The Path We Travel Together {Tag: Jamila}

Ten years..... Ten years since the Tikoloshe, the Fey people, brought them the offer for peace, and unKosi Bangizwe accepted it. Ten years was a very long time, and a great many things had changed. Without the constant conflict, the war machine that was the Zulu Nation turned its intense focus on the devastation wrought by the anger of the Great Mother. They attacked it like an enemy, and began building, which gave rise to a renaissance among the people. A class of artisans emerged from a people whose only art was War. Even the Zulu trained changed, now they trained harder. unKozi feared that peace would soften his people, so he urged his people to be the wall that kept invaders out of their lands, to be the power that kept the nation strong, and to be the spear that made their enemies afraid to break the peace. unKozi spoke and the Zulu moved as one.

As one.... "Shigeh, shigeh, eetama Shigeh.....Shigeh, Shigeh, eetama Shigeh.... Shigeh, shigeh, eetama Shigeh." voices chanted without end, their words in perfect rhythm with the drumming of bare feet impacting upon sundried earth and stone. Gwazi's deep voice reverberated as part of that cadence, and the hard calloused soles of his feet struck the earth and refused to yield. The noonday sun hovered high in the sky, and beat down on sweat soaked black skin stretched taught over muscles that rippled with each fluid motion. He wore no boots to protect his feet, no clothes to shield his skin, just his under clothes to maintain decency, and a pack filled with weights. Running beside him was an older man whose short cropped hair showed more grey than black, and skin showed some wrinkling, but his stride was just as strong. Stretched out behind him was three columns of dark skinned adolescents, dressed in the same manner, echoing the chant of them men leading them.

This was how they trained. They ran miles unprotected through the sun-blasted lands at the northern edge of Zulu territory so that the land could toughen their bodies. Each carried a pack filled with half the weight that they were able to stand with, to strengthen their muscles. They chanted loud, forcing the words out, conditioning their lungs to make the most of the air within them. The Zulu people were forged hard to be a living spear, and none were shaper than the Mvikile. Gwazi turned his head to look over his shoulder at the youths that trailed behind him, then cut his eyes to the man that ran at his side. A smile brightened his stern face, and his chanting stopped so he could speak, "It is good we only ran five miles. I don't think they have a sixth in them. Tell me Umfundisi (teacher), was I ever that young."

Umfundisi, it was a term of reverence and respect, earned by surviving long enough to pass what one knew on to younger generations. Dibala, the older man beside him turned his leathery face to Gwazi and laughed. It was a hearty sound bore no sign of being winded or even interrupting his breathing. Ivory teeth continued to shine in his dark face as he answered. "No Gwazi, I remember you being younger." Dibala had been umfundisi for many years, and trained countless Mvikile for service, after his Sangoma was forced into retirement to pass her knowledge on to those being trained. To Gwazi he was a surrogate father, more so than any other, because Dibala had been his father's best friend.

Age and experience came with the privilege of being able to laugh at the expense of the young. Gwazi's smile disappeared, and his eyes narrowed at Dibala which only drove the man to laugh even more and comment about Gwazi being just as serious now as he was when he was a boy. Gwazi's lips wrinkled to fight off a smile, but that battle was quickly lost. Ten years was a very long time, and many things changed. He could now joke with the man he always knew as a humorless taskmaster, because Gwazi had proven himself to be a worthy student. The smile remained on his lips as he raised his voice with new vigor, " Shigeh, shigeh, eetama Shigeh...."

The last mile went quickly, and Gwazi could see the citadel dominating the green horizon before them that stood in stark contrast to the wasteland around them. Each step he took brought him closer to home, and he could feel its pull growing stronger the closer he came. Home was not a place, or a thing, it was Jamila, his wife. The pull Gwazi felt was the magic of the bond, symbolized by their paired tattoos, that connected them. He could always feel her, always sense her, and always find her; an awareness of Jamila was nestled at the back of his mind, and the center of his being. She was a part of him, and he a part of her.

It was the Northern Citadel, one of three, that stood out as landmarks in the Zulu nation. Northern and Southern Citadels stood at the northern and southern borders of the nation. It was where Sangoma and Mvikile waited to defend their national borders, and new Mvikile trained to one day be chosen. The Central Citadel was nestled in the heart of the nation at Kwazulu, the capital city. It was in the safety at the heart of the nation where new Sangoma were trained. The massive gates of the expansive stone wall opened to admit the returning column that came to a stop center of training yard. Gwazi shrugged off his heavy pack and placed it on the ground where the others started to unload their burdens, so they could be unpacked and stored, and started to walk away. For the youths, the days training was just getting started, but for Gwazi it was coming to an end. Gwazi had started training with the rise of the sun, pushing himself harder than these boys were yet ready to handle, and the run was his way of cooling down.

Behind the wall, and beyond the training yard stood a massive five story tall block of solid stone that was the citadel. It was built to house the residents and resist attack. It survived the Great Mother's fury better than any other structure, so it was rebuilt the same way. Gwazi walked up towards the front of the structure and stopped before a large rectangular pool of water that had been built into the grounds. Without hesitation he dove head first into the crystal clear waters. The cool waters chilled his skin as he swam across the twenty foot long rectangle that was lined blue crystals called Aquara stones. They were the same magically created crystals that lined the aqueducts that supplied water all across the nation. Just like in the aqueducts, they purified the water they touched, and kept the pool clean after the Mvikile bathed in it when they returned from training. Gwazi emerged on the other side refreshed, cleansed of sweat and dirt, and pushed himself out of the water.

On this side was a large wicker bin. Gwazi lifted it to reveal countless pairs of wide legged cotton pants with drawstrings. There were a number of sizes to fit the many different body types that lived in the citadel. Unashamed of his body, Gwazi pushed down his under clothes, and stepped out of them so that he could don a dry pair of cotton pants. He pulled the drawstring snug, tied it off, and continued on his way. Jamila was close, he could feel her, and he missed her. It had only been seven hours, but he crept from the bed while she still slept. He was eager to say hello.

The stone floor was cool beneath his bare feet, and his eyes adjusted to the light that was reflected into the Citadel by the high polished mirrors that dispersed throughout. The entire structure was sturdy an spacious, with a number of evenly spaced choke points. It was built for the purpose of cutting down any attacking force that managed to breech it's walls. Gwazi grew up within these walls. He knew every twist and turn, what lay behind every door, but none of this mattered to him right now. Gwazi wandered through the halls, around one turn after another, following the sensation of being pulled wherever it lead. She was close, and the closer she came, the less he paid attention to his surroundings and how far he traveled through the Citadel. Finally, there she was. Just looking into her eyes, Gwazi saw the truth. He loved his nation, he loved his people. Gwazi would die for them, but for her, he would live. He would survive every battle, he would fight to stay alive. Gwazi refused to leave this world while she was still alive, and she if he had his way, she would stay alive as long as he drew breath. His love for her was without equal. "There you are, Isingani. Good morning...." he said to her as a smile crept across his lips.



