Bartels

Bartels

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It prowls in the rain, a rain that is relentless these last few days. The torrent of rain seems to be driven by the need to make all percussive and pressured. The canopy seems to have no power to spare anything from being drenched. Thunders do roil, the chokehold of tree trunks do catch that which falls, coiling about and causing traps for those that do not scuttle. Flashes in the dark, sheets of illuminate water that do fall in heavy crashes. And within such rushes of water, this unknown it does prowl, flashing in warning in distant signals that does pain the eye and set the falling rains to flashpoint boiling.

The lightning does spill out from the thing that did prowl in theatre of consistent rainfall drapery. Litheness of movement, feline and fluid, bounding about in cracks of energy and hiding it's presence despite it's cracks of temper. Unseen except for it's agitated passage that did bounder closer in lightning lashes of it's phantomising legs, which stipples off bark and left some hint of it's passing, the growing shocking sounds growing more rapid and frequent. Express statics in the drumming of the rolling rain. Eyes that do see it know quick pain and closing.

Bartels did tread amidst the rain, amidst the cracking echoes of limbs of whatever that did roam about with scents to follow. Wide legged, eyes level, Bartels did stride tactically amidst the forest, the rains, the beast that did mark the earth in spates of arcing energy. Much angles in the movement of the Peace Knight of Frohoggin descent. Tactical in his ambulation. The rain was always welcome to him, yet that thing that did snarl with throat of sparks and did move all the more quicker than his own chosen hops was something to be cautious of. A coat of olive green and ivy did conceal the shining pale blues of his metal and teal flesh it did protect. Enough for now to afford him the odd moment to be discreet, to peer from pool, to lean from behind tree as the sounds of that beast did ripple out in whatever did roam, prowl, and make conductive in such sparking signs.

Wide branches did rivulet. Wide pouring rains cause all limbs of greenery to lilt and wane about in the winds that do chill through sodden clothes.

That is, if you weren't of Bartel's ilk. Water did slide off armour designed to be submerged, no chill from rains unwelcome to him. Damp his camouflage, making what springing and hops far more a weary matter, too many might exhaust even one of Bartel's condition. Yet the lightning from sky did make him move in hurried gait, seeking not to be made illuminated by it's tempers. From whatever did prowl about, was there quick lash power in the crackles which did bounder out, making him unsure of what where it might be, and making him sour to be exposed.

Bartels did look up at a thick and wizened tree that did refuse to tremble at the wind. Alcoves did hold birds of bright red and wedge beaks that stared back, preening and observing as the unnaturally persistent rain did play out.

“Can't be climbing that,” Bartels did soft speak to themselves, drawing their camouflage about themselves and resolving further travel, “And too high a hop even for me. Must find my own spot.”

The rain did reveal the wind, how it did veer from right to left and left to right, dense whistling waters that did mask those that lurked.

Bartels did draw his belt up, the diamond opening of the hood afresh with moisture did have orange eyes that looked this way and that as he did.

“Must find my own spot,” he repeated, and continued to amble, blinking slow as his feet did pad about the forest, each opportunity for shelter denied by the presence of more permanent residents of the wood. He felt more and more foolish each time, as if he was playing a game of hide and seek, and upon finding a good hiding spot, found a friend who did wordlessly urge them to move on.

Each time, he was set to wondering.

Do the woodland denizens know something about this Crackle Cat I don't?

@Yahni
 
Tonight was a mix of jubilance and fear for Azurul as he sat tucked away in a well-fortified tree. Its entry was an unsuspecting hole in the ground that now looked full to the naked eye. If one watched now and then bubbles would arise from the air passing through, the pool was lined with a weird yellow substance that did not waver in the rain—a repellant for the fierce Crackle Cat that had been set upon his tail. His pursuers were none other than the residents of Hundred Homes with a score to settle for fallen kin. Had the storm come any later, Azurul would surely have been caught in hours.

Thankfully here he was at home, in the foraging spaces he had explored during his free time hours. Once medic and now fugitive the price of freedom was steep. Within his space fungi and moss illuminated the darkness around him. It was spacious here and dry thanks to the roots drinking deep the flow of water. The only thing that could ruin this would be if for some reason the Crackle Cat destroyed this hearty tree.

Bandaging his arms and feet he had to cover his wounds so they could start to heal on their own. Sniffing the air his ears flicked carefully before laying flat against his head. Thinking back he had to grab his bag from outside the shelter. He could not bring it with him until he had made the travel space wider for himself and others. Flexing each digit Azurul sat forward and walked slowly to the edge before taking a deep breath. Leaving his kimono to dry he hopped into the hole and swam out to the other side. The water rippled then parted as he peaked his head out to check the coast. Gazing around he had to be sure it was okay, looking his way and that he saw something move. Popping one ear up he listened through the noise, the cat was nowhere close but that could easily change.

