“AA-AH!”, Lawrah cried out. She was lucky though, the point got caught in her inner eye socket so Vyerna could not push it deeper in, for if she had it could have killed Lawrah by pressing it all the way back into her brain.

  Then Cool Hand Ani did the Comanche pullback on the exact same arrow she had used to stab Lawrah’s eye – tip stained with blood, though it had not plucked her it out – and launched it back at her point blank. It hit her in the chest with a thunk and it was only by serendipity that the arrow did not pierce any of Lawrah’s vital organs, only tearing out a chunk of an optional lung.

  But Lawrah was done. Her back slammed to the ground with the force of the arrow, and weakly she tried to cough and groan, but it was halting and choked from the blood pooling in her left lung’s inferior lobe, “Uff-kah-kh-”, panicking a bit she tried to breathe in calmly and slowly, “hu-uh-”, but now she winced with pain, as she endured a partial lung collapse. She remained still and silent but glared one eye of furious hate at Vyerna.

  Experience always beats talent.

  “Well fought, zug, b-” THWACK.

  Zholl had hustled up behind Vyerna unaware and then sucker smacked her with the bo-staff that he had fashioned out of the same tree that Law had felled, by cracking off an appropriate length of bamboo- slamming it on his knee.

  And Zholl, though a mediocre bare-knuckle fighter, wasn’t just proficient with polearms and quarterstaves-

  -He was specialized.

  “WA-TAH!” – his battlecry now oddly high pitched – and he smashed Vyerna again and again with a series of reaching thrusts.

  THOK! BOK! Ani, are you okay?

  Vyerna jumped away but because of Zholl’s reach, he could tag her with a few more attacks of opportunity before she could entirely move out of his threat zone.

  THOK-THOK! Are you okay?

  BOK-BOK-BOK! Are you okay, Ani?

  Having zoned Vyerna away, swollen lumps now all over her parietal bone, chin, and brow, Zholl stepped between the orcan trafficker and her target.

  “Step away from the zug, elf.” He said this softly.

  Now Lawrah wanted to fuck Zholl all over again, hell why not, she would just go ahead and have his baby, maybe they could have many more! For the hero moment had redeemed him. Totally. Totes. He’d just saved her sorry orc ass.

  But she couldn’t admit that right away, still just a little pissed at him, so she just said, with as much breath a single lung could muster, “Took sha long enough, Zholly.”

  Twirling his bamboo bo staff to intimidate, he finally flipped it to be slung on his back and shoulders like a washing pole, one wrist hung over, and with his free arm he stretched out his palm towards Vyerna with fingers extended and curled four to beckon her to step and try him. Fuck around, find out, elf.

  But Vyerna knew when she was overextended. Zholl’s reach nullified any attempt to use quickshots to contain or injure him, and besides, she had no idea if more filthy orcs would come. She couldn’t allow herself to be outnumbered and overwhelmed- because that would mean she was trapped.

  Drizzit, she thought, we’re exercising optionality.

  And then she ran away like a snaga.

  Zholl rushed to Lawrah’s side, “Lawrah, are you okay? Are you okay? Are you okay, Lawrah?”

  Lawrah swooned but could only manage a weak smile. For she had an arrow through both shoulders and another one through the left inferior lobe of her lung, a bullet entry wound, and one of her eyes had been torn up.

  Zholl had completely forgotten about their bickering, “Law- oh, she got sha good.”

  Somehow regaining enough strength to talk, Lawrah looked at Zholl’s swollen shiner, and his blackened and blued abdomen, and said, “Speak for sha self, Zholly.”

  And they both had to laugh at that, although it hurt them both. And they both had to sputter to a stop with gasps and painful wheezes.

  Scooping Lawrah up, Zholl supported her – he wished he could carry her full weight and bring her back to the rest of the pham like a proper hero would, but he was just too rekt himself – and together they limped and shuffled back to where pham had regrouped after noticing the commotion.

  “Lawrah!”, Gnosta rushed over to the poor rekt zug. “My God!”

  “I’m-”, Lawrah fought hard to stay conscious, “I’m all- alright.” She was not. But at least she was not yet dead. Still alive after all.

  Zhak rushed in and gave Lawrah a hug, and she patted him on the head, but she also drew in her breath sharply, letting the air suck through her teeth to make a gentle hissing sound, to indicate to the young orc that she was in a great deal of pain and that this was not helping at all. Zhak promptly let go.

  “What happened? Where’s Githarie?”, demanded Zahul.

  “She’s-”, Law was struggling to recollect exactly because it had all just happened for her, and it was all still just a blur now. But quickly the pieces came together. “We fought. We-” Still, she struggled to get it all out, not because she didn’t know what to say, but because she had a gaping hole in her lung.

