, her blanket when the walls are not there; I will be her courage when she is afraid, her carriage when she tires of walking, and there is no way I will allow the harm that those people inflicted on her to happen again. If that means we must leave this country sooner, then so be it, we were only passing through."

The problem now was finding their accoster. It had only been dusk, but their moment of quiet seems to have taken longer than Gwynlyn had thought. Strange how peace can feel so short lived. Now through the darkness she could not make out where the man was hiding, only the direction of his voice. Three movements, a light press with the index finger, one with the middle, and once again with the index, her fingers gave one of their most used non-verbal orders. "Step in time with me", the pressure gave an idea of the speed, and if the fingers had left the shoulder instead of merely changing pressure, it would have meant "Run in time with me". The two began moving, not quickly, and not far, merely the speed of a leisurely stroll, and only for about twenty feet or so. Now she merely had need to get him to speak again, and she would have a much better idea of where he was.

"If you will not stop us, then we will leave and continue on our way. Shove your orders, shove the Beuer, and shove your king."

(OOC: Started out sunset-y, did not realize that much time had passed, accounted for it in this post.)

Vamen reaction suprised even himself. Despite the woman's defiance to his commands he found himself laughing. It was not something the man did often and his laugh was clearly evident of that fact. Rough and hoarse like the gnashing of rocks. But he just couldn't help himself. It had been a long time since he had heard anyone project so much venom into the term 'politics'. And from a foreigner no less. No wonder she was run out of the plains. Eadhaolin's ate politics with their bread and cheese every morning. Her loyalty to her charge was equally admirable - foolish- but admirable.

"Swordswoman I appreciate your disaste towards politics and the loyalty you display. But there is a fine line between loyalty and blind stupidity. If are truly think of yourself as her shield then you will listen to my counsel. You are on the edge of Beuer tribal lands. Slay but one and you will bring the entire tribe down upon you. One or two men you may well claim to your sword. But five? Ten? Remember girl you may be willing to die but once you do your charge will be defenseless. This is of course assuming you manage to avoid the other Fangs. But ignore that because you will never," he spoke as he stepped from the brush his bow raised, arrow knocked, string taut, "Get past me."

Gwynlyn's gaze alternates between the man and Aeliana a few times, a pained expression growing on her face as she does.

"Fine, we'll go with you."

"Uuu... But I don't want to to back..." a quiet disapproval that is met with a number more pressure signals, and a reassuring pat.

"I assume you want me to drop my sword, so I don't cut you into pieces the second I get close enough like I had planned, right? It is a shame that such a fine sword would have to be disposed of here, but it can't be helped." There is emphasis on the word "fine", but it is a mix of equal parts respect and disgust.

She pulls it from the sheathe, and drives it into the ground next to her.

"Anything else you want? Perhaps you want me to take my armor off too? Would you like to search me for weapons? Or perhaps you would have me take off more than my armor, since you have me... relatively... alone in this forest? Or perhaps you are afraid that I might lash out with my fists. If you can't beat a woman in a fistfight, I might understand, it would be in keeping with the various "inadequate" rumors I hear tell about men from Impereich."

Her hands go to her hips in the first vaguely feminine action she has taken since the start of the encounter, her head tilted to the side as if to ask "what more do you want from me?"

If she could just close the distance somehow, she might just be able to turn this around...

Vamen's face was hard as stone and his eyes glinted like sun on steel. The woman had finally given into reason, saving him the trouble of placing an arrow in her eye, but he could not help but be suspicious. She had displayed everything one could expect. Customary insults of his honor and manhood. And yet it had almost seemed as if she was trying to beguile him into closer quarters by doing so. She had abandoned her weapon. But she had done so with it unsheathed and in grabbing distance. Vamen was not positive either was intentional but one did not survive as long as he had without a little paranoia.

