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#Post#: 980--------------------------------------------------
Storm Feathers Falling: Broken Arrows, Broken Bones
By: MAT Date: February 18, 2025, 11:26 pm
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Character: Percival ap Beaumayn
Location: Pine Springs Academy, Las Vegas, Nevada
A high-pitched, shrill noise sounded across the dusty grounds,
and Percival let the whistle drop from his lips to hang around
his neck. He stood at the edge of the soccer field, arms
crossed. The desert sun was out, and it was quickly warming the
morning air. A few stray tumbleweeds had lodged themselves
against the chain-link fence, and the distant mountains loomed
under a pale winter sky. The students trickled in slowly then,
hoodies and windbreakers pulled tight, dragging their feet
through the grass, dreading whatever drill he had planned.
As the kids drew closer, something felt off to Percy. Turning
his head, the Sidhe looked around, and his gaze fell upon a
nearby garage building. A woman stood under an attached covered
walkway, shrinking against the shadows as if trying to be
inconspicuous. She was looking straight at him, and when their
eyes met, she turned and went around the corner of the building,
disappearing.
“Ok kids. Five laps around the field.” He silenced the chorus
of groans with a swift slice of his hand through the air. “Five
laps. When you’re done, assemble by the south goal post. You go
as fast or as slow as you want. The faster you go the more free
time you get. I need to take care of something. I’ll be back in
a few minutes.”
Percy walked over to the garage building and slowly paced around
the corner, where the woman was waiting. Pausing a few feet
away, he scrutinized her. There was something oddly inhuman
about her, but he didn’t know what at first. Then he noticed the
slightly reptilian cast to her eyes and the way she carried
herself. Kinain. But that didn’t mean friend.
“You want something?” he asked quietly. “Or am I calling the
school resource officer?”
The young woman pushed off the back wall of the garage. She
stood at 5’3” and had a compact, toned frame, built more for
speed rather than brute strength. Her skin was a deep,
sun-kissed brown, and her black hair was thick and wavy, pulled
into a loose bun. Her dark eyes flitted back and forth
nervously.
She let out a sharp breath through her nose. “My name is Nati.
I’ve heard about you.”
Percy raised an eyebrow. “What does that mean?”
“They say you hunt down monsters,” Nati replied, fidgeting with
a silver ring on her thumb.
He made a grumbling sound. “They, huh.” He’d only been in the
duchy for a few months. Members of his kith and house tended to
draw attention, though.
She shrugged. “I don’t know where to go for help.”
His suspicion softened a little. “Tell me what you’re dealing
with.”
“My mother Elena is missing. She runs a small lizard refuge and
rehab center out of Henderson. She’s…you know.”
He shook his head calmly. “I really don’t.”
“She’s…one of you. But not like you. Beautiful…to me. But not
pretty.”
Percy squinted and held his tongue, preferring to let her
continue.
“The whole situation is insane, but I’m hoping you won’t think
so. My mom…she can turn into a lizard. And she…has a tendency to
run her mouth. She got into trouble with someone. Some woman. My
mother calls her a witch, and she actually means it. Anyhow,
apparently this witch cursed her. Or is going to curse her. It’s
hard to keep all her stories straight, honestly. The way my mom
tells it, this witch has been an enemy to the whole family for
generations. My mother calls her Boleros or The Evil Eye. Said
the witch has a terrible beast under her control, the
Tzitzimitlraja, and that this magical beast would be sent after
her.”
Far from dismissing her, the Sidhe seemed to be hanging on every
word Nati said. “What do you think happened?” he asked.
Running a hand through her hair, Nati shrugged. “I don’t know.
All I know is that my mom is missing and the police won’t do
**** about it.”
“But what do you think?” Percy stressed.
“I think this **** Boleros might be involved with a company
that’s trying to buy up properties in the neighborhood where my
mom’s refuge is. I’ve been running the place the best I can
while she’s gone but I have a **** job already, you know? If she
doesn’t come back soon I…I don’t know. I might have to close up
shop and sell.”
He folded his arms. “What else do you know about the
Tzitzimitlraja?”
Nati shook her head, as if a bit incredulous at the question.
“Nothing. It’s…I mean…just batty old stories!”
“Like what?” Percival asked.
She sighed bitterly. “Oh, the Tzitzimitlraja hunts those
grieving lost loves, the ones who wander alone. That’s why she
thought it was after her. My father died recently. For weeks
she said that when she was out and about she felt like she was
being followed. She swore up and down that she saw the creature
once, but ran before it could claim her. Then the next night was
the new moon. That’s when the Tzizimitlraja is supposedly
strongest,” she said bitterly. “When the night is darkest. And
then she was gone. That was a week ago. I think…”
The sides of Nati’s lips turned down and tears began to prick at
the edges of her eyes. For a moment she looked like she might
cry. But then suddenly, a steely resolve filled her. “I think
that she’s gone. I want to know for sure.”
