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Breathing hard through grit teeth, Kasik Scraphide wasn't sure how he was going to get out of this one.

The Separatists numbered three now, from what was once six. The biggest among them still lived, a bearded man appearing more norn than human and brandishing an enormous hammer between two thick hands. His smaller companion was a lanky, sinister-looking man with a dagger, and some twenty yards off, a woman with an eyepatch stood, nocking an arrow.

One older woman lay on the ground, her head split diagonal from ear to neck. A man face-up in the dirt had musketholes for eyes. The third, hardly a man's age, rolled around clutching a stump where his leg used to be, whimpering and groaning and bleeding profusely.

But the three were not deterred, and Kasik didn't know if he had the strength to push through a fight that was only half over. His whole body ached, from a dozen new cuts and from the physical exertion. He wielded a handaxe in one hand and an iron sword in the other, and he could feel his biceps tremble with the effort as he hoisted them into a defensive position.

"One less mongoloid in Ascalon," the big man gloated, his white teeth flashing through his dark beard. He took a step forward, and Kasik in turn stepped back. "I wonder. What are we going to do with your corpse?"

"I could use a fur coat," the one-eyed woman put in, hoisting her arrow up to eye level but holding for the moment. "Probably have to pick the fleas out, though."

"Gross," the weasly man interjected. "Clyn, it's a charr. It killed Molly and Rej." He gestured with the side of his head toward the two dead Separatists. "Chop its head off and we'll stick it on a pike. Parade it around like a banner." He grinned from ear to ear. "Wanna see if we can make it piss itself first?"

Kasik took a small step back. His claws scraped against the caked mud. Bending at the knees, he held his sword up in front of him, defensive and provoking. The brown charr looked toward the big man, but focused on the archer. "Now I've caught my breath," the warrior growled. "You lot talk too much."

Clyn looked at both of his able companions in turn. He spared a brief look toward his legless companion and the grass flooding in blood all around him. The downed Separatist moaned loudly, though his words no longer had form. The big man turned back to Kasik, bared his teeth, and charged.

The archer loosed her arrow, but Kasik saw it coming. He dropped down onto all fours to avoid it, and from this position, sprang up to meet the big man head on. He rammed his axe into the other's side, then broke off and tumbled to one side to avoid the counterswing. The thieving man was on him in an instant, pouncing upon the earthbound charr with dagger sweeping. Kasik turned to evade, but it wasn't enough, and the knife found a gap in his armor and drew blood near the base of his tail.

Swinging his sword, Kasik missed the lanky man's knees with the blade but found connection with the hilt, and the lanky man went toppling with a cry. The woman nocked another arrow and let it loose. It clanked audibly against the warrior's helmet, sending him stumbling back.

The big man rushed forward again, and Kasik, hearing him coming, reared up and sprang to the side. He was too slow, and the hammer slammed against his shoulderplate and sent him reeling. The charr rolled across the ground and landed on his knees, bleeding and scraped from the tumble.

Everything in Kasik's body wanted him to stay down. He was exhausted, pained, hot, and increasingly certain he wouldn't make it out alive. He was also scared for his life, and he knew in some primal sense that if he stayed down, he was going to die. So he grit his teeth, gripped the grass, and sprang up to his feet.

In one motion, Kasik threw his axe to one side and reached around for his musket. He did this as he turned to face the approaching cultists. He took aim at the closest target. The dagger-wielding man was coming in at an angle, but he hesitated as Kasik drew a bead. Sacrificing aim for speed, the charr pulled the trigger as fast as he could. The loud gunshots momentarily drowned out the sounds of the dying man.

Less than half of the musketballs hit, but that was enough. The thief stumbled backward and toppled to the ground, groaning in pain. The archer returned fire. Her arrow slammed hard into the back of Kasik's paw, and the rifle fell to the ground in a clatter.

The beaded man hurtled himself forward again. Holding the back of his injured hand against his side, Kasik brought up his sword and met the man's charge with a thrust, sinking the blade right into his upper arm and sidestepping the hammer on its way down. Clyn howled in pain and stumbled forward. Kasik, ignoring the ache and the blood leaking from his hand, slammed his paws together to grasp the shortsword in both hands. He turned with a swing to strike at the man's head, but the large Separatist lashed up his uninjured arm at the last second and deflected the brunt of the attack off of his gauntlets.

