Original Sin

C

Charlene

Senior Member
​




The cool air rushed through the silent forest and beyond, droplets of the vivid orange sunrise melting into the starry cosmos that blanketed the sky, dimming the small ball of gases hanging above and hiding the array of zodiacs it had to offer to the people roaming the lands. The clouds, one by one, were peppered across the morning canvas, giving off the keen impression that morning was swiftly approaching. A gentle breeze swept the warm lands, cooling it’s temperatures more comfortably.





Large paws trudged along the tops of the trees, rustling leaves and creating a noise that could be heard among miles. Its long tail whipped as it jumped, gripping the large branches with each leap it made, hefty white claws digging into the hard bark for a better handling. The long creature causing the evident ruckus was a forest spirit, daffodil eyes wide with obsidian pupils mere slits, getting accustomed to the sunlight engulfing the beautiful forest. Resting upon it’s ample back was a woman, small with a very lithe frame, face hidden within the layers of ghost white hair stuffed into the hood disguising her features. The only thing that could be seen was the beautiful outlines, and two pointed ears at each side. Located on her back was her large white bow and quiver, while at her hip a curved sword, encased into her holster safely. Underneath her ran a group of men, four or five at least, shooting iron arrows at the creature as it made it’s escape. “You can’t run far.” One of the men called, incredibly built with a beard as long as himself, and eyes small and sunken into his hard skull. He held up his nicely made bow for yet another failed attempt to shoot the escapee.


“Keep us hidden.” Arwen whispered in a hush voice, hovering her mouth over the ear of her companion. The creature made a soft squeal, leaping from another tree and landing safely at the top, suddenly bowing its head as it understood. The elf rotated her body and wrapped her slender legs around the underbelly of her companion, holding herself up as she reached around to retrieve her bow and an arrow from her quiver. She held the bow upright, placing an arrow into the correct position and leaning over, pointing it directly at one of the men carelessly shooting.





WWHHTT!





A sharp whistle echoed throughout the trees, coming from the pink lips of the female above. “Look up here, assholes.” she hissed, waiting for one of them to do so. One of the shorter ones, most likely an Iali, paused and raised his bow, wavering it for the position of them was unknown. “Come on you disgusting Elf.” he gritted his teeth in a snarl. Out of the green shot an arrow, zipping through the air and sinking half of the sharp object into his eye, piercing through his skull and killing him instantly. With a groan of death, he toppled over with a thud and tripped one of the other men, creating a discombobulated heap in the brush below. Arwen took advantage of this moment and shot a few more, one striking a man in the chest and the other in the neck. Both of them croaked over, soaking the warm Earth with their evil blood. The few of them left gasped, picking up their speed for revenge of their fallen men and shooting more arrows with anger.


It rained down onto Arwen, arrows hitting the branches and leaves as they passed, buzzing around her before one finally sank into her thigh, making her hiss and falter. The elf lost her grip of her dear Socrates and fell to the Earth below, bow far from her reach. Her injured body broke the barrier of the leaves, and helplessly soared through the air, fighting gravity. The forest spirit cried out, halting his movements and diving down after his master, revealing himself from the leaves above. The creature sprang and caught the elf, landing at the bottom safely and shielding her from the harm coming their way. Socrates growled, lips curled and flashing the rows of sharp teeth decorating his wide mouth in disgust. One by one, the men hobbled up to the duo, taking out their swords and holding them up in the faint sunlight with shark grins on their disgusting, rugged faces. “We’ve got her boys, the shard is ours.”





Arwen breathed out, tears of inexplicable pain and fear ran freely down her weathered cheeks as she gripped the arrow deep in her thigh. Turning onto her back, she inhaled deeply and with one swift yank, pulled it out and tossed it aside. “You’ve got nothing.” she mumbled with an apathetic gaze, pushing herself to sit up. Socrates, about to pounce, was stopped all of his actions due to the blade close to his neck, fur brushing the close blade of one of the men who





The man, tallest of the group ambled over, holding his blade up to her chin, pressing it lightly into her skin. “The shards shall return our God, and punish those who kept him in his slumber.” he grinned, applying more pressure until it punctured the skin, dousing her neck with ribbons of crimson. Arwen cringed, breathing in sharply through her teeth. “Jurishn nah pournae orn Saie eririn govad gen.” she hissed, Elvish dancing off her tongue





It grew silent. The leaves stopped, the branches halted and the scurrying of creatures nearby ended. A soft breeze picked up, hurling itself around the few men left in an enclosed cyclone. Arwen, laying on the ground below, grew white, her skin taking in a faint glow that grew brighter and brighter with each second that passed. The men glanced around, making stupid faces due to their confusion and bewilderment. “What are you doing,” the man hissed, demanding as he pushed his blade even further. “By the Kings of Zeinn I demand you to stop!”


The light kept growing, brighter and brighter to the point it engulfed the area around them. An ear-piercing ring filled the air, causing the men to fall to their knees and cover their bleeding lugs, begging for all of it to stop. With a swift movement, the source imploded, causing the skin of evil beings to disintegrate, melting their flesh and bones all into one massive pile in the center. The light faded gently, revealing the obscene pile and Arwen laying there on the forest floor, in a pool of her own blood.





translation: by god of light, may you burn in hell.


--





CLUNKCLUNKCLUNKCLUNK..


A soft snore answered the sound of heavy footfalls slowly fading away on the stairs someone was descending. A low grumble followed the snore, coming from a rather large, imposing tiger sitting upright in the corner of his room at the little inn in Rabana.


