Post by The Wastelander on Jul 7, 2015 13:12:23 GMT
Fretlock was sat up under a tree, with his crystal tech axe - the musical kind! - perched across his lower torso and upper hindlegs. Though it looked kind of uncomfortable, it seemed to be a perfectly natural position for him. Didn't bother him in the slightest. His forelegs meanwhile were curled about the guitar's frets and strings, and he strummed out a gentle melody with his hooves. How do ponies work? Whatever words went with this song went unsung, or merely remained within the purview of the orange one's thoughts. No point working his voice unnecessarily. He needed it to make gems whenever he reached the next settlement that would let him perform for them. On the other hoof, guitar practice never hurt.
Noctia had been poking around nearby, seeking out certain plants she needed. It was hard work, considering the war had killed off most of them.. but there were still a few remaining that were of use. Like the tiny, unusual red blooms she soon stumbled upon. She made a noise in her throat and began to pick them gently with her teeth, dropping them into an empty pouch she produced. It wasn't until a few minutes into her hasty gathering that she realized she could hear.. something. Something that wasn't the wind, or dry rustling of the trees. It sounded like music... but not any she'd heard before. Noctia perked her ears, curious, and distractedly drew the pouch's drawstrings closed. She tucked it away and crept towards the center of the sound, and found a pony. He sat unusually, but the music came from the thing he held. She stood there, captured for a moment by the odd music and oblivious to everything else.
Funny was wandering around looking for trouble. What else was a raider for if not to cause trouble? It was the only thing worth doing in this fucking hellhole of a world, to his mind. He spotted a duo of strangers on the horizon, one of whom seemed to be carrying some kind of strange... what the fuck was that, even? Whatever it was, it made noise and pissed him off. Just because. There was his excuse. In his usual fashion he flitted above the pair - in particlar, the one further out in the open rather than shielded by the canopy of the tree - and hovered up there for a good few moments. Mmm, she was pretty- for a zebra. The pegasus drew his weapons quietly, as much as large metal blades buzzing with dark magic could possbly be drawn quietly, and then fell out of the sky with intent to pin her into the dirt in a single move. He wasn't a smart horse, generally speaking, but when it came to a fight he apparently wasn't stupid either. Disable his enemies as quicky as possible. That's how he rolled.
Noctia might have been enraptured by the strange music the pony was producing, but it didn't hide the single sound of magic-enhanced blades above her. Instinct shoved her muscles into action and she darted out of the way, simultaneously looking up as she did and catching a flash of something, somepony, descending. Danger! Her mind hissed. Once she leapt out of the way, she dipped her head down to her shoulder, and the knife strapped there by thin strings of leather. She jerked it out of its sheathe and lashed out at her would-be attacker with nary a moment to think.
Funny all but sidestepped the attempted knifing, and scoffed at the striped woman. "You're gonna have to try harder than that, you dumb zebra whore," he snorted. What a charming pony he was. He leaped forward and to one side, intent upon striking her with one of his blades as he sailed past.
Fretlock's melody cut out as abruptly as the scuffle of two previously unseen figures broke out in front of him. Wh... what? He was tempted to just leave them to it, but then the oddly well-equipped raider had to go and spout his sexist rhetoric. If there was one thing in the Wasteland that grated his nerves, it was that. Were they not all ponies struggling to survive? What did gender have to do with anything? The bard's expression grew grim, and he shifted into an upright standing stance, flicking his tail out behind him for balance. Another well-practiced pose. "Looks like somepony needs to chill..." he grunted in a thickly accented voice. The crystals on his guitar seemed to respond to his emotional state; all three lit up with a noteworthy ferocity about their pale blue glow. As the magic shifted from the crystals into the strings, he strummed his guitar loudly and with force. Light blue energy sprang from the point of impact, darting from beneath his hoof toward the offending raider in what looked and moved through the air like a burst of lightning. Shots fired. Literally.
Noctia merely growled in response to the insult and nimbly danced aside as the raider, with his blades, whizzed by her. Nice try, asshole. Although before she could move to attack him while his back was turned, she was momentarily distracted by the first pony. The one with his instrument. It was glowing, and when he struck the strings it released magic upon the raider. What strange sorcery! She'd have to find out what this power was later; first, the raider problem. Noctia gave herself a shake and went after the foul-mouthed stallion, knife lashing out again.