  “We- hu-uh…” she looked like she was about to faint, and so Zholl carefully laid her down to rest her back on a lone standing bamboo, the pham huddled around her.

  Zahul stayed patient and gentle, kneeling down and resting his hand on her calf, where he knew he wouldn’t disturb one of her wounds.

  “Take it easy, gurl. One breath at a time. Slowly now, you can do it.”

  Lawrah summoned what grit she had to explain that Githarie had been angry at her for ditching her during the festival. She conveniently left out why that was the case, though Zholl thought he was going to have a panic attack during the entirety of her exposition.

  Lawrah said that Githarie had said something really mean to her which upset her. This came to no surprise to pham because Githarie could be very mean when she wanted to be. Lawrah conveniently left out that Githarie had been transphobic and that she had planned to end their friendship, a decision that Lawrah now deeply regretted and wished to reverse.

  She didn’t want pham to be disappointed in Githarie, because even though the friendship was supposed to be over, and even if it actually was, Lawrah still loved Githarie very much. Such was the way of love- caring for a person made it hard not to care for them, even when the relationship ruptured or faded.

  Finally, she explained that Lawrah had run into the forest to be alone before she had been ambushed by these rogue trader elves, but why- she had no idea. All she knew is that she was struck by some strange bullet, went unconscious, and when she woke up, she was wurl-stah-ing out with a crazy elf hai. She knew now that Githarie had saved her, seeing the Berserker fight Drizzit. Best friends just know these things.

  And then she fell unconscious once again.

  Gnosta surveyed the kids. Although Zhak was unharmed, there was no way that Zanosta could allow him to stay at the glob razza any longer. As for the rest of them, Deyandra had second degree burns all over her arm and was dangerously calorie depleted. Zhon was missing an arm and had countless bruises, cuts, and some burns. Zholl had internal bleeding in his intestines, a broken back that was barely holding itself together, a big fat shiner that had swollen his eye completely shut now, and of course, a deep gouge in his shoulder where he pulled out the shank, but he had almost completely forgotten about that. What wagh the three berserkers had left in them was gone. They weren’t just done, they were donezo.

  Then there was Lawrah’s state, way past donezo, bordering on dar.

  She knew that when it came to Tar O Dar, she could trust the twins, even if they couldn’t be trusted in any other kind of situation, and more than that, she trusted the rest of the parents to finally bring order to this mess. And they had to get the Durban’s only daughter back to him, that was their first priority now with Lawrah like this.

  “Zholl, Zhon, Zhak, you go back to the bonfire, take Lawrah back to the Chief. Lok! Now! Dad and I will keep looking for Githarie.” She looked at Zahul. She nodded.

  Zahul looked back and nodded. “Leeroy, kids. Go. Now.”

  “Yes, ser,” Zholl and Zhon said stoically, and in unison. This was Tar O Dar.

  With Lawrah slung around their shoulders and Zhak leading the way to make sure the path ahead was clear of any wagh shit, the kids went off to complete their mission.

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  And Zanosta headed deeper into the woods to complete theirs.

  The kids picked their way through the chaos, but finally it began to settle down. Durb had finally been restored. When they reached the clearing by the bonfire, they spotted Raigo immediately, for he was getting swarmed by the angry parents who had already returned from their own quests for their gezzno orc ass waghed out gurls and bois.

  “This is unacceptable, durban! Happened on sha watch!”

  “Sha won’t have my vote no more, Raigo, no more.”

  “We oughta declare war on those San Martin skais!”

  But once they saw how rekt the Chief’s poor daughter was, a path was cleared for the procession.

  “Make way! Comin’ through!

  They made a way, and the kids came through. They reached Raigo.

  When Raigo saw Lawrah his heart broke. He had never seen Lawrah hurt so badly before and enmity flared like ghash on flame within, burning him up, eating him alive inside. Now he needed a proxy for his rage. His wrath. Even though only some of the violence was directly attributable to San Martin, with much of the razza’s chaos being of their own making…

  Something still needed to be held accountable.

  Reactively, he turned to the parents, and declared,

  “You want war, atuluk? War you shall have. I’ll send an envoy to the Horde Master immediately. We will crush San Martin, and we will make them pay for attacking our children,” he seethed, and repeated emphatically, “They. Will. Pay.”

  He was met with huzzahs.

  “Now go! Tend to your children. We will attack before the rest of them even awake. But leave me now. I-”, he choked back tears, “I must take care of my Lawrah.” And with that, the crowd dispersed, evil thoughts and imagined retributions in mind, now with much better things to do than bitch to the Chief now that their request to make war had been granted.