"Nnnghrr..."


The armchair creaked as he shifted against the leather material, his lips slightly parted, his brow twitching at the chorus of morning noises that lulled him into a semi-conscious state. A hand came up to scratch his heavily muscled abdomen, the bottle of rum that had previously been in his fingers falling unceremoniously to the floor with a hollow sound. In his alcohol induced stupor, Qa'naro, who obviously - by his stature - hailed from Soulithe, opened his mouth wide in an obnoxious yawn before settling back in the chair with a wiggle, looking comedic as he tried to fit his entire being onto the tiny piece of furniture, spine pressed almost painfully against the ladder-back spokes of the mahogany chair.


CLUNKCLUNKCLUNK-


"'EY. YOU ADDLED BLAGGARD. TIME'S WASTIN' WHILE YER SNOOZIN'."


Cue aneurysm. Qa'naro's eyes shot open in panic, his hand darting to the holster at his hip to pull out his iron sword, his suntanned chest rising and falling rapidly as he scrambled up out of the chair. Looking around with a wide glance at everything, he swallowed hard and placed his left hand over his eye, feeling dizzy from the rush he'd gotten from standing so quickly. Lightheaded and disoriented, he realized with a groan that it had only been the Inn Keeper; a grumpy old man, demanding for his pay, once again. Cursing gently under his breath, the fact that he had slept right through his night on watch duty wasn't something to be proud of, especially being leader of The Guardians. "Yeah, yeah.." he turned, opening his jaw and flashing a row of teeth while digging for his bag of gold in one of his pockets. He took it out, jingling it between his large, furry fingers and opening it, taking out a few coins and tossing them at the dirty old crook. "There you go," he grumbled under his breath, voice slow and raspy, still containing bits of exhaustion in it. "Have a nice day."


"THIS 'ERE AIN' ENOUGH YA DAMNED CAT!"


The white haired old man squealed, wiggling his fist in the air. Qa'naro sighed over-dramatically, collecting his things and stepping outside his room.


"It's quite enough old man, now piss off."
 
Xivran made his way through the trees, he had left the last town five days prior, being forced to flee after the death of three adventurers. Such was normal for him, he would find his way to another town, and continue to wander, until such time as his life ended or the shards were no longer hunted after. The forest was noisy . . . but it was so much easier on his ears than the jibber-jabber of the bipedal races that populated towns. Then he stopped.


His ears twitched as faint shouts were head through the branches and leaves, not enough to be distinct, but he could hear them nonetheless. It continued for a few minutes, and Xivran debated following them when everything went silent. Everything. That was not natural, the forest was never quiet. He had only a second's warning to cover his eyes before a great flash broke through the trees.


"All right, what the hell is going on here?"


He made his way over to the scene of the flash, finding a small woman laying in what appeared to be her own blood.
 
“Remember Adventurers-” A leathery-skinned, pocket size of a man piped up at the front of the boat’s deck. “Your charge for our travel services is clearing out dat cave entrance! It’s uh one-way ticket, dere’s not gonna be any one commin’ tah save ur arses once yuh step off dat ladder dere!” A portion of the man’s scraggly grey beard made its way into the corner of his chapped lips as he indicated the rustic looking ladder at the edge of the hull. The deck had about twenty or some-odd adventurers, none paying particular attention to the tenth speech the little man was making since they left port in Belgrad a day ago. Someone’s pet feline yawned dramatically as if in response to the aloof atmosphere.


The cave was by far more interesting than the words echoing off its walls. Most were kicked back against the rails of the boat, admiring the purple crystal formations reflecting off of the boat’s lights. An inside port could be seen up ahead, lit by gas lanterns and protected by a fence dome.


“Cpt. Yolaf, Port up ahead!” A voice sounded down from the upper level of the boat, causing the desiccated little man to perk up again. “Now if yuh make it outta da cave alive, dere’ll be a town about a quarter of a day’s time down through deh woods. Dere should be a path, but dere are alotta outlaws hiden’ out it dem woods, so watch ur back!” Cpt. Yolaf turned his back to the adventurers, extending his stubby arm out to the right as he pictured the old path in the woods that he hadn’t set foot on in a number of years, for his adventuring days were long since behind him. “I wish yah all da best of luck!” He added nostalgically, for his thoughts were already wrapped up in the memories of his youth.


The deck hands released the axels and two iron anchors splashed into the dark water. They dragged along the rock bed until the boat came to a creaky park alongside the port. The ladder was fed down the side of the hull and secured to the port, ready for exiting. A pair of slender white hands curled around the handle of a hunky black suitcase and dragged it along the wood of the deck.


“Where do you think you’re getting lugging that thing around?” A husky deep voice said, bemused towards the woman. “You know... A delicate girl like you could use some extra help getting out of here I’d think. In fact- I might be able to help you with that, for a small fee.” He chuckled as he looked over her thin frame, clad in lavish velvets and adorned with various small red jewels, mostly on rings.


The woman paused her progression across the deck, her light grey brow arching in chagrin as she turned back to witness the man who had the gall to target her seeming wealth. Her sharp green eyes narrowed as she took in the disheveled Hussar, wearing two daggers, a bit of plain leather clothing, and a cocky smirk. She opened her thin mouth and in a cool, collected voice responded,


“I certainly think I’ll get much farther with this trunk than I would lugging along a useless being such as yourself”. Catching glimpse of his expression of disbelief, she swiftly left him to gather his thoughts. He probably felt like quite the hot-shot among women of his race, considering the female to male ratio.