"Do not be mistaken girl. We "men of Impereich" possess more than enough honor and vigor. But we are not suicidal nor are we fools. Honor comes from loyalty and accomplishment. Not death and riches. Perhaps if your people had learned that lesson thirty years ago they would not have been bent over and rutted in the war," his voice was a monotone as he spoke as if merely relating fact, "And maybe you wouldn't be here at my mercy."

He paused there for a moment then to assess the situation, calculating, and then spokes again his voice firm and decisive,"Now allow me to take up your kind offers. You may sheathe your sword but toss it as far as can be flung to your right. You may then take off your armor. If possible I will retrieve them both and send it after you but if not considered it the price you pay for my saving you and the cost of your own foolish ignorance."

He motioned with a slight uptick of his bow as he spoke, "And move slowly if you please. I've oft been told I'm a jittery archer, prone to shoot at sudden movement."

At that the bow moved not then to the swordswoman but to the little girl at her side.

"You may begin."

"You have made three mistakes... Vamen Telavos" The first time she has actually called the man by name. "The first mistake was assuming that the choices you gave us were of honor and survival, or death and dishonor. It is quite the opposite in fact, to go with you is to besmirch my honor and submit to the forces that have so wronged her. If I were to die, it would be in upholding every belief I have held since I was old enough to hold a sword, and my mistress would run until caught, and then likely bit off her own tongue."

Aeliana nods wordlessly, hesitantly at first, but trust was something that the two shared deeply. So deep in fact, that Aeliana had already considered that course of action, and was questioning it only because Gwynlyn hadn't yet approved it.

"The second mistake, was perhaps rooted in the lack of skill of the bodyguards of Impereich. As long as I am alive, my mistress is in no danger, for as long as I draw breath I will not allow such a threat to exist."

A few more nonverbal cues to Aeliana were made, the timing had to be perfect. Gwynlyn pulls the sword from the ground, and throws it off away from her, then kneels down.

"Help me unbuckle this will you dear?"

"Mmhmm" Aeliana steps closer to operate the buckles that held Gwynlyn's shoulderpads and breastplate, the heaviest parts of her armor. They fall away unceremoniously.

Vamen just shook his head as the woman spoke. She had understood nothing of what he had said.

“I suppose it was too much to hope that a plainswoman would understand. You are an ignorant whelp who does not understand the value you of your own life. To die in this forest now would be as meaningless as a moonstruck lover dying in a duel for the hand of his beloved. The only thing you would accomplish is to leave your beloved alone,” he growled his gray eyes indicating the little princess as he spoke. “And little girls should not live out their lives without their tongue.”

His muscles clenched then and he grimaced. I’m getting too old for this, the grizzled old Fang thought to himself, but it would only be a little longer. He took a small breath and reminded himself of his own teachings. To pull and aim was second nature to him, as simple as breathing was to any living thing. But the physical exertion from pulling a longbow string was great. He forced himself to relax his arms slightly. Pulling the arrow tight now might make him feel safe but it was a false sense of security. It would only weaken him and steal from his ability to fire it fast and steady.

He addressed the girl now with a slight nod of his head and attempted a somewhat lighter tone, though he had been told in the past such attempts were merely the difference between tumbling boulders and a mud slide.

“Good job my lady. Now strip her of all her clothing so she is as bare as a newborn. I’ve more than a few scars on this body of mine from hidden daggers than I’d care to mention.”

"But your third, most onerous mistake, was when a lowly man like you decided you would threaten my mistress, even going so low as to imply that she was YOURS, or that you had any power over her. And for that?"

Aeliana hoists herself onto Gwynlyn's back, and Gwynlyn pushes forward into a dash, heading towards the man, one of her bracered hands covering the tops of her eyes, and the other covering her heart, and her chin tucked down as she ran.

"You will NOT go unpunished."

Running away would have been fatal, or at least, more fatal than running forward. A back is far too unprotected, and even in a forest, range only benefits the archer. She cared not for the state of her body, the pain would be trivial compared to the anger burning deep within her chest. She only needed to get close enough to engage in melee, and so she only had to take an arrow or two without dropping dead on the spot. Suddenly bearing the weight of a person, regardless of her relative petiteness would have meant no chance of moving fast enough, and so Gwynlyn had shucked the heaviest of her protections, and her weapon, so that she might have as much ease of movement as she normally did, barring suddenly being unbalanced towards her back.