Though the other sound he picked up was the subtle hopping of Bartels approach. Flicking his ear out of habit he reached for his bag and checked to make sure everything within was sealed tight. As Bartel approached Azurul flicked his ear again hoping Bartel would see it before sliding back into the water hole. Yellow eyes disappeared beneath the surface giving way to bubbles and then stillness aside from the rain itself.

Coming back into the tree's base he shook his fur and sat down against the bark. Peering at the pool he waited to see if the other had followed him into safety. He wasn't a damn Elf that's all that mattered to him. If he was a problem then Azurul would have to deal with them accordingly. Glancing over at the dual scimitars on his left, a sigh escaped his lips.
 
If there was something a frohoggin was sensitive to, it was the submerged giving what clues there were to find in the ripples of the water. Even with the rain performing their snare drum rolls upon the surface of the water, the ear that did hint invitation was noticed. Bartels paused for a faint moment, surmising that he should follow good advice from motherly figures in his life. 'When in doubt, hop underwater. Helps you think. Helps you stay safe.'

The trunks of trees did not stir for what rains did pressure, yet their branches did make their trembling as the winds did rise to their causes, setting rainfall to change velocities. Birds did shy in the canopy, others who remained silent and solitary did count their blessings. Bartels, legs striding long, did seize upon mother's advice and stranger's invitation to take a dip, armour jostling silently as the rainfall did make the plate give high chimes of resonance. The spring of the legs did propel Bartels with squat grace, a dive indulged for nostalgia's sake and firmly engrained habit, knowing that mother did never stray him wrong.

Eyes did see something teal bound so, a clue sensed more than identified. A flicker of pale colour that moved independent in arc, contrasting motion to the white slashes that strafed sideways with the wind. Immature eyes looked to another for confirmation in expression in the eyes that never came, their own eyes stoic even as capacities did gather and spark in the pupil. But an encouraging paw did bid the smaller eyes to pursue their interest, and so it was that two mother's lessons were put to the test.

Bartel's felt the welcome presence of water accept him, the surface issuing the muffled drums of the overworld. The water were read, and webbed feet and long legs did shoot the Lily Knight true in what path was pierced, a welcome stretch of water to enjoy.

All too brief. The figure that did lead left what water there was to submerge within. Bartels did slow his approach, rising to the surface eyes first and eyes alone. Yellow eyes that did peer for safety, yet fear was a stranger, yet cautions kept those eyes sharp. The blades were noticed.

The eyes did dip, and sly approach to land was made less direct than his entrance to the water. Rising circuitiously in circle motion, Bartels did slink out of the water, eyes blinking slow to give what impression of peaceful intent might be issued. Fresh slick was Bartels as webbed feet did secure ground, and hunched, Bartels did let himself dry what water would leave him, manners observed in what refuge was about.

Bartels considered a welcoming croak, but thought better of it. Who knew what a Crackle Cat might hear, he did think. Instead, a simple polite yet enthusiastic wave of his hand as water did drain from what garments he had. He remembered too many times in his youth of treading water into situations, and did not wish to reinforce base slander about his people not knowing how to wipe their feet and dry their hides before stepping into other people's business. As he gave introductory wave, one could see that upon his shoulder there was indeed a weapon all his own, a handle of a wide blade that did perch, scabbard held, with no suggestion from Bartels that it was needed. A shrug from Bartels, well practiced, as his weapon was placed to the side, mimicking the placement of his host as to induce some trust. One didn't need to learn such things from years of pursuing the Art of Peace, but good manners were always encouraged.

Somewhere distant a low rumble did roil inside the throat of a beast that did purr with contentment, as progeny did make their own circling of the area, the two communicating in the snaps and sizzles that did gain capacitance in their throats, that did issue as rain did rake the their mottled fur, much sizzling as the thrill of stalking did render them conductive to their nature.

The sound of a paw against water, testing it, recoiling as sparks did billow out from explorative claws. A youthful experiment which did not need sight of parent to know it did not approve. Shoulders did slump, entering stalking and some shade of embarrassment as the pool surroundings were explored, shoulder blades moving in the way that predatory cats are want to do, through rain and long grass and silent danger. The mother did watch, eyes gaining illuminations of neon as motherly interest did instruct her to still observation, her own presence lurking distant, yet very much felt by her daughter's first hunt.

