Haya's Reach (Keeva)

[Eir'helm Mithania]

The problem with peace was that it never lasted. War, pain, bloodshed and death always came. That was the way of the multiverse.

Another common problem was greed. People often wanted more. They lusted for a little more than they had. Wealthy men always wanted more gold. Beautiful women always wanted to be better, and it was the weakness of the human spirit that proved to be a problem for Keeva this darkening.

Keeva was betrayed.

In the middle of the darkening, after sleep had over taken her and her host, there was a crash of broken glass. One of the windows in the main room had been smashed in. Someone was here for them, but before either could move from the humble bed the small bedroom window was also broken in.

In the moonlight a pair of dead eyes watched the pair from outside. Keeva knew the face, though it didn’t show any emotion, not anymore. It was the elderly woman that’d sold her information. She’d gotten greedy. She’d gotten herself killed.

They were coming for Keeva.

[Keeva Kaldres]

The first smash of glass awoke the young woman from her sleep. It had been a pleasant thing, as she lay, nestled within the arms of the guard, with the contrast to this sudden awakening being painful, conflicting beyond measure.

For a moment the girl thought that she was dreaming, and that this was all just some terrible, twisted nightmare forged from her ever-tortured mind. The fear she felt though, the coldness of icy hands running rampant down her spine…This was real, no illusion, and they were here.

They were here, and she was afraid.

“No…” Came a shaky little thing, timid as a deer and scarcely the voice she thought was hers. The thing entering the bed chamber, it was the woman they had spoken to, only this brightening passed. Only…she was not the same person, anymore. Keeva had never seen an undead before, but she was pretty certain that this was one of them, and there were yet more, she surmised, downstairs.

But how many? How many were there, and would they be able to fend them off, escape?

“Russel!” The girl called, shaking his shoulder just in case the noise had not awoken him by now. Thankfully they had not indulged in certain activities this night- they were still clothed, their weapons blessedly close at hand.

Keeva reached for hers swiftly, keeping the fans closed as she doubted shaking hands would be sufficient in pulling them apart. Their bladed sides could act as well as any dagger could, and whilst she was afraid, she was not about to let any zombie take her life, and that of Russel’s, now.

She would fight, regardless of the fact she was scared.

[Eir'helm Mithania]

The young man was not as light a sleeper as Keeva. He didn’t wake with the sound of broken glass down the hall. He slept right through it. It was the crash of the bedroom window being opened with force that helped wake the guard. Dazed he opened one eye.

“Keeva?” He asked, unsure if this was some twisted dream, or a more concerning reality.

It was normal to be afraid of death. Death was natural. The undead, they weren’t as common, and so, like Keeva, the young man was terrified. He grabbed his short sword from where it sat by the bedside and drove his back into the wall, keeping the blade between him and the husk that clamored through the damaged window.

“Keeva?” He asked again, looking to her for some sort of guidance. She was the one hunting this beast. Surely she knew what this was, how to kill them.

“How do you kill the dead?” He asked in a small voice. By this time the elderly woman, now rotting corpse was inside. She’d righted herself and was advancing towards them.

There were also sounds, footsteps coming down the hall. They were heavy, lumbering steps. The dead were coming.

Another one was at the window. This one was a woman, an elf, and while she would’ve been beautiful once her skin was blue and pulling tight against her bones. She was coming in as well.

[Keeva Kaldres]

He was turning to her for guidance…She had not wanted that. Keeva had hoped that he would be able to save her, that he could be her hero in all this, but her faith was misguided, it seemed. This was her mission, her plight, and whilst she was terrified now, it was she who had gotten Russel involved in all this. There had to be a way…She had to think of something!

It was only so hard, when she was this afraid.

The girl did not know how to turn back the undead, had not heard anything to that rote before now. She was trying to think, a rush of adrenaline flowing with the fear. Terror was making her senses more alert, but it was also making the patterns of her mind more erratic. What should they do? How should they turn the corpses back? How could they get away? Could they? How?

As far as the girl was aware, the undead did not need their organs to function- not anymore. Then, striking at points which would normally be deadly for living creatures- the heart, groin and so forth- would presumably not do much damage here. But what else, then?

It was a good thing that the undead were slow moving.

“The head?” She ventured…or was that how vampires were killed? Were they not more or less the same thing? It was worth trying, at any rate. Something was worth trying.

Collecting her wits, and what was left of her flailing nerves about her, the girl advanced, fans in hand. She was scared, yes, but needed to try something, at least. Something which would hopefully help them, as well.

