Malformed Praxis

With earnest intent, Briar and his fellow Nostrum travel beyond the bogs. Keeping within the jagged stone walls of a nearly dried-out gully, they follow a hum, which trails off from a not-so-far-away bell. Their warm breaths mix with chilly night air; A sign that their strides have quickened. Agitated clangs suggest to them that The Kneller has now been provoked, and time is of the essence. The aggressive ringing is a clear sign to them that whoever has provoked The Kneller, failed to successfully ambush it. Briar, ready to add another stripped bell to his collection of three, suddenly stops in his tracks. As do the others. The ringing is now no more than an echo, which passes through the gully and back into the marshes, never to be heard again. Looking to one another for confirmation and finding it, they march on once more, somehow, even faster than before. Completing a small uphill bound, they stand against the gully's bank, scanning the area ahead. Innumerable rough rocks- like those within the trench- litter the ground. Their pointed, broken, and course surfaces make the shadows of an orange glow dance about, like bared teeth against rocky walls. Metal clanging against stone and several pained grunts tell them that the glow is what they seek, and they must be hasty. Weapons at the ready, they burst into a clearing made up of dried dirt and shriveled blades of darkened grass. With the sounds continuing to thunder around them, Cronn rushes ahead of the others, urgently seeking out the source.

"Wait!" Briar calls out, before getting distracted by a knock on his shoulder from Belial. Turning to him, he finds an unexpected sight. Laying against two fang-like rocks is the body of a Nostrum. Briar thumps his boots against firm lands and digs in a knee upon reaching the one who has fallen. Exhausted breathing and a throbbing vein in their exposed neck suggest to him that their condition is deteriorating, yet not critical. "Hey, hey, look at me." Without disturbing them physically, he snaps his fingers a few inches from their face. In doing so, he begins to recognize them. "Yuler? Can you hear me?" Groaning from the pain of an unseen injury, she twists up her face and shifts her weight against the rocks.

"Go, help Gru'go, please!" She begs, with her eyes pinched shut, as if doing so relieves some of the pain.

"Stay still." He demands, getting back to his feet. "We'll be back for you." Upon turning to face Belial, he jerks his head towards where Cronn had run off to. Only to see his partner soaring through the air before slamming into the ground. Cronn gasps and pulls himself up onto his elbows; Using them to move away from what attacked him.

"He's gone mad!" Cronn shouts, fumbling over onto his hands and knees. "Mad!"

Belial helps Cronn up and pulls him away. Then, shortens his cleaver and readies it for whatever comes his way.

"He?" Briar wonders, still hearing struggling as it comes their way. The orange glow turning to flames as two lit torches round the boulders that have been blocking his line of sight. Behind each, a Nostrum, armed with their own unique tools to endure a violent battle against one another. "Nostrum Gru'go, Nostrum Dragar, restrain yourselves!" The men are unswayed by his words, continuing to focus on their opponent and sending out a flurry of attacks with each opening they are granted.

"We'll have to assist them with that it seems." Belial switches his weapon once again, returning it to its elongated form as he moves in a circular motion around the men.

"Briar!" Cronn calls, tugging at his coat. "There's something wrong with him. Dragar. He's not well!"

Briar looks back at the combatants, noticing two things he had not prior. Gru'go is in a panic, desperate to land a hit and shaking at the knees. Whilst Dragar, standing slightly hunched, growls at Gru'go. His aggressive jabs and overhead swings with a lance cause the wooden stock to flex, creating a twanging sound each time it connects with Gru'go's bladed mace. As it comes down once more, Belial swiftly traps Dragar between himself and his cleaver, using the handle to create a restraint. As Dragar tosses about, trying to lift his lance enough to turn it on Belial, Gru'go scrambles to get out of the way. Briar and Cronn now move in, intending to subdue the Nostrum until he calms down.

"Ate it, 'e did!" Gru'go exclaims, keeping his mace raised just above waist level.

"Ate what?" Belial asks through gritted teeth, now fighting against Dragar's seemingly growing strength.

"The plant! 'e ate the plant!"

Pointing at a crumpled piece of paper and strewn twine with his torch, Gru'go's confused eyes dart between those of Cronn and Briar. As if seeking answers for what is happening. Briar, being the only one to fully understand what this means, changes his stance. Pulling a short arrow from a quiver strapped to his thigh, he nocks it. Noticing this, Cronn's expression changes to a mixture of nervousness and relief.

"Briar?"

"Continue to attempt submission. If we can't bring him down, we'll have no other choice."

Cronn nods and moves in to assist Belial, whose grip has already begun to loosen. Placing the dull edge of his ax's heel behind one of Dragar's ankles, he looks to Belial, who- with a red face and pulled back lips- gives the command.

"Do it!"

With this, Cronn jerks the ax towards himself and Belial lets go. Dragar falls on his back and begins thrashing around, but doesn't manage to retrieve the lance he had dropped before Belial plants the cleaver against his torso, at the mid-point of his biceps. Unable to move his upper body, he kicks at the ground in an attempt to shift the weight off himself. Noticing this, Cronn pounces on his legs, pinning and holding them together. Nostrum Dragar bellows as his efforts are diminished. Each shriek that pours out from his burning lungs being more inhuman than the last. Briar watches as the others work on keeping him down, but knows that it's already far too late. Dragar's raised heckles expose beastly teeth. Crooked, pointed, and growing with each passing second. As fur begins to sprout from the pores in his face, the creases of his brow become more defined. Briar spots another change occurring and knows- even before he can react- that it spells doom. Each limb begins to stretch, becoming far too long for the clothes that once covered them fully, and the hat atop his head has begun to rip at the seam.