Tikoloshe- The catch all word for the Fey people in the Zulu tongue, derived from Zulu mythology.
Kosi-Zulu word for King
un prefix- means Military Leader
Great Mother- Zulu refer to Terra as the Great Mother
Isingani- Love of my soul

Where you looking for me, abantakwethu? she gave him a cheeky grin in response. Jamila, fresh from her own bath beneath the cascading waters of the garden falls, met her husband halfway through the maze of the citadel halls. Her hair was hanging in damp waves over her shoulders and down her back which was bared due to the cut of her dress. V-Neck, halter top that exposed the upper portion of her back and fitted to her torso before relaxing at her waist so that the skirts moved with a natural sway around her hips and legs, tickling the backs of her thighs each time she took a step, adorned her figure. White, cotton fabric was a bright contrast against her barely browned skin; a much lighter shade than Gwazi’s dark ebony flesh.

Seven hours prior...

The gentle sway of the bed was enough to disturb her restful slumber. Jamila groaned and rolled over extending an arm out to the empty spot beside her, searching for the body that kept her warm at night. Spreading her fingers against the heated spot on the mattress, she grinned sleepily and slowly blinked open coffee colored eyes. Gwazi, in all his naked glory, had been striding across the room to prepare for his morning training session with the young recruits. He was her alarm clock by simply removing himself from her side Jamila sat up and stretched her arms above her head. Pushing the covers aside, the caramel-skinned Sangoma rose and padded on bare feet around the room to her closet where handmade clothes hung on wire hangers and were neatly folded in drawers of a hand carved armoire.

She donned some gray terry Capri pants and a loosely fitted white racer-back, round-neck top over a sports bra. Her hair was pulled away from her face and tied with a small cord of leather, skillfully tied by the adept fingers of her husband who had brushed up behind her. Thanking him with a kiss, the two Ibubesi parted ways at the front door to their apartment; Gwazi in one direction to meet up with the new recruits and Jamila in another to find solitude in the citadel gardens.

Emerging into the pre-dawn air, Jamila inhaled the fresh air before padding on bare feet through the lush grass towards an aged tree stump. There had at one time been an ancient Baobab tree nestled within the gardens, but time had ultimately turned against it and so they had had to remove it. The wood had been put to good use, of course, by creating furnishings for the citadel. Jamila climbed onto the flat surface of the tree stump and crossed her legs Indian-style (left over right). The noise of the community was hidden beneath the sounds of exotic birds, primates and trickling water that streamed through the gardens from a natural waterfall and spring just a few feet from where she sat.

These assaults to her senses were nothing when compared to the countless battles she had fought with Gwazi. She closed her eyes and went into an immediate trance-like state of mind; expanding her soul out (not physically) into her surroundings. All at once she was assailed by new sensations. The life force of the living things around her, both animal and plants, was a sudden beat in sync with her own heart. She pushed herself as far as the garden wall, which stood a good 30 feet from where she sat. Jamila knew that trying to push herself beyond that was futile. She had tried many times before and always would she end up being forced out of her meditation by a sudden wave of nausea and nose bleeds. So she focused on the garden and the living beings within its walls.

For hours she sat thus, until her legs went numb and her state of being was in harmony with her surroundings. What pulled her from her meditation was the bonding tattoo on her spine. The connection that tied her to Gwazi began to overshadow the pulse of nature until she could no longer focus. Pulling back into herself, which was like being sucked through a vacuum if one could imagine, Jamila expelled a deep breath and stretched her legs out. It was painful now to stand after sitting in the same position for so many hours. Looking up to the sky and gauging the time by the position of the sun, she figured that Gwazi was still 2 hours from being done. Enough time for her to bathe and prepare a mid-morning meal for his return.

Presently...

Good morning, she stopped in front of him and rising up onto the tips of her toes (since she was barefoot) Jamila waited for him to bend the rest of the way (Gwazi being near an entire foot taller than she) before their lips met in a kiss. Did you have a good training? Dropping back down to the balls of her feet, Jamila reached for his hand and linked her slender fingers through his larger ones.

Translation:
Abantakwethu = my sweetheart

Eyes that were trained to see the world during combat, had no problem seeing every move his wife made as she gracefully walked up to him. He reveled in every step, every sway, and knew her movements so well, he knew what was coming next. She was a creature of the savannah, beautiful and deadly at the same time, but seemingly innocent as she easily went up on tip toes and stretched her body up towards him. Gwazi stood motionless for just a moment, so he could enjoy the sight of her. Dark eyes started at her feet, perfect arches bent, toned calves flexing, shapely backside and hips giving skirts their shape, defined back and slender neck forming a perfect line, and finally her luscious lips. He was drawn to them like a moth to a flame.



Unaware of it, Gwazi had licked his lips in desire as his wife approached him, and bent down to touch his moistened full lips to hers, completing the gesture. Only she could quench him and set him on fire at the same time, and it had always been that way. She was his first and only love. Full lips parted to lace with her slimmer pads, and his solid forearm laid across the small of her back so that fingers could curl around her hip. In one motion, Gwazi pulled Jamila against his body, and stood up, lifting her toes off of the floor completely. His body had been trained so diligently that he barely felt the weight of his whole world as he scooped her up into his arms. When he finally broke the kiss, Jamila was cradled in his arms, and nestled against his bare chest. She could feel it expand as he drew a sharp breath through his nose, "Mmm... You smell good." he quietly rumbled to her.


With Jamila comfortably held in his arms Gwazi started to walk forward, retracing her steps. It was only a short distance back to their apartments in the citadel. With Jamila's rank and Gwazi's years of service combined, they were afforded the luxury of not only privacy but space as well. "Yes, it was a good one. I trained with the new recruits. It's a promising group even if Dibala will not admit it out loud. His stomach is probably aching right now because I've said it to you." he laughed as he opened the door to their rooms. The first room was a gathering room where friends were met, meals were shared, and the daily business of life occurred. To the left was a small alcove for cooking and food storage. A door on one side of the room led to a spacious bedroom that they shared, with generous closet space, and a full bathroom. It was the largest quarters anyone was allowed unless they had children. For the moment Gwazi and Jamila did not, and the subject rarely came up, but it did from time to time.


The decor was elegant and colorful, definitely exhibiting the touch of a woman. Jamila was responsible for decorating every inch of their living space, but Gwazi helped by hiding weapons around the room should they ever be needed. It wasn't a matter of paranoia, it was just his personal touch. Other Mvikile has a habit of keeping trophies from their kills and displaying them in their quarters, but that wasn't Gwazi's way. The only time he kept piece of a kill, was when he could turn it into something useful. He never tried to mount Amy stuffed heads on the wall because of something Jamila said when they were young, about adding his head to the collection if he ever tried to be a braggart. The old proverbs said: 'The worst way to lose, is to call the bluff of a Sangoma', and 'Sangoma never forget and Mvikile never forgive'. She would no doubt remember saying it and follow through with it. He thought about that every time he walked into their home within a home, and smiled. That smile grew wider when he smelled mixing aromas of food. "I'm starving. I think I might be getting too old to train on an empty stomach." he joked with her as he looked over the spread she prepared for them. It was the Zulu way to train on empty stomachs to simulate the hardships of war and prepare a warrior mentally.