Funny smirked as the zebra glared at him, seemingly not bothered by the fact he'd missed her. He could turn around and try again- and he was on his way to doing that when the kid with the freakish... weapon? got himself involved. He howled in pain at the magical energy sent coursing through him like electricity. That was... unnatural! His eyes were suddenly blind to the existence of the woman, now focused on the demon-sorcerer and his accursed instrument. His face grew dark, he bared his teeth, and he charged right for the other stallion. "Fuck you!" he screeched, utterly livid.
Fretlock's eyes widened when he realised he'd drawn the raider's aggro. Uhhh.... As the infuriated stallion thundered toward him, he did the only logical thing he could think to do- jump right over the incoming blade. Of course landing smoothly on two legs was nigh on impossible, especially with the weight of his guitar to steady upon them, and so he tumbled facefirst into the dirt as soon as he landed on the other side. Welp.
Funny slid to a halt when the kid jumped over his blades. He noted the incoming zebra bitch again, and lifted up his hindhooves with intent to floor her by bucking her right in the teeth. She was a flea now. Whatever intentions he'd had for her before were gone now that he had a kid with a guitar to skin alive.
Fretlock continued rolling until he was sat on the ground- a more balanced position than standing up on his back legs, he figured. He lifted his forehooves from the ground to utilise his weapon once more. He aimed for the raider's tail and thought really hard about setting it on fire. It probably wasn't possible, but it sure was fun to imagine. Even just zapping him there would be pretty great, though. He wanted to help the zebra! ... Who apparently wanted to help him. Did that make them friends? He'd have to ask once they'd dealt with this asshole.
Noctia pulled up just in time, rearing in order to lean backwards and avoid the hooves. She followed this motion in a cartwheel with a smooth landing upon one forehoof. She seemed to balance there in a hoof-stand before the rest of her body followed and her hooves were back on the ground again. Hmph! Missed. Noctia waited until the earth pony worked his strange magic again before trying to strike out once more- she had to land a hit on this guy sooner or later, right?
Funny saw red again, rounding on the musical jerk and lunging forward to slice him right across the face if he could manage it. He was gonna tear this kid's throat out and make him eat it. That's how angry he was.
Fretlock ducked back like he was doing the limbo, and balanced his guitar on his gut to let the raider pass over him harmlessly... to him, at least. He'd do his best to zap the raider at close range, aiming in particular for one of his wings- but any part would do. Stttttrummmm~
Noctia didn't know how she kept missing this raider, especially when he was so singularly focused on the other stallion. Once the raider passed over the magic-wielder again she darted after the raider, briefly weaving around the pony and his guitar. She raised her knife again and went for a stabbing- c'mon damn you, get lost.
Funny. This fight was a mess of everypony running around one another, and he was getting bored of it to be honest. He wheeled around as one hoof touched the ground first and he allowed his momentum to spin the rest of him around so he was facing the kid once more. He tilted one blade and went to stab it downward rather than attempting his slicing leap again. It had already failed what... four or five times? Ugh. Of all the rotten luck.
Fretlock jolted back upright and forward as the stabbed blade landed where he'd just been laying. Sheesh, that was a close one... He similarly spun about, letting his guitar act as a counterweight to his movements. Once he was steady, he took shot at the raider once more. Surely it wouldn't miss again? They were right in front of eachother!
Noctia was starting to get really tired of missing this light-toed raider. She wasn't normally this bad at hurting or killing ponies! The zebra strode up next to the guitar wielder and past him, tucking the handle of her knife into the corner of her mouth. When she neared the raider, she lunged suddenly, turning her head and whipping it in the direction the blade jutted in hopes she could drag it across his flesh, or stab him somewhere with it. Hopefully her aim would be steady and true this time.
Funny laughed his ugly hyena laughter when the bitch struck her own apparent ally. "Good job, whore," he jeered, keeping the blade tilted forward and jumping forward to try stabbing the dumb kid once again.
Fretlock, while busy being distracted by the fact the zebra had hit him (rude, what had he ever done to her?), suddenly found a burning blade shoved right through his chest. His guitar hit the ground as he lost his grip on it. He could then only stand there, utterly unsure of what to make of his predicament. Was he dying? He didn't feel like he was. Then again he wasn't sure what dying felt like. He'd been in fights, sure, but he'd never had a sword shoved into him before... This was strange and unknown territory for the bard. He was reduced to a panicked silence, staring with wide eyes at the raider who now seemed to hold his life in those filthy, blood-stained hooves. Fuck.