Two arrows... that was all she needed to survive...

Vamen's response was nearly immediate, based on instinct, as his mind flashed through a series of split-second decisions. First, that he could kill the woman with an arrow in the heart, her armor useless before the power of his longbow, like stone through water. Second, that doing so would explicitly break his orders. Third, that if he didn't she may very well kill him. Fourth, that just coming to that conclusion had cost him costly seconds.

With snarl he let loose the arrow straight and powerful, straight at her foot. After the shot he tossed the bow aside and quickly moved to withdraw his fighting knives. If the woman had been wielding a claymore the knives would have been nearly useless, but unarmed as she was, they would prove extremely lethal. Rangers were not Eadhaolin crossbowman, farmers conscripted for a month's training before battle. They were soldiers, well versed in weaponry. Vamen as an old veteran and a Fang even more so.

Stupid girl, he thought to himself with a grimace as the arrow paced the distance between her and him in the flash of an eye. He could see he was wrong about her. She was trying to escape herself. She was every bit the Eadhaolin she was running from. Noble, vain, ignorant and utterly committed to her course. The woman's action was both ridiculous and hopeless and yet still she moved without hesitation. The foolish obsession with honor and pride that had claimed so many Eadhaolin lives during the war could be seen symbolized here. It was the same foolish obsession that had killed so many Impereich soldiers. The foolish obsession that would see her suffer agony and defeat today.

Far, she had gotten far, almost TOO far, by the time the first arrow came. Instead of aiming for her head or chest, it went low where she hadn't been protecting herself at all, and struck from the front into the ankle. A good amount of the force was absorbed by the token armor there, and the blow would have likely knocked her off her feet if she hadn't been swinging her left foot forward when it hit. Instead she merely stumbled, and went down on a knee from the pain.

She expected another arrow, but instead the man merely discarded his bow. You put down your trump card, and I'll let down mine. A single tap with a pause, three taps, fingers leaving Aeliana's hand, a grasping, and a pull. "Wait a moment." "Run" "Grab" "Bring". She let the little girl down, snapped the arrow off at the armor, and continued forward. She would move slower, though the pain had already receded from adrenaline, but having the arrow sticking out was just asking for it to get caught on something, or trip her up.

Gwynlyn's charge resumed, quickly building up momentum. The distance between them closed, and just before she would enter his range, pulled her scabbard from her side and swung it wide, horizontal, and aimed at the man's forearm. The speed of the charge, coupled with the swing, would mean that if it connected, it would likely shatter bone, though the scabbard would likely shatter as well. Worst case, he is better at melee than she had guessed, and he'll block the blow with one of his knives. It would surely wrench the blade from his grasp, mayhaps even injure his fingers, but render the surprise attack useless along with her makeshift weapon.

Vamen realized almost immediately that he had made an aggregious error. He had disarmed himself of his bow on the off chance the woman's momentum had carried but instead she had fallen, recouped herself, and sheath in hand gone for him in an all out assault.

Damned fool, he cursed himself, how in hell had he forgotten about her sheath? He'd been in enough tavern brawls and melee's to understand anything could be used as a weapon. He had simply underestimated the woman by assuming she would never to turn to such an uncommon device.

Focused on the bodyguard, he noticed out of his perephial that the girl had gone for the older woman's sword. So that was your plan all along, he thought to himself with grudging respect, to stall me with your sheath and then have the runt grab your blade. In close quarters against a weapon like that the odds would clearly be against him. She was enduring hell in order to take away his advantage. But she had not won the advantage herself. And she was sorely mistaken if she did not believe the old Fang was not willing to endure some pain of his own in order to win it back again.