At the sound of the pool being sparked so, Bartels did resist the urge to croak. Instead his eyes did blink as staunch courage did bid him wait and see. His fingers did rest upon his chest, curling in what anxiety there was to endure as he did listen. Eyes to the stranger to see, what welcomes made silently by Bartels now to shared caution, as the crackle cat's progeny, the size of a regular cat in contrast to her own grander scale, did skulk and sleuth where the pool might lead.

@Azurul Kanak​

 
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Things were going as hoped and expected in light of their current situation. A friendly face did set Azurul's racing heart to ease. Returning the wave, he bowed his head in gratitude and appreciation. Working to undo his sealed bag, he pulled out a dense pouch. He pulled out several herbal berries from within that had great nutritional value and healing effects. Taking a handful of the berries, Azurul offered them to the Knight on a separate stone he had cleaned for makeshift plating.

As the water crackled, his eyes widened in surprise. Yet he did not drop the plate or a single berry. Setting it down beside Bartels, the bunny nodded. Wrapping the now dried kimono back around himself, Azurul had a few questions. Taking up a small stick, he began writing on the floor for Bartels to read;

"Greetings, I'm Azurul. I'm glad you made it out of the storm.. Did you see anything?"

Setting the stick down within Bartel's reach, Azurul looked at the frog knight intently. Every few moments a single berry disappeared as his body reclined against the roots. A small, makeshift sofa, if he had some more padding for it. It did not bother Azurul, there was something always so grounding about the earth and its roots.
 
It seemed as if Bartels was in a stupor of some sort, his eyes seeming dull and glazed and unfocused on anything at all. All except the odd flex of the fingers on breastplate, slow and soothing. The words on the ground seen yet unregistered with any hint of focus.

A blink did break upon him, slow lidded eyes did conceal and reveal themselves. Looked upon the berries provided.

A bow of the head in silent thanks, to emulate the gesture given in greeting by his host that did recline against the roots. Padded fingertips did take one gently, rolling it this way and that, before being slid between cold lips. He hunched himself down, legs set to ready springing position. He seemed quite comfortable being so poised.

He swallowed the berry, and as the berry did it's work to soothe what aches did dwell within him, faint words of ivy green did emerge as if bubbling up from the waters of his thoughts to just above his head. The words seemed as if pond weeds shifting about in heavy waters, visible yet tugged this way and that, glowing so soft as to barely cause a glow upon his pale head.

"I'm Bartels," the words did languid appear orientated to be read by his host, before sinking back down where they had come.

Bartels gave movement of the mouth that implied enjoyment of what was ingested. His eyes seemed unfixed to the middle ground, his head turning in routine regular slow arcs.

More words did trickle up, quicker forming this time.

"Nothing seen."

Another slow blink.

"Very grateful."

Bartels did make a gesture which implied he was grateful for the space, and in turn, the berries.

A high pitched whine did wane across slashed water. Much less violent sounding than the sound before. Much less a misstep of energy.

Claws against water, not the paw entire.

The kitten had learned that while it's whole paw could not enter the body of water, it's sharps could. Pleased with this discovery, it did bounder, setting ferns to tremble as it did pass.

Ferns that Bartels did see so move to the left of them, a curtain of shimmering leaves that did mark something going wide and away.

The rain did continue, shifting this way and that, eyes moving that way and this. The eyes of creatures about the forest taking shelter and cautious silent and stillness. The eyes of the kitten looking for answers in the rain draperies. The world seemed not forthcoming in clues.

Affixed eyes of mother did emanate hers however. A clue unbeknown and not understood to the hunter young who was still exploring their ways to hunt and track.

Lurking behind the depths of rain, hidden in darkness in faded mottled midnight blue coat, the mother Crackle cat did peer majestic and potent.

Mother's eyes, voided space that did hold in centre a sparking bolt each that did sizzle, were affixed direct to Azurul and Bartel's position, and did not stray, two sparks that remained constant and lethal behind the shifting rains.



@Azurul Kanak​

 
'Bartels the Knight..' Azurul thought, observing his squat companion for now. Graceful in movement and chivalry, the medic was happy to see the food was working. It was peaceful within the enclosed space despite the storm outside. Unease filled the fugitive's bones as the Mother Crackle cat stared at them. It was as if she could see through the roots and bark that hide her child's prey. Shuddering, his fur stood on end at both ears, perked up, and twitched.

"I'm glad you are enjoying it. I think we have a bigger problem." Gazing at the bark, Azurul placed his hand on the root, rubbing along the veins. Blinking slowly, he rose to his feet, stalking to the water's edge. He could feel the energy coming from the floor, the slight grind of the claws against the bottom of the waterlogged tunnel.