After playfully annoying his wife while she plated up their meals, Gwazi sat down at the table with her and began eating his fill. He had always possessed a ravenous appetite, and was blessed with the gift of a wife who happened to be a good cook. Most Sangoma were so given over to the pursuit of their magic that all other aspects suffered. Most of them couldn't boil water unless it was by spell, and depended on their Mvikile for those mundane tasks. Gwazi was very capable at those tasks, and both shared the responsibilities, but she spoiled him from time to time and he appreciated it. The lavish attention flowed both ways, such was their relationship. This moment of attention was destined to end early. Just after the meal was about halfway through, a knock came at the door. The quick wrapping bore the feeling of urgency so Gwazi wasted no time answering it.


On the other side or the door stood a young messenger who bore the crest of the Sangoma Council of Elders. His eyes went right to Jamila and he bowed his head respectfully. "Sangoma Ibubesi, The Council has called upon you." he said in a sturdy voice and offered up a sealed scroll. It read:
Sangoma Jamila Ibubesi,
The Council of Elders calls you to service. The Tinkana settlement has sent word that they have fallen victim to the attacks of Outworld beasts. They have sustained property damage, loss of livestock, and destruction of crops on a scale which is consistent with no natural born creature. Tinkana is located 14 kilometers west of the city Kwaisange, which lies 200 kilometers to the southwest of the Northern Citadel. There has been no word of attack from neighboring settlements, or the city itself. You are dispatched to investigate the attacks, determine the cause, and put an end to them. If the Outworld beast has taken human life, you are to destroy it in accordance with the law. If you find that the Outworld Beast is not wild, you are charged with hunting the one responsible for betraying our people, and dispense justice. You are to leave immediately.

Through the bond they shared Gwazi could feel the change in Jamila's mood taking place as she read the contents of the scroll. It was like feeling a warm fire grow cold, and leave behind the hardened steel that had been tempering in its embrace. Without a word between them, Gwazi filled his mouth one last time and rose from the table. He didn't need to know the contents of the scroll to know that he needed to be ready. He was her guardian, and nothing save for the word of the unKosi himself could forbid him from going where she went. The messenger, once he watched her break the seal on the scroll and read it, gave a respectful bow and excused himself as was custom. Gwazi closed the door behind him, and went to the room to prepare. "What business does the Council send us on?" he asked as he stripped and began to don his war attire. He pulled on a skintight black shirt that was made to protect him from the elements, then came a pair of pants and overcoat made of Morrlying skin. He fastened its sleeves back, so that he could don the Ubani Isihlangu bracer and the Duma Casa gauntlets. Around his neck he fastened to thick necklace of wood, leather, and steel that was the sleeping form of Muncu Zakaza. Once his main armaments were in place, he began fastening, sheathing, and pocketing a number of other mundane items which were his natural compliment. Finally he reached for the backpack that lay in an alcove near the door, checked its contents even though he checked it every morning before starting his day, and slung it over his shoulder. He was quick, efficient, and just like that, he was ready to go to war.

They were perfectly matched in every aspect. Him being nearly a foot taller than she did not counter this in any way; instead his great size was a positive match to the power that she wielded. Jamila smiled with a genuine affection as her dark knight came strolling around the corner ahead of her, instantly opening his arms so that she could walk into them. His bare chest was still slightly damp from his bath and wetted the front of her dress as he held her up off the floor. Their kiss lasted and lasted until Gwazi broke it to bury his face against her neck, amid the wet strands of her dark hair. You smell good too, she returned to him, brushing her nose against the pulse at the side of his neck. Even when Gwazi didn’t smell fresh, like after a session of training before his bath, Jamila could honestly say that her husband was the only man whose sweat she didn’t mind. But of course she was biased in her opinion.

When it became apparent that he would not be putting her down Jamila lifted her legs and wrapped the shapely extremities around his waist and locked her ankles at the small of his back. She remained thus until they were safely ensconced within their apartments. All of the furniture was hand carved, if not by Gwazi or her father then by someone else within their village. The fabrics of their cushions and pillows were all hand woven and filled with feathers or wool or a combination of both. Dibala doesn’t admit to a lot. He wouldn’t praise you until recent years. When she spoke of her husband’s foster father, Jamila’s voice was hinted with an affectionate inflection. She had taken a liking to the man from the start and the same could be said for Gwazi’s foster mother.

On her feet again, she went about setting their meals on the table. Both plates laden with meats and eggs and freshly baked bread. His was much fuller than hers since he had a larger appetite to sate. She did not know the hardships of training while starving since the Sangoma were taught that it was better to be full and energized that way they can last longer during battle. She sat down across from him and dug into her own pile of food; mixing everything together in one pile and just forking it into her mouth by large bites. Jamila was a rarity among the Sangoma in the sense that she could not only do magic but also was a decent cook. Her mother felt that just because she was a Sangoma that was no reason to be a poor cook and so whenever she wasn’t training, she was teaching her daughter how to prepare an edible meal for the family that she would one day have. Well she was half-way there. Children though were a touchy subject with them.

She wasn’t yet sure that she wanted them. At times she looked upon the children in the village with such longing that it hurt, but then she and Gwazi would be thrust into perilous battle and that longing for children is instantly squashed by a fear that should she have them, she might one day be taken from them. These were the thoughts racing through her mind when the knock sounded and her husband rose from the table to answer the call. Curious as well she stood and came to stand beside Gwazi and to accept the scroll that was presented to her from the young messenger. Thank you, she smiled and turned away to return to her seat at the table, unfurling the scroll and reading the contents in silence. Gwazi already knew the protocol that came with receiving one of these missives for he immediately went into Mvikile mode.

It was time to do their duty once again. Jamila joined her husband in the bedroom once she had cleared the table and stored the remainder of the food. Her dress was quickly shed and replaced with a pair of fitted pants, boots and shirt before she strapped a thin breast-plate to her torso made from the bone of a Haagryng and covered in a layer of Morrlyng flesh. She quickly plaited her hair into a single braid that lay over her shoulder and grabbed her own bag from the closet. The two Ibubesi were constantly prepared to leave at a moment’s notice for parts unknown. Beasts attacks on the Tinkana settlement. Go investigate and kill whatever or whoever it is causing trouble. From a box on a shelf at the top of the closet (that she had Gwazi fetch for her) she retrieved a pendant necklace that was given to her by her mother; a family heirloom that contained the enchantment over another beast of hers.

The Gryphon, a creature of lore known to most cultures; majestic and frightening animal with the body of a lion and the head and wings of an Eagle, they could live for an eternity if given the proper chance. In the great, many years of Jamila’s family, whom had always been in service to both the Sangoma and Mvikile, two of these creatures were in service to them. They were, as custom, passed down to the children upon their induction into either of the two sects. When Jamila had married Gwazi, it was her turn to take over the Gryphon’s and so as a gift to their daughter on her wedding day, her parents had bestowed the pair of beasts to her and her new husband.

