The Warhead

he considers it carefully, quietly for a prolonged moment: it is entirely possible that a foxian would have a borisin name. common, even, if they come from colonies beyond the alliance... and that would align as well with the possibility of ending up stranded somewhere like this. a borisin lineage in a foxian would also explain the interest in hunting down local fauna for sustenance or entertainment... but is it really coincidence that his voice sounds like someone long dead?

wrist flicks, and a feathered crimson fan appears in one hand. "it's a pleasure to make your acquaintance, bataar... how long ago did you call for transport? we may be able to get you where you need to go faster, should you be willing to accompany me back to the outpost." the creeping itch of mild suspicion lingers like the slow, long scratch of nails at his collarbone; questioning, wondering. most of the captain's trainees would only have heard of hoolay in legends that had long become cautionary tales, if at all. the warhead who was supposed to be dead... voices of new faces could sound familiar to a blind man, couldn't they?... "of course, you're more than welcome to stay out here, too. if so, I may just want to know, so my general can be made aware... from which colony to you hail, and which star system? your name does not sound native to alliance foxians --- it's more like that of a foxian integrated into borisin society."

"Not too long ago. I expect them to arrive sooner then later, so feel no need to rush to my next destination. Your offer is... appreciated, but unnecessary. I have a friend in the Claretwheel Temple who owes me and will be arriving soon enough." It takes some will to keep the spite out of his voice, barely managing to do so. When he had first learned of a Borisin group dedicated to pacifism of all things, he had wanted to slaughter every member. A disgrace to their very species!

At the following questions, he wonders how much he should reveal. In a contest such as this, weaving together the truth and lies would be he best avenue to secure victory. At least for as long as it is needed to avoid summoning a greater alliance presence to this planet. He lets loose a bark of laughter at the words.

"You are indeed rather perceptive. It is indeed a Borisin name. After all, I was born as one of their slaves." He allows anger to fill his voice at the thought. The simmering rage he feels at the very presence of Jiaoqiu in front of him, though said anger would be sufficient to go along with this plan.

"Have you heard of the Chiseltooth Pack? Those warlocks of theirs that use us as fuel for their technology. During an exchange with another Pack, a few of us attempted to stage an escape. I was the only survivor."

"After my escape, I travelled for a few years before there was an accident. The ship I was using suffered some malfunction during flight, and I ended up crashing on this planet. Luckily the locals have been accommodating."

The mention of the plains bear mothers does draw a low chuckle from him, even as his blade shifts against his shoulder. "This is not the first hunt I've been on. I'm well aware of how angry a she-bear can be..."

It had seemed like a simple task. He still wasn't sure how he had ended up in this Fontaine, let alone on this planet. The backwater inhabitants, the few he had found for information had been useless, babbling about not knowing anything beyond the stars. After ensuring they wouldn't tell anyone else about his presence, he had stuck to the shadows, learning about this place.

He had appeared in one of the many nations that ruled over laughable sections of this land. Fontaine, one of the more advanced lands. Even if these Gardemek seemed laughable compared to the Aurumatons. Perhaps he could introduce biotechnology to this place, just to show them what true innovation and strength would look like. A new world to be fed to the beastships.

Still he was here for a job. As much as it was tempting to simply take what he needed, getting to know the lay of this new land would help him in the long run. The fact the job he had found was a simple bounty hunt, just meant he would get to enjoy himself.

After all, he had not been asked to bring this thief in alive.

As he moved through the sewers, finally he began to pick up a presence. Drawing his blade, a smirk crossed his face. Finally the hunt could begin.

no... the tone of irritation must be that he interrupted something, likely a search for food; perhaps he scared off some small animals in the area with his clumsy trek out here. "would that lone foxian be you, by any chance? since I had some time to spare, I figured I'd conduct a welfare check of sorts, see if you were in need of assistance of some kind. perhaps transport to the alliance? the silvermane guards also said they didn't see a ship like ours anywhere else nearby, either... it sounded like you could be stranded here." as he steps closer, jiaoqiu can gradually make out the silhouette of pointed ears against the light of sunglare on snow; with a few comfortable meters still between them now, the scent of this person he's found in the snow provides further contradiction to the conclusion his ears had initially drawn.

no, it wasn't possible.

the crimson moon was gone, and the warhead with it; feixiao saw to that herself.