"We have more company.. Mother is close." Gesturing towards the water, the feeling was unmistakable. He still remembered the first time he and his family had encountered the Crackle Cats. It was a bloody exchange with heavy losses on their side. Kneeling, yellow eyes observed the bubbles coming up from below.

How long would she wait for her cub? Several hours had passed since his departure from the slave encampment. Options were limited, but he would need to make a choice soon.

First, he could run and spare Bartel the trouble, but that was not guaranteed to happen. Or he could ask this knight for help and devise a plan to escape, and just maybe meet him at the border. She could only go so far before her presence would insight another house war. With recent casualties, it was unlikely that the elves would let this happen.

"Bartel.." Azurul whispered, turning, he strode closer to the knight and knelt before him. "I am sorry for bringing you into this.." The rabbit opened his robe to expose the branded flesh on his ribs. Exposing his identity as a slave, various scars could be seen mixed with matted fur areas.

"Please.. Help me.. If you can.. If not, stay here, but I cannot guarantee the Mother will leave you alone.." He whispered further, keeping his voice low so it would remain covered by the storm.
 
https://soundcloud.com/david-giffard%2Fcracklecat

Eyes softened in sympathy, then steeled in resolve as the seriousness of the detail of past miseries endured and present conditions revealed. More the former given respect in his expression.

"No apology needed friend," his voice emerging for the first time, soothing what fears there were to harbour in sharing such identity, sharing such perceived burdens.

"Help I shall gladly, let me ponder how," Bartels did say, running padded fingers across his smooth chin in gliding motion, as if wishing to gain some wisdom for what slickness there still was from recent swim. His hand instinctively went to blade so sheathed, gathering his effects for springing motion to make.

Cunning takes many forms. The prey takes what wisdom they can in desperate moments fuelled by adrenaline and sudden changes. The valiant takes what wisdom it can their steadfast nature. As Bartels did feel the weight of his blade so nestled within the scabbard, and remembered his training to prevent disaster from a cut untimely ripped. What cunning there was within the Peace Knight did bind itself to a quick knot tied in white cord about the blade, geometric and elegant, second nature and easily woven in it's binding. The cord seemingly imprisoning the blade from being torn so freely. Not quite the binding knot demanded by peaceful enterprise, for the cord was thin and could be negotiated, yet the blessing that Bartels did instil with singular weaving blink of his large eyes took hold for virtue of the gesture. A soft breathy hum issuing from the withheld blade, and now taken within Knight's hands with purpose.

"Yes, that'll be the way," Bartels said, limbering himself up, stretching this way and that, growing all the more optimistic for his decision, despite the danger. He readied himself for boldness, and gave a glance to his fellow's outfit. Made a few assumptions as to capacity of him, born from understand the berry that had been given, understanding of the legs that did power him.

"Our deeds are made for us. The initiative shall be taken. Mother is mine to forestall," Bartels said, matter of factly, no brooding danger within his words. Factual, as if he were about to settle a tab at the bar.

He went on, providing serious advice and strategy, blinking once as he gathering himself before the roots closest to the Mother, his legs making small readying stretches of his squat form.

"Don't harm the offspring that prowls about, evade, subdue if you can as you make quick exit. Mother shall rage if the kitten is harmed I feel. I shall flip this script. I hope to shock the crackle, turn this hunt into something else entire. Be as swift as you can, I shall not tarry in your defence as you run. The Stoic Leap shall carry me to your side."

A turn of the head, a nod, a smile, a beat of time to allow what preperations were needed, and then to the roots did Bartels look. And ascend in quick hop, beyond the safety of their hiding spot, as Bartels did sally in direct line to Mother.

Bartel's eyes saw now, faint, the eyes that did spark within the thick blanket of rains that did obscure. Sinister and regal those eyes, seemingly unphased by such boldness. The mother kept her place in the audience of the hunt, all the while did Bartels did bound with oddly timed hop, evasive yet directly making charge towards the beast that became clearer with each moment he did close the distance. Valiant, yet not stupid to the danger, accepting of the threat. The crackle studied for stories that might be told of this moment, sheathed blade prepared for the ploy that Bartels preyed held true to the doctrines that had always held him true.

Yet his drawn blade had never struck something so wild and thunderous in direct sharpness, let alone his Arts of Peace. But his faith in them was stronger than anything that might draw blood. So, his trust never doubting in the lessons of the Lilypad, Bartels did meet the gaze of the Crackle, bloodlust vacant in one, growing maleficence growing in the other.

