Historically, Beastkin were renowned for their iron bodies and unmatched physical strength. Popular as mercenaries and fighters-for-hire, even a well-armed soldier struggled to compete against a bare-handed Beastkin. However, a sacrifice was made in order to grant their sought-after strength--a sacrifice of the body and the mind, which would haunt their minds even as the events of their training faded into the annals of time.
Senpo. From an outsider's perspective, all that could be known about the legendary martial art was that it apparently made its practitioners' bodies capable of withstanding unbelievable amounts of punishment, and imparting strength to their fists that could accomplish completely inhumane tasks. Called the 'School of Iron' by some, the training necessary to prepare one's body for Senpo techniques was said to be so brutal that only a handful of trainees would live to utilise them. Traditionally, a practitioner would be raised from birth to prepare for its gruelling trials, leading many sparse Wolfkin tribes into traditions of kidnapping and abducting infants from neighbouring camps to ensure that the legacy of Senpo would live on. Shortly after the formation of the Holy Alliance, Senpo was made forbidden, and now, it was a dying art with only a few of its masters still alive.
Pale knew well of its forbidden nature--all Beastkin did. But, in the pursuit of a power that would allow her to face down even a Demon, there existed no better, or faster, method of attaining it. The woeful cries of Pale's kind being slaughtered led her towards a mindset that would abandon tradition in favour of pure efficiency. The paltry weapons and strategies of the Beastkin were no match for the future that awaited them, and for that reason, she was willing to abandon even her own humanity.
"This 'Senpo' is an intriguing phenomenon." Fusala spoke, "There are very few historical records referencing its existence, and many of them focus on the impracticality of fighting barehanded as opposed to using weapons."
"I must admit that even I don't quite understand it." Pale answered, keeping her eyes in front, "It was forbidden many centuries ago, long before I was born, and those who continue to practise it today are few and far between."
"How do you intend to find one of these individuals?"
"I'm sure a Wolfkin tribe can point us in the right direction." She remarked hopefully.
In the weeks that had passed since the day of the Demon battle, the two of them had travelled east, towards the foliage-littered grasslands which played host to the Wolfkin. It was an area that seemed somewhat less corrupted by the encroachment of a new Demon Age, though neither Fusala nor Pale knew of the events that were transpiring beyond the borders of the Henklomeon Steppe.
Incensed by a desire to claim vengeance for the massacre of her people, Pale had proven to be a more outspoken travelling companion than Barion. Having the opportunity to learn more about a country that had historically kept its culture hidden from the rest of the world, however, pleased Fusala greatly, and she was also secretly eager to unravel the secrets of Senpo herself.
Wolfkin were careful to hide their tracks and move quickly, as the long-snouted wolves of the eastern Steppe had adapted tremendous senses of smell to hunt a variety of skittish, smaller mammals. As such, they were difficult to come across, but Pale, who had lived her entire life hunting difficult-to-track beasts, was quick to notice any signs of disturbance on the soil and between the thick vegetation even from her perch atop the wagon.
"Another campsite." She muttered to herself as the two of them emerged into a forest clearing, her eyes darting along the well-hidden imprints in the dirt, "We're getting closer."
As they crossed into the thicket of woodland on the other side of the clearing, there was a rustling sound from above them, where the leaves and branches had formed a thick canopy.
"Hm!?" Ears twitching, Pale looked up, "Fusala, watch out!"
Leaping from the driver's seat, a heavy rope-bag of assorted pebbles fell upon her position, rocking the wagon to-and-fro with a loud clattering as they struck the wooden carriage. Fusala, who had been knocked from her seat, melded with the ground as she fell, rushing towards the shadow of Pale which was consumed by her undulant, two-dimensional form. Retrieving her bow, the Rabbitkin girl's eyes darted from side to side, following even the slightest of disturbances in an attempt to locate any attackers.
"Who's there!?" She yelled fearlessly, "Show yourselves, cowards!"
Perking up for an instant as the sound of an arrow loosing could be heard from a nearby brush, Pale grunted as the back of her head was struck with a heavy, blunted missile, fuzzing her vision. Dropping to one knee, her well-trained instincts worked to load an iron-tipped arrow into her bow, breathing steadily to focus her eyes.
"Pale." Fusala's voice echoed in her head, "May I recommend retreating for now?"
