“The tale of peace and violence may be as old as time itself, yet when the two are pitted against one another, weighed upon the scales of justice, and dreams… only one is bound to prevail. The violent become docile, weak in the face of the mighty, while the peaceful? Are turned to monsters, preying upon those who changed their very existence.”
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One foot after the other, moving faster and faster with each step, each leap threw the young Magkin further and further into the dense forest. The vast treetops of Noor pass by Hexlith in a blur, as he zipped through the jungle. Wings exposed, flicking back and forth between being spread, and enclosed, the magpie-anthropomorph used all of his physical attributes to fly across the forest floor.
“I’m sorry- I’m sorry- fuck, fuck, fuck!!!”
Leaves were ripped from their branches as he passed, only to be obliterated in the wake of what pursued him: A mangled looking cockatrice, unable to catch up to Hexlith; bones visible through the flesh. The thing was beyond malnourished, and likely days from death. This didn’t make it any less of a threat, however. In Hexlith’s eyes? It made it even more dangerous, given its clear desperation for a meal. The thing's jaw slacked to the side, clattering anxiously as it pressed forth towards the smaller bird it pursued. Thankfully for the Magkin, his size allowed him to cut corners far easier than the cockatrice could, which fell over and slammed into trees at every turn. A good thing too, as at each crossroad, Hexlith found himself hesitant, his legs moments away from buckling beneath him. A high pitch screech cascaded down from the canopy above, followed by a number of branches falling in its wake! Vaulting over the fallen tree trunk before him, Hexlith peered towards the origin. There were no shadows in sight, nor any movement to pick out. However, once his gaze dropped to the forest floor, he’d swiftly be reminded of the threat at hand! The cockatrice dove for his head, mouth agape! Barely managing to duck beneath, Hexlith braced for impact behind the trunk; the body of the creature smashed up against it, toppling over him in a flail. Its wings smashed into the ground, snapping in odd angles beneath the weight of its ribs. The Magkin was stunned there for a moment, his wide eyes lingered on the cockatrice’s destroyed frame.
“Awh- man…” Hexlith murmured, before slowly getting to his feet, his legs shaking beneath him as he took a weak step closer.
The cockatrice thrashed about in pain, as it tried to stand, only to let out a strangled shriek, before it crumpled back to the ground. Its fractured wings had pierced the thin skin of its neck. The Magkin watched with concern. Cautiously taking yet another shaken step forth- once more, his fear would subside from the noise of a high pitched whistle, yet this time around? It was much harsher, and pointed directly dow- BOOM! With a thunderous slam, and a resonant crunch- Hexlith’s face was covered in a splay of red, as blood scattered across the forest floor! His right hand, raised - in order to protect his eyes, lowered, to find the tip of a sword placed directly over his eyes, hovering centimeters from his beak. The blade itself was wider than his head, and in acknowledging such… a shiver ran down his spine. Mere seconds ago he was tailed by death, and now? It seemed as if it held a hammer just above his head, ready to strike down at a moment's notice… with his beak as the nail. Much to his surprise however, he watched as the blade was pulled back, and thrust through the air at the warrior’s side! The sheer mass of the weapon caused the leaves to push out beneath them. The person before Hexlith looked like a Nephelim, and they easily eclipsed him in size! She snapped her wings outward to rid her feathers of the cockitrice’s ichor. However, even after clearing her wings? Red remained at the very tips, a notable feature not only in her feathers, but her hair. This subsided his initial thoughts on who- or what she could be… odd, yet Hexlith was enamored all the more! She was strong, stronger than he could fathom, that much was clear from how she moved. The very land around her shifted with each and every gesture she made. Before Hexlith got too awestruck- she spoke in a language he didn’t quite recognize immediately:
“Unm tle ol tahwia.”