The corpse of the old woman was the closest, and whilst Keeva had little wish to approach she did, steeling herself before lashing out with the one hand, bringing the blade to the undead’s rotting neck. She tried to use as much force as she could, in spite of the fact that she was small, and could only hope that this would work. If not, then she did not know what else they could do, how else they could possibly fight.

[Eir'helm Mithania]

Keeva’s plan of attack was reasonable. Most things couldn’t live without their head, but the woman that attacked her now wasn’t exactly alive. She hadn’t been alive for some hours.

She attacked before her male counterpart could collect his wits, and gather the courage to do so. If you were to die in a fight, that was one thing, but he faced the honest chance that death wouldn’t be an escape, not for either of them.

It was only after Keeva made her first swing at the woman’s neck that he seemed steady enough to do anything. Keeva’s attack, however, hadn’t been entirely successful.

The bladed fan did cut into the corpse’s neck. It swiped right across her throat, severing the windpipe and a collection of arteries. It resulted in a fine spay of some sort of black bile, back into Keeva’s face. It had the consistency of blood but smelled foul.

The same fluid dripped down her weapon, and poured down the woman’s chest, staining her clothes.

She stumbled; her head slumped forward, but kept coming.

Keeva was running out of room.

One of the old woman’s hands grabbed Keeva’s wrist. It was strong. Clumsy, but strong, and pulled her in. Her teeth were on Keeva’s neck, biting through the skin. Her jaw was as strong as the rest of her.

More of the black juice dripped onto Keeva, and then the bite eased, and head fell to the floor, just after he body toppled down.

The guardsman had managed to move, and it seemed their method worked.

Keeva was hurt, though barely. Her neck had a shallow wound, but she’d live.

The door was being forced open, and there were three more outside in the hall.

They’d put one to rest, and there were four more.

[Keeva Kaldres]

Keeva’s ideas fell on the right path, though it was difficult to bring them life, delicate and fragile as she truly happened to be. It was a matter which the girl found most displeasing, though she had tried to cure it now so very many times. Even now, she found she could not behead the approaching zombie on her own, the thing even managing to bite into her neck as she cringed, sought desperately to back someplace away. Russel had been the one to save her, though still she had been left with a mark.

The second encroaching cadaver, Keeva tried to meet with once again. It was not as much necessity that she acted with now, however, but with a determination not to be weak, not to be some damsel in distress needing to be saved. She was afraid of the walking dead, yes, but was adverse to being feeble, too.

Keeva attempted the same tactic with the elf, before suggesting something to companion, in response to the thudding at the door.

“The window…we can escape through the window!”

Which was hopefully what they would do, given that they could deal with this once beautiful thing.

[Eir'helm Mithania]

The elven woman was small, fragile, and while Keeva lacked much strength the dead woman’s slender neck didn’t offer much opposition.

Her head was cleaved clear from her shoulders and it bounced to the floor at the base of the window. Its eyes were still open. Its eyes were still moving, watching Keeva with a painful look, and while the body toppled to the floor she didn’t have her rest, not yet.

Russel was busy. His weight was holding the door in place. He was trying to keep them out, trying to give Keeva a chance to clear the way and go before they were swamped. They could manage one or two, but he had no idea how many more were past that door.

“Go Keeva… I’ll be right behind you.” The dead pushed, they shoved as a group and each time they did the door opened a little wider. He was losing the fight. Their hands were reaching in, reaching for him, but Keeva had to go, clear the small window.

The alley outside was clear. It was free of life, or unlife, though it only moved to the street in front.

Keeva had a choice.

[Keeva Kaldres]

Keeva was ready to escape, but Russel…he was holding back, pushing against the door to keep the dreaded undead at bay. He was telling her to go, but she did not want to; not yet. The guard was still in danger, after all, and whilst they did need to escape, she did not wish to see him come to harm.

Keeva hesitated, looking to her companion longingly as he kept by the portal to the room. The expression on her face clearly belied how she felt, somewhere within- her emotions laid bare, and kept close to the surface or her skin. She was pained, but knew that she needed to leave. She had to survive, and fulfil the mission she had been set. Besides…Russel would come out after her as soon as she touched the ground, surely? He would follow her, and then they could be on their way, fighting the thing that created these monsters, as one.

Moving to the window, the woman glanced down over the side, and then, given that nothing stood in her way, eased her form onto the ledge, dangled her feet over the side, and dropped.

