Marthus listened intently to what the soldier told him about the tutar, how there were many different ways that they fought but how they mostly fought in a way that was to overwhelm and over power the soldiers lines. He didn't say much, knowing that she would tell him what she could.<br/><br/>Before the female soldier had finished telling Marthus, the sound of pounding hooves of a frightened horse came rushing into the camp, the slumped form of the rider only barely visible from where Marthus and the female soldier sat. Marthus jumped up and turned to the large group of knights that surrounded the falling soldier, he couldn't hear what they were saying, but by looking at their body language, he could tell something was up.<br/><br/>This was confirmed when a large man who looked like he had seen more war than peace shouted something and charged out of the camp.  Of course Marthus wasn't sure exactly what was happening, couldn't hear the commands that were being shouted above all the ruckus, all he knows is that something was up, and if he wanted to get in the middle of it he would have to follow the bear of a man who seemed to know exactly what was going on.<br/><br/>Marthus heard movement from behind him, the soldier he was speaking with was already running to join the man, loyalty and the hardness of battle shining in her eyes. This was all Marthus needed as encouragement to that there was a fight coming and he should join. Course he figured that as a good soldier he should report to the nearest Lebidan knight, but he had no loyalty to the knights or his country, the only loyalty he felt was to his master, and even that was only out of the respect he earned over the years of training.<br/><br/>Quickly looking over the area he dropped to a knee and pulled out his blades, placing a generous coating on each blade. He started to get his going to work smile on his face. He hated to admit it, but he loved killing, it didn't matter who it was and how much danger it put him in, he just loved it. His master had tried to get him to understand that loving to kill was not always good, that he needed to learn how precious life was. It didn't matter to the young lad how many hits to the head he got, he couldn't help but love what he had learned. When the war with the tutars came to Lebidan, his master had given him a choice; Marthus had of course chosen to join, he hadn't seen his master since, but for the moment he didn't mind.<br/><br/>With each blade coated in the different poisons, he sheathed them again and took off at run in the same direction as the knights and other soldiers were heading. He stole a horse that was tied up on a hitch, at a glance it seemed as if the owner of this horse had not called for it, Marthus figured that the reason was because the horse was not saddled, a fact that did not upset or bother him in the least. Since he wore leathers and not heavy plate mail, the stolen war horse was able to run at a faster pace that helped them catch up to the knights. The sounds of battle reached his ears, before he saw it, but he didn't have long to wait, as he saw the battle at the top of the hill. He stopped the horse, turning around a little bit this way and that, looking over the battlefield. For the first time he saw the Tutar. They were large and nasty looking, with muscles that looked honed from years of smashing trees between them, each one was scarred over, past human possibility. They all had tusks made for ripping into the flesh and rusted out blades that would do almost as much harm as the poisons that coated his blades. Marthus watched the clash of the fresh soldiers with the Tutar, and spurred his horse closer to the fray.<br/><br/><span style="color: #008040">"To the god’s, those are ugly sons of… yeah that’s probably right,"</span>he said his smile was getting bigger, "but I can still kick their asses."<br/><br/>When he was fifteen feet from the battle, he leaped off the horse, landing on his feet and ran the rest of the way to the battle. The smell of the dead and the ringing of blades against flesh and metal made his head swim. Grabbing his blades out of their sheaths he charged into the battle. His head had never felt so clear before now, he could see the battle unfold before him in real time, and yet, it seemed as if time itself slowed down just enough for him to be a step ahead of his opponent.<br/><br/>With both swords clasped in hand he lunged at a nearby Tutar, the right blade cutting deep into its right arm, and cutting it off a chunk of skin just below the elbow. His left blade held at the ready, he had to roll out of the way to not be hit by the creature. From the force that the beast hit the ground, he knew he did not want to take a hit, or it may mean that he will be staggered long enough to be taken out.<br/><br/><span style="color: #008040">"One, two, three, four, five,"</span>he counted, while blocking and hitting the Tutar.<br/><br/>Spinning around he continued counting, the poison on his right blade was used to disorient an opponent, used mainly when the target was near a cliff and you wanted their death to look like a suicide. On a human it took ten seconds to take effect. He got to ten and the Tutar was still attacking as ferociously as before. With a growl of his own Marthus realized that that poison would need to be stronger to take out these enemies. Giving a roar of his own back at the Tutar he leaped forward and slashed his left blade across the beast’s chest; counting in his mind. This blade was covered in a poison that would stop a human heart in five seconds. The result was the same, no effect. This infuriated Marthus, but it meant he would have to focus more on killing the beast than harming it. That was perfectly fine with him.