In the courtyard, where they gathered their riding tack from the stable master, Jamila slipped the necklace over her head and ran the pad of her thumb across the jewel pendant. From her lips fell the whispered words used to summon the Gryphons to her; tearing a rift portal into the fabric of the world so that the two creatures were soaring through the openings and circled around Jamila and Gwazi. With screeches of acknowledgment echoing from their beaks as they descended to the ground and approached, Jamila greeted the first of the two Gryphons’ by placing her hand out, palm forward. The animal touched its beak to her hand, then screeched more quietly allowing her to fit it with a bridle that was made specifically made to fit. Mina othandweni wena, she called to Gwazi as she mounted the Gryphon's back.

Translator:
Mina othandweni wena = I love you

Gwazi waited the few moments that it took Jamila to finish gearing up, and enjoyed every moment of it. Together they left their apartments without locking the doors because such things were unnecessary, and made their way out into the courtyard. He stopped walking, allowing Jamila to pull away from him as her hand rose to pull the pendant from behind her breastplate. He was very familiar with what was to come next, but it never ceased to amaze him. Jamila's family possessed a rare skill with magic that few ever reached, but many aspired to. Somehow they had managed to forge an alliance with Outworld beasts, and created an item to allow them access into this world. There was no force exerted to control them, they came of their own free will. The ethereal veil between worlds tore open before his eyes and through the shimmery gateway came two massive beasts, the Gryphon.

They both landed on the ground, causing dust to kick up around their impact. The larger of the two moved towards Gwazi while the other made its way towards Jamila. Fierce eyes locked onto the Mvikile and it gave a slight growl as it closed the distance. Gwazi took a step forward, and it lowered its massive eagle head. The gryphon thrust the crown of its head into Gwazi who had held his arms aside, tensed his chest, and pushed himself forward defiantly. The two collided forcefully and Gwazi's lips parted in a smile, "Sawubona, old friend. Sawubona." he said as his arms closed around the gryphon's neck. Calloused hands slapped at is feathered neck to greet the muscles beneath. Sawubona simply meant hello. Gwazi had no name for the Gryphon. One named their pets and things they owned, and the gryphon were neither pet nor property. Friend and ally was the only name for him because he had not told Gwazi his name. They had mutual respect, and seemed to understand each other just fine without names.

Once greetings were exchanged, the two moved with a practiced precision that came with years of familiarity. Deft hands and precise movements quickly affixed the harness that allowed Gwazi to safely ride the Gryphon and not fall off when it flew erratically. Once secure, Gwazi swung his leg over the saddle and strapped in. Hearing Jamila's voice brought his attention to her and he locked eyes across the distance with his wife who was already mounted. " Mina othandweni wena," he returned, and then took to the air. They never said 'goodbye' because they would always be together in life as well as death. They never said 'good luck'. They had something stronger.

The Gryphons were powerful beasts, ferocious and formidable on the ground because of all their muscle mass. In the air it was a different story. Those same muscles powered massive wings that propelled them through the air at unimaginable speeds with astonishing grace. They had the best of two worlds, and were masters of both. With the help of their allies, the Ibubesies sped over the African continent, completing a full day's journey in just two hours. Villages, military outposts, and cities were just a blur, until the Gryphons slowed and landed outside the large settlement of Tinkana.

The approach of the two giant winged beasts did not go unnoticed. They caused a stir among the people that spread out like a wave as word traveled and some panicked. By the time the pair landed, what they were had been determined, and the leader of the settlement was already exiting the city, flanked by his council. "Honored Sangoma and Mvikile, thank you for coming so quickly." He was a strong jawed man who had a confident bearing. He stood tall but bowed respectfully to the people who were sent to help them. "The beast attacked again last night, but this time it was not content with live stock. One of the outlying houses was destroyed, the family that lived there was killed."

The site that the mayor of the settlement spoke of was out on the outskirts of the settlement. It was the a small family home that tended live stock. Six head of cattle lay in the small pen outside on the ground of their pen, mutilated and half eaten. Trench marks peppered the ground where clawed feet pressed to carry great body from one victim to the next. Bovine carcasses lay on the ground with huge chunks missing, and teeth marks were left behind. A few meters away lay the remnants of the house where the family lived. Something large had broken through its walls and rooted out the family within. Splinters of furniture were scattered about, and the walls were covered with blood. "We buried them this morning. No one was spared."

Grinning affectionately, she watched the scene play out between her husband and the larger of the two Gryphons. Their sizes were proportionate to match that of Jamila and Gwazi; therefore it was natural that he acquired the bigger of the two beasts. The larger beast was also the more aggressive of the two so it was also perfect since Gwazi had a love of playing rough. Jamila and her smaller Gryphon would merely watch this display with amused expressions while readying for the trip ahead of them.

She would speak quietly to her own traveling companion; verbally communicating with the beast whom responded by making some sort of motion to indicate that it had understood. Like her husband and his rascal Gryphon, she had her own dinamic with the smaller. They were calm and gentle in comparison. Easily moving her hands from the creature's head down to its back where the transition from eagle feathers to lion fur was met.

Flying was just as smooth. Gliding over clouds and diving back towards the ground was a rush that no single person could imagine without experiencing it first. She loved it. The wind blustering the loose strands of hair around her face as she and Gwazi raced through the sky towards Tinkana. Upon arrival they were greeted by the village leader and the man led them to the most recent site of attack.

She was staring at the devastation mutely. Her arms crossed and her body stiff. No matter how long she did this, it was always hard to see such things. Jamila had learned long ago to reign in her emotions because they would always hurt in the long run. The residual energy left by the beast that caused this was still lingering in the area. Jamila rubbed a bit of tension out of her neck that had accumulated as they'd been standing there. And did no one hear any strange noises or see what caused this?

It was hard to believe that something could cause that much damage and go unnoticed for so long. It had to be huge, if the lay of the destruction was any indication. Turning to Gwazi she nodded in the direction of the dead cattle and destroyed home, Ready to explore?

When Jamila asked her question of the settlement's leader he shook his head begrudgingly and said, "No, Sangoma. No one in the village was able to tell us anything about the beast save for the roars it made. A fearsome sound, not like a lion or a jungle cat, something worse. They were too afraid for their lives so they did not come out of their homes. I must return to see to other business, if you will excuse me. If there is any way I more my people can be of assistance please tell Jakale. He will stay close by until you dismiss him." The older gentleman gave Jamila and Gwazi a respectful bow, then left with all but one of his attendants in tow.