"Get off him!" Briar shouts, but the warning is given too late.

Dragar roars so violently, that it rattles everyone to their cores. In this state, he tosses both men off of him with ease and collects his lance. As Belial and Cronn stumble over themselves, Cronn trips over a rock and falls behind it. Belial, a little more steady, manages to stop himself from becoming as defenseless by sticking his cleaver's teeth into the ground and regaining balance like so. Dragar squalls yet again, charging in the direction of Gru'go, who raises his mace in a frightened manner. Lance at one side, what remains of Dragar swats at Gru'go, who in turn, swings his mace back. Splinters of wood dart in all directions as the lance folds in half. Having met one of the blades Gru'go's tool possesses. Taking advantage of this, Gru'go lunges after the tipped end but is cut off by a swift kick that tosses him away. Gripping both portions, Dragar tears the remaining fibers apart. Wielding both ends, he swings wildly at his partner, who tries desperately to avoid each potential blow. Briar, aligning his shot with the beast's raggedly hairy face and elongated snout, awaits an opening. Cronn and Belial, having regained themselves, rush in once more. With the Beastly Huntsman completely focused on Gru'go, Belial slashes at its calves, gashing one of them wide open. A pained roar sounds out, causing even the air in their lungs to vibrate, but the effect of its wound doesn't last. Returning to its barrage of sloppy attacks, it gains on Gru'go. Sparks fly as the lance's head connects with the unsteady mace, only stopping when Cronn's ax cuts the piercing blade off. Another swipe of Belial's cleaver creates a second wound in the opposite calf, which- like the first- begins to bleed. The blood that comes from each, still human in appearance, flows like water from a spring. Yet, it doesn't flow for very long. Dragar continues to grow in size. His form, becoming more muscular, and his back, positioned with a heavy hunch, begin to sprout even more hair. Clumps of black coating shroud the body beneath it. Leaving only the face and bared claws visible.

"Do something! Get 'im off me! Get 'im off!"

Seeing his opportunity, Briar pulls the trigger. Sparks fly as the arrow soars. Plunging itself into the soft tissue of the beast's eyes. Another bellow fills the air as it drops the fragmented lance to cover its face.

"Filthy beasts!" It screams. The voice that comes from within being distorted and heavy. "You've no right to be here! You've no right at all!" Knowing it has Gru'go pinned against the rocks, it slides its paws off its face and raises them to each side. With the arrow still wedged between both sockets- having been stopped by the bone in its nose-, the monstrosity swats the mace away. As it clangs against the ground, claws whistle, and blood rains down. "DIE, BEAST! DIE!"

"No!" Cronn, praying that Gru'go hasn't been lost, leaps with his ax overhead. The audible breaking of ribs causes the monster to bolt upright and cry out once more.

Seeing the damage that has already been done, Belial takes his chances, too. With the beast buckled backward, he drops his cleaver into the side of its throat. As it connects, the cries are cut short. In their place, gurgling and snapping teeth follow the beast to the ground, where it convulses and rolls its fingers against each palm, unable to move. At the feet of the dying, corrupt Nostrum, lies Gru'go. His limp body, plastered to the stone, stares blindly with horror carved into it. The trio looks upon him regretfully, knowing only of what they must now inform Yuler of. As this thought crosses Briar's mind, he takes in a realizing, sharp breath and bounds over the beast's body. Checking Gru'go's belts and pockets.

"Briar, what are you doing?" A shocked Cronn asks with his mouth agape.

"Yuler needs a vial! We can't lose her too! Quick, search Dragar's clothing!" Accepting what has happened already, Belial does as he is asked, whilst Cronn remains rooted where he stands. Finding a few on the deceased Nostrum, Briar holds them tightly against his chest in an effort to not drop any and rushes back to Yuler, who remains in the same state that they had found her in. Pulling a cork from one, he tips it to her lips and pours it in. Seeing her throat make the motions of swallowing, he kneels beside her and checks for wounds. "Cronn, get over here!"

"C-coming." Snapping out of a state of disbelief, he rushes to Briar's side, ready to aid Yuler in whatever way he must.

"Quick, give her a second vial while I seal this shut. Yuler, bare with me."

"Gru'go... where is Gru'go?" She pleads, tears forming in her eyes. The blurry image of Briar heating a blade over a torch is neglected as she watches smoke begin to roll from somewhere just beyond them. "No..."

"Stay still, this will only take a second." Briar states, removing the blade from the fire and shifting about. As Cronn places the second vial against her lips, Briar makes the tear in her shirt larger, clearing an area around a now hardly bleeding puncture wound. As it touches the tender flesh, she spits up what she couldn't quite swallow and squeals, attempting to hold it in as best she can. "Give her another, Cronn. Hurry!" Cronn does so, popping the cork off faster than any of those prior and giving it to Yuler, who shakily treats herself.

With the color returning to her face and the wound now sealed, she rests against the stone once again. This time, more out of relief than weakness. With heavy breaths and shaking hands, she covers her face. Allowing the tears to flow as the smell of burning flesh permeates the air. Whether it be her own or that of Dragar and Gru'go, she knows not.

Meanwhile, Belial remains near the corpses. Watching the entirety of them become nothing more than bones and ash. The sight brings back visions of the night Marne died, and he gazes unblinkingly into the flames. Consumed by grief, anger, and a sense of helplessness, he finds some piece of him being grateful that Yuler is experiencing the same thing as himself. A lost brother, who fell battling against this plague. A lost brother, who fell at the hands of Briar. "An alliance will surely make do."