<br/><br/>Now that he wasn't trying to harm the beast for his poison experiment, he spun around, dodged three hits from the Tutar in front and behind him before he was close enough to cut the head off of the one already injured. He didn't bask in the killing, not yet, not while he was still surrounded by the beasts. Turning to the one behind him he lunged forward, blades held diagonally over each other to form an X, he cut deeply into the beast's stomach, gutting him as his blades sliced through its stomach, Marthus pulling his blades out on either side of the beast. He moved on to the next, feeling even more focused now that he had been able to take down two so far.<br/><br/><div><hr style="height:2px; width:100%; border:0; color: silver;background:silver;"/></div><br/><br/>Sesk'ramat opened her eyes and took a breath, the light from the upper realms stung for a moment, but she was able to get over it pretty quickly. Looking around, she saw that she was once again a lone, resting on a bench, the soft breeze and calls of birds in trees nearby had her looking up. She forced a smile before standing up, her hair feel a little out of place before she set the small braids back in place. Her dark brown eyes were clear now, the drink and rest having done their jobs. For a few moments the Elder Goddess stood there, looking almost statuesque with how still she was being.<br/><br/>The pose did not last for very long, a few short seconds, before she turned, looked about her and headed back towards her own personal space. In those few moments she had been still she had seen the growing battle, had even longed to go down and help out the humans, but she knew that would only bring on the wrath of the Circle God Malinar. For now she could only give her thoughts to the soldiers who were fighting, this wasn't a large battle, and help was on the way in the form of many knights.<br/><br/>At least that is what she told herself, and she hoped that was true. Her sandals made soft noises on the paths she walked on, a hand reaching out to gently touch some plants on her way; she stopped once to breathe in the scent of the papyrus plants that grew along the water's edge leading into her home. Taking a moment to stop and look around she smiled. This was her own safe haven, her resting place and strong hold. All around was the look of a desert, hot breezes moved the sand this way and that, catching and playing in the papyrus before moving on over the river that flowed under the bridge she walked on.<br/><br/>This place she had chosen after her first blood rage, it reminded her of the scourged plains, and what could happen if she lost control like that again. But instead of letting that memory tear her down, she had her home made of sandstone decorated with the history of the plains all across her walls. Mostly she had pillars holding up the roof to her home, and room separated by cotton curtains of blues, golds, whites, and reds, with the only room with walls being directly in the center. This was her room, but to call it a room was like calling a throne room a broom closet. All threw out her home she had statues of the animals of the creatures that used to and now live in the plains, all of a further display to show the history and evolution of the plains. All along the halls were golden couches, assortments of large pillows, tables and chairs of many different crafted materials, all of which came from the plains.<br/><br/>The center structure was where she headed, feeling more and more at peace the further into her home she went. Khemet was sitting on a set of pillows, her bronze skin gleaming in the light even as her feet were dipped into the river. Khemet was the youngest of Sesk'ramat's demi goddesses. She too had the beauty of the desert, but also with the ferocity of the scorching sun in battle. Khemet looked up with  a smile as her Elder Goddess passed by. At a glance Khemet could see that her elder goddess was a little troubled, and rose from her seat near the river and stepped up to Sesk'ramat's side, placing a gentle hand on her shoulder.<br/><br/>"Goddess," is all she said, her hand sliding down her Goddess' shoulder to her elbow.<br/><br/>Sesk'ramat stopped once she felt Khemet's gentle hand on her shoulder, giving the demi goddess a chance to step closer, placing a kisses along her curve of her neck.<br/><br/><span style="color: #BF00FF">"Oh, Khemet,"</span>Sesk'ramat said leaning against her demi goddess,<span style="color: #BF00FF">"You and your sister always seem to know just when I am in need of your skillful fingers."</span><br/><br/>Sesk'ramat opened her eyes and looked around,<span style="color: #BF00FF">"Where is Adora?"</span>She didn't have to wonder long when her oldest demi goddess stepped into their home, holding a vase of flowers that she set on the table.<br/><br/>Adora, unlike the two plains women had soft pale skin and fire red hair. She was a woman far from the plains, so far in fact that until she became a demi goddess of Sesk'ramat, she could only dream of this kind of warmth that filled their home. Both demi goddess' had been tested, and watch by the Elder Goddess over the course of their lives, watching how they treated both the just and unjust. Sesk'ramat had chosen them as carefully as she chose which wars to fight in.