Percy unfolded her arms and nodded. “All right.”
She looked surprised. “All right? What do you mean, all right?
You’ll do it? You’ll look for her? Just like that?”
He nodded. “Sure. I can’t promise anything except that I’ll
try.”
Nati snorted softly, still surprised.Then she pulled a pendant
of a half moon out from under her shirt and held it up to the
light where it glinted in the sun. “My mother has a necklace
just like this. If it helps.” She paused. “I thought you would
say no. Or that I’d have to beg.”
“That’s not really my style.” He reached out and placed a hand
on her shoulder. “Don’t grieve quite yet. I have a strange
feeling your mother is still alive.”
“Why?”
Percy shrugged. “I don’t know. It’s just a feeling.”
Nati pulled a business card out of her pocket. “This is a
business card for the rehab center. I also put my cell on the
back. Try one or the other and you’ll get me, day or night.”
#Post#: 981--------------------------------------------------
Re: Storm Feathers Falling: Broken Arrows, Broken Bones
By: MAT Date: February 18, 2025, 11:29 pm
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Character: Percival ap Beaumayn
Location: Valley of Fire State Park, Moapa Valley, Nevada
Then
A slow, mournful melody drifted through the dark - piano keys
plunking in soft, dissonant echoes. Every note was in a minor
key; a funeral dirge threading through the silence.
Percival opened his eyes and pushed back the covers, rising from
his bed at the sounds. He was instantly hypervigilant.
Immediately on edge. Something was happening outside, and so he
found himself rushing outside. Night stretched endlessly above
him, the sky clear, the moon halved and cold. Then, a scream -
distant but sharp.
Someone was going to die.
Percy looked around the backyard of the modest home he'd
purchased on the outskirts of the city. There were no signs of
danger but he felt afraid. Then his eyes fell upon it.
Nearby, a bighorn sheep stood motionless, its horns massive and
its fur the color of blue shale. The scream rang out again,
urgent and desperate. The sheep bolted, and Percy knew,
instinctively, that he had to follow.
The suburban street gave way to rural tracts of land. An endless
ocean of packed sand. He sprinted barefoot, the ground beneath
him scorching, heat searing his soles like burning embers. Why
was it so hot? His pulse pounded, hammering against his ribs,
thundering in his ears. Too fast. Too loud.
The flat vista melted away. Canyon walls rose around him,
sculpted by wind and time, enclosing him as if welcoming a long
lost son. He felt like a child in the presence of the ancient.
The sun surged into the sky, blasting the land with golden
brilliance - then fell, giving way to the moon. Again and again,
the cycle repeated, flickering like a frantic strobe. Orange and
pale gray stripes rippled across every surface, except for a
thin crack in the rock ahead.
Then came the storm.
It roared toward him, a churning black mass at the canyon’s far
end. Lightning lanced through the air, striking stone,
shattering it into deadly shards. Bits of rock tore into
Percival’s chest, into the hand he raised in futile defense.
Blood spilled freely, some his some not. It streaked the canyon
walls red, painting over the gray. He staggered backwards. The
storm had claws now.
Percy fought. He landed a killing blow - he felt it - but
somehow, impossibly, the storm defeated him. Failure of the
worst kind. Absolute and crushing. It swallowed him whole. He
collapsed onto broken rock, clawing his way toward the crack in
the wall. But the stone melted, dissolving into black ink that
surged forward, drowning him beneath its endless, suffocating
depths.
A slow, mournful melody drifted through the dark - piano keys
plunking in soft, dissonant echoes. Every note was in a minor
key; a funeral dirge threading through the silence.
Percival opened his eyes and sat up with a start, gasping for
breath. The sheets and pillow were soaked with sweat. His mind
was awash with a confusing torrent of images, sounds, and ideas.
It was too much. He didn't understand it.
Flipping the pillow over, he laid his head back down and tried
to get back to sleep.
Now
The sun bled out behind the sandstone ridges, painting the
Valley of Fire State Park in deep rust and ember orange. Shadows
pooled in the narrow slots between towering rock formations,
stretching long and jagged like wounds in the earth. The air was
dry, holding the last warmth of the day, but the cold was
creeping in fast. Somewhere ahead, past the maze of petrified
dunes and crumbling petroglyphs, the hunter knew it was waiting.
The scent of something wrong tainted the breeze - sorrow, decay,
and a whisper of something that didn’t belong in this world.