"Not a chance. I'm not letting whoever these people are take the wagon." As her pupils dilated, she straightened her back while drawing her bow fully back in an impressive display of both quickness and strength, "There!"
As an arrow was loosed from her bowstring, the projectile disappeared into the underbrush, and was followed by a sharp groan of pain and the sound of something falling over a few seconds later.
"Oi, oi! Get your heads in the game, you lot! She just killed one of us!" A masculine voice yelled hurriedly, "Diotrek, light up that tar!"
From behind her, the sound of a fire bellowing into the air could be heard amidst the sounds of the forest, and as she turned her head, another arrow was sent careening towards her--its tip sparked with a vicious fire. Without the time to evade, she clenched her teeth as it pierced into her abdomen from behind, the agonising heat forcing her to foolishly pull it out as soon as possible, sending flecks of sticky tar and fresh blood flying through the air as she did so.
"Damn!" Wiping at the flaming tar with her unfeeling prosthetic, Pale turned to scan the treeline for a target, noticing a silhouette laying face-down amidst the tangled branches of a nearby tree. Through the pain in her side, she quickly fired another arrow, watching the assailant thrash as it penetrated his shoulder.
"Another one…" She spoke feverishly to herself, catching another arrow within her drawstring, shortly afterwards feeling another projectile piercing into her back, "G-Guh…"
With a mind-numbing pain that halted her movements with every action she took, a feeling of inescapable fury overwhelmed Pale as she was forced to drop her bow, pointlessly clutching at the arrow which had lodged itself into her back.
"Pale. Please remain still." Fusala advised, "I will return to the wagon and retrieve-"
"No!" She answered, clutching at her own shadow as if to stop her, "You'll be killed… don't show yourself…"
"If no actions are taken, it is likely that you will be killed here."
"I won't let another person die… because of my own incompetence…" She struggled, "So, please… just keep yourself hidden."
The shadow girl didn't respond for a moment.
"...Understood."
A few moments later, her assailants--a group of Wolfkin hunters, emerged from the brush to examine their handiwork. Feeling enough at ease to stow their weapons away, the hunters--of whom there were 5 in total, quickly moved to examine the wagon, while one remained behind to bind Pale's arms and legs with thick hempen rope.
"Rabbitkin…" He muttered, "What are you doing so far from home?"
"I'll kill you!" Pale screamed in response.
"Brum!" One of the other hunters called, "There's nothing in this wagon! Not even scraps!"
"Tch…" The hunters' evident leader clicked his tongue, "Got one of our own killed for nothing, huh… still, we could use something to get around a little easier."
Turning his attention to Pale, the Wolfkin leader grimaced, "Don't even feel a hint of remorse for ending someone else's life, huh? You know how difficult it's going to be telling that guy's kid that he won't be coming home tonight? What the hell is a Rabbitkin even doing so far east? And what's with your arm and legs?"
"If you're going to kill me, then do it!" She replied defiantly, "Don't act surprised that one of your own got killed for being a fool! He wasn't strong enough to keep living!"
"That's some attitude you've got." Looking towards the sky, he sighed, "Hah… what are we going to do with this one? Should we just kill her?"
"The Elder would exile you if he found out you murdered someone." Another, shorter Wolfkin hunter spoke up from the wagon, "If you want my opinion, I don't think it was a good idea to rob her in the first place. Even if she did have any children, how exactly were we going to explain a Rabbitkin child without mentioning that we killed the mother?"
"I didn't want your opinion." The leader dismissed, "...Suppose we'd better take her back. Maybe there's a Rabbitkin tribe somewhere nearby…"
"The Elder wouldn't like that!"
"Tell me one thing the Elder does like!" He shouted, "Anyway--I'm not killing her, so let's throw her into the back of that wagon and see what he has to say."
"Can't even kill me?" Pale taunted, "-Then that's where our similarities end."
"Damn, this one just keeps on talking." The leader remarked, "She did get you pretty good in the shoulder though, Yan."
"Barely even hurts." Another hunter replied, flexing his shoulder that still had an arrow poking out of it, "Hurry up and toss her in, then. I'm starving."
"You hear that?" The leader smiled, looking down at Pale, "Looks like you'll live after all. You'll be on your merry way as soon as you tell us all about where you came from."
"Who are you all?" She demanded to know, "Just thieves?"
"Something like that." Raising a foot above her head, the leader replied simply, "Sweet dreams."
A second later, she was knocked into unconsciousness.