A small smile crept its way onto her face as she turned a 180, her sword raised ever so slightly as to not hit Hexlith in her twirl, before disappearing in a blur of red and white. Which left the Magkin awestruck, staring off into space, his gaze leaning towards the pool of blood that lay before him. The headless corpse of the cockatrice leaked viscously beside him. An ever present scent of death loomed in the area, as his mind flicked to image after image- in response to what had just occurred! A hole from the canopy above, shining a ray of light down upon the two bloodridden birds… as silence fell with the coming snow.
Snapping back from the trance he was in, Hexlith’s gaze hardened. His eyes moved down to the carcass that lay before him. The blood had puddled at his knees, already cold to the touch, just as his hazel eyes were. He trudged around the side of the deceased avian, observing it. The toxic aura that these creatures normally exuded was all but absent, even when it was alive mere moments ago. Yet that wasn’t to say Hexlith didn’t approach the beast with due diligence, his eyelids batting a few times as he crouched down beside the thing’s head. With a careful look into its blackened pupils, Hexlith saw himself frowning back, before getting to work. First came the eyes, as they were still intact. The eyes always came first when Hexlith was forced to harvest the fauna of Esgraile, since the bugs tended to get to them if he wasn't fast enough. Popping the first out, and into a cracked vial, Hexlith winced. He rummaged through his bag for a more intact one to- well… no avail. It appeared most of his stuff was destroyed in the chase, a problem he’d have to fix later, but accept for now. After both eyes were taken, and the vial they resided in was sealed, Hexlith moved onto the body. But once he got up to it? He swiftly deduced that anything inside- was likely useless by this point. The ribs had punctured a vast majority of its organs. After placing the sealed vial in his satchel bag, Hexlith let out a bit of a sigh, eyes wandering from the corpse.
“You’re lucky I love you Uthwix.” He shook his head dismissively, continuing his trek up the hill.
His gaze moved from one tree to the other- in hopes to find one of his many markings, which would gauge how far he was chased from the thing’s nest. Soon as he found one, he’d let out a brief cackle in acknowledgement, before moving onwards, his gaze traced only a bit further, to the very treetops he walked under. Unable to keep himself from peering towards each and every shadow that loomed in his long journey home! On his way back, he checked a few of his traps- see if maybe he caught himself some dinner for the night, before moving on. He was drained, and truth be told, couldn’t get home any faster. The young Magkin yearned for the comfort of his own bed by this point, and hopefully a bath before, as he still reeked of cockatrice innards.
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In times like these, when you’re beaten and battered, tired beyond comprehension, and have utterly failed at what you sought to accomplish? Having a good means of recovery is key, and in Hexlith’s case- he was almost always prepared for the worst. Not only were the surrounding woodlands marked in such a way that they’d lead home, but they were also used to identify certain points of interest, such as caves, trees with extra large ecosystems, streams, and even- nests such as the now deceased cockatrice’s. Thus, by the time he made his way through the thicket, and onto the stone path to Noor, Hexlith had refilled most of his supplies, and had a few jackalopes tied up ‘round the antlers, ready to skin. His head raised with a sigh, as he peered towards the night sky, the green moon that illuminated it resided off to the west. It was late, far later than he expected this day to run on for, and far- far later than he had wished for it to. Nonetheless, he followed the lanterns lining the stone walkway, reaching the gates in relative time. However, as he approached, he’d swiftly come to realize he wasn’t the only one home late, as his eyes landed upon two armored Nephilim, doning Thasclea symbols. Markings that the four on-duty guards seemed to notice as well, each of them respectively shaking their heads, before beginning a search of the two. A sight Hexlith couldn’t help but snicker at, as he made his way up to the group.
“Seems I’m not the only one past curfew~ aye?”
He’d jest, sending a quick smirk towards one of the Nephilim, which- almost faltered completely as their gazes met! The left side of their face was charred black as coal, with glowing bandages wrapped tightly around a majority of their head, leaving a sole, teal eye to press down upon Hexlith. Spooky to say the least, yet Hexlith - by this point - was a little too tired to react vocally, merely raising both eyebrows in surprise as he peered past him, further to the right, towards the other. They were fine, spare for a nicely placed shiner, and a tone of aggression which was teetering back and forth between him and the guard searching him.