It wasn’t exactly cake carrying her case down the ladder, but it was certainly doable by shoving her arm through the handle and using both hands to climb down. The fence dome was rather intricate and tucking her wind-blown hair behind her ear, the woman wondered what variety of creatures it was meant to keep out. One of the boatmen came down to unlock the gate for them and it squealed open with some persistence. It seemed she would soon have her answer.


(Lucid is coming later.)





 
"Tell me you're joking? Is this because of Marcello?", a young man wearing only blue pants with short long blue wavy hair screamed at another man with longer silver hair wearing only black pants. "You are really leaving?" The man looked around him, looking at the many people who looked at him with sad faces. His sliver hair danced in the wind as he finally said, "Yes. Yes I am, and that walking steel wall has nothing to do with it. I do not feel staying in Clonive is best for me." A tall woman with straight long pale brown hair walked up to the man with silver hair saying, "If this is what you want, then we will not stop you, but do not be surprised when your father sends enforcers to take you back...Resmion." "Thank you, Chronos and Master Nora", Resmion said finally making a smile. Getting his satchel from off the ground and putting it over his shoulder, Resmion waved goodbye to everyone and then turned around and then jumped into the air and dove into the sea like an arrow shot from the bow and pierced the armor of its target. He began swimming away from Clonive. A man with a hulky build and short gray hair wearing a purple robe walked up from the crowd, looking at Resmion swimming, eventually disappearing from view. "So my son has left, Nora?", the man said with a sad look on his face. "Yes. He left several minutes ago", Nora said. "Ahh. Well, no matter but I want him back here as soon as possible. Send two of your greatest students.", the man said with a serious face."I have to make things right." Nora sighed, and then said, "You should have let her leave Clonive on her own instead of killing the poor woman. If he already know the truth and it is not you who told him, this will be your undoing."


Meanwhile, after five hours of swimming, he finally ends up on a beach. "Well, it has been a long time since I have been outside of Clonive," he said putting the clothes he kept in his satchel. He then looks around and spots a cave where a lot of people happened to going. "Hmmm. Perhaps I can find out where I am if I talk to one of them. I should have asked my old man for a world map." Resmion began walking over to the cave, pretty intrigued about going on an adventure.
 
“Uneducated Mongrels.”


The words stood clear and demeaning in the air, a crisp midday air actually. A midday air that carried the chipper moss green birds from tree to tree and pulled rippling waves along the glossy surface of forest creeks; an air that shook the frames of young saplings and put force behind the masts that propelled great hulking boats across the not-so-distant sea. Further off, this same air was sculpting tsunamis and uprooting small villages, and although this great air could do all of this and more, it could not cool the heat of these words against the fuming racist group of Humes, gathered at the foot of a young precocious elf’s mount and wagon.


“You want to try saying that again, your highness?” A gruff brunette spoke up from the group, stepping forward with a tight grip on his scimitar


“Look-” The lean elf started with a sigh, “If you really want to get technical, at least 20% of the elven population has white hair before they reach old age! It’s a common, very common, well-known fact! I think you should educate yourselves more on the subject before you go insulting a less patient being with your half-baked calculations!” He gestured to the lot of them, who had been holding him up at the town entrance for at least thirty minutes now. He placed a gloved hand on his face in distress, his fingers sliding under his shagged bangs as he shook his head. “And one more thing, my hair is grey! Grey! A small- very small portion of it is white!” It wasn’t any use explaining to the fools that he was after the same thing they were, a lead. In fact he rather not be compared, or even accredited to the same title as them. Hunters, how preposterous it was to be called such a name in the presence of ignorant flesh such as these loathsome fellows’.


The story was that a larger group of these pleasant denizens were in pursuit of a shard residing on this island. At first the elf was interested, thinking that perhaps it had something to do with his lead, but when they mentioned it being an elf with white hair he almost laughed aloud. For starters his lead had to do with an object-based shard, not a living one. Secondly, they had no proof or details, other than the white hair, elven lineage, and white magic- which in this elf’s mind is one of the most humorous things he’d heard in quite a long time.


“Either way,” The same fellow from before spoke up, “We can’t let you through until our leader returns to verify your innocence” he stated with a sour frown.


“Innocence?” The elf arched a brow, this was getting a little carried away. “Well I’d hoped it wouldn’t come to this, but you really leave me with no other option.” The men looked surprised, they didn’t take this elf for a fighting chap. The elf looked each man square in the eye, having no intention to fight and recited, “Imperium Somnus ilya individuum er atta hora”. Every one of those men's eyes rolled back in their heads before falling to the ground in a series of muffled thuds and clatter of weapons. Each one travelled to a place deeper in their subconcious than probably having ever been; some snored while doing so.


“Lovely, now I won’t be able to taste my dinner tonight, let alone lunch. I was really hoping to avoid that.” The elf nudged his steed, informing it to advance into the town. “Oh right, and I never introduced myself. The name is Lucid Nostariel of Elias. I hope you have pleasant dreams this fine evening.” He repressed a smile as his sleek black horse trotted away from the scene.