The warfans would be kept open and ready as she moved further out into the alleyway’s space, alert and ready for any more of the creatures, should they think to make their hideous appearances known.

[Eir'helm Mithania]

Wolves herded animals by leaving them apparent avenues of escape. Even the beasts understood that prey would take the easy path, like Keeva and her companion. They treaded the easy path. Like sheep, they were being guided.

Russel jumped out the window; head first, his arms out in front of him. He hit the stone walkway with a painful crack. He’d hurt something. He’d injured himself, but they put some distance between them and the shambling dead. Russel limped after Keeva. He wasn’t holding his arm right anymore.

The corpses couldn’t move out the window with any ease. They’d move back through the house and return to the street.

For the moment, they were safe.

As the duo moved out into the street, though, the lambs were being herded. The wolves lay in waiting.

There were two men, hiding in the shadows. They were hard to spot at first, except for one. One of them watched Keeva with red, burning eyes.

The wolves had been ready.

Something tore through the air for the human girl. If she was the intended hunter then they’d kill her now. They’d be done with her. They’d use her corpse as they pleased.

A sphere rushed towards Keeva, and she hardly saw it in the darkness. Russel, he saw it coming. He moved. The guard threw himself into the bolt’s way. It struck him, and broke against his chest. It was fluid, and sprayed under his arm onto Keeva’s breast and torso. It went over his shoulder and a few drops met with her neck.

There was the smell of burning flesh.

Russel was on the ground. His tunic was all but gone, dissolved away. His chest was bubbling from the acid, and he moaned with the suffering of one of the dead.

It ate through Keeva’s dress, leaving dozens of small holes. It burned her skin, though a dozen tiny brands were pressed to her side.

She didn’t know if he was dying or not, but the vysstichi and his companion drew close.

“Are you all they sent? One stupid little human child? I’d expected more. Aren’t I worth more?” He was holding a wicked looking knife.

“If I send back your head, will they try again?”

Keeva was hurt, not crippled, but the dead were coming back.

Russel needed help.

[Keeva Kaldres]

Keeva had not noticed the vysstichi until it was far too late, the orb rushing through the air towards her as she, instinctively, brought hands to her face to defend herself, in kind. The scent of burning flesh and the sound of acid spitting, however, did not come so much from her, as it did from Russel, instead. The girl’s eyes widened in face of the pain lancing through her flesh at chest and neck, her face a mask of astonishment as her companion fell, lifeless, to the ground.

She wanted to help him, to fall against his side, to see if he still lived, if she was to blame for his demise. Keeva knew that she would scarcely be able to live with herself, if such was the case. Having Russel dead because of her? It was a notion which scared her, chilling her bones to the core. Keeva did not want that, was scared of it…and this vysstichi was not doing much to help.

He had felled her companion, and what hurt the most was how casual he was being about it, in kind. Russel could have been dead, or dying, and yet he still thought to make idle threats. It struck a chord within her soul, and where there had once been fear, now came rage.

Keeva was angry. Angry at the vysstichi for hurting someone she held dear, angry with herself for not having been able to protect him, from having drawn Russel into all this in the first. She did not respond to the dark elf, not having any words she wished to share. Instead, she simply raised her warfans, pointing the two things towards him, before pressing down, in unison, on the triggers.

The adamantine tessen looked every inch as just that- there was nothing within their design to give them away as being anything more, anything more complex than that. There were, however, two compartments within each of the weapons’ ribs, and these would fire darts, metallic and pointed, aimed towards the elf’s heart.

Keeva aimed for his middle, out of instinct, and a desire to cause as much hurt as she could. The fiend had wronged her, and more than that her companion.

Russel…

The girl would see this dark elf pay for what it was he had done.

[Eir'helm Mithania]

The dead were coming. There were three of them behind Keeva now. One opened the door, and two shuffled out though the portal, while a third fell through the broken window. They were coming for Keeva and her companion, but the vysstichi, he wasn’t as much of a concern.

Four needle-like projections were launched at the dark elf. The aim was off. Blades opened, Keeva injured, most of her attack failed. One of her needles stuck the stone road, bending beyond recovery. Another was launched up, into the night sky, never to be seen again. The other two, they hit their mark, and the elf felt the bite of two metal shafts cutting through his flesh. One went in at the shoulder, and another left a sizable wound in his thigh.

The dead were on her.

A corpse grabbed Keeva from behind. Its sizable hand clenched down on her shoulder while another slammed into her back. They were strong. They were slow, but they were strong, and the woman was nearly knocked to the ground.