  With the medical supplies they had brought – the razza organizers did not think to bring any and didn’t even have a first aid tent – Raigo patched up the kids one by one. He bound both of Lawrah’s arms with tourniquets and very carefully extracted the arrows and disinfected with chlorhexidine before bandaging them, and her eye. He slapped some more chlorhexidine on the remaining open wounds: Zholl’s arm avulsion, and Zhon’s many cuts. Then he applied soothing aloe vera balm all over Deyandra and Zhon’s burns, as well as Zhon’s cauterized arm stump. Finally, when he was satisfied he could do no more, he turned to Zhak and interrogated him, glad that Zhak was a conveniently good expositor as he was caught up.

  “Come with me now, you three.”, he carried his sweet daughter in both arms, still unconscious but her countenance showed she was in much greater comfort, “I am going to take Lawrah back home. Rest and heal there, and once your parents return, you will find them and carefully rethink the decisions you’ve made on this rotation.”

  Glumly, the kids accepted their well-deserved scolding and tramped after the Chief.

  And finally,

  Back in the dark forest, Githarie was running.

  In addition to scratches all over her legs from pushing through this damned forest she now had a long slice down her back. Her overalls, held only by a single strap, flapped at her side, and she had to clutch the book that had saved her from orcboi to keep it from dragging her down or falling out. Now that it was Tar O Dar, any remaining thoughts about her birth-rote, her bad trip, her jerk brothers, her lost friendship, the vomit on her sweater already dried and crusty, any possible trauma- none of it mattered.

  She just needed to get away from these elves.

  “GI - THA - RIE! Oh GI - THA - RIE!” Drizzit was taunting her.

  “Little NA-KAZ ZU-UG! Come now to Auntie Vyerna and Uncle Drizzit.” Vyerna had joined Drizzit in their hunt. They sounded cocksure and confident that they would finally get their prize.

  But in their minds they were bickering.

  You lost her! I told you we needed the optionality! Did you try to come back for me? I told you that I had it!

  You obviously did not! Or else why would we still be in this cursed wood? And I did not come back for you, even though I should have- look at you! You are- what do they say? Rekt. Your entire face is swollen.

  Do not mention my face, snaga. And if you had not followed my call, we would have nothing at all. There was no option. The other one had reinforcements.

  Did you not want optionality? Reinforcements! How do you know they won’t be scouring for-

  It doesn’t matter! We will end this now, and they will not find us. We will get this Githarie. And then we will summon Jarlaxle and leave. As long as we stick-

  Stick to the plan! Stick to the plan! You never had a plan in the first place-

  They began thinking at the same time and over each other now.

  Plans change! The plan- No they don’t. Is this worth it? Why did you waste time- Jarlaxle thought the other one was better- I don’t care what Jarlaxle thinks and if that was the case why- I don’t want to hear your complaining, do not question- This is not complaining! I have a right to- No, you do not! You- Yes I do! I- No! You- Yes! I do! No, it’s you- Shut up! Shut up! Shut- No you shut up! You shut- You are a soldier! I am worker! You listen to- Worker? More like a HAI!- Don’t you think of me like that! Don’t you- Hai! You Hai! You fucking Hai, you F- DON’T. Don’t you- And what are you gonna do about it, Vyerna? You can’t control what I think! You have no more psio- YOU DON’T MENTION THAT AGAIN, DRIZZIT! I WILL KILL- Yes! Kill your only brother! Kill your lo- You stupid fuck! You gezzno glob! You- Oh real mature! Real mature you matriarchal worker privilege chauvinist- QUIT IT with your soldier’s rights activism, no Queen will ever care- Have you ever wondered that maybe it was the Queen that was the prob- How dare you besmirch Queen Mo- Our own Queen Mother is a rogue! A heretic in the eyes of the Goddess! Your blasphemy will curse- And since when did you get so religious? You-

  It went on like this. It was very rarely the case, but their telepathy had ceased to be communication.

  “GI - THA - RIE!”

  “We won’t hurt you, Githarie! Trust us. We just need to take you somewhere. You’ll enjoy the Tunedenic Archipelago.”

  But now that Vyerna and Drizzit could cover both of Githarie’s flanks, and slowly back her into a corner, they would eventually reach her. Githarie had been running to the edge of the forest, by cliffs overlooking the ocean. She would have nowhere to run once she got there.

  But even this dead end she couldn’t make. Githarie was cooked. She was donezo. Each step weighed her down and burned, it was like Phyroan molten lead cast all upon her legs. The hypoxic spots never left and were crawling all over her vision now, if she didn’t know any better she could swear she was being eaten alive by insects. Devoured. Her vision split to double, then triple. Then the mirror images began to dance and swirl.

  She fell to her knees. No! Must keep going. Must give it everything I have! Be worthy! Worthy to call herself an orcan. She had to. She must. She had to run. Run. Lok. Run to life. If she just kept running, she would stay alive.