It took a moment, staring at the foxian before it hit him quickly. The mans eyes. The ones that had stared at him, looking at him in desperation both as a possible cure for his master and with hatred for all Hoolay represented. The must have been left damaged after their meeting.

A grin of satisfaction washed across his face. So he had left a scar on Jiaoqiu. The memory of the poison fills his head again. Better to say they both left a scar on each other at the end of it all.

For a brief moment, there was an urge to reveal himself. To let this fox know who was in front of him, to savour the fear before devouring him, this time making sure the job was done.

Yet he couldn't. There were more knights nearby. The Alliance finding out he was alive so soon would bring more trouble than it was worth. Of course, he could simply slaughter them all, but in the end the same problem would occur. They would scour this planet for him, and start actively hunting him down once more.

As much as he would relish the chance to face them, for now he needed to wait. Rebuild his strength, prepare for his return. So for now, he held his blade back. Even if it means having to act as if he was one of these pathetic slaves.

"That would be me." He kept his words short and to the point. If he could go unrecognized through this, the better. Though the next words came out far more sharp. "I am not in need of any assistance."

As if he would ever ask for help. If he was ever that weak, he would rather meet his end! "As for my purpose here... I was indeed stranded, but have already called for transport of my own. I thought to entertain myself in the meantime, though these plains bears are little more than dull beasts."

Dainsleif, despite the colder man he has become over his long and many years of hardship, far removed from the young knight full of hope that he had once been, still feels an odd stirring in his heart when it came to circumstances like these. Pity, and a deep sorrow, fills those ocean blue eyes as he stares down at the man before him, the darkened stars within those eyes long since having been plunged into the depths of despair. Though his expression is surely one of pity, the man’s eyes hold nothing but empty promises and a long saga of suffering that hadn’t yet found its conclusion.

As always, the former knight captain cannot help but to think of his own men, and their own terrible circumstances that kept them trapped in suffering until the end of all days. Transformed by their curse, they knew little more than instinct now, knew only to follow the last orders that he had managed to give before he had never been able to behold any of their faces again.

He knows naught of Yaruf’s circumstances, but when he thinks of the past, and of the men he had left behind as he was the only one able to retain his sanity and memories, never quite sure of what had happened to them after Khaenri’ah’s fall…

If it had been one of his own men, stumbling their way into one of the nations of the Seven and pleading for help from the depths of their desperate heart… he never would have blamed them. He would understand that in that moment, survival had been the main priority, irregardless of anyone’s thoughts on the Seven and their citizens. He couldn’t hold any blame towards them for that.

He cannot help but to feel a deep pity for the man, an old and nearly forgotten knightly sense of duty starting to stir once more in his chest. The whispers he had heard as he had made his way here also stir, starting to bother him deeply… did it truly matter if this man had been an enemy to them once? Hurt and with no other options to turn to, whether one was an enemy or an ally could be all but disregarded.

Though… Dainsleif can’t help but wonder… why does Yaruf shrink away from him as if he is so terrified of him? It wasn’t as if Dainsleif was from beyond the stars of Teyvat, no reason to be afraid of him because of that. (Though, speaking of this vast universe, a small bit of anger awakens inside of the Khaenri’ahn, wondering if he would ever run into an old friend turned enemy if he kept finding himself places like this. Wondering if their swords would clash were they ever to meet again.)

Sure, he did cut quite the imposing figure: tall, dressed in dark clothing, expression always seeming to be set in a frown with eyes that had long since been devoid of light. But the once noble and cheerful Knight Captain of the Black Serpents still lingers in there somewhere, deep down below all the anger and pain as he walks through each day all too aware of his torment.

He attempts to channel some of his former self now, gently offering his left hand out - not his right, never his right - and tries to smile politely as he clears his throat, “You don’t have to be afraid, I don’t intend to hurt you at all. In fact, I would much rather wish to help your situation than to harm it further.”

Yaruf is barely able to sputter out in return, “You may not hurt me… but he definitely will!”

And now the knight can only wonder: who in the world is this “he” he’s so scared of?