Noctia. An expression of shock crossed her face when she realized she'd swung around too far and hit the poor sorcerer with her own blade. She made a distressed noise, only to drop her knife in shock as the raider shoved his own right through the other stallion's chest. "No!" Her voice felt rusty and strange in her throat- when was the last time she had ever spoken? It didn't matter. Noctia dove for her knife again and went at the raider, furious, to try to score some stabbing on him while he wasn't moving.
Funny was probably spared any severe damage by his armor impeding the knife's progress, but it still hurt! "Fucking hell," he hissed. "How about you back the fuck off, whore, or I'll tear this kid open and then tell all the lovely ponies how there's a zebra murderer on the loose?" He might have been a raider, but he was a pony and she was not. He held the advantage there. "If you want this stupid fuck to live, hand over everything you're carrying. Then you can have fun healing his dumb ass in the middle of the wasteland with no supplies." He smirked, but then his expression grew grim. "If not..." He shifted the embedded blade slightly. Just enough to cause unimaginable pain to his new bargaining chip, but not enough to do any fatal damage.
Fretlock was fucked, frankly. His weapon was out of reach and he couldn't wield it with the asshole's black magic sword burning through his flesh and bones. As the aforementioned weapon was twisted slightly, he cried out sharply, brought back to reality by the pain. His thoughts became gloomy. This was it for him. He was going to die. There was no way the stranger gave enough of a fuck about some pony she'd never met to care whether the raider killed him or not. Especially if the price of his life was the means of her own survival. Raiders sure lived up to their reputation of being awful.
Noctia snorted and yanked her knife out roughly, glaring daggers at the raider and his ridiculous weapon. She dropped her weapon from her mouth safely into the crook of her wrist to hold it there. She glanced briefly at the stabbed stallion before looking back, her expression angry and grim. Could she be clever? Noctia slid her knife back in its sheathe and dug through her bags. She didn't have much to start with, but she tried handing over only more obvious things: a bag of gems, some strips of leather and cloth, her food, and a canteen of water. What little left she had in her bags, she hoped she could slyly keep. Not like the raider was in a position to take a look himself.
Funny probably should have been clever enough to just ask for the bags outright, but he was too busy silently gloating over his victory. He watched carefully as she took what seemed to be everything out of her bags. "Good girl," he jeered. He waited a few more seconds, still watching her, to make sure that she didn't have any plans of a last-second attack. If all seemed calm, he'd abruptly tear his blade back out of the kid's chest. He'd move to scoop up the pilfered supplies, gallop a small distance away from the duo and then he'd fly off into the wasteland. All in all, a good time had been had. Trouble had been caused, and he'd gained some things out of it. Score.
Fretlock screamed again when the blade was torn from him, and the blood it had been holding back spilled onto the earth between them. He yet stood there for a second or two before he made a breathy gasping sound and collapsed in the small puddle, which undoubtedly would grow now that nothing was stopping the wound. His head felt fuzzy and he felt a weird emptiness in the pit of his stomach. Was he dying now? "Thanks," he offered toward the zebra, finding the energy to acknowledge her kind act even if it proved fruitless.
Noctia could only feel a sliver of relief as the raider took what she offered. She stood there watching him as he left, flying off and receding into the distance.. She would remember his face. He'd pay. But for now, she had the wounded stallion on her hooves. Reassured that the pegasus was gone for good, she moved over where he lay, taking off her bags and rooting through them. Noctia still had some bandages left in here, as well as herbs.. After she spread out her remaining things on one flattened bag, she leaned over and gently tried to roll the stallion onto his back. "Save it. It is my fault." Noctia croaked, pressing a wad of cloth to the wound, hopefully she could slow the bleeding. But if he'd been stabbed through the heart, she didn't really have a chance did she?
Fretlock gasped again, this time in pain at being moved, but tried to make it easy for her to roll him over since she seemed to want to help. "What..?" he breathed, "It's not..." If he'd been better aiming with his guitar, or even just better at getting the hell out of the way... There didn't seem to be any logic to her blaming herself. "Sorry," he added, as if to apologise for being useless. She'd lost her supplies thanks to him. "Not... a fighter." Meanwhile, the cloth would probably be soaked within a couple of minutes. They needed healing... or some kind of magic.