An arrow found purchase in the side of Kasik's neck. With a howl, he reached up to yank it free, but could not pull the shaft before the lanky man came at him from above. His knee connected with the tan charr's nose, and the warrior lost his footing and toppled backward onto the ground. He groaned loudly. He clutched at the arrow above his chest, but his hands were slippery with blood and sweat, and budging it only caused him greater pain.

"You flea-ridden bastard," the bearded man spat, lurching up to his feet. He stomped over and snatched up his hammer with his good hand, hoisting it up over his shoulder. "I'm gonna crush your bones one by one 'till you're whimpering like a dog."

"Grind it up into pasta sauce," the dagger-wielder suggested. Blood dripped from rifle wounds along his arms and chest, but he seemed intent on ignoring them. Grinning widely, he flipped his weapon to the other hand and advanced on the prone charr. "We'll pour it over our supper and flush the rest in the latrines."

Kasik hardly heard a word. His vision was starting to dim, but the thrashing of his body was a sort of encouragement. The arrow had missed his throat proper, and though he knew he was losing a lot of blood, he could still breathe. His musket and axe were nowhere nearby, but as he stretched out an arm, he could feel the tip of the blade of his sword. There wasn't any time to think about whether his death was imminent; there was only the urge to keep fighting until he was dead or victorious. He cut his fingers on the blade, but it still gave him the chance to slide it towards his body.

"That's disgusting," the archer spoke up behind them. "Clyn, Bub, can't you just kill him like we did the others? Just, you know, smash his head in and be done with it. I don't want..."

The bearded man advanced on Kasik. He spied the charr reaching for his weapon and picked up his pace. He leapt forward and slammed his boot down upon the feline warrior's arm, pinning him down to the ground. Kasik grit his teeth and snarled, letting go.

"Don't want what, Sara? Charr pasta?" Grinning, the skinny man turned back toward his female companion. "Don't worry, I'll eat your..."

As he turned, he saw the woman with her mouth agape, her one eye bulging. That eye went down to her chest, from which a jagged sword protruded, dripping with blood and viscera. Her eye rolled up into her head, and she slumped as the sword was withdrawn and her falling body was kicked forward.

"I think," a husky feminine voice spoke, "She was going to say, 'I don't want anybody interfering'."

The lanky man gawked, but only for a moment. The bearded man hesitated too, looking over his shoulder to see what was happening.

Kasik jumped on the opportunity. Lashing up with his unpinned paw, his claws found purchase in Clyn's lower back. The man gasped, but could not react before Kasik pulled back with all his might, sending the Separatist toppling over the charr's head. Kasik ended up getting a boot in the face, but it was worth it for the rally. Staggering up to his hindpaws, the warrior took his first look toward this new combatant.

She was a charr, and though female, she was easily his size or bigger. Her garb suggested to him a guardian's profession, and the twisting symbols on her chestpiece and pauldrons glowed as she smirked at her new foe. She didn't so much as glance Kasik's way. "Oh, no words?" she taunted the lanky man, shaking her sword at him. "What's the matter? Not hungry anymore?"

"Worm-bait!" the dagger-wielder snapped back. He rushed forward toward her, but she stepped straight into his rush and met his throat with her elbow. His body lurched forward beneath her arm, and it was the easiest thing in the world for her to thrust her sword into his stomach, twist, and pull, spilling his innards out over the grass.

Kasik could only watch out of the corner of his eye. He wasn't saved yet; even with this newcomer's help, the furred soldier was beaten badly and exhausted, and the bearded man's injuries were light by comparison. The big Separatist lurched up to his feet, turned toward Kasik, and forwent his typical charge. He approached solidly and methodically. Kasik took two steps back, then held his ground. Clyn stomped up to the charr, only to rush the last three steps and swing his hammer towards the charr's stomach.

