Itâs the little things...Pt 2
Roelstra knew Ausric felt bad for her coming along, on what she only surmised was a simple reconnaissance, all too glad to help. The huntress was oblivious to his need for vengeance on a friend of the company. Â Sheâd been in Draenor for reasons of duty and safety, so she felt as if sheâd been rather useless in this whole Faceless to-do, knowing next to nothing. â Oh, come off it, I need to be of -some- assistance, at least.â, sheâd insisted. Approaching the tower, her Gilnean mastiff Wheatley padding along beside her, sheâd eyeball the structure with mild interest, the massive rifle sliding from her shoulder into her gloved hands. Her mastiff took to sniffing the perimeter at the queue provided by a couple firm pats to his rump. Ausric seemed lost in thought even after they approached their destination and he lit the brazier heâd left in the tower, frowning as she hesitantly called for his attention.
âBoss?â
Looking up, his gaze met hers and holding it before replying, â Iâm ready, donât you worry.â Removing a knife from his belt and making a small cut in his forearm, heâd call as if speaking to an invisible figure, âCome, send a Champion. Â You did promise Iâd regret defying you after all.â Next, heâd turn to her as he sheathed the blade, âFor no reason are you to enter this tower, Roe. No reason. At all. Understood?â Her own auburn crown dipped into a nod, as she turned to scan the surrounding area outside of the doorway. â Yes sir, I hear you.â, Gilnean accent softened with mild distraction as she kept her senses on peak. A small number in the Company knew her to be worgen, not just a Gilnean citizen whoâd survived the fallout from the curse years before. Ausric was not one of those few, yet. Should they survive, sheâd finally open up to the rest of that lot. She hadnât been with the Kokalt Company for more than a couple months, give or take, but theyâd earned enough of her trust that she could reveal her nature without great fear of repercussion.
Sauntering within twenty yards of the tower, sheâd take care to lay down a few traps meant to slow any ill meaning would-be attackers. Mainly traps of ice or frost. Wheatley had taken to rotating around a perimeter of the same distance from the tower, only going the opposite direction and meeting up with his master after the last trap was laid. Well trained as he was, it was easy to avoid her traps. That training also allowed him to pick up on a lone approaching figure, turning his wrinkled muzzle in that general direction, sniffing loudly. Hopefully, Ausricâs preparations were finished, as Wheatleyâs friendly if not dopey manner changed on a dime. Lowering and spreading his front paws in a defensive stance, his sharp teeth revealed as his maw parts in a deep bass growl. His ears pinned back towards his skull as she followed his line of sight, pulse fluttering. His steps were the only ones heard thus far, so with confidence sheâd shoulder her weapon, staring down itâs scope to better view this individual. All she saw was black, clothing and armor and weaponry. Nostrils flared, scenting him on the wind and she understood why Wheatley was on the alert now. This bloke had to be who Ausric was worried about.
âOi! Name yourself!â, sheâd call when he was within shouting distance.
She couldnât see it, but behind his mask, he smirked. â Thatâs of no consequence, really, as you wonât need it once Iâm through with your commander.â
Snorting, sheâd pull the rifleâs hammer back with an ominous click, leveling her sights on his brow. â Iffnâ you get past me and my hound. Iâm not askinâ you again.â Â
It wouldnât be more than a couple heartbeats before the stranger would advance, and thatâd be all the reason sheâd need to act. Squeezing her trigger finger, the recoil would be felt slamming against her shoulder before the BOOM would resonate over the immediate area, no doubt heard by Ausric within the tower. The shot managed to hit the shield on his left arm, but missed penetrating the armor or flesh. Wheatley sprang with a snarl, intent on slowing the attacker with well placed shoulder butts or bites to his lower extremities. Teeth met their mark on the manâs right arm, but not before an armored foot connected with the houndâs rib cage in a sickening thud. The yelp was the result of the pain shooting through Wheatley and ribs cracking. Stumbling, heâd let go and the attention was now on the huntress herself.
Reloading a shot with haste, sheâd level her rifle again, but aim for the gut this time around. BOOM, the rifle sounded again, and caught his side and cloak. Marking and altered trajectory, but no penetration worth noting. What in the hell kind of armor did this man possess thatâd take a load of buckshot and prevent -any- penetration of flesh? At the very least, he should be bleeding, if not have the wind knocked from him. He just kept coming! And so did her faithful Wheatley, snarling as best he could and sending the man staggering with a bite to his thigh. For his efforts, the mastiff was decked aside with a forceful backhand to the jaw, a second and louder yelp signalling his defeat.
âWheatley!!â, sheâd cry, lowering her rifle from her shoulder. Colliding with her as he moved past her, sending her spinning.
âEnough of this. Iâve business with your commander. And with you, once Iâm through with the whelpâŚâ And like that, he essentially disappeared into the tower, at Ausricâs mercy here on out.
Shaking her head to clear it, sheâd check briefly for any injuries or marks left behind, finding herself unscathed. Somehow. Wheatley, however, not so much. The poor boy was laying on his side, laboring for a breath and whimpering softly when he could manage. Jogging over to him and falling to her knees, her heart ached for him, frowning deeply. â Wheatley. Oh, my poor baby...what did he do to you?â Fingertips delicately probe his side, not seeing any trickles of blood, lifting her hand when he yelps at the pressure. She did not like the way his side looked at all. â Possibly broken ribs...hopefully no internal bleeding. â Biting her lower lip, she looked between the tower and her faithful companion. She couldnât leave Ausric like this, even if it tore at her that the mastiff she raised from an eight week old pup needed medical attention and quickly.
One large brown eye fixed on her, silently pleading, trying to get back on all fours. A hand rested on his shoulder, the other stroking his massive head. â Shhh, no no, Wheatley. You need to lie still. Help will come shortly.â He tried one last time, weakly, before giving up. The animal was in a good deal of agony, scared at the inability to draw a full breath. â I know, I know it hurts. Â Just...hold on, sweetheart, youâre gonna be okay.â She hoped. Doing her best to keep him calm and still, sheâd sit with him, staring at the stone tower where a battle raged on more brutal than sheâd know. Jaw clenched, swallowing a wolfish growl. If Ausric didnât kill the fucker, she would. Her companion was hearty, but he was the closest thing she had to a child currently, and everyone knew a motherâs stance on what happened to those that harmed her children.
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