Noctia grunted in response and looked through her things while the padding collected blood. She found her little pouch of the red flowers and dumped them into a small, hard wooden bowl she procured. A couple of other herbs from her stash were added too, and she used a pestle to slowly begin grinding them together. Once they resembled some sort of paste, she scooted over to him. Noctia removed the ball of soaked cloth and used the tip of one hoof to start smearing the paste over the wound. Hopefully it'd help with the blood, and the rest could encourage healing. She tossed the used cloth aside and grabbed what little was rest to try to bind him up. Surely it'd hold until she could get better things?
Fretlock found himself desperately wishing for some music to calm his frayed nerves. The thought didn't help, however, as the realisation followed that given the location of his wound he would probably not be playing guitar for a rather long time after this. Panic flooded his brain and his chest started heaving as his breaths grew short and rapid with the emotion. He looked longingly at his instrument and reached out toward it with one leg, though stopped when the stretching pulled at the wound on his chest. From Noctia's perspective, the motivation for this little freakout probably looked really stupid- but music meant a lot to him. It was literally how he made a living! What was he going to do now..? He managed to keep a hold of himself well enough to not completely undo the work she'd just put into closing his wound, but he was still clearly very worked up.
Noctia looked up from the makeshift bandages, concerned as he began to breathe rapidly. "Calm." She intoned, looking at him sternly, hooves reaching to either side of his chest to try to hold him there. "Be still. I will get your weapon, but you must still." The zebra insisted quietly, stepping over him. She stared down at the instrument with some wariness but gently picked it up in her forehooves as though handling something delicate.. or potentially dangerous. It was a thing of power, in her eyes, and she set it near its wielder like a gift.
Fretlock's ears pinned back as she held him down, and he wanted to scream and thrash and vent the emotion of what had just happened now that the initial shock into silence had passed- but she didn't deserve that. He'd just have to find some other way. Some other way that wasn't music... Ha... As his axe was placed within reach, he dragged it to his side and then began to sadly pick at the strings with one hoof. It wasn't remotely musical, but it made him feel a little bit better at least. "Thanks," he repeated, unsure of what else to say now. He wasn't dying now, right? She'd helped him. That was good.
Noctia stood back once he had the thing of his desire in his hooves, her expression both solemn and thoughtful as he plucked at the strings. Eh. She walked back around to her bags, frowning as she put some of the things away. What was she to do with a stranger, a pony, out here in the wastes with a gash in his chest? She was grateful for him helping her out with the raider, which she saw was a rather unusual thing to do, especially since it nearly cost him his life. Why bother helping her? Well.. the least she could do was return the favor. "Cover might best be found soon, once you have rested enough."
Noctia had been poking around nearby, seeking out certain plants she needed. It was hard work, considering the war had killed off most of them.. but there were still a few remaining that were of use. Like the tiny, unusual red blooms she soon stumbled upon. She made a noise in her throat and began to pick them gently with her teeth, dropping them into an empty pouch she produced. It wasn't until a few minutes into her hasty gathering that she realized she could hear.. something. Something that wasn't the wind, or dry rustling of the trees. It sounded like music... but not any she'd heard before. Noctia perked her ears, curious, and distractedly drew the pouch's drawstrings closed. She tucked it away and crept towards the center of the sound, and found a pony. He sat unusually, but the music came from the thing he held. She stood there, captured for a moment by the odd music and oblivious to everything else.
Funny was wandering around looking for trouble. What else was a raider for if not to cause trouble? It was the only thing worth doing in this fucking hellhole of a world, to his mind. He spotted a duo of strangers on the horizon, one of whom seemed to be carrying some kind of strange... what the fuck was that, even? Whatever it was, it made noise and pissed him off. Just because. There was his excuse. In his usual fashion he flitted above the pair - in particlar, the one further out in the open rather than shielded by the canopy of the tree - and hovered up there for a good few moments. Mmm, she was pretty- for a zebra. The pegasus drew his weapons quietly, as much as large metal blades buzzing with dark magic could possbly be drawn quietly, and then fell out of the sky with intent to pin her into the dirt in a single move. He wasn't a smart horse, generally speaking, but when it came to a fight he apparently wasn't stupid either. Disable his enemies as quicky as possible. That's how he rolled.
Noctia might have been enraptured by the strange music the pony was producing, but it didn't hide the single sound of magic-enhanced blades above her. Instinct shoved her muscles into action and she darted out of the way, simultaneously looking up as she did and catching a flash of something, somepony, descending. Danger! Her mind hissed. Once she leapt out of the way, she dipped her head down to her shoulder, and the knife strapped there by thin strings of leather. She jerked it out of its sheathe and lashed out at her would-be attacker with nary a moment to think.