Instead of moving to block or dodge the blow instead he moved inside of it. Directing his body so that at the last moment the blow would come in contact with the thick studded leather of his shoulder pauldron. It would leave an ugly bruise but break the unexpected weapon and leave him no worse for wear.

At the same time he moved his hand so as to cast away her body once the blow landed. Her leg was moving on desperate momentum but her balance would break as soon as she was forced to apply pressure. At the same time he moved with his other dagger to deliver another non lethal blow. The girl was small and the sword heavy. Her bodyguard would be disabled before she ever reached it nevermind get it anywhere near her.

"-Che" She bites out as the scabbard shatters where it hits the stud, leaving a splintered mess in her hands that isn't even as long as the man's daggers. Then he pushed back against her. She knew she would lose in a pushing match of any sort, with her injured foot, so instead she shifted her body, unbalancing it yet more. Though she had taken a raking blow from a dagger onto her shoulder, she was now for lack of a better term "airborne". She purposely unbalanced herself so as to use his push as a fulcrum, causing all of the force of her charge, to redirect her into a spin.

Of course, Vamen had seen fit to get as close as possible to break her scabbard, and so was in perfect position for a powerful kick aimed at his crotch, with nearly the full force of the charge, and Gwynlyn, hurtling at him. The kick just happened to be the injured foot, so she was sure that the pain would incapacitate them both if she hit, but time was the goal here, regardless of pain. The pain was still numbed somewhat, but it was quickly becoming intolerable, what with her having sustained two wounds now. But if she passes out, they lose, so like hell she would let that happen.

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"Ten-one-thousand." She finished counting, and began her run to the discarded weapon. Her short legs only took her so fast, and Miss-Gwynlyn's sword was very heavy. As she ran, she thought, of things like how blessed she was that the bad man had forced Miss-Gwynlyn to throw the weapon away, for if it had remained stuck into the ground, Aeliana didn't think she would be able to reach the handle properly to pull it out.

She heard a loud "CRACK", like the sound of splintering wood, but didn't look back to see what it was. She trusted her servant to protect her, and so she would, but it was definitely a sign that she should run faster. She picks up the pace a little bit more, only half way there... and her mind drifts to other things.

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*Flashback*

"Ah, I tripped again Miss-Gwynlyn!" She flails ineffectually trying to get herself up from the tangle she had gotten herself into. "Why do we have to keep walking on these dirty trails? I saw a road back there, we should use that!" her eyes were welling up with tears, a cross of indignancy and pain from the fall.

"I'm sorry mistress, but we can't take the roads, unless you want our flight to be ended so quickly." Gwynlyn leans over, unsnags the dress' long train, and wipes a tear from Aeliana's face. "Here, I'll see if I can't do anything to help..."

Time passes...

"And cut, and cut, and cut. There, now it won't get snagged on anything anymore! Now I just sew around the edge so it won't fray... and there. Finished"

"But but but but... All you did was cut my dress with your sword! And then sew a line of icky brown thread around it... *sniff*"

"I'm sure I could do a worse job if I tried, and you'll thank me for this later."

"Buh buh buh... waaaaahhh!" And she cried for two hours straight.

Vamen was readying for the last ditch kick as it came. As he had planned the dagger in his uninjured arm was descending to his knees along with his body as she fell ready to deliver another blow. Blood, like thick scarlet water, flew off the blade and into the air as it fell searching to impale her somewhere from lower ribs to upper legs. The glancing blow on her shoulder had been fortunate, as she was likely slowed from the already brutal wound to her ankle. The same wounded leg that lashed at him now, too high now against his chest, useless against his light chainmail vest.

"Well fought girl," growled Vamen, "But you are young and it is not yet your day."

On another day in another situation the day may have been hers. Already he could feel the pain of her blow shudder down his arm making his old bones creak. Had their roles been reversed and he unarmed with only a scabbard and her a blade the result would had been far different. But they were not. He had approached her on his terms, in his territory, and he had taken enough percautions to ensure the odds were not turned against him. Her effort was empathetic but as he had known useless. Her Eadhaolin chivalry had only brought her pain.