<br/><br/>Adora had been born of the frozen deadlands, a few decades before the Injustice of Thaam. As child she had been a reader, finding any book she could on the world outside the icy lands she lived in. In her studies she read about Sesk'ramat ascension from human to demi goddess to the elder goddess of rage. How her heart had soared at the tales of the woman who brought justice onto a land that had forgotten justice. Growing up she started to pray to the goddess, standing up for the weak, and taking blows from the bullies. As she grew older she taught herself how to fight, finding it helpful when she or those weaker then herself were being attacked. Through it all she never lost faith in the goddess, praying to her every day, even when everyone around her ridiculed her for praying to a goddess born of the desert, instead of the god born of the ice they lived on. All through this time, Sesk'ramat kept an eye and ear on the young girl who prayed to her. At first she thought the girl was only praying to her as a form of rebellion, but as the years went on she found that the girl's heart was true and steadfast in doing what she could to be a warmth of justice in a place that was cold towards the world around it.<br/><br/>Khemet was born a millennium or two after Sesk'ramat's first blood lust. By this time a large temple had been lifted in her honor, the people of the plains were both grateful and fearful of the goddess. They had lifted the temple to honor her, and even leave offerings to appease the goddess. But as time went by, the stories of how she became an elder goddess became exaggerated; many forgot how she fought for justice, and not just to destroy those around her. However there were a few families who remembered and they kept the stories true for their children. Khemet came from such a family. Her mother had a child out of wedlock, something that even in the scorched plains was not looked kindly on. For the first few months, she was able to keep her pregnancy hidden, but towards the last of her term it became obvious.<br/><br/>The young mother, fearing for her life and the life of her unborn child, sought sanctuary in temple of her goddess. There she was given a safe haven, on the vow that if she gave birth to a girl, the child would be left in the care of the temple, and raised to be a priestess of the Goddess of Rage. Of all the priestess' who worshiped Sesk'ramat, Khemet caught the goddess' eye from birth. She watched the child grow older, even sending Adora to her frequently to guide the young priestess in the path of justice. Despite being guided by the demi goddess of the one she worshiped, Khemet stayed humble and kind.<br/><br/>As a priestess, she was trained in the way of fighting with a bow. She was taught how to give justice without blind eyes. Through the years she blossomed in the temple, this Sesk'ramat saw. Towards the woman's thirtieth year, Sesk'ramat allowed the priestess to be tested. Adora was sent to the woman, telling her that the Elder Goddess of Rage has been watching her grow, and wanted to warn her that a time was coming when a storm of injustice would sweep over the nation, that the Goddess had been forbidden to interfere. Adora comforted Khemet by saying that the only way she could help was through her priestesses. They needed to keep their hearts open to the truth and their bows ready for the coming fight.<br/><br/>Khemet had taken the demi goddess warning and prepared the temple for the coming tied. In the end, Khemet helped all she could, placing herself in the heart of the growing battle and stood firm as marble statue, placing any in her protection who could not protect themselves and standing firm against those that sought chaos over harmony. When the sands of the battles died down, she lay on the temples alter, the injuries of many attacks riddled her form, her blood soaking into the alter.<br/>Off to the right, but not far from Khemet stood Sesk’ramat, surrounded by all she had slain, and to the left also stood Adora, surrounded by a multitude of slain enemies. Sesk’ramat’s heat had caused a whirlwind about them, driving all who were apart of the injustices to attack without thought or control. When the last had been slain Sesk’ramat walked over to Khemet and picked her up, a kind smile on her lips as she brought a cool drink to the dying preistess’ lips.<br/><br/><span style="color: #BF00FF"> "My child, your soul shines with the honor in righteous rage. Come with me to bring this to the ends of the world."</span><br/><br/>Adora set the vase down and walked over to her goddess and sister. "My lady, you have gone too long in this state." She said in her soft kind voice.<br/><br/>Sesk'ramat smiled at them both, reaching forward to gently grasp one of Adora's hands in one of her own, while the other hand brushed over Khemet's chin, down her neck and arm to gently grasp her hand.<br/><br/><span style="color: #BF00FF">"I think it is time we all worked on relaxing a little, this war may go on much longer, and our vigilance will be tested. For now I can only watch, and only help in small measures," she spoke with a sad smile on her lips and a sad tone in her voice. </span><br/><br/>Both demi goddesses would know that for Sesk'ramat to not be able to fully commit herself into helping the humans of Soluunar against the crazed, beastly Tutar was a harsh test against her capability to not go into a full blown blood lust. They knew that if given the word, she would be down in the midst of the horrible army, slaying as many as she could, giving her own life if necessary to protect all human life. But for now they intended to keep her from doing just that, and though they could not keep her mind off the fighting down in Soluunar, they could help her relax and calm down some, and be her bow and arrows when she cannot join in the battle.