Sprawling tendrils of quick snapping and acrid spitting electricity did coil and amass about the Mother, a thorn of threats within that static coat that shimmered. Claws extended now, promising much from such foolishness. Feline in it's nature, toying in it's attitude, the Mother undaunted did not flare with bolts. There was a lesson to shown to more than just her offspring. If there was cunning to show, it would be with claws, the shocking fur that could lash out in any moment not in the spirit of the lessons to instil in the kitten.

The tail of the Mother did crack against the ground, a spiking of arcing energy making spats of noise and thunder. The kitten did turn it's attention, in awe and admiration of the mother, who seemed all the more the hero to the kitten's world as it did flare, resembling all that it wished to be one day. It began to slash the air, as if encouraging it's mother to do the prey in, and then gave another sniff of air, as realisation did set in.

It made it's way to where Bartels did emerge from, cresting the roots, but looked back as Mother's tail did lash, a distraction of hero worship, a lapse in focus irresistible to one so young. Paws still baring claws, eyes wide, it's own tail flaring with what youngling sparks it did have to draw out in emulation of Mother's example.

@Azurul Kanak
 
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Relief washed over Azurul as the Knight was indeed a kind being. Shaking slowly, he pulled the robe closed while watching Bartels pick up his weapon. Curiosity nearly got the better of him, but he did not interrupt Bartel's instructions. Ears erect and attentive, he wasted no time in preparing to move. Grabbing his bag, he pulled out two jars of a medical salve used to numb and knock out patients for surgery.

"I will dose the kitten in this, just a short nap until we reach the border to escape the dangers at hand." Nodding in understanding Azurul got himself ready to run. Double-checking his bandages, he resecured the dual scimitars upon his lower back. As Bartel ascended to distract Mother, Azurul stood by the waters' edge and counted. Ears twitching, he heard Mother Cat shift her attention by the snap of her tail.

Jumping off the root he stood on, he curved his body for a single dive to through the water. Jars in hand, as the kitten was distracted, he popped out of the water unblinking. Clicking his teeth, he got the kitten's attention as both salves plastered the kitten's face, sinking into fur nostrils and eyes, taking effect. Dizziness overcame the youth whose clawed paw batted the Azurul away. A pitiful meow came before it flopped over asleep in the rain.

Tumbling through the mud and dirt, Azurul groaned as he tried to breathe, pushing himself off the ground as the adrenaline kicked in. Sprinting off towards the border, he did spare a moment to look back to see Bartel's condition. He had to make sure the Knight of Peace was okay. Deep within his chest, he could not bring himself to leave Bartel there if anything should happen. He had fought this Mother Cat before, and he was willing to do so in defense of the Knight.
 
https://soundcloud.com/david-giffard%2Ftake-on-the-crackle



Charging forth, springing step, blade sheathed, slumber awaiting Mother from lethal blade sequestered. Should he survive to make the strike. If he could close the distance.

The crackle cat drew itself up proud, eyes widening to draw in power to the claws. Affixed to the one who raced to meet it's lashing, tatters awaiting the knight who did pursue the cause.

Playful malice ruled it's posture, a smile of sparks and grin wide of enjoyment. High bearing, it greeted Bartels with leering, paw swatting, tail dramatic with coralling thunder. Bartels did race and jinx and leap and sidestep certain frying and laceration, hands upon his blade still locked by peaceful cord as he did evade with acrobatics and ducking. No parry made, fleet of foot and springing step did provide. Close did Bartels manage to draw himself, wielding the blade full back to crash against a hip that circled, his might within the weave, his courage as banner held high above his endangered soul.

Mother Crackle heard something fall afar. Head turned away from Bartels. And saw.

Flat sheath collided, a wreathe of static answering the almost playful pat. Leeching slumber did set about their ways upon the Mother, a blossom of green that worked their soothing rest in gentle pulses.

But upon the sight of fallen kitten, all was light and shock, playful indulgence set to cinders, murder in the eyes, Mother's vengeful protection overwhelming what slumber crept against rageful senses. No peace in Mother, not yet by far. Just death that wheeled and thundered, heckles raised with appalling snapping sound.

Bartels felt himself fleeing immediate, eyes filling with blinding light as claws lashed out, scarcely parried, tail crackling with a multitude of crackling worries that whipcracked and tore the air apart with pitch and intensity.

What was dark and neon became a bristling spate of surging energy, eyes with murder looking far, to ears of the one who had brought down low kitten.

A torrent of bolts, vicious and jagged, a barrage that surged and raced through rain pummelled air, did saturate where kitten fell and beyond. The kitten would find it a tickling sensation if it were to strike it. The other two, there was little hope of surviving. The kitten did slumber in fresh blinding rain, and Mother's rage fought against her own slumber arriving, eyes narrowing as the racing bolts did surge forth in bombard. Powerful was the magic that Bartels had delivered. But far stronger now was Mother's instant emotion.