  But she couldn’t. Finally she succumbed, and although she kept stumbling on shambolically, she knew it was so over. She would have wailed in despair, but she had no more breath.

  She’s there! She’s there. We have her. Sh- Shut up. Quiet.

  This is it! This is it. We’ve got this. We’ve got this.

  Githarie could not outrun them anymore.

  Although the pursued had known proper running form, so too did the pursuers. But Githarie’s moccasins had finally completely fallen apart, while the elves strode on with their gryph-fiber boots, soles of thermoplastic urethane pellets fused to generate bounce with bubbly aeration, and treads to maximize foot grip. Meter by meter, they gained. It was useless now. Futile.

  She crumpled to her knees and sagged her head, trying her best to accept her fate, if this be her destiny.

  It was a classic way of hunting, especially for the earliest ancestral Godlikes. With their ability to endure any amount of distance, even if their prey was faster – and Githarie was only faster when her rage was flowing freely and fully, and she was all tapped out – the Godlikes would wear their prey down by sheer attrition. When the prey slowed, they would track. When the prey fled, they would press on, confident that it would tire. And it was all made possible by the one essence that no cryptid could claim, the superpower of the Godlikes: sweat.

  And so, Drizzit wiped his soaked brow, glad to be done with this interminable hike, when he finally came upon the crumpled figure of Githarie Thraxes.

  “Give up, little Githarie,” he said softly. Drizzit didn’t really want to hurt her.

  Vyerna certainly did though, for Githarie had torn into her rhomboids, leaving deep jagged lacerations, before hurling her off the recce.

  She grabbed Githarie by the hair.

  “Ungh!”

  Drizzit sighed. Why did Vyerna have to be so aggro sometimes?

  He leaned up closer to her and spoke, “Don’t you see this chaos all around you? Don’t you want to get away? Forget these savage orcs, little Githarie. Come with us and see how lovely life with elvans can be.”

  Githarie gave him a defiant look and spat in his face. He grimaced and turned away, before stalking back and nodding to Vyerna.

  Hurt her, Vyerna.

  We can’t. It could bite into our margin. But Vyerna knew what to do, because she was a closer.

  “There will be no more trouble coming out of you, little orc,” Vyerna jeered.

  And then she stabbed Githarie in the ribs with a liquid moon sugar hypo. Sleep now, Githarie. Rest well. You will need it. There was only burzum now for the poor gurl. Vyerna let go of her hair, and Githarie collapsed to the floor.

  Then Vyerna and Drizzit shared a high five to fist bump. Job well done. Let’s get paid. Jarlaxle, we’re…

  BAM!

  A bullet ripped through Drizzit’s neck, almost close enough to sever the jugular, but not quite. Just shy of the mark enough for it to be nothing more than a flesh wound. Fresh spirit-laden lithiated blood spilled down his flank. “ARGH!” he clutched his neck and doubled over.

  Vyerna dived for cover.

  Bratatatatatatatat- a hail of bullets ripped towards Drizzit but he was able to fall prone in time and the burst sailed harmlessly over.

  “GET AWAY-” Bratatatatatat-

  “-FROM MY-” Bratatatatat-

  “-DAUGHTER, FOUL ELVES!” Bratatatatat-

  Now a gelatinous mess that couldn’t be put back together again, not even by all the Queen’s elvans, but it was okay- Lawrah would mog out a new eye, she was talented at it. It would just take time.

  Well no, not that way. There hadn’t been any well known recorded instances of elvan-orcan sexual relations. Not yet.

  Intimidation was by far Zholl’s best skill in the end.

  He was certainly a criminal, but smooth? Debatable. But it’s fair to say that she had been hit by him, been struck by him.

  It was that Virgo energy.

  She wasn’t fully unconscious, the dose could not put her down formidable Lawrah that hard, it was just an extremely deep K-hole, which thankfully was brief enough to botch Vyerna’s quest.

  In due time he would regret this rashly made pact.

  When the point of the razza was to make love. But things had gone awry. And now, the opposite had been achieved.

  Keep ball of feet flat to strike the ground with efficient rebound, quick tempo in a rhythmic cadence, conserve momentum by keeping ankles low to the ground.

  It was Ultraboost. It was just Adidas Ultraboost. The same as ever. Not exactly great for trekking earthen ground, but it still gave them an advantage.

  But damn if she had only made that 360 no scope it would have almost been worth it. Almost. She’d be absolutely determined to kill Githarie no matter which way it went. No orc sinks their claws in Vyerna’s back and lives.

  Coffee’s for closers.

  7.62x54 mmR

  Damn! Thought Gnosta. I’m rusty!