Funny all but sidestepped the attempted knifing, and scoffed at the striped woman. "You're gonna have to try harder than that, you dumb zebra whore," he snorted. What a charming pony he was. He leaped forward and to one side, intent upon striking her with one of his blades as he sailed past.
Fretlock's melody cut out as abruptly as the scuffle of two previously unseen figures broke out in front of him. Wh... what? He was tempted to just leave them to it, but then the oddly well-equipped raider had to go and spout his sexist rhetoric. If there was one thing in the Wasteland that grated his nerves, it was that. Were they not all ponies struggling to survive? What did gender have to do with anything? The bard's expression grew grim, and he shifted into an upright standing stance, flicking his tail out behind him for balance. Another well-practiced pose. "Looks like somepony needs to chill..." he grunted in a thickly accented voice. The crystals on his guitar seemed to respond to his emotional state; all three lit up with a noteworthy ferocity about their pale blue glow. As the magic shifted from the crystals into the strings, he strummed his guitar loudly and with force. Light blue energy sprang from the point of impact, darting from beneath his hoof toward the offending raider in what looked and moved through the air like a burst of lightning. Shots fired. Literally.
Noctia merely growled in response to the insult and nimbly danced aside as the raider, with his blades, whizzed by her. Nice try, asshole. Although before she could move to attack him while his back was turned, she was momentarily distracted by the first pony. The one with his instrument. It was glowing, and when he struck the strings it released magic upon the raider. What strange sorcery! She'd have to find out what this power was later; first, the raider problem. Noctia gave herself a shake and went after the foul-mouthed stallion, knife lashing out again.
Funny smirked as the zebra glared at him, seemingly not bothered by the fact he'd missed her. He could turn around and try again- and he was on his way to doing that when the kid with the freakish... weapon? got himself involved. He howled in pain at the magical energy sent coursing through him like electricity. That was... unnatural! His eyes were suddenly blind to the existence of the woman, now focused on the demon-sorcerer and his accursed instrument. His face grew dark, he bared his teeth, and he charged right for the other stallion. "Fuck you!" he screeched, utterly livid.
Fretlock's eyes widened when he realised he'd drawn the raider's aggro. Uhhh.... As the infuriated stallion thundered toward him, he did the only logical thing he could think to do- jump right over the incoming blade. Of course landing smoothly on two legs was nigh on impossible, especially with the weight of his guitar to steady upon them, and so he tumbled facefirst into the dirt as soon as he landed on the other side. Welp.
Funny slid to a halt when the kid jumped over his blades. He noted the incoming zebra bitch again, and lifted up his hindhooves with intent to floor her by bucking her right in the teeth. She was a flea now. Whatever intentions he'd had for her before were gone now that he had a kid with a guitar to skin alive.
Fretlock continued rolling until he was sat on the ground- a more balanced position than standing up on his back legs, he figured. He lifted his forehooves from the ground to utilise his weapon once more. He aimed for the raider's tail and thought really hard about setting it on fire. It probably wasn't possible, but it sure was fun to imagine. Even just zapping him there would be pretty great, though. He wanted to help the zebra! ... Who apparently wanted to help him. Did that make them friends? He'd have to ask once they'd dealt with this asshole.
Noctia pulled up just in time, rearing in order to lean backwards and avoid the hooves. She followed this motion in a cartwheel with a smooth landing upon one forehoof. She seemed to balance there in a hoof-stand before the rest of her body followed and her hooves were back on the ground again. Hmph! Missed. Noctia waited until the earth pony worked his strange magic again before trying to strike out once more- she had to land a hit on this guy sooner or later, right?
Funny saw red again, rounding on the musical jerk and lunging forward to slice him right across the face if he could manage it. He was gonna tear this kid's throat out and make him eat it. That's how angry he was.
Fretlock ducked back like he was doing the limbo, and balanced his guitar on his gut to let the raider pass over him harmlessly... to him, at least. He'd do his best to zap the raider at close range, aiming in particular for one of his wings- but any part would do. Stttttrummmm~
Noctia didn't know how she kept missing this raider, especially when he was so singularly focused on the other stallion. Once the raider passed over the magic-wielder again she darted after the raider, briefly weaving around the pony and his guitar. She raised her knife again and went for a stabbing- c'mon damn you, get lost.