Russel was breathing. She could see his chest heaving. They were slow, pained breaths.

The vysstichi was injured, but he was trying to get away. He and his human companion used the corpses as fodder, as an opportunity. Russel couldn’t move. If she left him, he was dead. If she didn’t, the elf might have a chance to escape.

The only advantage, he was injured. He couldn’t run far.

[Keeva Kaldres]

Two of her needles had penetrated the vysstichi’s flesh, but it was not enough…He had been right there, within plain sight and range, and what she had done was not enough. The young woman watched on, useless and in pain, as the dark elf fled, his human lackey in tow. The zombies were upon her, and Keeva scarcely knew what to do. Russel was breathing, yes, but he could not be moved. Could not be moved, and could not be left…The girl did not want for the vysstichi to escape, but neither would she leave this man, here at the mercy of such beasts.

She staggered forwards, the wind knocked from her for a moment as the pain lanced frivolously down her back. Keeva was hurting rather greatly now, yet still she tried to seek the energy needed for her body to turn, twist in its position as one arm went back, the fan aimed to cut the zombie’s neck.

After all, there was little else she could do, for now, but to defend herself from this attack. She needed to, if she wished to survive…and she did, if only to make certain that Russel would be alright, and that the rogue vysstichi would be slain, according to her alleged family’s wish.

[Ab'reth Yelkith]

The darkening had been marked with gore. The dead walked and blood was spilt. Keeva bled from a few small holes in her side. Her neck ached and her ribs were bruised, but she pushed on. She managed violence in the face of pain, because if she didn’t someone she cared about could die.

She could die.

She could be brought back, used as a tool by some monster, and as surely as she’d hurt him, he’d not let her go quietly into the void.

The corpse that had struck Keeva was strong. It was powerful, and her body ached from the impact it made against her side, but it wasn’t fast. It wasn’t wise.

It made no effort to avoid the bladed fan that swept up and into its neck.

The zombie wasn’t smart enough to protect itself.

There was another spray of gore as Keeva cut the dead man’s head from his neck. It was almost a clean cut, except for an attached strip of flesh at the back. Its head fell to the side, but didn’t fall off. The corpse, it hit the stone, dead all over again, and the other two were quickly coming for Keeva.

They came together, a skinny man and an overfed woman, and each of them seemed hungry enough to take a bite out of her.

The vysstichi, he could be seen stumbling down the street with his companion's help.

[Keeva Kaldres]

The vysstichi remained within sight, but she could not take care of him- not yet. Russel was still in danger, and leaving him here, alone and defenceless as he was, would only lead to his eventual, grisly demise. Keeva would not see him fall, eaten by lifeless cadavers of flesh. She would ensure that he was as safe as she could make him, first, and then proceed to dealing with the dark elf, in turn.

Fortunately, the advantages she held over these zombies was such that slaying them now should not have posed too much of a problem. After the first one had been removed as threat, the girl moved instantly on the other two. She was weak, yes, in pain and bleeding, but she had to push such things aside, for now. She had to be strong, if only to protect those she cared about, the weak.

Both fans outstretched and gripped firmly within each hand, Keeva endeavoured to strike at one, and then the next, using her greater speed and agility to keep a safer distance away. Her aim went of course for the necks, with as much force and power as her lithe little frame could push out…She only hoped that this would work, after which she could focus on the vysstichi and his human slave, once more.

[Ab'reth Yelkith]

Sometimes it could be an easy thing to kill the dead. Other times a person could struggle for ordinations to put a single soul to rest. Keeva did not have this problem. Each time one fell there were fewer, and the zombies had strength in their numbers, numbers that were dwindling. Keeva was winning, but she wasn’t suffering through her victory well.

The small man had a skinny neck, and it was a simple thing to remove it from his shoulders. His skull fell to the stones and rolled away, but the larger woman wasn’t quite so easy.

Keeva’s tessen met with her sizable jowls and grazed off her hidden chin. It glanced down, carving a chunk of meat out of the neck. It left a hole in her, but the corpse didn’t flinch. It also didn’t give Keeva another swing at her neck.

The magic that animated the dead had become damaged. The spell was failing, but not fast enough. A pair of meaty hands grabbed the girl. They tried to pull her in. The zombie was going to drive her rotten teeth down into Keeva’s pretty, little neck.

As the girl pulled away, she presented with the perfect chance to impale the cadaver’s skull on the blade of her weapon. Keeva could bring it up between them and end it.

The dead would be silent.

She’d only need to worry about the living.