(translation: I command each individual to sleep for two hours)


 
Xivran kicked one of the crumbled piles of filth nearby. Fire? No. Fire did not leave remains like this. It was a much less . . . earthly power than that. Several piles lay around. He could assume they were an assailant of some description, though species, sentience, and manner of attack were now impossible to determine. He sighed and looked back at the elf girl. She looked to be somewhat younger than he was, though not by much. She was holding a bow and a quiver of arrows, likely an adventurer of some sort. Xivran turned around, just about ready to head off.


"She could be a shard hunter. It's not worth the time."


He took one step with the smell of blood in his nostrils before letting out another sigh. Could an elf's constitution survive that level of blood loss? She could be a shard hunter . . . could be. He turned back around, feeling something stir deep within him from times long past.


"Dammit, I'd better not regret this."


He took a spare strip of cloth from his belt, ripping it in two before tying one bit around her leg, the other her neck.


"Better get somewhere sheltered . . . not like I had a destination anyway."


He threw the girl over his shoulder as gently as he could. She was surprisingly light, before heading off into the brush.
 
It was always a pristine sight, a crisp dawn. However easy and repeatable the event of a rising sun, it never ceased to have an allure to the Hume merchants. It wasn't just a flaming globe bringing light, to them it was new opportunity coming around again. New time to be used, given so freely. It was easy to forget the hustle and bustle of deliveries and schedules in this hour. The whole day just seemed so open despite their plans; that strange allure led them to give the caravan an early rest. They had been travelling nearly all night. The horses were halted as maps were rechecked and idle chat ensued.


They were so close to civilization, the Rabana inn was only a mile's travel away where they would drop off their first load of food and bed frames.


The merchants numbered about eight with three caravans among them, two horses to each caravan. Five mercenaries accompanied them along their way, each equipped with short rifles and cutlasses. Yawning wasn't uncommon, and some leaned against the caravans for an unintentional nap. Little songbirds conversed with one another above them, hopping excitedly with the sun being up and having not been eaten.


How could they have known? Any sane person would have easily been lulled into a state of comfort.


Numerous prying eyes peered hungrily at the small convoy as they stopped. One of the creatures arched it's contorted back--as if it was about to leap out, it's singular glazed white eye gazing crazily. Dark robes rustled softly as it's owner noticed the enthusiasm, a thin arm moved in front of the creature's face, and a commanding rasp caused the thing to quietly groan. Straightening it's back as best it could it decided to stay put.


Coming out from a nearby patch of trees a deer made its way past from behind. Catching a glimpse of the creatures prowling in the shadows of the foliage it's eyes immediately widened. Arching it's neck back it let out a squeal of fright and jumped quickly away. A hiss of annoyance escaped from the shadows as the calming atmosphere was broken. The convoy of Humes immediately stopped talking. The mercenaries all pointed their rifles expectantly in the direction of the squeal.


The hand that previously restrained now slowly stretched forward, pointing with vehemence to the men. Unnatural cries echoed through the forest as the gruesome horde leaped from the nearby tree-covered hill to the left of the road, chomping their rotted jaws and screaming with desperately outstretched arms.


Gunshots and yells reverberated as the songbirds fled.







-~O~-




​

The blood had doused most of the fires from the overturned caravan, it was a quick response for the merchants to ignite the portion of cargo that happened to be fireworks. Scattered undead limbs twitched and scratched the air as a dark figure surveyed the scene. Only two of his macabre servants had managed to remain intact after the blast, it was a good thing he had stayed on the hill for the large portion of the attack. Sabin's dark robes passed from corpse to corpse, his unfeeling gaze assessing what parts among the wreckage could still be put to use. He slipped on his heavily blood-stained gloves and moved to carefully retrieve a lonely arm that was wandering away.


His two zombies were performing a horrid scavenging operation of their own. They only cared for the warmth of the flesh, it seemed to slightly salve the unbearable numbness of their undead existence. Even if it did so for only a moment it was satisfying beyond their limited understanding.


Yet, as fate would have it again, as the ghastly raiders settled into a comforting atmosphere of their own--from the treacherous shadows that had sheltered them only moments before, the glint of greed within the eyes of a small group of Soulithe natives watched as the necromancer completely disregarded the cargo. Before the dark-hearted Iali could turn the bandits had inched their way towards him until they were only twenty feet away. Sensing the life force Sabin turned from his work, casually pocketing the gloves and giving them a blank look as they cockily drew their blades.


The largest of them, a part minotaur, slung his giant steel battle axe over his right shoulder. It would be quite a feat for even a well-muscled Hume to wield such a giant weapon, yet he hefted it with an unsettling ease. His eight followers drew their weapons and chuckled as their leader spoke, "Well boys! Looks here tat tis creepy fella's done ta work fer us. Gut him and we'll check ta loots, but dun mak'm squeal, too noiseh."


Slowly backing away as the bandits moved forward, mentioning as they approached just how lucky he was that they didn't get to toy with him. They would try and gratify that desire with intimidation, which was the only moment the dark mage was given to think. Looking to his two zombies he blinked once, they wouldn't stand a chance against these eight, it took nineteen just to sack the convoy in the first place--these brutes could probably tear their rotted bodies in half alone.


His gaze shifted to the surrounding corpses and animated limbs, dropping the zombie arm. 'This should do.' Closing his eyes he concentrated, drawing the magic necessary while rehearsing the correct words and motions in his mind. The bandits looked at each other, one of them growling, "K, just get'm befur he does anythin' funneh." They quickly lunged for him as Sabin opened his eyes, uttering a chained phrase of command as the grey-green globular energy swirled and oozed around him. The brutes disregarded his actions and swung their weapons to dismember him as they came in range.