Funny. This fight was a mess of everypony running around one another, and he was getting bored of it to be honest. He wheeled around as one hoof touched the ground first and he allowed his momentum to spin the rest of him around so he was facing the kid once more. He tilted one blade and went to stab it downward rather than attempting his slicing leap again. It had already failed what... four or five times? Ugh. Of all the rotten luck.
Fretlock jolted back upright and forward as the stabbed blade landed where he'd just been laying. Sheesh, that was a close one... He similarly spun about, letting his guitar act as a counterweight to his movements. Once he was steady, he took shot at the raider once more. Surely it wouldn't miss again? They were right in front of eachother!
Noctia was starting to get really tired of missing this light-toed raider. She wasn't normally this bad at hurting or killing ponies! The zebra strode up next to the guitar wielder and past him, tucking the handle of her knife into the corner of her mouth. When she neared the raider, she lunged suddenly, turning her head and whipping it in the direction the blade jutted in hopes she could drag it across his flesh, or stab him somewhere with it. Hopefully her aim would be steady and true this time.
Funny laughed his ugly hyena laughter when the bitch struck her own apparent ally. "Good job, whore," he jeered, keeping the blade tilted forward and jumping forward to try stabbing the dumb kid once again.
Fretlock, while busy being distracted by the fact the zebra had hit him (rude, what had he ever done to her?), suddenly found a burning blade shoved right through his chest. His guitar hit the ground as he lost his grip on it. He could then only stand there, utterly unsure of what to make of his predicament. Was he dying? He didn't feel like he was. Then again he wasn't sure what dying felt like. He'd been in fights, sure, but he'd never had a sword shoved into him before... This was strange and unknown territory for the bard. He was reduced to a panicked silence, staring with wide eyes at the raider who now seemed to hold his life in those filthy, blood-stained hooves. Fuck.
Noctia. An expression of shock crossed her face when she realized she'd swung around too far and hit the poor sorcerer with her own blade. She made a distressed noise, only to drop her knife in shock as the raider shoved his own right through the other stallion's chest. "No!" Her voice felt rusty and strange in her throat- when was the last time she had ever spoken? It didn't matter. Noctia dove for her knife again and went at the raider, furious, to try to score some stabbing on him while he wasn't moving.
Funny was probably spared any severe damage by his armor impeding the knife's progress, but it still hurt! "Fucking hell," he hissed. "How about you back the fuck off, whore, or I'll tear this kid open and then tell all the lovely ponies how there's a zebra murderer on the loose?" He might have been a raider, but he was a pony and she was not. He held the advantage there. "If you want this stupid fuck to live, hand over everything you're carrying. Then you can have fun healing his dumb ass in the middle of the wasteland with no supplies." He smirked, but then his expression grew grim. "If not..." He shifted the embedded blade slightly. Just enough to cause unimaginable pain to his new bargaining chip, but not enough to do any fatal damage.
Fretlock was fucked, frankly. His weapon was out of reach and he couldn't wield it with the asshole's black magic sword burning through his flesh and bones. As the aforementioned weapon was twisted slightly, he cried out sharply, brought back to reality by the pain. His thoughts became gloomy. This was it for him. He was going to die. There was no way the stranger gave enough of a fuck about some pony she'd never met to care whether the raider killed him or not. Especially if the price of his life was the means of her own survival. Raiders sure lived up to their reputation of being awful.
Noctia snorted and yanked her knife out roughly, glaring daggers at the raider and his ridiculous weapon. She dropped her weapon from her mouth safely into the crook of her wrist to hold it there. She glanced briefly at the stabbed stallion before looking back, her expression angry and grim. Could she be clever? Noctia slid her knife back in its sheathe and dug through her bags. She didn't have much to start with, but she tried handing over only more obvious things: a bag of gems, some strips of leather and cloth, her food, and a canteen of water. What little left she had in her bags, she hoped she could slyly keep. Not like the raider was in a position to take a look himself.
Funny probably should have been clever enough to just ask for the bags outright, but he was too busy silently gloating over his victory. He watched carefully as she took what seemed to be everything out of her bags. "Good girl," he jeered. He waited a few more seconds, still watching her, to make sure that she didn't have any plans of a last-second attack. If all seemed calm, he'd abruptly tear his blade back out of the kid's chest. He'd move to scoop up the pilfered supplies, gallop a small distance away from the duo and then he'd fly off into the wasteland. All in all, a good time had been had. Trouble had been caused, and he'd gained some things out of it. Score.
