The Battle Majestic (Round 4 - Magpie Skies)

Originally posted on MSPA by Schazer.

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SpoilerProobably a mess of disconnect considering it's the piecemeal effort of several days leaving it up in an untouched tab for several hours, it seems. I say I may go back and edit it, but I probably won't.

With a final delighted chatter, the last of the warriors fled the clearing. The patch of decidedly ill-looking forest was left eerily quiet save for the Tender's victorious crowing and the odd creak of a tree that had been pushed beyond its limits in service to Sen. The beast huffed gently, the cradling tendrils dying away around him as it lay content in the tropical sun. A stretch, a languorous, needle-tooth yawn, and Sen's hardwood claw started absently peeling off the plate armour, the whorled panels tumbling discarded down the sides of his gnarled citadel.

Standing, and stretching properly this time without the constraint of solid wood, the Tender crooned to itself, feeling thoroughly at peace with the world again. He surveyed the carnage from his throne, crrkt-ing with satisfaction as a telltale groan behind him became more drawn out. Moments later, a magnificent old giant, festooned with moss and creeper, began its stately descent, its essential biological processes having been terminally diverted to the exhausting task of growing far too many roots on one side. Sen cocked his head, trying to figure which way the tree was falling, before electing to abdicate. Sending one final command through the pillar of roots (and the weary trees that had contributed to it) to die, the beast scrambled down with only a couple of ungainly steps. There was a good minute or so until the craning behemoth would begin the rush to rest its crown in the clearing, but Sen certainly didn't fancy being stuck beneath it. Landing with a thud and clack as first his good hand, then his one with the wooden finger, took his weight, Sen, more out of habit, yowled the keening klaxon call reserved for when a peripheral tree was going down on his home world.

And to his surprise; a reply. Not the wail of his kin, but a frightened scream from across the clearing. Trrrrting in a conflicted fashion between a tree, slowly but unstoppably resorting to horizontal, and curiosity, Sen grunted and loped off to investigate.


Staying alert and aware while on the hunt, no matter how deceptively familiar the territory, was a vital skill for any huntress. Young Tolo was learning this the hard way, foolishly concluding that the easiest way to deal with the added hours of patrolling would be with a few extra leaves to smoke at night. A morning's inadequate rest, followed by her ferocious patrol leader mother dragging her along to apprehend one of the devils, had left Tolo dozy and irritable, and as a consequence, lying on the forest floor, breathing raggedly, impaled through the thigh with an acacia spine. Trying to sneak away from the main group, where the Tender's plant-warping attention had been concentrated, hadn't helped when she'd tripped over a marauding root onto the aforementioned spike. And her screams for help had attracted the wrong kind of attention - the green devil had trotted to her side, appraising her from above, while the dying tree loomed behind the tilted head, threatening to crush them both.

Sen glanced up at the creaking tree, then nudged Tolo with his foot, eliciting a pained expletive from the young woman. The Tender blinked, and must've looked ready to leave, for she cried desperately, "No! Please, help me!" Somehow, the creature must've understood that to leave the girl there would be to finally be properly responsible for a death - or perhaps Sen recalled his first memories of humans, only seeking to help him, understand him. Perhaps the battlelust had faded enough for the Tender to remember its role was an envoy; not a soldier. Regardless of intent, the Tender worked its snub head under the huntress, levering her up despite her protests of the spine still digging in. Ceasing her agonizing for long enough to wrap her arms around Sen's neck, the awkward quadruped made its stumbling, combined way out of the path of the falling tree. The timbre of its groaning changed enough that Sen lurched a little faster, eliciting more cries of pain from Tolo, until the tree ceased its bellyaching and came crashing to the ground.

Savouring the loamy smell of upturned dirt, Sen unceremoniously dumped Tolo on the ground to another cry, and trotted down the length of the downed giant until he was poking amongst its upturned roots. A sunward glance, an excited twitch of his fingers as the ground's quality proved ideal enough, considering the circumstances, and Sen had cleared the mess in a leap and strutted round the churned-up ring of soil which only an hour prior had a healthy tree growing from it. The Tender began to dig, the rutted dirt yielding easily to his enthusiastic claws. It took only moments to grab the pod from his left shoulder (the right was his preferred one to land on in a roll, anyway), nestle it in the soft loam at the base of the pit, and cover it all up before skipping back to Tolo.

The girl was lying on the ground, too worn out to do anything other than take deep breaths to stave off the pain. The now-open wound leaked a sluggish trickle of loam-staining red, the iron tang making Sen bare his teeth a little. Despite her protests, Sen flipped her over with a idle flick of his paw, slashed open his forearm, and daubed the barkslime upon her wound until it sealed shut, grumbling in a snarly sort of way that made Tolo cease her attempts to escape. The muscle was still ravaged, but at least the hole was patched over. Tolo stared up at the devil in confusion. Sen chattered, grinning, before lowering his head again and letting the girl wrap her arms around his neck, lifting her up before shuffling over to a tree and resting his snub head upon it, looking almost contemplative were it not for the huntress dangling off his front.

With a lurch, the Tender rose to its feet, and slowly lumbered off, to Tolo's surprise, in the direction of the village.