Surrounded half-rotted arms, legs and heads shifted suddenly into a short wall of flesh and bone in front of Sabin, catching the weapons of the bandits as undead hands in the wall grasped and clawed crazily. The mage's eyes narrowed in disgust at their efforts as he turned away and retreated, ordering the zombies with magic-laced lips in the dead tongue to accompany him. Immediately they left their feast and struggled after their master, compelled by the dread energy to obey.


The minotaur leader huffed angrily as he placed down a shining silver cup, "Idyots! Take care a tat an watch ta stuff!" he shouted as he scraped his hoof on the ground, then charged horns-first in Sabin's direction who was a short distance ahead. The minotaur was much faster, and was quickly catching up, cursing furiously as he spat the many varying ways he would get sliced to pieces.


Sabin's bones were starting to creak incessantly as he darted behind a large tree outside the inn. The minotaur didn't hesitate as he the twisted the handle of his battle-axe, and shifting the blade. Pulling back he swiped the weapon revealing that a long chain was stored inside the handle connected to the axe head. It sliced through the air with his horrible strength, flicking it left like a whip it connected to the tree just beside Sabin's head cutting a deep gash in his skull. His cold blood oozed from the wound as he slowly himself from the edge, shaking his head with annoyance. The blood ran slowly down and splattered on his robe, but he regarded it only as a troublesome repair for later. Reaching in one of his pockets beneath his robe he retrieved the knuckle bones as he began drone to an incantation for a particularly interesting spell.








​







 
Small hisses filled the air as the elf moved her thin body, the blood underneath her soaking into her thin garments of clothing that were now filthy and covered in tears. Socrates hobbled over, ears perked up as a low whine rumbled from his fur chest while prodding his nose into his guardian's side. Arwen bit down on her bottom lip and stroked his nose gently, shushing him softly. "No need to worry." she whispered, pushing her weak frame into a sitting position and examining herself with the best of her current abilities. Everything was fine, as far as she could see, besides the exhaustion from the lack of blood she just experienced. Damn white magic. She exhaled long and slow, pointing her chin upwards and closing those grey pools tightly, thanking the slumbering God for yet another escape.


"Thank you." was all that she could whisper, digging her nails into the Earth below and shoving herself up. The elf toppled to the side once getting to her feet, falling against her forest spirit with a loud thud as he made the effort to catch her. "Ouch.." she hissed, shutting her eyes and gritting her teeth. Her mind immediately grew hazy, the location around her splotching colors of white. "S-Socrates.." she muttered, reaching out for him before the darkness engulfed her, body weary with exhaustion. The forest spirit cried out, circling it's companion and nudging it, hoping for her to awake.


"All right, what the hell is going on here?"


Socrates perked his head up and scurried off into the brush, claws extending while soft paws pattered up a nearby tree. Watching from up above, he focused his attention to the stranger approaching his companion, muttering to himself and examining the scene. The race of this man was obviously Demark, for it just reeked off of his built frame.


"Dammit, I'd better not regret this."


The man muttered, taking cloth from his belt and wrapping it tightly around Arwen's wounds, taking her and throwing her onto his shoulder. Socrates flashed his gums, growling lightly when witnessing such a scene. How dare he touch her like that. Hopping from tree to tree, he did his best to stay quiet, following the man from above.


 
Xivran walked for some time, her weight barely bothering his pace. He let his thoughts empty as the sounds of the forest returned to normal. The bugs chirping, birds singing, the movement of creatures through the brush and trees. It was refreshing to hear after the sudden removal of it all. Xivran turned around every now and again, unable to shake the feel that something was keeping an eye on him. But no matter how many times he looked back, or how often he looked into scurrying brush, all he found was empty air and the occasional critter.


"Must be nerves. I haven't done something like this in a while."


---------------


"Perfect."


The hollow was surrounded by thick brush, if he hadn't pushed it open to investigate some scurrying, it would have been missed completely. A thick oak on one side held a canopy thick enough to ward off most foul weather if mother nature decided to open up that evening. There were a few herbs around, but Xivran didn't trust his knowledge or skill well enough to identify which ones (if any) were actually useful.


He set the elf girl down gently, her back to the oak. He brushed some of the hair from her eyes, noting the tear streaks.


"Just what has this girl been through?"


Xivran shook his head and gathered a few loose branches on the ground, merging them into a pile near the oak.


"Steel is my flesh, and fire is my blood."


His hand erupted with flame, surrounding from his fingertips down to the start of his wrist. He laid it down on the pile of kindling, smiling a little when it burst alight with a warm glow. It was nice to see years of training be useful for something other than its base purpose. He stood up, pulling the elf girl's cloak around her front as protection from the elements, and leaving a canteen of water behind.


"Now then . . ."


He walked the the edge of the hollow, a low scraping sound emanating from him as his sword slid clear of the leather strap that functioned as its sheathe.


". . . dinner's not going to catch itself."


Xivran walked through the brush, his sword gliding through the undergrowth with a light *sheen* against the leaves
 
Resmion laughed as he was watching the whole scene. "That is why you never mess with magicians, regardless of their magic profession," Resmion said. He repressed a smile as he continued walking. The gentle winds were blowing his hair as he got to the entrance of the cave. He let out a huge sigh since he was exhausted from swimming for some time. The breeze of the winds was different from the breezes in Clonive. The winds were not as warm as the winds in Clonive. Then again, Clonive was something like a place of endless summer as it rarely rained or snowed. "I am not going to make any progress just standing here." Resmion said cracking a smile on his face. He then looked around in case someone from Clonive was following him, and started walking into the cave.
 