Fretlock screamed again when the blade was torn from him, and the blood it had been holding back spilled onto the earth between them. He yet stood there for a second or two before he made a breathy gasping sound and collapsed in the small puddle, which undoubtedly would grow now that nothing was stopping the wound. His head felt fuzzy and he felt a weird emptiness in the pit of his stomach. Was he dying now? "Thanks," he offered toward the zebra, finding the energy to acknowledge her kind act even if it proved fruitless.
Noctia could only feel a sliver of relief as the raider took what she offered. She stood there watching him as he left, flying off and receding into the distance.. She would remember his face. He'd pay. But for now, she had the wounded stallion on her hooves. Reassured that the pegasus was gone for good, she moved over where he lay, taking off her bags and rooting through them. Noctia still had some bandages left in here, as well as herbs.. After she spread out her remaining things on one flattened bag, she leaned over and gently tried to roll the stallion onto his back. "Save it. It is my fault." Noctia croaked, pressing a wad of cloth to the wound, hopefully she could slow the bleeding. But if he'd been stabbed through the heart, she didn't really have a chance did she?
Fretlock gasped again, this time in pain at being moved, but tried to make it easy for her to roll him over since she seemed to want to help. "What..?" he breathed, "It's not..." If he'd been better aiming with his guitar, or even just better at getting the hell out of the way... There didn't seem to be any logic to her blaming herself. "Sorry," he added, as if to apologise for being useless. She'd lost her supplies thanks to him. "Not... a fighter." Meanwhile, the cloth would probably be soaked within a couple of minutes. They needed healing... or some kind of magic.
Noctia grunted in response and looked through her things while the padding collected blood. She found her little pouch of the red flowers and dumped them into a small, hard wooden bowl she procured. A couple of other herbs from her stash were added too, and she used a pestle to slowly begin grinding them together. Once they resembled some sort of paste, she scooted over to him. Noctia removed the ball of soaked cloth and used the tip of one hoof to start smearing the paste over the wound. Hopefully it'd help with the blood, and the rest could encourage healing. She tossed the used cloth aside and grabbed what little was rest to try to bind him up. Surely it'd hold until she could get better things?
Fretlock found himself desperately wishing for some music to calm his frayed nerves. The thought didn't help, however, as the realisation followed that given the location of his wound he would probably not be playing guitar for a rather long time after this. Panic flooded his brain and his chest started heaving as his breaths grew short and rapid with the emotion. He looked longingly at his instrument and reached out toward it with one leg, though stopped when the stretching pulled at the wound on his chest. From Noctia's perspective, the motivation for this little freakout probably looked really stupid- but music meant a lot to him. It was literally how he made a living! What was he going to do now..? He managed to keep a hold of himself well enough to not completely undo the work she'd just put into closing his wound, but he was still clearly very worked up.
Noctia looked up from the makeshift bandages, concerned as he began to breathe rapidly. "Calm." She intoned, looking at him sternly, hooves reaching to either side of his chest to try to hold him there. "Be still. I will get your weapon, but you must still." The zebra insisted quietly, stepping over him. She stared down at the instrument with some wariness but gently picked it up in her forehooves as though handling something delicate.. or potentially dangerous. It was a thing of power, in her eyes, and she set it near its wielder like a gift.
Fretlock's ears pinned back as she held him down, and he wanted to scream and thrash and vent the emotion of what had just happened now that the initial shock into silence had passed- but she didn't deserve that. He'd just have to find some other way. Some other way that wasn't music... Ha... As his axe was placed within reach, he dragged it to his side and then began to sadly pick at the strings with one hoof. It wasn't remotely musical, but it made him feel a little bit better at least. "Thanks," he repeated, unsure of what else to say now. He wasn't dying now, right? She'd helped him. That was good.
Noctia stood back once he had the thing of his desire in his hooves, her expression both solemn and thoughtful as he plucked at the strings. Eh. She walked back around to her bags, frowning as she put some of the things away. What was she to do with a stranger, a pony, out here in the wastes with a gash in his chest? She was grateful for him helping her out with the raider, which she saw was a rather unusual thing to do, especially since it nearly cost him his life. Why bother helping her? Well.. the least she could do was return the favor. "Cover might best be found soon, once you have rested enough."
End.
[The dice were really fucking with us this round, that's why there's so many misses.]
[The dice were really fucking with us this round, that's why there's so many misses.]