Percival crouched behind a cluster of jagged red rocks, scanning
the Valley of Fire’s eerie, windswept terrain. It hadn't taken
him very long to find the monster's trail. He'd started at
Elena's lizard refuge. It seemed clear to him that this had been
the place where she'd been taken from. There were obvious signs
of struggle in the property out back. Long feathers were lying
all over; feathers he would have identified as vulture if not
for their strange white and almost-purple color.
The monster’s tracks - deep clawed imprints in the sand -
eventually led toward a narrow canyon deep in the park, where
the last light of dusk stretched shadows like grasping fingers.
The desert was too quiet. No wind, no insects, just the slow
pulse of something unnatural waiting.
He exhaled, steadied his bow, and moved in.
As the hunter moved through the Valley of Fire, his eyes
continually scanned the shifting red rock formations for any
trace of his quarry. The land stretched vast and silent beneath
a pale moon climbing the sky. There was no tract of it, but he
knew it was here. The Tzitzimitlraja. He had tracked it through
desert winds and jagged ravines, and now, at last, he had it
cornered.
Or so he thought.
The creature loomed ahead, floating in the air. It reminded him
of a harpy from childhood stories. It had a humanoid form;
vaguely female, with features of a bird. It’s wings were wide
and feathered in shades of white, black, and purple. The face,
though vaguely human, was gaunt and weathered; its cheekbones
sharp, eyes sunken and wild, flickering with a feral hunger. Its
mouth, twisted into a permanent snarl, contained, yellowed
teeth, perfect for tearing flesh from bone. Its lower body is
covered in matted feathers that give way to sinewy, scaled legs,
ending in massive, razor-sharp talons. It was wrapped in
tattered strips that may have once been clothing, but no more.
It sniffed the air. Then it tilted its elongated skull toward
him, staring with hollow, eyeless sockets. Percy raised his
Sidhe bow, notching an arrow with practiced speed. He let fly.
Then another. Then a third. Each shaft struck true, but the
monster barely flinched. Why? How?
Then it opened its mouth.
The early evening shattered with an explosion of sound - piano
chords, deep and discordant, rippling outward in a sonic wave.
The force of it sent Percy sprawling, his ears ringing, his
muscles convulsing under the invisible assault. Before he could
recover, the creature rushed him.
Percy abandoned the bow, yanking his sword free in a desperate
arc. Steel met claw, but the beast deflected his strike with
unnatural ease. A flash of talons, and his blade was gone,
clattering uselessly into the dust.
His fingers closed around the Warpwood baton looped at his
waist. In one swift motion, he swung upward, the heavy wood
cracking against the creature’s face. The impact sent it
staggering back, and for the first time, Percy saw it: a glint
of silver buried among the filthy plumes draped around its
throat.
He barely had time to process the revelation before the
Tzitzimitlraja struck again. Claws raked across his torso, then
his side, then his thigh—each blow lightning-fast, each one
sending fresh agony surging through him. Staggering, bleeding,
he made a desperate choice. He vaulted down the side of a
rockface to dodge another swipe aimed at his neck, hitting the
ground below with bone-snapping force. His shoulder screamed as
his arm broke on impact.
The beast was already descending. Someone was going to die. The
vision foretold. Maybe it would be him.
Through the blinding pain, Percy forced himself to move. As the
creature lunged, he kicked out hard, his boot catching it in the
midsection. The unexpected blow made it recoil just enough for
him to spot salvation - a narrow crevice in the rock. Dark and
black; maybe salvation, maybe a tomb. He scrambled inside, his
body shrieking in protest as he twisted to make it through the
opening. The Tzitzimitlraja’s talons scraped against the stone,
inches from his flesh.
Breathing ragged, he shifted the Warpwood back into bow form and
aimed at the creature just past the alcove opening, trying to
conjure an arrow…but nothing happened. The magic failed him.
Snarling, he grabbed a nearby shard of flint and hurled it with
his good arm. The sharp stone clipped the monster’s face,
leaving a ragged gouge.
It screamed. The air exploded with violent, clashing notes -
piano strings snapping, hammers slamming into keys in a frenzy.
The canyon walls shook, sending chunks of stone crashing down.
Dust and debris filled the narrow space, and broken bits piled
across the opening, plunging the tiny cave into almost total
darkness. For a moment, Percy thought he’d be buried alive.
Then, just as suddenly as it had come, the Tzitzimitlraja was
gone. He heard the flapping of wings; could smell the stench
created in its draft.
Percy lay there, gasping, body broken, lungs burning. He had
survived. For now. He pressed himself against the rock and
clamped his eyes shut, willing his body to heal, to regenerate.
Once again his mind was awash with a confusing torrent of
images, sounds, and ideas. This time, however, it was no dream,
just a nightmarish reality.
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