6th of Frost, 120
It was with exhaustion and pain that Arkash climbed the stairs of the underground headquarters. Blood dripped from the edges of his form while he leaned on the wall for support. The rifle that weighed on his back was no exception, as it was also matted and stained with the lifeforce of his foes. Everyone in that facility, though he'd suffered for it, had perished by his claws. The graze of crossbow bolts on his thigh and bicep, the shallow stab of a bolt in his forearm, a slash across his chest, and several burns all over his head, arms, and shoulders.
The leathers that covered his form had melted in patches, and the fur that lined the rims of his apparel had been singed. Yes, one of the men there, a Jindai, had set Arkash on fire. To put himself out, he split the Jindai's neck and doused the flames in blood. He normally wasn't so careless in his attacks, his assassinations, but he hadn't known of a people that could breathe fire before that day.
A thin, tapering stream of crimson pooled around his foot claws as he ascended the old, wood-paneled staircase, though he spared it not so much as a glance as he approached the landing. At the top of the stairs was a short runway, a tall wooden door, and a Jindai that was missing half their head. That was Arkash's first victim that day, a simple pop of his pistol killed the giant instantly. Arkash drew a deep breath through his nose, then exhaled just as deeply though his mouth. The scent of death clung to his nose and palette. The metallic stink of copper blinded his senses, but it was a comfortable blindness. Warm, muggy, quiet. His job was done, he could rest easily knowing that.
That was until the boom of firing rifles stirred him from the trance he'd slipped into. Screams ensued, along with the bark of orders. Something was happening on the streets, something startling, something terrible. The sounds ran shivers down Arkash's spine, and brought his blood to curdle while his heart beat quickly. Instinct told him to run, to find a place to hide and weather the storm. But his conscious mind stood firm. With a deep breath, Arkash approached the door and unlocked the latches with a hurried, panicked shake to his claws.
When the door opened, the shriek of hollows and barked orders roared over the ambient screams of the downtrodden, and shook Arkash at his core.
Those things. Those monsters always frightened him. He hated them with every fiber of his being, but they were endless in number and covered the grounds of the higher districts infinitely. He could never eradicate them or be free of their screams. He ultimately had to face the terror they imposed, but Arkash wasn't brave enough. Just one shriek was enough to stop him in his tracks. Just one hollow was all it took.
"FIRE!" Rang a voice from beyond the alley, followed by the spray of gunfire. Arkash ducked and covered his head at the sound. His body soock while his form surged with adrenaline. Someone had launched an organized attack on Lower Nivenhain. The Argent Knighthood? They owned the hollows and the guns both.
Arkash carefully rose from behind a broken crate in the snowy alley, then strafed back to the hidden door of the bloodstained compound before his claws fumbled over a broken plank that laid buried in the icy quilt. His eyes fell on his feet in shock and despair before he glanced back up. The firing squad was there in the street, and one of the knights looked in his direction.
Quick as a flash, Arkash disappeared into the doorway of the headquarters once more. He stayed there in the muggy, bleeding warmth of the tomb he'd created, and held his breath. Did the knight see him? Had the knight's eyes adjusted to the shade of the alley? He couldn't be sure of the answer, not until the sound of sabatons crunching snow filled his non-existent ears. The knight was approaching, walking down the alley without caution. The rathor's heart sank. The click and clank of his armor rang loud in the rathor's ears and forced Arkash's hand to his hip of its own volition.
The argent stepped to the doorway, and turned to lift his rifle at the dark of the hall, only to meet the barrel of Arkash's pistol point blank. The lizard extended his arm and leg to the walls of the hall to support his bodyweight while his free arm held the gun at the argent's eye level. Without a second thought, Arkash squeezed the trigger and launched the bullet directly into the space between the knight's eyes. The impact of the bullet snapped the argent's gaze upward and pushed their head back. The booming clang, akin to the toll of a bell, was the sound of Arkash's bullet striking the argent's helm.
The recoil that came with holding the weapon in such a fashion knocked Arkash from his place between the two walls and dropped him on his side with a muffled thud. The dead Jindai broke his fall, but the Argent wasn't so fortunate, as they fell backward and hit the ground in such a way that knocked the helmet from their mangled head. Arkash caught his breath for a moment or two before he clambered to his feet and ejected the empty shell in his pistol. The rath peered around the corner while he caught his breath, and found that the firing squad had moved on down the street somewhere, he could hear the barks of orders and the like, but they weren't there with him, which was cause to sigh with relief.
Quickly, he dashed and began to look over the fallen Argent. He gathered as many shells as he could, then loaded his pistol and rifle both to their maximum capacities, then bared his teeth and ran out onto the street. The screams of the nameless echoed all around him, and the hacking and slashing of meat served as a reminder of the force and danger that rampaged where he stood. All around him was violence; men, women and children being cut down indiscriminately of their race. The stink of blood, piss and vomit accompanied the image as Arkash drank all the stimuli he could with his widened yellow eyes. It was a slaughter. The Argent were culling them.
His haze fell upon a mother and her son as a Knight closed in with their blade raised overhead. On impulse alone, Arkash lifted the pistol in his claws, aimed, then fired. The thud of his bullet struck the Argent's helmet and knocked the man off balance. It hadn't so much as dented the metal, but the force of a strike like that was surely ringing in the knight's head. While the man staggered, Arkash dropped his pistol and slung his rifle into his claws. The stock fell into the hold of his armpit almost naturally, and his left arm lifted to aim down the sight while his right squeezed the trigger. A second blast struck the argent, and flung the plated human to the ground with a sizeable dent in the side of their helm. The visor was crumpled on one side, half-blinding the knight and robbing them of their depth perception.
It wasn't enough; the argent still lived. With his teeth bared, Arkash slung the rifle over his back, then bolted for the floored man.
The woman and her son both were in panic-driven tears as they watched the scene, and the mother covered the boy's eyes as Arkash leaped, aimed, and drove the point of his knife into the eye of the argent's visor. His claws stayed still there, holding the dead argent in place while he breathed the smell of fresh blood.
For all his injuries and pain, Arkash was alive in that moment. He was alight like the starry night sky physically and mentally. Wild, narrow eyes peered to the woman and her boy with a violent snap of his head. "Gerr'in th' Alley!" He ordered with a fling of his arm, which ripped the gore-spattered dagger from the argent's face with a spray of red. Without a word, the woman collected her son, covered him with her form and bolted to the directed alley.
Two. Two argent had fallen to his claws. They were sloppy, almost unprepared by the way the men felt. Obviously, they entered lower Nivenhain expecting a bloodbath. Though they were right to expect smooth sailing, there were sharks in the waters. Arkash had already tasted blood and was out for more.
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