Kasik ducked low, not to avoid the blow but to bear its brunt upon his shoulderpads. He felt his feet scrape backwards across the dirt from the sheer force of the strike. It hurt, but he was left whole and prime for the counterattack. Still crouching, the charr sprang up into his assailant, headbutting the man in the chest. His horns speared the man just on the inside of each armpit, and Clyn cried out in pain. Dropping the hammer, he beat uselessly on Kasik's back as the charr charged him backward. His heels hit a rock, and he stumbled backwards onto his rear. Kasik pounced on top of Clyn, slammed his paw down onto the man's head , and tore out his jugular with his teeth.

By the time the female charr got up to him, the man had breathed his last. Hairs of the man's black beard mingled with the blood dripping out of Kasik's mouth, and he spat these out and rubbed the residue on his shoulder with disgust. He heard her approach, but he still flinched as she strode up and thumped him soundly on the back.

"Good thing I showed up when I did," she told him, sinking her claws into his scruff just enough to cause him to squirm away. "It would've pissed me off to see you poured over noodles."

Kasik scowled, readjusting his armor and giving her a squinted look out of the corner of his eye. As a cub, he would have barked in her face, asserting that he had the situation under control and he hadn't need her help. But in truth, she had come to his aid during a time of need, and even if he would have been able to wrestle victory out of that encounter, he would have been much worse for the wear. So instead of protesting, he snorted, and gestured to the arrow sticking out of his chest. "Yeah... thanks. It woulda pissed me off too. Help me get this out, wouldja?"

She stepped forward, and together, they were able to remove the arrow without dislocating a joint or exacerbating the wound. It hurt like hell, and though Kasik grit his teeth hard and kept surprisingly quiet, she still couldn't resist the urge to mock him. "You're grimacing like a teething cub," she told him. "It's just one arrow."

"Hrrrrrr," the warrior growled, bristling slightly as he pulled back from her. He scowled down at the blood-soaked arrow, bringing his paw up to cover the opened wound. "It's a lot more than one arrow. I got cuts and bruises all over my body. There were more than jus' three of 'em, y'know."

Looking him over, she saw that it was true. She shrugged both shoulders, then toed at the grass with her foot. She murmured something under her breath, and the blue-and-white symbol upon her pauldrons began to glow. A wide ring enveloped her and Kasik, a silver-lined circle, and the male charr immediately began to feel better.

Kasik raised a paw to scratch at his upper arm. It inadvertantly opened a cut that began to bleed anew, though within seconds it started to close. "Thanks. Kasik Scraphide, by the way. Iron Legion."

"Ahnka," she replied. "Shieldmaw. Blood Legion. You know..." She brought a finger up to her chops thoughtfully, raising an eyebrow at him. He could see she was suppressing a grin, and his frown deepened for it. "It's a good thing for these Separatists that I went ahead and killed them all for you. Something tells me you would have given them some major indigestion."

Kasik grumbled, and her grin broke wider. "You didn't kill them all for me, soldier," he pointed out, pointing a sharp claw at the fallen bearded man. He trotted over to him and put his foot up on Clyn's chest, rolling him over onto his stomach. "You only killed two of 'em. I killed four."

On cue, the legless man, who had passed out and been presumed dead, broke out into hysterical crying. All eight charr ears perked and craned, and the two looked back at him. He was rolling around with renewed fervor. Ahnka turned back to him with a wry look. "You were saying?"

"Yeah, yeah," Kasik grunted. With no hurry, he trotted over to pick up his axe off the ground. He hefted it between his paws and slowly strode toward the human.

Kasik had only a little familiarity with humans, but the boy seemed young - an adolescent, maybe a couple seasons older. He looked up at the beast who had severed his limb, his body trembling with agony and anger. "You're all monsters," the boy shrieked, staring up at the advancing charr through tear-streaked eyes. "Filthy asslickers, ugly... flea-licking mongrels! Ascalon is ours! You hear me? Catch a plague and rot from the inside, you worthless... rabid... bastards!"

Kasik snarled down at the boy. His sword was drawn, yet the young Separatist made no attempt to protect his body save to curl his unprotected shoulder toward the charr. He stood still for a long moment, yet did not move to deliver the killing blow.