Gwazi had been standing aside patiently waiting for Jamila to finish her business. He was in no way a diplomat or someone who wished to make pleasantries with people he did not know. He was more interested in the scene of the attack, but would not leave Jamila's side while they were in the company of others. It wasn't that he did not trust his Zulu brethren, he simply trusted no one other than himself when Jamila was involved. Only another Mvikile would understand Gwazi's lack of trust without taking offense. He watched the entourage make its way away from the small range and then turned his eyes on the one who stayed behind. Watchful eyes looked over his clothing and his body, searching for signs of weapons or exceptional training. Almost every man and most women in the Zulu nation was trained to fight so such ability was normal, however exceptional ability stood out like a flower in a field of weeds.

Jakale didn't stand out as one of these exceptional individuals, but Gwazi didn't discount him completely. He was however, put off by the intense gaze of Jamila's protector, and volunteered to move himself to the edge of the ranch and give them the space they needed to explore. Once he was out of the way Gwazi turned his eyes to the surrounding landscape, which he had only been paying to on his periphery. Nothing existed on the horizon to provide thread so, the warrior was free to examine the world immediately around him. A smooth gait took him across the wild grass filled pen, towards the corpses, and he knelt by them.

The bodies of the slaughtered cows where still fresh so they had not yet begun to stink. Flies buzzed thick around the gaping wounds, and he swished a hand to ward them away so he could examine the bite marks. They had pronounced gouges around the edges that showed overly large fangs. Shifting on his knee he looked at the ground around the corpses and saw deep trenches dug into the soil. He shifted through the grasses near the gouges looking at the ground they obscured. Slowly he worked his way away from the corpses and shook his head. "I don't see any tracks in the ground around the corpses, not even human tracks that could have ruined the beasts."

Gwazi stood up from where he knelt in the corral and walked over to Jamila. "Either I have lost my tracking skills or this thing does not travel on paws or feet. The gouges in the ground seemed random. They were either part of the struggle or part of the way the creature moves itself." His stride brought him through the gaping hole in the wall that the creature made to gain entry and he examined the debris, paying attention to the floor, looking for more gouge marks in the woodwork. His foot shoved aside broke wood and furniture and he saw beneath it, a trench in the wood. Once he found that one he looked for others trying to discern how the beast moved its body and how large it was.

She shouldn’t blame them for their fear. The Sangoma and Mvikile were born and trained to fear nothing except the loss of each other. Still, Jamila could not help but roll her eyes as the leader of the settlement retreated from them with his entourage except for one. The young man stood not far from where Gwazi and Jamila were; his dull brown eyes staring between the two of them until he too decided to retreat, but only by a few yards. Gwazi’s suspicious, hard stare was enough to make even the bravest of men cower and run with their tail between their legs.

Jamila smirked and strode into the field of scattered bovine corpses. They had not yet started to put off an odor, but then again the sun had not reached its hottest spot in the sky. Before the day was out, they would begin to rot and smell less the settlement burn them. Kneeling beside her husband she inspected the large opening in one of the cows, and then turned her gaze to the trenches carved in the ground around it. That’s because whatever did this doesn’t walk…at least it doesn’t use feet of any kind. With a hand on his shoulder, Jamila pushed herself back up to survey the other fallen cattle before heading towards the ruined house.

Stepping over one of the destroyed walls, she followed the gouges in the ground through the house. Like Gwazi stated, they were indeed random and she was moving from one room to another without rhyme or reason. Her brow wrinkled with a serious frown as she stood staring at one set of trenches. Like Gwazi, she was at a loss about this creature. Perhaps it could fly, or perhaps it came up through the ground… Without seeing it for herself then Jamila was only playing a guessing game and with so many lives at stake then there was no room for guesses. She had to be certain and only then would she know the best way to fight this monster.

It would be easier for her if someone had seen what this creature looked like. This was like tracking a ghost. Returning to Gwazi's side, a little more than frustrated already, Jamila looked up at him with a frown, This is getting us nowhere. Since no one has seen this thing and if it only comes at night, then we should wait until nightfall and catch if then. You agree?

It was like watching a well-practiced dance, but the music could only be heard by them. Even though her stock and trade was magic, Jamila was just as skilled a reader as he. Most Sangoma cared nothing for tracking, and left such work to their Mvikile, but they were different. Over the years Gwazi taught her what he knew, and took the time to explain out loud how those skills allowed him to read a scene. Jamila’s keen mind learned to think the way he did, and comprehended the stories the silent world had to tell. The gift of knowledge was not unrequited. Even though he had no talent for using magic as the Sangoma did, Jamila in her infinite patience explained her mystical world to him and answered every question he asked. Gwazi’s mind was not stunted by the strength of his muscles, so he understood so he understood her miraculous craft as well as any unblessed with the gift could. This commonality was a part of their foundation together.

Gwazi moved through the structure looking at the damage path, gaining a better sense of how this creature attacked. Even if he didn’t know what it looked like, he could tell that there were large fangs from the bite marks in the cattle. The splintered beams told him that its main claws where sharp, but thick. The initial cuts were easy but the wood was gouged into a wide wedge which molded the shape of the cutting surface. Beyond it was a large splintering of the wooden beams breaking. They snapped quickly with long splinters, which meant the beast had to be very strong, and drove that strike with great force. There were also broken beams overhead which meant it either was very tall or tried to jump while in doors and collided hard enough to break them. They way that they were broken upward said that jumping was more likely.

He continued through the house observing the blood spatter and the manner in which it looked like the family tried defending itself. Gwazi wanted to see if there were any signs of one method proving more effective than any other. During his search, he found something interesting on one of the walks and knelt down to examine it more closely. While he did Jamila’s voice found his ears, and the question pulled at some of his attention. ”My thoughts exactly. We don’t know what we are dealing with, and we know it has chosen this as a hunting ground. We can set an ambush and level the field.“ His voice was a slightly distracted rumble that his wife would be able to pick up on because she knew him so well. He didn’t need to say that he had found something.

His hand reached out to the wall and he tentatively touched a finger to its surface. When nothing bad happened, he wrapped his hand around what was left of one of the boards, and tore it free from where it was nailed. He held it up to his eyes for a closer look and then sniffed at it. His nose wrinkled slightly and he pulled it away from his nostrils because whatever he found there was offensive. ”What do you make of this? It looks like it was eaten away by acid. It even smells like it was corroded.“ he handed the board over to Jamila so that she could inspect it in ways that only a Sangoma could. Without the gift, Gwazi had no way of telling if there were lingering traces of magic on the board that were left behind by whatever did it. Magical acid and mundane acid were two different substances with two very different ways of being handled. While she worked he went back to studying the scene for clues about the acid’s source and use.

Once their inspection of the ranch was complete, Gwazi turned his attention to another task. Their chosen plan of action was to wait for the creature and ambush it. The key to a successful ambush was preparedness. The beast hunted at night so he wasn’t going to waste the hours of daylight that he had at his disposal. Gwazi started his preparations by making a circuit around the village’s perimeter, and searching for signs of the beast’s marks in the ground, while asking the nearby villagers if they had ever heard or saw anything suspicious in the night. While he searched he also surveyed the land for a good place to fight. Choosing a battlefield was important because it dictated the tactics that could be used during the fight. When he found one that he liked he set to work.

