Carnasaur
Nazqua
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Suddenly Omeotl halts the group. Without giving a word, the chameleon lets loose the dart loaded into his blowpipe before, now no longer concerned with remaining quiet, speaking for his chameleons, Xlauax included to unleash their worst upon the disorganized warmbloods
---
Wiping away a small trickle of sweat from his forehead, one of the loggers takes a step back taking in a deep breath of the ash filled air. Bracing himself, he grips his axe, readying to take another chunk out of the tree he was working on. The lumbering process had been going well today.
Rather abruptly the sound of snapping branches breaks the relative monotony. A handful of multicolored birds fan out, spraying from a denser group of tree’s up ahead, making alien shrieks as they go… Unaware of the heavy breathing the noises hide, the warmblood's mind is eased as the gentle dribble of conversation beside him continues alongside the distant sound of crackling flames. Perhaps another logging group had been assigned to their location and was on the way.
That assumption however, could not be more wrong.
Suddenly a whizzing sound rips past his ear. Turning to face his companion, the logger watches in horror as his partner’s eyes open wide, his pupils black as death, his mouth frothing with a red foam. A bone dart is lodged in his partner's neck, penetrating his trachea with a small, minuscule dribble of blood.
As the body collapses to his side, the logger turns in the direction of the shot to see the alien face of some two limbed reptile recede back into the brush, merging with the undergrowth and disappearing. His heart skipping several beats as he breathed in heavy.
Before the air could even escape his lungs to shout the jungle in front of him erupts. At first it looked as if the undergrowth itself was shifting out of position, begging to charge forward, but now out in the open it became clear. They had arrived.
With a singular guttural snarl Tezka lifts up a hand before releasing his fan of saurian warriors. The panicked shouts of those several warmbloods first to notice the lizardmen pierce through into the clearing are quickly drowned out by the deep, guttural roar’s of the saurus and now skink directed kroxigors. This would be a massacre.
Within seconds the saurus were upon them. 3 of the 5 strong group of loggers immediately before them cut down in a display of brutal efficiency, coating a handful of the Saussure in a spray of blood as the other two humans began to run to the larger group behind, screaming and scrambling as they did so. Their efforts where however in vain, their running forms tumbling headfirst into the mud seconds later as darts filled their faces. Fitting. They who had brought such pain upon the land would now fertilize it with their own blood.
Now realizing what was at hand, what looked to be not an elf, but a man coated in shining metal and plumbing feathers rapidly ordered for his loggers to begin mounting the carts, trying to send a handful of men towards the saurus in hopes of halting their advance. They, however, were not suicidal, many deciding to instead begin scrambling away in a frenzied run for the jungle.
---
Meanwhile, Uykar strains to hold the Ahuatli in place, looking down to the priests with a cruel smile before giving a nod to the skinks below, allowing them to follow in pursuit of the saurus with their kroxigors, Quas getting rapidly swept away towards the combat before his slow question was even considered.
Likewise, Xiuhcoatl suddenly thrashes on her leash, the thick smell of blood on the air reaching her smoking nostrils as the sound of shouting shatters whatever smooth calming sensation that was affecting Xolek-zi as a result of his pipe.
---
Wiping away a small trickle of sweat from his forehead, one of the loggers takes a step back taking in a deep breath of the ash filled air. Bracing himself, he grips his axe, readying to take another chunk out of the tree he was working on. The lumbering process had been going well today.
Rather abruptly the sound of snapping branches breaks the relative monotony. A handful of multicolored birds fan out, spraying from a denser group of tree’s up ahead, making alien shrieks as they go… Unaware of the heavy breathing the noises hide, the warmblood's mind is eased as the gentle dribble of conversation beside him continues alongside the distant sound of crackling flames. Perhaps another logging group had been assigned to their location and was on the way.
That assumption however, could not be more wrong.
Suddenly a whizzing sound rips past his ear. Turning to face his companion, the logger watches in horror as his partner’s eyes open wide, his pupils black as death, his mouth frothing with a red foam. A bone dart is lodged in his partner's neck, penetrating his trachea with a small, minuscule dribble of blood.
As the body collapses to his side, the logger turns in the direction of the shot to see the alien face of some two limbed reptile recede back into the brush, merging with the undergrowth and disappearing. His heart skipping several beats as he breathed in heavy.
Before the air could even escape his lungs to shout the jungle in front of him erupts. At first it looked as if the undergrowth itself was shifting out of position, begging to charge forward, but now out in the open it became clear. They had arrived.
With a singular guttural snarl Tezka lifts up a hand before releasing his fan of saurian warriors. The panicked shouts of those several warmbloods first to notice the lizardmen pierce through into the clearing are quickly drowned out by the deep, guttural roar’s of the saurus and now skink directed kroxigors. This would be a massacre.
Within seconds the saurus were upon them. 3 of the 5 strong group of loggers immediately before them cut down in a display of brutal efficiency, coating a handful of the Saussure in a spray of blood as the other two humans began to run to the larger group behind, screaming and scrambling as they did so. Their efforts where however in vain, their running forms tumbling headfirst into the mud seconds later as darts filled their faces. Fitting. They who had brought such pain upon the land would now fertilize it with their own blood.
Now realizing what was at hand, what looked to be not an elf, but a man coated in shining metal and plumbing feathers rapidly ordered for his loggers to begin mounting the carts, trying to send a handful of men towards the saurus in hopes of halting their advance. They, however, were not suicidal, many deciding to instead begin scrambling away in a frenzied run for the jungle.
---
Meanwhile, Uykar strains to hold the Ahuatli in place, looking down to the priests with a cruel smile before giving a nod to the skinks below, allowing them to follow in pursuit of the saurus with their kroxigors, Quas getting rapidly swept away towards the combat before his slow question was even considered.
Likewise, Xiuhcoatl suddenly thrashes on her leash, the thick smell of blood on the air reaching her smoking nostrils as the sound of shouting shatters whatever smooth calming sensation that was affecting Xolek-zi as a result of his pipe.