“Why’s yer buddy look all mangled as he does, hm?” A guard who wasn’t engaging in the search would call out from the back. “Ain’t you Thasclea s’posed to be invincible?”
‘Clearly not-’ Hexlith retorted to himself, peering from one face to another- as the tension rose with a few words. He somewhat understood stopping them, given the time, but searching two members of a well known family was a bold move on the guards' end for sure. For his sake? Hexlith remained silent while they continued to bicker, simply… hoping for the best.
“Ah- heh, well…” The relatively unharmed Nephilim laughed, dropping his tone a notch… his gaze lowered alongside it, as he pinpointed the guard in the back. “You know how the forests of Noor are, Officer.”
The guard who was searching him chuckled the instant his tone dropped, yet once he had? He’d almost instantly be shoved off of the Nephilim, who calmly placed his hand on the hilt at his side, his elven ears flattening in anticipation for the others to rush him. Yet they never would, as the instant the metal of their armor began to slide against themselves, Hexlith flew into the midst of the chaos, with both of his hands outstretched to either side! A look of surprise made its way onto the faces of all present, especially the Magkin, who found himself in the midst of a conflict he really had no place in. Both literally, and physically, as the gentlemen that surrounded him far surpassed him in size, armor, and likely longevity by this point! Hexlith’s lower half rattled beneath him, moments away from collapsing. Thus, with wobbly legs, a bag, and a pair of jackalopes tied around his torso, he’d brave the problem at hand.
“Come on guys, it’s late- tensions are high ‘cause we all need rest, can we just move on with the… ‘search’ and go on with the night?” The Magkin somewhat winced as he broached what they were doing, as truth be told- it could hardly be considered a search by this point, they were simply berating the two angelspawn.
Looking from one side to the other, Hexlith didn’t really have anything astonishing to say. He wanted to get to his bed, and assumed the same for the two Thasclean being hassled by the nightly guard. For that reason exactly however, he doubted they’d simply drop their beef and continue on with the night. When it came to two heavily armed sides facing off in a disagreement? The likes of right, wrong, or indifferent don’t tend to exist, merely the resonance of clashing metal. But today was not such a day, as the heavily wounded Nephilim let out a low, soft laugh, and tapped the shoulder of his buddy, who promptly relieved their grip from the sword. The three standing guards moaning, and groaning individually as they disengage entirely, moving back to their posts to open the gate. Meanwhile, the once readied Nephilim reached down to help the guard up off the ground, a smug gaze beaming down on him as he did. One which was met with a sour look of defeat...
“Tahwi eyes, Magkin~”
The bandaged Nephilim murmured on their way past Hexlith, through the gate, leaving him with a somewhat taken aback gaze. He narrowed his eyes on the two, and their wings. They weren’t tipped red like the woman’s he saw earlier, nor did their feathers hold the same kind of weight to them when shifted. Thus, with a somewhat confused tone to his voice, he’d offer a supple “Thanks,” before turning to look at the guards. The two who met his gaze- gestured dismissively towards the gates. Hexlith sighed, and continued on home, his vision rising up to the pointed rooftops of the ever infamous city… of Alchemy. A revenant… of the lost age of magic.
Returning from his hike safe and sound, Hexlith for once… felt glad to be home. He glanced up at his family's crest, as he approached the door. It was that of a one winged dragon, who held a broken spear between their teeth. He’d ponder the size of the spear- relative to the dragon for a moment, before walking through the door, and with his first two whole steps in, Hexlith promptly collapsed onto the hardwoods. Creating a cascade of reactions across the household, none of which- particularly helpful. Pral, Hexlith’s mother, laughed, shaking her head slowly as if she had expected him to come stumbling in. This was followed by a single grunt originating from the other side of the dining room, Aussir; the ‘Man of the House’…- The quotes should do enough justice as to how he acts within that role. Then approached Uthwix, Hexlith’s dove-like twin sister, who would crouch down beside him, gently patting his head as he conked out.