"My lady you may cease your movement this moment. You servant will only suffer more."

"Like hell you get to decide what my day is!" Yelling being all she can do to work through the even newer pain blossoming from her abdomen. She rages and hates, twisting her body on the ground, pushing into the dagger, and turning her body so that she can hook behind his knees with her good foot. She turns and spins, pushing on his chest with he bad foot, pulling on the backs of his knees with her good one, and grinding her shoulder wound into the dirt in the process.

She would make sure to topple him, to bring him to her level, perhaps she could be lucky, and his head could hit a rock! That hope was a vain one, she knew, and so she twisted even further. She pushed forward on her hands, and put the rest of her weight on the bad foot she had at his chest, to slide it down on his neck. She would choke him to death with her corpse if she had to!

=======================================

Ah, she was almost there, well not quite. There was still a while to go yet, and she was pulling backwards, not looking where she was going, just following the sounds of the quarrel. The bad man had told her to stop, but she shouldn't listen to anyone but Gwynlyn, even if sometimes she doesn't even do that...

It didn't sound like things were going well, but she couldn't let that stop her. They had to trust one another... "But none of this would have happened if I wasn't so gullible..." A sniffle. She couldn't cry, crying is for after a battle, just like Miss-Gwynlyn taught her.

Stubborn girl, thought Vamen with a grimace, as the swordswoman vainly attempted to topple him to the ground with her legs. Most men would have lost consciousness by now but instead she continued to fight hazily though the pain. It was clear that she was through. Even if the princess managed to get the sword she would not have a guardian capable of wielding it. The woman’s leg would need serious attention if she ever planned to walk again and already blood had begun to pool from her abdomen to bleed out on the ground like a tiny red waterfall. Not to mention being forcibly slammed into the ground.

The leg was fast but he had expected a last moment of defiance. It was clear the woman truly intended to fight to her last breath. Intent on forcing him to kill her. Was she truly so obsessed with her own honor that she would die in order to not live with the shame of her defeat? That eager to escape the duties to her charge? Or perhaps she had realized he could have killed her back with his bow and had been banking on that safety net the entire time? Whatever the answer the result was the same.

As with the blow from the sheathe Vamen moved with the blow instead of against it. Already on his knees he allowed himself the quick fall to his feet. The girl’s foot pushing him forward lacked strength due to the arrow wound and the already failed and liable painful blow against his metal ringed vest. As a result his momentum backward was light and he was able to spring forward nearly instantaneously over the woman with his body to cuff her hard in the head with the butt of the dagger wielded by his unbruised arm.

“Cease moving now lady,” snarled Vamen his lined face distorted in cold concentration as he addressed the princess, “Or she truly will die. If you possess any mercy or respect for the servants in your charge. You will stand still this moment."

The pommel of the dagger strikes, but not where it had intended, Gwynlyn shifted her head to the side, and the blow landed on a molar, kicking it free of her jaw. Her head swims for a moment from the pain, but Vamen seems suddenly occupied with yelling at Aeliana, yelling at HER charge, and ordering HER mistress around. But what did Gwynlyn have? Most of her armor was gone, and he one foot was quickly becoming completely useless because of the wound to her gut. Her hands clench, and she remembers the splintered remains of the scabbard in her hand.

"Myou domn't..." She spits the tooth and a glob of blood up into the man's face. "TALK TO HER LIKE THAT." She lines the long shards of wood against the man's knee, right above the kneecap, and aimed down into the knee itself, and then bashes them as hard as she can with the back of her other hand, to drive the shards in like nails. Again, and again, and again she swings, tearing the wound on her shoulder open more.

=======================================

"Just..." *sniff* "A little..." *sniff* "Longer Miss-Gwynlyn..."

