Snippet #1457171

Jurial Plains, 7 Miles South of Laeral

Water began to splash in the face of Caine. He looked up and watched as the heaven's themselves began to cry tears. It had started to rain... Which only made Caine a little bit more frustrated. He already had a headache from the hangover from the following night, now it was beginning to rain... "Of course," He grunted... He did always manage to get the short-end of the stick whenever luck was involved. Caine grunted again, for good measure. It continued to rain for the rest of the march, progressively making the march a little bit more difficult as time wore on.

Mud was beginning to gum up Caine's boots and leggings, and generally gave them a gritty feeling. He was, however, dry thanks to the live leather or whatever the leather he wore was named. Fit almost like a second skin. Even so, the mud only add to the frustration Caine was experiencing... It was raining on him, he had a headache, he felt awful, and now even the mere process of walking was being hindered... It was a godsend when Captain Wrath ordered them out of the rain and under some trees.

Even so, this proved too good to be true as Wrath ordered Sid's team into the forest. Something was clearly... Off. Caine felt the beginning pangs of anxiety, waiting for what would happen next... Wrath mananaged to relieve him from this as well, as he ordered them to form up. He gave a short and curt whistle to Gilleas and prodded him with a elbow before taking his position at the front line. There, he waited, like Captain ordered. By then, Wrath had began a song on his lute. This was no ordinary song as it felt of something... Fey, something dangerous. A prickle ran up Caine's spine as he himself drew his weapon's, the Saber and the sword in his right hand and his left respectively.

The next actions were just a blur, as something burst from the woods. A halfling, injured from the looks.. Then an arrow flew over the collapsed small folk and towards Wrath. Deflected rather easily. Then, their enemies revealed themselves. A group of snow white children charge Wrath. Caine felt the itch at the base of his skull, he wished to be in this battle. The sight of the enemy had planted seeds of anger, of fury, held in check by Wrath's own admission to "stay put" in his war song. A war song that had decapitated a minotaur... Which if Caine would have been in the normal mindset, he would have found that rather interested, but as it was, he just wished to be in the fray himself.

Then, Wrath jerked his head... Caine rolled his blades in a circle, popping and stretching the bones and muscles in his wrists, the saber sang and the sword whispered in the wind. It also looked pretty intimidating, but what was that to a bunch of fearless sods? Then, a loud twang. He looked back just in time to see a large bolt completely destroy a child... Must have been the contraption on Sid's back.

By now... A couple of children had made their way to Gilleas and Caine. Caine pivotted on a foot in order to bare his back to the Guardian... The last rational thought that was not tainted by a primal fury was that of hoping the Guardian could watch his back. The various factors today had panned into Caine's berserker wrath. The hangover, the rain, the mud, the nasty day, and even the mere sight of the children lit the fires of Caine's fury.

Caine himself, upon witnessing the approach of the children, had begun to settle into something... More primal as black treacly anger began to course through his mind, taking control of his arms, of his legs, and of his mind. As a result, he uttered a guttural, primal growl as one particular child began to approach. He retained enough sense to realize that allies were near and did not completely lose himself to his berserker fury, but he was far enough gone to see a red haze where the child was... Then the battle was on.

Caine, running on pure instinct, reflex, and anger, only augmented slightly by Caine's military training. He threw up the longsword and savagely deflect a blow. The clang of metal had signaled the beginning of the war-drums in Caine's head. The drums only Cain could hear within berserker fury went very nicely with Wrath's own war song. Each movement, each deflection, each thrust, was accentuated by a raise in tempo and tone within his mind. The child again tried to strike at Caine, but he deflected this with the saber. If Caine had been in the right mind, he would have noticed these strikes were stronger than a normal persons.

Then he growled a feral growl, signaling the games were over. He snarled as he slashed upwards with the saber at a diagonal angle and immediately afterward he plunged forward with the sword, hoping to cut the thing in half and skewer it at the same time. The war-drums began began to sing with the carnage of battle.