After leaving the well-lit port, it was difficult to see the way to exit. There was a faint glow from the cave mouth, which was within sight, but would take time to get to. The darkness truly was all consuming; you couldn’t even see your hand an inch away from your face. The woman from before was still toting her case, walking steadily towards the entrance. She could hear the scuffling feet of other adventurers making their way, but that wasn’t all. The woman could feel a skulking presence watching them, even in the dark, along the unseen walls of the cave. She placed a hand on the hilt of her sword; it was warm just as she’d thought. As if in answer to her conclusion, a blast of sound shattered the silence. A man was screaming and you could hear battering.


Thhmmp.


Something hit the ground, and then there was a small moment of pure silence followed by a series of yells and rustling down the stone corridor. She was about to step up her pace when her foot kicked something soft and heavy in the dark. She kneeled down, her hair forming a drape around her as she searched for a match in her dress pocket. Her fingers felt around in the soft cloth crevice until brushing against the tiny rough edge of a box. She took a match from it and struck it along the cave floor. It sparked and lit with a flare before simmering down into a small steady flame. The woman brought the flame down towards the object, first seeing the brown bloodied hair of the man. He was wearing leather and clutching a dagger in his hand, it was the Hussar from before. His wounds had a greenish mucus coating that was still eating away at his flesh- acid.


The flame from the match had eaten the wood down to its base, much to the displeasure of its holder who threw it to the ground with shock as it singed her finger tips and nail. She dove her wounded finger into her mouth, tasting the ashy rot while she stood up from the body on the ground.


“Like I said,” she spoke quietly to the corpse in the blackness, her finger still cowering in the corner of her mouth. “I’ll do much better lugging this—“


HHHGGgrrrrrhh.


A warm growling stench sent a breeze into the woman’s face. With a fright she whipped out her gun and sent a blast out in front of her. The flash from the gunpowder revealed a hulking, white-eyed beast with a shrunken face and furred shoulders. The bang echoed throughout the cave and with a shriek the beast hurtled back. Unable to tell if the shot had made contact the woman drew her blade, simultaneously holstering her gun. The blade was hot in her palm- which she didn’t need to tell her that danger was still present. She could hear claws scratching the rock and a familiar whipping sound that she couldn’t quite place. She made a run towards the cave mouth for the time being, unable to count the number of looming eyes on her back.


Just when she was getting close, the silhouette of a creature dropped from the ceiling in front of her. It meant to lunge and when it did she took a daring jolt forward, bringing her sword down on it's collar. The blade ignited when it made contact, shocking its wielder who jumped back only to realize that the fire stopped at the hilt. This sword was still a mystery to her. The creature was wailing and flailing helplessly as the flame engulfed it. While its flesh blackened and sizzled from the fire, more details could be made out. The familiar whipping sound was now recognized by the woman as the flames ate down a pair of spiny grey wings and licked at a row of oversized horns. It all happened within a short moment and soon the wailing died out as the beast was reduced to ash before her.


The woman knelt down quickly, not quite out of danger yet and tried to pick up a horn- the only remnants remaining of the beast. It was hot from the ashes so she kicked it out. Unable to carry more than one; she rolled it under her arm and proceeded, the same arm that was bearing the weight of her suitcase. She sprinted to the exit, the sudden daylight whiting out her surroundings. As she stepped into the sun, the dangerous presence felt diminished. Relaxing a little, she decided to take a moment to let her eyes adjust to the brightness.


Green was the first color to filter in, followed by a magnificent sky and rocky, pale dirt path ahead. In her peripheral vision there was a shining slice of silver, and so she turned her head, thinking it some sort of treasure only to see a wet, shirtless man with silver hair making his way towards her. She glanced down at her red sword, it was no longer aflame so she sheithed it; although her pistol was still smoking in it's holster.


 
Aryanna had been walking aimlessly for quite a while. She had recently finished some stupid mission from the Cionivian government, and she had taken time and care into polishing and sharpening her swords. What else was she supposed to do? She wrapped her purple cloak tighter around herself as the chilly breeze sent her hood flying off. "How much colder can this place possibly get?" Of course she wouldn't need a cloak at all of she were in Cionive, but she wasn't traveling to enjoy good weather. How many times did she need to remind herself of that? At least she had purchased a decent cloak. It was magnificently warm. Now if she could only stop being so distracted and actually pay attention to where she was going...Where am I anyway? That merchant never said anything a forest...Did I make a wrong turn? The idea that the merchant could have lied to her not once crossed her mind. People didn't lie to her. They wouldn't. She could be rather persuasive after all.


She shook her head lightly and covered her head once again with the hood, feeling her ears getting rather chilly. She would probably need to find a source of water nearby to camp. If only she hadn't gotten lost, she could have slept at a nice inn and had a lovely dinner...She sighed and concentrated, closing her eyes. Water...Water...Where are you? She could feel her concentration fading due to the cold, as her magic was weakening and picking up random things such as the water in trees and animals. She huffed impatiently and concentrated harder, until she finally found something rather strange. It was water alright, but it was not flowing. It was enclosed. Surely her magic wouldn't fail her so miserably? Her patience wearing thin, she unsheated one of her swords and cut a fresh vine in half. She willed the magic from herself as she brought the cut vine close to her lips. "Water, follow thy kind, show me my way." As Aryanna watched, a handful of water surged from the now withered vine and slowly floated away towards the peculiar water source that she had found. Unsheating her other sword, she carefully followed, fully concentrating on the magic that kept the water moving.