Bartels did race within that bolting bloom to Azurul, swatting what gleams of death did puncture concussive with blasting energy against the still sheathed blade, his eyes near blinded, his legs leaping and driving on. Hands that gripped for dear life's defence. Legs that navigated root and air to join his friend in need, spinning and deflecting precious little bolts that did course. His eyes upon the source.

The Crackle Cat launched itself into a sprint, bolts flaring out with every step, rain exploding as it met the coat that made the name of the beast's kind seem humble.

A single word from Bartels, who leapt, turning, seeing, a few bounds away from his companion, everything in motion, everything given to survive, blade gripped for dear life as shield, panic rising in his throat to croak out-

"Run!"

The word barely given space to be heard before a roar akin to supercharged godly tigers did rip through the air, a torrent of sparkling blinding death running alongside it.

Kitten aslumber, full of dreams, ears deaf to the cacophony of Mother.

@Azurul Kanak
 
Ducking between bush and tree, Azurul kept an even pace, watching the Knights progress with Mother. A split decision had to be made as Bartel's attack was being pushed back. Still pending, but taking longer than intended. He did not doubt that if he had waited any longer, Bartels would be nothing more than ash. Even now, as the Mother pursued Azurul, Bartels was living up to his namesake as a Knight. Blocking the stray bolts, Azurul's hands dug into his bag, pulling out one more bottle of sleep coating and a mushroom.

Even as his companion yelled for him to flee, the time was now. For every flash of lightning, he recalled the evisceration of his family. Those same paws bore the mark of his father, a mere scar beneath fur but a grim reminder of Azurul's clan. It was time for vengeance. His pace grew irregular as he took a deep inhale. It was time to swim into the depths of his mind. For another, or perhaps the last time. Throwing the mushroom into his mouth, he chewed and swallowed, allowing the herb to activate. Shroud energy pulsed from Azurul as he approached and tree at a high speed. Muscles and adrenaline rushed as he entered a Berserk Bunny Dance.

"Ton ton ton.."

His wet fur puffed out as his eyes glazed over in a trance, throwing up the bottle between himself and the crackle cat Azurul pressed off. Jetting forward, both scimitars flashed, cutting the bottle in two, coating both blades in the liquid while parrying several sparks. There would be no more running from Azurul, it was kill or be killed. Holding the left blade forward right in reverse the he parried a swipe from the cat, cutting into its foreleg. Kicking off the limb, Azurul danced between sparks and swipes, giving the Mother a few cuts here and there. Applying sleep doses over time, Azurul had one shot at this, and if he were to be knocked back, he would be done for good.

Timing and pace were everything as Mother cat turned her attention fully on Azurul, who danced and spun around a tree, her claws striking wood but failing to hit her target. The tree itself cracked and crashed down, another cut was delivered into her right paw from behind the falling tree. Gorilla tactics were in play, this would not be the same open field slaughter like before.

"Do you remember me..?" Azurul taunted as he slipped out of sight once more, blades now held backwards like a praying mantis. "If not.. You will.." Cooing gently Azurul reached into his pack once more drawing out long acupuncture needles. His feet never stopped tapping on the floor as he swayed, keeping the beast confused at his direction as her senses would soon begin to dull.

Jaded eyes looked for her prey as her tail flicked, shooting sparks towards the trees. Sweeping one blade, he spun, parrying a few in return, and he threw several long needles into her flank. Weaving behind a tree, he swiftly approached once more. Giving Bartels the time he needed to prepare and strike.

@Bartels
 
Defeat was a distant concept to the Crackle, akin to darkness in it's presence. Sparks that guided the way always, confidence in every paw placed with gleaming strike. Yet to see the animalkin that did flare it's own fur and bring to bear the fashions of steel it could never grip, some derisions were made and cautious prowling did protect it's offspring. The wounding cuts did carve what was flesh beneath the constellation of hate it did create. Neon blues of blood did hiss out, smearing the soil in crescent as the Crackle did wheel, much remembrance yielded from the gleaming wheeling steel held by ton ton ton drummer.

Slumber did mingle in the vision of it, head affixed as eyes did stagger and dart it's murder glare upon target that did elude the sight. A shake of the face, a paw about the sleeping one to draw it near to it's canopy of flashes. The Crackle's attention upon the prey that had caused such cuts upon it, who drummed and flashed it's own defences in the metal and attack in words. Less like volley now were the bolts from fur, more akin to javelin hurled with penetrating scorn, eyes flaring white with each ejecting puncture of the rain dense air.