Even though the Zulu warriors had access to equipment, both magical and mundane, and all manner of magical spells, all Zulu warriors learned to use their surroundings to deadly effect. Gwazi spent hours fashioning the workings of traps and surprises from the generous land around them. It wasn’t until that was done that he approached his wife, ”My love, I need help with some heavy lifting,“ he said with an incredulous smile. When he had her attention, he would take her on a walk with him, and show her what exactly he needed help with so that she would understand. In his travels he spotted three massive boulders that had been inset into the ground. One of them was at the site of the ambush, and a reason that he chose the location. The other two were a few hundred feet away.

”I need these two boulders moved from here, over there near that one in the distance. I will also need that one pulled up out of the ground, and relocated.“ His hands pointed to each boulder he spoke of, and indicated the direction he needed them moved. The massive stones were easily taller than a man and winder than three or four of them linking arms. There was no way he was going to be able to lift them himself, and he didn’t want to waste precious time organizing a team of men from the village. ”I will need them set like this….“ he said and then began to draw a diagram in the ground with a stick so that she knew exactly what he wanted. ”I’ll be back. I have to see if anyone is willing to sell me a heifer. I will need to use it as bait so that the beast comes to us.“

Gwazi had left preparing the town and its people for the night’s events to Jamila. She was by far the better of the two with people. Gwazi was Mvikile and did not have the patience for anyone who was untrained, even if they were Zulu. However athletic or efficient they were, they were still not professional soldiers, a thing that was becoming more commonplace in the last decade. His rough personality would surely cause more problems when people forced him to explain or repeat himself when they did not follow orders the first time he spoke. Once he purchased a cow to use as bait, Gwazi returned to the ambush site and began to put everything together. Just as the sun was going down, the Mvikile had finished the site. It was open land with a few scrub bushes that grew naturally in the area and a few that he had relocated there himself. The massive boulders were arranged in a triangle formation with base of two being closer to the village, and the point being further away in the direction from which the creature was most likely to come. The hole that had once been the resting spot of a massive boulder was to the right of the triangle’s center. In the center of the rock formation, thirty feet from any boulder, Gwazi drove a stake into the grown and tethered the cow to it. As one last preparation, the Mvikile gave the cow’s rump a cut so that the scent of blood entered the air making it an even more appealing target. With the final preparations done, Gwazi tested the wind, and then leapt atop the boulder that would keep him downwind. Even if he did take measures to mask his scent, he still did not make the mistake of hunting upwind from his prey.

Jamila was thankful that the size of her husband's muscles didn't take away from his intelligence. Neither did her prowess in the art of magic make her too arrogant to appreciate his ways. During her training it was imprinted upon her that without their Mvikile, the Sangoma are only half as good as they are than when they are with them. So with Gwazi's patience he has taught her what he knew of tracking and reading scenes. At times she would join him in observing a certain area, quietly discussing their thoughts and then moving on; parting ways to other areas.

Being approached with an object that had previously been touched by a magical element always made Jamila a bit nervous. She inspected the chunk of wood her husband presented to her, and then gingerly accepted it from him. There was no immediate reaction; however she could feel a gradual burn affecting her hands where she was holding it. Before it got too bad she dropped the chunk of wood and examined her hands. Bright red colored her palms and she even had a couple of blisters forming around the base of her fingers where her fingertips touched when her hands curled inwards. Definitely acid.

Shaking her hands, she followed Gwazi out of the broken structure and approached the two Griffins they had ridden in on. The smaller one rose and approached her, its beak nudging her tender hands as she held them out. Just a little burn, don't fret, she soothed and retrieved her bag from the Griffin. Inside she had stored different poultices for different ailments. The one made for burns and blisters was an Orange looking goop that she layered onto her hands, and then wrapped in bandages so that it wouldn't rub off. She was just finishing doctoring herself when Gwazi approached, grinning like a lion that caught a gazelle.

He led her to a field dominated by three large boulders; too big for a single man to move and to organize a team from the village would definitely be a waste of time. Even the two Griffins would have a problem moving them, so she would have to use one of her Rift Beast. The Haagryng was the only one of her current six capable of lifting and relocating them with ease so it was that particular beast she summoned. The fabric of space and time rippled as she spoke and the disturbance was felt by the animals in the village as they all began to panic, sending up a noisy cry.

A rift tore through open air, creating a bridge between their world and the world of the Haagryng. Through it stepped a colossal beast covered by a bony armor from head to toe. Blacked out eyes stared with disinterested at the world around it as the Haagryng entered into their world and the rift closed behind it, preventing any others of its kind to enter. [Enter zlu directive here. Repeat.] The beast growled down at the Sangoma and swung its large head around to inspect the boulders. It looked almost indecisive about if it wanted to help the Sangoma.

The Haagryng grunt and began to lumber over to the first lone boulder. The beast’s heavy footfalls causing the ground to shake slightly each time it took a step. Throughout she managed to keep a firm control on the Haagryng, though it did try to wander off several times in search of something to kill. Eventually she managed to get the boulders positioned the way Gwazi had specified and the Haagryng stood a few feet from her, breathing heavily and eyeing the group of villagers that had gathered to investigate the goings on. When Gwazi returned to her with the heifer in tow, Jamila sent the Haagryng back through a rift into its own dimension. With the final preparations complete, she joined her husband atop the boulder and crouched by his side, watching and waiting for whatever was terrorizing the village to show itself.

The night had fallen. Black and thick. The kind that felt near palpable in it's complete darkness. A sliver quarter of a moon hung barely there in the sky. Trying desperatly to cast light upon the village that had been ravaged by the beast and yet failing miserably. The night was overcast. Clouds skittered across the stars and moon that should be on brilliant display so far from any large ordinary city. Yet tonight, the chill of the windy night seemed to keep the light sources covered for the most part.

Upon the wind, carried on the waves and trendrils of such, was a unmistakable stench. It carried upon the wind, reaching the nostrils of those that lay in wait for the beast. The beast who knew only hunger. The beast who was ready to fill it's stomach, to feel the thick crunch of flesh and bone within it's jowls.

Tongue wet with moisture at the mere thought of the fresh warm meat. The ease of the people that waited. Thinking perhaps, it was picky. Only livestock. But no. Meat was meat, and this beast was hungry. A feast last night, had been had. A delictable feast of women, men, children. Screams fell on ears that understood nothing but the kill and pleading fell on a mind that only understood the fact that this was food. They were food.

And it was hungry.

The slithering pace, covered the ground quite quickly. The scent of the cows blood had called to it from it's current hovel of a home. Made in a crevase in the rocks that it had found to hide in the daylight hours. Bright light stung the eyes, and he was much better able to see in the dark.

Meat. Hot and bloody. Dinner was waiting.