Aryanna found herself increasingly tired as she tried to not trip, keep out of possible sight lines and keep a spell working all at once. Still, if there was water welled up like that, it usually meant people. Unless they were hostile, or higher intelligence creatures that she needed to terminate in her state. She swallowed hard as she mentally checked her bodily functions. Everything was working well, except the creeping fatigue that was threatening to take over her limbs at any moment. The little blob of water she had been following sped up, which signaled that the biggest source of water it detected was getting closer. With one final push of strength, she pushed through a few leaves and branches, ready to sigh in relief and relax...Except that what she saw didn't help her do either of those things.


There was a canteen of water, next to which her water blob was floating. It fell to the ground as soon as she stopped concentrating on it and focused on the more pressing issue. A girl, more specifically an elf, was just resting there. Except that she was pale, much too pale even for an elf, and her cheeks seemed tear streaked. I guess learning medicine had its benefits after all. Take that, Hyacena. She would have to go back to Fortuna one day to thank that Iali who taught her how to heal. But that was not important at the moment. She sighed as she approached the resting figure, and dropped down beside her, frowning. "Sorry, but I'm trying to help." She felt bad just touching the elf like this, but this seemed serious. There was blood staining the cloak that was placed on the elf, and the fabric was soaking up more blood than actually needed to flow.


Aryanna took off her own cloak, cursing lightly at the cold air, and placed it under the elf's injured leg. She wasn't one for charities much, but she wasn't about to leave an injured elf behind and go look for her own shelter. Rolling her eyes at the thought of going soft, she uncovered the wound and winced. What happened to her... She gently placed her hand on the elf's arm, applying light pressure, and concentrated hard. She could have put it on the wound directly, but doing this would heal most injuries rather than just one. "My strength becomes hers. Nature takes her pain, my magic leaves no scar." She chanted this a few times, feeling rather dizzy after a prolonged use of magic, but it worked. It wasn't healed completely, as it was still rather red and tender, but the wound was closed and there was no sign of internal bleeding. The problem was that her chants were quite literal. Nature did take the elf's pain, as a carefree squirrel dropped dead from a tree due to shock, and the wound would not leave a scar. And Aryanna's own blood replenished the blood that the elf had lost. She would have to be more careful in choosing words next time. I didn't think "strength" could be such a vague word...


She took her cloak from under the elf's leg and, satisfied at the lack of blood on the cloth, she put it on once again. Apparently the elf had lost quite a bit of blood, as Aryanna felt rather cold and completely dizzy. She rummaged through her belt bag, she fished out two small phials: one with a blood cleanser, and the other with a blood replenisher. She drank the latter, and placed the cleanser next to the canteen, its label in clear view. With that done, she both cursed and thanked the slumbering God, leaning against the oak tree that the elf was propped up against and falling asleep shortly after. She would do post-healing treatment with herbs once she woke up.
 
Upon entering the cave, it was pretty difficult to see anything. It was almost like you could not even tell if you were going towards the exit or going deeper into the cave only to bump into someone.....or something that's out of your league. "It sure is dark in here. I wish I had a light," Resmion said with after a long sigh. He reached into his satchel and pulled out and whispered, "Ignis" to light it. With the light, he saw it was corpse covered in blood whose skin was practically running off of the skin. He knelt down and whispered to the corpse, "May you rest in peace." He then got up and started sprinting towards the cave's exit. He jumped for joy as the gentle breeze blew in his face and made his silver hair dance in the wind. He looked as he was walking and spotted a woman with long hair, dressed in white. She was carrying a big suitcase in one hand, and sheathing a sword, but it seemed she was reaching out for something else. "I saw her when I got on the beach. She must have killed the monster who killed that man," Resmion said. "She might not want help, but I should offer anyway." Resmion walked over to the woman, waving to her as got closer to her.
 
*whish*


*CRACK!*


*thud*


Birds escaped from the trees, crying out in terror, while other forest dwellers either dashed away or hid in their hovels. A deer body thumped to the ground, headless. Xivran clasped one hand over a clenched fist.


"Rest, child of gaia, your energy will join the march of another."


He had cloven strait through the creature's spine and severed its head, killing it instantly. There would have been no pain. He wiped off the blood from his sword before sheathing it, and buried the deer's head at one of the trees nearby. The corpse was slung over his shoulder with some difficulty, definitely heavier than the elf girl he had carried for a few hours.


"Back to camp then."


-----------------------


The deer dropped at one end of the hollow, and Xivran's eyes narrowed slightly. The girl from before had not woken up yet . . . and she seemed to have found a friend. Related? Xivran knelt down near the new girl for a closer look. No. Definitely not. There shared no similarities apart from being of the elvish race. He shook his head and looked back over the first one. And was pleasantly surprised to find her injuries mostly healed.


"A healer?"


He looked back over at the other elf girl before standing up. There was going to be a LOT of explaining that evening. He set to work cutting of the deer before setting some of it to cook over the fire. Maybe the smell of venison might do some good.
 