She didn't know why it always had to be this way, why Miss-Gwynlyn always had to get hurt... Even before she became her personal bodyguard, Aeliana could remember wandering into the barracks on the estate, where she saw Gwynlyn having wounds treated, her body covered in scars. Why did she take such awful wounds, and why does she continue to take them for such a spoiled little worthless princess like herself? She would always ask, and would always get the same knowing smile and response: "Oh these? They are just a sign that I have something important to protect." and she would pat her on the head, and that would be the end of the conversation. So why?

Vamen clenched his jaw as the wooden splinters stabbed into his skin. His leather armor dulled the force of the blow but couldn't withstand the force of the womans attack. Gnashing his teeth in frustration the old Fang quickly pulled up his dagger and stabbed it into her arm just above the wrist on the non-offending arm attempting to puncture the flesh deep before pulling out. At the same time he slid the second knife downward and with a grunt of anger and brute force cracked down on the wounded ankle with the pommel of the blade. As he completed the actions he rolled off her and sprung straight at the princess.

A stab to her arm, and a blow that drove the remains of the arrow even deeper. Pain washed over her, and she let out the first cry of actual pain the entire fight, everything before having been merely signs of annoyance. But the man divided his attention yet again, trying to disengage, but to where? Ah, towards Aeliana, a moment passed in vague confusion. Then the anger took over again, and the pain disappeared, though a nagging nausea still hammered away at her, she ignored it, she would have time to die when she was dead.

"Where do you think you are going, bastard?!" Gwynlyn grabs hold, and rolls with him, and just as he begins his dash towards her mistress, Gwynlyn clamps her hands down on his ankle. "HYAHHH", had Aeliana not noticed until vamen charged at her? Gwynlyn made a mental note to work on her mistress' awareness. Digging, digging, her hands try to dig into his flesh to hobble him, and pulling, she pulls with all her might. He would be in a rather compromising position, suddenly having his leg arrested, but the exertion was causing blood to pour from her gut wound, and a pain was slowly tracing up her arm from the newest stab wound. She could almost feel the muscle readying to give way, but there was no other choice. She had another arm to use if she had to.

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She had made it! Or nearly, as she could hardly hand the weapon off in the same manner she had dragged it. She turns around to finish up the last several feet, only to be met with the Bad Man lunging towards her.

"HYAHHH"

She cried out in fear, she hadn't expected him to do that, or indeed anything, for she had been so focused on retrieving the weapon that was her only task. But there was another kind of fear there, the fear of loss. She had seen Gwynlyn fight, had even been in the thick of it before, but she had never seen her Servant take quite that amount of damage. Gwynlyn had, she knew, but Aeliana had only seen her after the medical attention, wrapped in bandages and cleaned. The mere sight of it was terrifying, and so she cried.

The woman was a daemon in woman clothing the old Fang had decided. But he was getting used to her constitution. She might have had the discipline to work through pain but the body could only stand so much and while her endurance was incredible, her speed and strength were draining rapidly.

Kicking viciously he stomped the woman directly in the head with his booted foot. He knew she was too thick headed for it to cave in her skull, but it should have been more than enough to knock her unconscious. At the same moment he thrashed his own leg attempting to shake her hold, ignoring the pain in his knee, as he wriggled rapidly like a fish in a net. In a few moments he knew he would be free and so he kept his eyes on the princess as she broke down into tears sobbing.

Vamen couldn't help but feel a small amount of pity for the girl. To imagine being born in a place filled with people like the woman clutching his leg. Prideful and stubborn. To spend your life around such vanity. He would want to escape to. But you can't escape who you are. You can't escape being Eadhaolin royalty.

"Look at me your highness," thundered Vamen his voice cracking like a whip, "Look me in the eye girl. Look at what you are doing to your protector. Look at what she is enduring on your behalf. Look at the hell you are putting her through. Answer my question!"

His voice was a storm channeled into a funnel directed at her, "You can stop this. If you care anything for the woman you will stop this. If you love her you will order her to stop this insanity!"