The beast slitered along. Seven feet from ground to head. Fourteen feet long. He was mean looking. Reared back almost like a snake. A narrow face with sharp teeth shimmering and stained with last night's blood sitting within a severe looking jaw. Eyes on either side of it's head searched. The scent of meat was overpowering. But it could too, sense the presence of others.

Others that would make more meat. The gluttonous beast was all too ready to dive into the boney meat bags. He reveled in the sound of bones crunching in his teeth. There was a clearing, and in the center, a cow stood. Wounded, unable to go anywhere. The beast reveled in the hunt and kill, yet an easy one filled the belly just as well. Slittering his way across the void, the long claws held on it's hands ready to feel the slick hot blood falling into them.

No need for acid. No, this beast was primed for the kill and the beast struck forward, biting into the cows flesh hearing it's strangled scream fall silent as the beast bit through the cow's neck chewing the flesh and reveling in that crunch, the slick blood, the heat, the feeling of feeding.

Extasy.

Most warriors became restless while waiting for the fight to come to them, but Gwazi had been tempered by experience. Where others grew agitated, he grew calm. It was the calm that preceded the storm. One could either give in to nervous energy and be caught in the downpour, or one could rest up and be the storm that crashed upon his enemies without mercy. Gwazi had been both throughout his life, and preferred the latter. The waiting eventually came to an end, and movement through the darkness towards the village. The beast had come.

Gwazi remained motionless as he watched the grotesque creature slither towards the bait in his trap. It was important to see how it moved. The random trenches in the ground and floor of the house started to make perfect sense. Gwazi watched as it descended upon the heifer and made the first bite into its flesh. The Mvikile turned his head slightly so that Jamila was in his field of vision without losing site of the monster, and waited for the signal. She was the Sangoma and this was a rift beast. He knew her arsenal as well as she did, and knew this was something new. He needed to know how she wanted to engage this creature. Did she want the fight prolonged so that she could study its resonance and add it her collection of Summon Beasts, or did she want this monster killed as quickly as possible.

His wife passed sentence on the beast, Death. Gwazi's dark eyes narrowed and his strong jaw set firmly, as his full attention turned back to the monster that was feasting on the cow. Reaching down, he took hold of the rope that was by his feet, and gave it a sharp tug. On three sides of the ground around the monster, the leaves and grasses that had been laid there suddenly stirred. Beneath the laid out coverings sprang three strong flexile branches that had been pulled back and anchored down. Now that they had been unleashed, they swung to converge in the center of the trap where the cow and serpentine creature now stood. Each branch was lined with five daggers with eight inch long blades, that were angled to stab into the flesh of anything standing in the branch's travel path.

Gwazi didn't wait to see if the swinging daggers managed to strike home and do any damage before he set into motion. In one smooth movement, the warrior leapt off of the top of the boulder, and landed gracefully on the ground below. In his right hand he held his Iklewa spear. His left hand was empty, clenched into a fist. He thrust that fist forward and energy crackled through the bracer that encircled his wrist. Those arcs brightened, and the light coalesced into a shield of light. The spear and shield were weapons that seemed misplaced in this day and age, but they were a part of Zulu tradition, and imbued with magic that made them far more effective than firearms. The reason for melee weapons being used, was to make himself a target. Gwazi was a living distraction to draw attention from Jamila so that she was free to work her summoning magic. He moved forward to close the distance slightly, but he remained in between her and it.

They two were like living statues on the boulder. Crouched and focusing their gaze to the distance. Jamila, ever the patient of the two, used this wait time to mentally recount all that they had discovered. She wished that her retinue of spells included one for sooth seeing. It would be easier than this recon work. But it could not be helped now and so there they sat, waiting for the monster to arrive.

They did not have a long wait ahead of them. The first indication was the heifer. She lifted her head from grazing, peered into the distance and startled to struggle against her rope. To see why did not surprise the Sangoma. The creature on the approach was indeed something to fear; larger even than her two Griffins, Jamila mentally cursed. Looking to her husband, the two Ibubesi stared at one another for a brief few seconds until she gave him the signal to proceed.

Death to the monster. Gwazi leapt from where he had been crouched beside her to the ground. The cow was gone; eaten by the beast that had been plaguing the village. He would keep the creature busy while she summoned one of her rift beast to help. One in her arsenal was similar to this particular for, mayhap the similarities would work to her advantage.

The Kobrae, a serpent that grows up to 15ft in length with a 4.5ft radius. It's teeth were as large as bananas and could pierce through armor like a knife through butter. Oddly this giant creature was one of the most easily controlled beast she had. Kobrae, inhlaselo! If her husband's trap was not successful then the Kobrae would strike out at the creature in an attempt to wrap itself around the beast.

The crunch of bones.

The scent of blood.

The taste of fluids washing down it's gullet.

This was all the beast lived for. An undying hunger. Hunger of things that lived, breathed, bled. It cared not whether to hunt, or take. It cared not for the world involved. It cared not how the kill was accomplished, merely that it was, and it was his. The beast, was just a beast. Its sentience only spread so far. It did not realize the trap. Not for what it was, and not until it was too late.

But, that did not mean the beast was stupid.

The change in the air was easy to hear for it. The senses of the Beast were sometimes, better than people expected. But then, most Beast's were. It was how they survived in a world where everything had a predator. Apparently, these two warm blood bags, thought they were the predator.

Mistaken, they were.

The Beast, flattened itself into the remanents of cow flesh and gore. There wasn't much that escaped the creatures gullet. But, what had, was on the ground and now smeared onto it's skin as it dodged quickly out of the way of the trap. A strange, remarkably angry hiss came from the beast. It rattled as it rose back up. Like a snake ready and poised to strike. Eyes, shifted. Finding the Next Meal.

A shield of bright light, momentarily blinded it. For a moment, But it was long enough for the male to snag a hit. A glancing blow, as it dodge out of the way. But first blood was drawn and the beast was not happy. Crying out in anger, with a loud piercing cry that nearly did the ears of lessser beings in. It hacked up a ball of acid and threw it at the man. The one with the shield.

The beast made the mistake of counting out the woman. She was not attacking him. This male was. He would take him out. And then he would eat them both. He would eat his fill tonight. The beast moved. Fast. Faster than one might expect a beast of his size to move and lashed out with his razor sharp claws. Ready to dig into the man's flesh. Rip out his gut, and watch him bleed as he ate his fill.

Even though the daggers on the trap he set missed their mark, it wasn’t a total loss. Because of the trap, Gwazi was able to see how quickly this creature could react, and how quickly it could move. The speed was on par with that of Jamila’s Kobrae. He knew its speed will because he fought each one of Jamila’s Rift Beasts while she learned their resonance, and practiced against them regularly to keep in peak fighting form. Knowing that beast’s agility was what governed Gwazi’s change in tactics. After he dashed forward and stabbed his blade into the creature’s side he quickly retreated backwards. Staying close to the beast gave it far too much advantage over him. It was fast and he needed the distance between them to see its movements and give himself time to react.