To one who as a youth had cowered before the bolt within the ponds, this moment was everything Bartel's mother wished to steered him clear of. But here he sprang, towards the maw that threw such javelins direct, eye to eye with that wished to surge that which it wished to still. Blade still sheathed, wreathed by what time afforded by the distraction in purest opal blue, a sheen of water upon it, another layer of mockery to his safety.

The blade did resplendent jet out from the scabbard, a torrent of water rising in it's crescent held and swung in orbits as might a dancer with ribbon, endless as he did draw the waterfall in graceful, yet hurried, springing flow of weaving waters. The water wreathed where Bartels did spring and hop, twirling his ways as he did coil the waters.

Eyes of Crackle looked not to the Peace Knight who danced about in water. Such was a distraction, the thrumming feet that it could feel within it's sensitive, bloody paw were loud and demanding it's eyes. And fiercest thunderstrike that did build, from tail tip to nape of neck, across eyes that turned to white, to canine brimming with jagged wicked scorching lightning.

At this point, the torrent of water did rise as serpant, a personality sleek and graceful that did rush the Crackle. The open mouth became a violence of sputtering energy, the water causing conduction and short circuit. The water flowed beyond and wide, washing the Crackle and causing much dissipation of it's weapons of static. A yowling of disgust as water did brush it's weirding coat, midnight blue the fur revealed to none until this Peace Knight art displayed.

Water exhausted, the blade was replaced, Bartels leaping away, his eyes rueful for what his companion's words did promise.

The Crackle hunched over itself, tail striking the ground for conduction. Yet sleeping force was upon it, darkness glowing over it's eyes that did grow groggy. The generation of lightning was in lapse, frying droplets of water that had run in counter current.

The moment was now.

Kitten slumbered as Mother yowled some distance away, unheard by progeny in sleep.

Falling onto it's haunches, eyes still affixed in the polka dots of power that it tried to direct, Crackle did spark it's will. Yet found all straining and not working, so drenched in water from one so peaceful, claws still primed and trembling in anger in precious moments before sleep would rob all fight from Mother.

Sometimes there's no helping the ripples from the skipping stone, Bartels did think.

@Azurul Kanak
 
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Azurul offered a feint as he kept moving, watching Mother Crackle begin to yield to the status ailments. Prancing backwards, he observed and awaited his moment. Fierce was the lightning that Mother Crackle aimed to strike Azurul down with, a last resort that he had witnessed but once before. Readjusting his grip, the view of a Water Dragon unleashed by the Peace Knight nearly took his breath away.

It was beautiful and awe-inspiring. If his world had been like Bartel's, he wondered if he could also do the same. As the waters rushed over and subdued Mother Crackle, Azurul sprinted forward to engage one last time. Mother Crackle swiped with the last bit of energy she had left, to no avail. One scimitar pressed off the heavy paw as the other swiped up, parting muscle and skin. Blood poured down as a muted gurgle left the Crackles' lips, her vision going fully dark; her body slowly slumped over to one side as water diluted the sticky liquid. Crimson splashed over his ears and robes in uneven shapes.

Taking a short breath, the lad began to tremble as he returned to his senses. Dropping both blades point-first into the earth, he fell to his knees while holding his chest. How long had it been since he danced or even finished off an enemy while in the trance? Memories and visions came flooding in as more blood mixed with mud pooled and stained his kimono. "My family.. You are.. Avenged.. May your spirits go in peace.." Azurul whispered as his heart and breathing began to regulate. Looking to his left, he gazed at the corpse with a mix of relief and pain.

Trembling fingers rubbed through the fur, pulling solid tufts to place in his pouch. Using a vial, he added some of the blood as well for later. Stroking the fur some more, he gazed into the faded orbs, closing them one at a time. "May your soul rest as well.. Peace upon you.." Leaning down, he hugged his enemy; at the end of the day, she was but a soldier of the Hundred Homes. Reaching into her mouth, he worked out a canine, putting it in his pouch as well. "Bartels.. I am glad you are alive, thank you so much.." Azurul's emotions swirled between joy and grief, still shaking and unsteady, he could not bring himself to stand yet.

With the predator gone, all that was left was the reach the border. Breathing slowly, he worked to regain himself, looking around for Bartels, he offered a small smile when he saw the Peace Knight. "We are alive, thanks to your valiant works.." As he spoke, his voice trembled between breaths.

@Bartels
 
The rain continued to fall, giving no indulgence to jubilance or grief. Steady falling on the forever still, the deeply sleeping, the victors with their prize, their life in lieu of Crackle's. What thanks given did slide off Bartel's hide as if it were the rain did land and slip. Stillness within him, a certain poise as thoughts did pool within his brain, lodged between eyes far seeing. He didn't see what was the focus of his thoughts, his eyes failing. His mind did not fail to see beyond his sight, to that that did slumber.