Hoolay hadn't expected to return to this cursed ship so soon. Centuries of torment, memories of his far more recent defeat at the hands of the whelps of this place... It all stung at his pride. However when he had heard the rumors, he knew he had to confirm it one way or another.

Even after he arrived, there had been a buzz about it. Of a an escaped Borisin arriving and begging for help. The very thought of it made him disgusted. Just how weak had Borisin become since his imprisonment. These packs that had formed over the years, none of them had any true strength. He had hoped that perhaps Mok Tok and his ilk had just been an off shoot, a weak line. Yet hearing of this one, it was clear that the Borison had fallen far.

Gripping his blade, he stalked through the sky dock. The Cloud Knights had cleared out many after the crash, memories of the most recent time a Borisin had visited no doubt fresh on their minds. That thought almost managed to bring a smirk to his face.

Still finally as he sighted his prey, a snarl almost tore its way out of him. The scent of fear, of weakness radiated off of him. However there appeared to be a man standing in the way. The way this man held himself, no doubt a warrior of some kind. Yet holding out is hand to the weakling.

"You." Hoolay stated, stepping forward. It gave him a great deal of satisfaction to watch the weakling Borisin cower at his very presence. "Do not bother giving aid to this whelp. His fate was sealed the very moment he reduced himself to begging for assistance."

Hoolay looked down at the pathetic cub. Overtaken by fear, no better than the slaves. Worse, for what should be a proud Borisin to whimper like that. Anger at how far one of his own kind had fallen filled him. Drawing his sword, he pointed it straight at the weakling. He would be doing everyone a failure, ending such weakness before it could spread.

"yeah! he looked to be an older guy, but... it was definitely strange, seeing him out there all on his own. didn't really click until I saw all of you, though. tail, ears, the whole thing, 'cept maybe the same clothes all of you are wearing..." the shadow of the silvermane guard speaking to him vaguely gestures to what he assumes is a half-dozen armored verdant knights working with one team captain, and two in-training medics from the alchemy guild. "anyway. he didn't seem to want... or really need our help, even with all the plains bears out there right now. but now I'm wondering how he got here in the first place? he didn't seem to have a ship like those boat-things you all parked nearby."

that tidbit was more strange. stranded somehow, perhaps? or maybe even escaped from a borisin colony, but now lost? if either were the case, it would be best to try and locate the man and offer him transport back to the alliance.

jiaoqiu turns slightly back to the group of knights, who are chatting with other local guards... this was a training mission, of course; and while training, serious injuries should be fairly minimal. the captain of this excursion probably shouldn't spare any of his freshly-minted trainees on a task like this. attention returns to the guard after a moment of thought: "thanks, I'll see if I can locate him and ask if he needs assistance. could you point me in the general direction, and also let the captain of these knights know where I've gone for me?" didn't need to hear protests about his condition today.

footsteps crunching through slowly-melting snow stay steady in one direction with the hazy glow of sunlight in his field of vision serving as a makeshift compass; it's been about a half hour when one ear twitches at the sound of movement nearby that brings his own steps to a stop. he stays quiet for a moment, just listening --- hard to know out here if any errant sound could be a person or an animal. who knows... maybe even a bear.

"An enjoyable hunt. Now-" He stilled, hearing movement beyond this glade. Turning, he sniffed the air, picking up a scent. It seemed... familiar some how. A low growl rose from his throat.

Memories flashed through him. Of finally gaining his freedom after centuries of being locked up. Escaping that cursed prison, learning about the weakness that had overtaken his species in his absence.

All of it accompanied by one almost respectable prisoner.

It couldn't be. Hoolay had feasted upon him. Left him to rot in an alley, far from any help that could have come his way. Even if that trick with poison had weakened him, he should be dead. Moving he found that foxian, walking through the snow like some lost kit. Hoolay felt a flash of shock, almost equal to the rage at the sight. After everything he had done, this one had managed to live, while he had been defeated!

For a brief moment, he wanted to do nothing more than leap at him. Cut him down right now, devour him entirely, reap vengeance for Jiaoqiu's part in his downfall.

Yet perhaps there was more to be gained from this. Learning about how long it had been since his defeat on the Luofu. And getting to see the terror in the foxians eyes when he realizes that for all his plans, all his efforts, Hoolay had returned once more.