Long moments passed. Ahnka couldn't stand the boy's incessant whining any longer. Seizing upon Kasik's hesitation, she burst forward with sword in hand and hurtled herself across the soil. She swung in with her leg and kicked the boy square in the face, with enough force to roll him into his stomach. "Squealing hairless breeder," she growled at him, ramming her jagged blade down through the back of his neck without ceremony. "Your voice is repugnant to me."

Kasik watched, scratching his neck with his free hand. After a moment, he started to clean his blade off by wiping it on his own shirt, though his eyes watched the dying kid. When the boy finished his death cries, he spoke up. "Still counts as mine," he rumbled, gesturing toward the human's corpse. "I did all the hard work." "Seems to me you baulked at the 'hard work'," the guardian shot back. She yanked her sword out of the kid's body and wriggled her nose at the smell.

"I was gettin' to it!" Kasik snapped, rolling his eyes. The pain near his neck was really starting to irritate him again. The need for her healing magic outweighed his pride at the moment, so he quickly added, "I jus' - needed a second. Wanted t'be sure I had the strength to do it in one blow."

"Oh no, an enemy will suffer," the guardian snorted blandly, shaking her head at him. "Honestly, Kasik, I'd be more angry in your position. He wasn't just a human, he was a Separatist. You've got no reason to feel bad for him."

"Nothin' to do with the fact that he's human," the warrior said. He sunk back onto his heels and crossed his arms over his chest. He squinted as he looked her way. "I don't like humans. They're ugly, an' their voices make my hair stand on end."

Ahnka turned toward him. She pulled out a cloth from her pocket and began to wipe the blood from her sword carefully. "Let me guess. You disagree with the human-charr alliance."

Kasik shook his head. "Nah. I don't like asura or sylvari, either. Hell, even other charr are hit or miss, more often'n not." He snorted, a grin pulling at the corners of his maw. "I don't need 'em to be my friends. Just my allies."

"Uh huh," she replied, scuffing her chin with the backside of her paw. When Kasik kept his silence, she pressed him. "I'll bet you're just squeamish at the sight of blood. Aren't you, cub?"

The tan-furred charr snorted at that. "You forget I'm a charr?" he shot back. "Doesn't matter what Legion we come from. We're raised in blood." He brought his arms up and crossed them over his chest. "I jus' don't like killing the young ones."

"Young ones," she responded in a flat tone. "They grow up to be old ones." She looked down and kicked the kid's corpse, rolling him over onto his his stomach and checking his pockets. "This one mighta killed a dozen charr at worst, blocked an arrow meant for someone else at best. Either way, he'd've never been your friend."

"I don't need him t'be my friend either," Kasik grumbled. "I jus' need him to grow up so I can kill him proper."

"Hrrmmm," Ahnka sounded, but said nothing more. She bent over and rummaged first through the corpse of the slain boy, then trotted over to the archer. Kasik watched her for a moment, scowling. He considered telling her off for looting the young man's body, but decided his life was a fair enough trade for a little jute thread. He started to search Clyn, then the first woman slain, then finally the man shot through the eyes.

Soon, Ahnka trotted up to Kasik with a new dagger on her belt and a few bundled odds and ends. She grinned toothily at him, and he gave her a smirk in return. She gave him an appraising look, shrugged the bags over her shoulders, and took a chance. "I'll be heading back to the Citadel. You want to walk with me? Get a drink or something? Could pour some whiskey on your neck if you don't want to stop by the medic first." She smirked.

For a moment, Kasik couldn't place her tone. Something was off. He peered at her for a moment, then sniffed the air. "I've..." he started, then turned around for his pack. He unbound a canteen dangling off of the side, unattaching it and holding it toward her. "Got water. My shift's not up yet."

She rolled her eyes in that males-are-so-stupid sort of way. "You almost died. Come on. I'll put you in a bath and make sure you're taken care of."

Kasik blinked at her. Slowly, his eyes began to close, giving a look of unquestionably feline boredom. His scowl deepened. "I know that tone," he told her wryly. "You're comin' on to me."

Ahnka sighed at him. "You're an idiot," she spoke, her voice gruff and rumbling. But she looked around, and saw they were alone amongst the living, so she saw no point in concealing it further. "You want me to spell it out? Okay. Let's get wasted and wrestle and see what happens."