He blinked after long ponderings. Movement slow, feet slapping against the pools that rain did amass. Eyes turning from felled legend of the forest, creatures now stirring, no longer fearing their hides to jolt for virtue of the silence.

"Nature runs it's course," Bartels said in solemn speech, matter of fact. Not condemnation, not praise of the stillness created. What was done by them together, for good and or for ill, was wrought. What peace there was to find to be discovered quick by one, slow by another.

His blade was returned to his back, saddled for future trials. A croak given that sealed his thoughts and tempered his wisdom.

"It is in my nature not to accept thanks for such. But I am glad you live on. That was..." Bartels said, eyes angled so that he looked upon Crackle and Azurul both, "...fierce."

They blinked slow, lids heavy, sealing long, as was the custom in such moments. What lurked within him stayed muted for now. Digesting events unravelled and bound in violent motions. He spoke on.

"This beast did wrong to you, I understand."

The following word that might have come had he been more impulsive with learned wisdoms. Instead the word was gulped down, down into his belly.

Yet.

To speak it would be an indulgence of the tadpole, who knowing only morals knew not when to speak on ethics, knowing golden rules and paths of goodness but not the moment to speak them. Such would render the sacrifice of such regal force lying in the rain a mockery, Bartels thought. And fall upon tender ears that sound of textbook council that would be rejected, the deed so freshly done, the lecture improper and wasted.

Bartels pivoted towards the Crackle laid low. Made a sign of a circle upon his breastplate, slow with wide tipped finger. A sign of the Lilypad, a gesture used for many things. How he hated to use such a gesture now, but such was in accordance of respect. No jubilance, no grief. Just acceptance. A low bow.

The animals of the wood did amass about themselves, the sounds of clamours hushed, the ringing of the ears left as sign of their issuing.

"Take what time you need. You are defended from the forest," Bartels said, standing aside to give time to his comrade and himself, eyes to the distance once again, what duty spoken and reminded working sensation into his sense of pride and dignity.

The rain did continue to redraw it's curtain.

@Azurul Kanak
 
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The truth was all Bartels offered Azurul, and it was enough for the rabbit. Gazing downward towards the fallen Crackle, he felt his body shudder from the cold sinking in beneath his fur. At the mention of its wrongdoing, Azurul felt a pang of sorrow in his heart. Tracing over old scars around the beasts neck buried beneath the fur. "It was a soldier beneath the Hundred Houses.. She no doubt had her reservations but forgoed them for the sake of her young." Flicking his ears back towards the sleeping kit, Azurul forced himself to rise and gather his things. Pulling the needles from the Crackle, he cleaned them and his blades, returning them to his lower back.

"I appreciate your vigilance.. I believe that kitten there needs it more. Its caretaker is gone, the fate left to it may be one of chains." Small hops carried him to the kit's side as he observed the tree they had come from. Looking from Bartels and back again to the Crackle, he felt pity.

"I have subjected them to the same fate I suffered.." Against his instincts, he reached out to stroke the kit's head as it slept. What would he do about it? The young should never be left alone in these cases, even if they had to; it didn't feel right to make the kit do the same. "Bartel's, let us find another spot to hide and bring it with us.. I cannot bear to leave it here alone."

@Bartels
 
Bartels did ponder, thinking on it. This was a classroom dilemma. The rain sounded like mocking applause for this dilemma so waded into. He decided he would not add to it with imitation of his lecturer, balancing weights on scales. The voice of consequence was already very present in the emptiness the rain did descend.

Paths he did peer at myopically into the forest. Appearing as dominos so cascading and tumbling ahead.

"I can't carry them, but I will support the action. I'm, well," Bartels said, giving a small gesture about himself. He was slick with rain, and the rain did cling to his pale blue skin all too comfortably to be carrying one so shocking.

"Although," Bartels did say, apprehensive, winding long fingers in the air, trying to find the words. Simple was best he deduced, with a sigh. He spoke on, softly reminding of facts.

"Let's be clear. We're not appropriate caretakers. Simply sheltering them briefly is all we can do for this one. The forest is a wild place. Whatever our civil action is, it will be briefly felt. Unless," Bartels said, seemingly perturbed by a thought. A prediction of overextending to mollify what had been done.

"You don't intend to bring them out of the woods completely do you? Alone this one is. Such has been wrought," Bartels did say ruefully, offering no blame, but baring facts that were as exposed as spark blasted bark of the trees here.

"We should do what we can, but the ripples are already in the water."

@Azurul Kanak
 
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