The force on Vamen's leg stops. "Uwahhhh" And Aeliana can do nothing but tremble, cry, and croak out half-formed words. "I... I was her goal... and she was... my dream..." Sobs separate the words as the little girl searches for her voice. "We... were one another's... support." *sniff* "Wi-without both... we might as well have not gone on..." She falls to a squat, staining her dress in tears. "Telling her to stop... would mean, all that... was for nothing."

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Gwynlyn was losing hold. Was it the second blow to the head? Or was it the blood loss? She didn't rightly know, and she was in no shape to think about such trivial things as "why?". Her grip on the man faltered, her hand fell away, and she was left with a single thought: Was this how I was going to let it end?

"...no" she whispers to herself, her last course of action decided.

She burst forward, her blade was right there, she pushed herself with both feet, clawing the ground with her hands to get the distance. Painful snapping echoed from her arm, and as she tried to grasp her weapon with that hand, she found that she could no longer clench the fingers. She grabbed it with the other hand, and used the worthless one to push herself up. The stance was wide, too wide, but if it was any narrower, she wouldn't be able to keep her balance with the dizzyness. She lifted the blade to the man's throat, her eyes glazed over. "You... Leave her... Alone..." and then she ceased to be.

Vamen stood almost impassively as the woman surged forward for her blade. To her they may have appeared a worldwind of movement. A burst of speed brought on by sheer desperation and rage. But to him they appeared as sluggish stumble forward. The moment of a woman at her end. She grabbed unto her blade shakily after failing to take it up with her uninjured hand. She drew it forward to toward his neck slowly. The blade trembling violent. Vamen brought up his knife to guard in case it was a clever ruse but he should not have bothered. She was below such tactics. The blade fell to the ground and she ceased all movement. Even the rise and fall of her chest. It was over.

Above the storm had finally reached them and a light rain descended upon their heads as the soft rumbled of thunder rolled off the sky. The fury of the storm had abated itself as it raged against the mountainside and after the brief thunder all was quiet but for the falling water. That from the sky and the girls eyes.

"Vamen?" a younger voice cried out, "Vamen....!"

The voice trailed off as a clean shaven hooded man came out of the foliage longbow in hand.

Vamen turned to look at the man and said, "It is over Deinman. I was forced to slay the guard but the princess is here for the taking."

As he spoke he motioned to the crying girl but Deinman focused on the woman. She appeared severely beaten with several gruesome wounds. She had not gone down easy. He could only imagine the tenacity of a warrior who threatened Vamen so that he felt the need to kill her. As it stood it looked like it hadn't been easy and he could visibly see the limp in the aging rangers walk as he rose and strode to face him.

"Take the girl and bring her to the border as ordered," the senior Fang commanded.

Deinmen nodded putting away his bow as he quickly moved to do as bayed. It was fortunate that Deinman had found them first thought Vamen. The man had a soft spot for children and a knack for dealing with him. Most of the man's eyes and ears came from the various street rats he had befriended over the years. He was the best person possible to deal with the girl and certainly better than the man who had just killed her guardian.

"What about her?" asked Deinman pausing halfway toward the princess as he nodded toward the dead warrior’s corpse. "Should I send someone else to fetch her?"

"I will take care of her," replied Vamen after a moment’s thought. It was possible the Eadhaolins would want her but somehow he doubted it. She was a guardswoman not a nobleman. No tears would be shed for her among the royal court and a dead Eadhaolin corpse would only cause unnecessary complications. No far better that she remain here in the Impereich.

As Deinman sat down to talk to the now nearly comatose girl Vamen pursed his lips and mused. There was a graveyard in the mountains not far from here. It was a cemetery for honored soldiers who died in service to the Wolf Throne. The woman had not died fighting for the Impereich, she'd died trying to kill one of its own, but she had died loyally in service to her liege. She deserved respect. There were hundreds of graves there and the old caretaker of the burial ground owed him a favor. What was one more corpse to add to the mix?

Looking off into the distance he realized it would probably take most of the night on his wounded leg to get there. So instead he moved toward the Eadhaolins old shelter and began to make it as his own. He would spend the rest of tonight in the forest. After all he did love the wilderness.