Her tone was dry, and she did not smile, but Kasik was certain of one thing. She wasn't kidding. He wished she had been. "Err." He shook his head, taking a slight step back from the aggressive female. "I don't think... we should do that." He turned away from her and headed for his fallen musket.

Ahnka bristled. She showed her teeth toward the warrior's bite, her arms tensing. "You don't 'think'?" she echoed, pointing her finger toward his chest. "I saved your ass, Scraphide. You can't even get me a drink?"

Kasik bent down and snatched his rifle up off the ground. As he adhered it to his back, he turned to look at her over his shoulder. He opened his mouth, then closed it with a frown, thinking better of what he had to say. Ahnka, in return, said nothing, planting her paws on her hips and cocking her hips, waiting expectantly. The brown charr scratched his neck, wriggled his nose, sighed, and strode up to her. "It's nothin' personal," he rumbled as he approached. "Yer just not my type."

She stamped forward and punched him, square in the jaw. He staggered back, arms circling to keep his balance. He sputtered, but whatever insult he had by response died as she pursued the advance. He stepped backward to avoid her, but she reached out and grabbed him by the collar to hold him in place. Kasik wasn't a small charr, but she was bigger than most males he had known. He stared up into her face, not afraid but concerned, because he knew where this was going and he didn't know what she would say.

"Not your type," she spat back at him. Little froths of her spit speckled his face. "I wasn't asking for you to mate for life and pump a dozen cubs into me, Scraphide. I was asking for a dinner and a conversation for the soldier who just rescued you from being ground into pasta sauce. And all you can say is that I'm not your type." She shoved him back and shot him a glare that chilled his blood. She turned from him, disgusted. "Whatever the hell that means."

Kasik coughed a couple times. Wincing, he brought his hand up to check the wound near his neck. She had irritated it, but there was no blood. He watched her pad away from him, and had every intention of letting her take her stuff instead. An urge to speak overwhelmed his thoughts, and he was surprised to hear himself speak. "It's your tail."

"What are you yammering about?" she told him, without looking back.

"Your tail," he repeated. He took in a deep breath and held it. "It's. Er. It's - too bushy."

She didn't understand him at first. She looked over her shoulder and gave him a sneer, one cheek bulging as she gave him the look one gives an insect. As understanding dawned, her mouth began to fall, and Kasik gave her a half-smile. Then she snorted, distinctly amused, and Kasik returned the sound in kind.

"You should've said so in the first place," she told him, shaking her head. Stepping toward the male's axe, she bent down and lifted it up. She gestured with it, and Kasik beckoned her with his fingers. She tossed it toward him gently, and watched as he snatched it right out of the air. "You could still buy me dinner. I just won't make you wrestle me afterwards."

Kasik sheathed his axe. "You really don't care, huh?"

"What the hell's it matter to me?" She shot him a grin. "Do what gets your rocks off, as long as you do your job as well. Just say so a little earlier next time so females don't hit you in the face, thinking you're a Dolyak's butthole. Not that you aren't." But she saw from his expression that he hadn't wanted to tell her at all, so she spoke before he could. "Will you come back to the Black Citadel now? You and I can hit on a tom charr and see who makes it."

Kasik scowled, though it didn't go too deep. "I'm no good at th'flirting game," he grunted. "But yeah. Awright. I'll come back with you an' watch you try your paw at it. Maybe if it starts goin' too well, I'll yell, 'Watch out! She's gonna kick you in th'chin!' or somethin'."

He didn't smile until he saw her laughing, a boistrous and loud guffaw that echoed over the area. "You're an idiot," she said, lighter this time. She forged ahead, shaking her head.

Kasik smirked as she padded ahead. He stepped to follow her in time, but something made him turn around. His eyes glossed over the dead, jumping from head to head until at last they settled upon the boy. His eyes were still open, and they stared straight up. One hand had raised in his death throes to and collapsed awkwardly on his chest, partially obscuring the blood-soaked wound.

The charr warrior's tail flickered behind him. He looked away, then forced himself to look back. He turned to see Ahnka's retreating form, then took one final look at the dead kid. "Cub," he muttered, and something about the word left a bad taste in his mouth. Shaking his head, he turned and trudged slowly along the guardian's pawprints.