Once a safe distance away, Gwazi checked his spear and saw that the blood on its blade wasn’t hissing and being burned away by the magics that gave his blade its corrosive properties. That made him look to the wound on the creature’s body while it whipped around to face him, it too bore no corrosive burns. Whatever this creature was, it had an innate resistance to either acid, or magic all together. His mind moved quickly as the old Zulu saying taught, ‘a quick mind keeps a beating heart’, and added this to the acid burns they found at the farmhouse. The creature had a defense against acid, as well as the ability to use acid offensively. In preparation Gwazi raised his shield and kept it ready to put between him and it should the need arise.

He didn’t have to wait long to see the creatures ranged offensive capabilities. It reared back, opened its tooth filled maw, and hacked out a wad of acid at him. Gwazi faced his shield towards it, and ducked his body slightly to make sure he was out of the way of any splashing. The wad of acid struck against the surface of the light shield, and splattered to the sides. Keeping his eyes on the creature through the translucent surface, Gwazi snapped his arm forward to shake off the excess acid, and strafed to the side. ”It spit’s acid!” he called out to Jamila knowing she would take appropriate measures to protect herself while he was otherwise engaged. Movement on the edge of his vision showed another entrant into the fight, and he turned slightly to see Jamila’s Kobrae slithering up to join the fray. He went towards it, and crossed his path over it so that the Acid Beast would have to encounter the Kobrae first in order to get to him.

Before the two clashed Gwazi held up his right hand with an extended arm, and turned it to the side so that the gem on the back of his gauntlet faced skyward. Gwazi’s mind touched the magic of the gauntlet and unleashed it. Three brilliant bolts of energy shot forth in rapid succession aimed at the broad center of the Acid beast’s chest. Each bolt of energy had the same stopping power of a large caliber hand gun. He wanted the Acid beast’s attention on him to give the Kobrae a better opening to attack. ”Come at me,” he said to it as he continued to move to his left putting some distance between him and the Kobrae. There were two of them against this unknown creature. It was a tactic to give one of them an opening to exploit. Either way, the Kobrae looked poised to strike so he would let it move first.

The Kobrae hissed and slithered forward on a belly of cream and red; the colored stripes ringed its entire being from head to tail. Its eyes were a bright ruby shade, visible even in the dark of night. It was part of the beast hunting mechanisms; to use its gem-like eyes to lure its pray closer for the attack.

This night it was not hunting. It was a fight that the Kobrae had been summoned for. Jamila eased down from the boulder and stood between two of the large rocks, partially shielded by their girth yet remaining part of the fight. She would use the rocks as her shield from the acid for as long as she could.

She would control the Kobrae from where she stood, yelling commands in the Zulu language and pointing at the acid spitting beast. Kobrae hissed, coiled and tracked the movements of the other rift beast at the command of its summoner. Its scaly exterior was not immune to acid but if it waited for the right moment.

It could strike! The Kobrae put all of its strength into the leap, flying at the monster while it was otherwise occupied with Gwazi. If its timing was true and aim correct then the Kobrae would clamp its large mouth around the back of the beast head and wrap its body around it, curling between the large talon-like hooks to avoid injury to itself.

This being, is shielded.

The acid didn't work. A scream if indignation came from the lungs of the beast. The strange tentacle like appendages on the back of it's head stood up, as if it was getting angry. The beast wanted a feast. It was salivating at the thought of the warm heart still beating and sliding wet and slick down it's throat. He was ready to drink of the blood. Revel in the crunch of bone between his teeth. He would have his kill! He would eat his fill! And they would die for his meal.

Sharp eyes followed the man. The wound in its side was all ready clotted and no longer bleeding. Because of the corrosive nature of the weapon, it had allowed the beast to use the wound instead of suffer from it. The beast slithered around, watching the prey move over. And another entered the area.

Another beast.

The Rift Beast, hissed. This was HIS prey. His kill. The besat was in his territory and that was NOT ALLOWED. This beast did not hunt with others, there was no pack mentality. It was every beast for itself and if it had to, it would kill and eat the interloper.

More flesh for the gullet. More meat for the belly.

Three bolts of light soared at the beast, while it was lost in the mental extasy of more meat. Two of them hit the beast, throwing him off course for the third and it screamed out in agony as the flesh on his chest burned. Rolling quickly out of the way from the pain and writhing on the ground, caused the Interloper to nearly hit. But, in it's writhing of pain, the beast just missed.. barely..

Snapping up, now that it was in danger, the eyes showed it's angery, as the beast moved. Pain wracked it's body, but the kill, the prey, were more powerful than the pain. The pain focused, the pain drove, and now the beast was angry.

Crouching down, the beast shrunk into a coil. Much like a snake, and then summoning all it's muscular strength it jumped. Jumping at the Interloper that was trying to take it's prey. He would not be defeated and lose his meal! The Interloper would go down. Razor sharp claws ready to rend the flesh from the Interlopers body reached out to sink into that flesh.

Gwazi watched as the first two shots hit their target causing the beast to yell out in pain, and the final shot as well as the Kobrae missed their mark because it fell to the side. It was a good opening to the battle made even better when the Rift beast fell victim to its instincts. It coiled and pounced on the Kobrae because it saw the Summon beast as competition for its meal. While the two coiled and tussled Gwazi would take the opening given by the distraction. His fist clenched around the handle of his Iklewa spear. Touching the magic of the gauntlet that he wore on that same hand, Gwazi began to build a charge up within the crystal.

The Zulu warrior dashed forward, his booted feet almost silent on ground. The distance between he and the battling beasts was quickly closed. His left hand held the light shield up before him, to protect from any incoming attack, and use as a battering ram to get close to the Rift beast. Once he felt the shield slam into the monster's body he would pick his spot, and stab the long, broad head of his spear towards the area that looked like it was beneath the creatures rib cage. Anatomy showed where the best places to attack were. Vulnerable internal organs were usually protected by the body's other systems, so that would be where his blade would do the most damage, as it would with a human.

If the blade struck true Gwazi would drive it deep, until the entire head of the spear vanished, and he would give it a forceful twist. He wanted to do as much damage to the creature as possible with the strike, as well as open it up for what was to come next. He relaxed the mental grip that he held on the energies gathered atop the back of his hand. Even if he had not managed to stab into the creature, he would still be able to fire the blasts off. Three bright flashes would flare off in succession with a second long delay between them. Each discharge from the gauntlet would carry with it the destructive force of a shot gun blast. At this close range it would be like feeding meet to a grinder. Each blast would make the hole larger, and drive the wound deeper into the creature.

There wasn't enough time to disengage the creature and retreat to a safe distance. Gwazi knew the risks of attacking like this, and accepted them. This is what he had trained for, standing within death's grasp and looking the great equalizer in the eye. Gwazi did not blink, he only prepared for what was to come. Muscles flexed to keep the light shield firmly near his body so that it wasn't knocked away. Feet shifted so that they could remain grounded with the weight evenly distributed over them. Gwazi was within the beasts striking distance. He would pull the spear free if it had managed to dig in, and be ready to defend his life.