"She is here?" A smooth voice whispered among the rustling trees, echoing across the unknown lands and causing the female resting against the ground to shiver. She turned, rolling her cold-prickled body to her side to grip whatever was near in security. "Are you alive, my daughter?" The voice hummed, soft winds blowing thus more. The elf began to stir, her brilliant, long white hair flourished across the warm earthly ground suddenly shifting with her rapid movements. "Wake up, Arwen." It boomed, the nature around her drawing in. The birds chirped and the wind blew, swirling and swirling upwards into the sky above. "WAKE UP." It demanded, causing her to break from her deep slumber and sit up in mere fear. She was shaken, darting those dim pools across the never-ending landscape drawn out before her. "You are alive, my daughter."


Arwen turned her weakened body, trying her best to locate the voice. Where was she? What was happening? "Alive?" the elf sputtered.


"You are in limbo." It answered, causing her to frantically stand.


"If I'm alive.. then where am I?"


"In limbo." it repeated, "You are alive, in sense, but soon the selfish grip of death will say otherwise."


"But.. how?"


"Your life is in the hands of others. If they fail, you will be sent off into the light to join the slumbering God."


"How can I get back? Can I get back?"


"You will soon find out."





The body of the elf still did not wake, growing cold and numb from the death soon approaching her. Her wounds bled into the cloth given to her and halted, allowing the rest of the blood leftover to flow the little life left within her. She was gently placed down and covered by the white garments of her own, which too, were splotched with her vivid crimson. Her chest rose and fell, lungs pumping quickly while she breathed deeply in her blackened slumber. She could smell.. feel the location around her. But her spirit still trapped within that cold body of hers. The rustling leaves and mutters of the Demark man, going on about dinner and soon departing. She feared he was her only hope.


But, the sounds of someone else drew near. A woman it seemed, gentle and soft as she spoke and touching her frantically to help, something that wasn't normal to the elf race.


"Sorry, but I'm trying to help."





Her voice had said as she got to work. It wasn't long before her voice rang again.


"My strength becomes hers. Nature takes her pain, my magic leaves no scar."





The body of the elf soon began working again, the wound on her leg suddenly healed but pink, tender with slight pain that would only come off as annoying. She breathed, the soft cream color returning to her sculpted rosy cheeks. Arwen opened her mouth in a wide yawn and her eyes fluttered, awakening from the slumber that nearly took her life. "Mmm.." she groaned, pushing her exhausted body up and glancing around, brushing a strand of hair obscuring her view. A siren laid beside her, and in front of her stood a man, large and built which obviously meant he was pure Demark. His appearance screamed mean and rude, but she paused, opening her mouth to speak. "Hello?"





 
Xivran's head jolted upwards at the noise.


"You're awake."


He walked over and got down on one knee next to her.


"How are you feeling?"
 
Arwen shifted her body weight to the point she got comfortable, slightly frightened by the Demark man getting so close, who seemed to be twice the size of her. One of her ears twitched, the soft gentle breeze catching her off guard and causing her to shiver. "I feel.. better." she answered, examining herself. "Way better." She turned onto her side and picked up her once silken white cloak, now blotchy with dried blood, and could only sigh. She fingered it, furrowing her eyebrows lightly. "How did you find me?" she questioned, raising her grey eyes up and aligning them with the man's. "And how long was I out?"
 
Xivran stood up at her confirmation of how she was feeling. Turning around and starting to tend to the fire/meal before answering her.


"Whatever you did back there, anyone with half of their senses functioning would have been able to see it. A giant flash, with no sound whatsoever? I just happened to be relatively nearby when it occurred. Then found you, along with a puddle of your own blood and a few black piles of goo. As for how long you were out: assuming you fell unconscious after using that magic, meaning I found you a few minutes after, then it's been about four or five hours."
 
Despite the blood splotches on her cloak, Arwen slipped it on and immediately pulled her hood up, tucking her long white hair inside and letting only her ears be seen. Apparently, he didn't know who she was, nor was he a Hunter, which was a relief on her part. "Yeah, I went a bit overboard." she let out a exaggerated sigh, pushing herself up onto to her two feet. A sudden pain, similar to pin needles, shot up one of her legs, causing her to stumble to the side. She hissed lightly, gripping the oak tree that happened to be nearby. "Ouch." she muttered, pushing the clothing covering that area away and examining it closely. It was pink, a bright pink and very tender, but other than that it was her bare skin. Had she been healed?


Scurrying over to the side with a slight limp, she peered her grey pools out of the slits in the brush, taking extra precaution in where she was. The place was silent, nothing other than the sounds of wind and animals could be heard. "Well, I thank you for saving me." she whispered, suddenly keeping her voice down and turning her head to look at him. Her face was hidden, the outlines of her beautiful Elven face and a few lone strands of silk hair managed to be seen. "But, do you really have no idea who I am?"
 
Xivran looked up at her and his eyes narrowed.


"I have been rather removed from the politics of the world."


Some venom inadvertently went into his words, and his right hand twitched a little as he resisted the urge to place it on his sword hilt.


"Should I?"
 
The moment seemed to freeze, choosing her words rather wrongly. She didn't move, didn't have the courage to move, but she eyed him carefully, watching him do the exact same to her. She glanced to the side, finding her bow and belongings laying on the ground and glanced back, seeing that hand of his twitch a little for his sword. She knew. Was he about to make a move? "Well, I suppose that's a good thing." she commented quickly, pausing.


"Should I?"


After a long moment of silence, Arwen, as quick as possible, dove for her bow and immediately held an arrow to the back of his head, literally holding him hostage for her own safety. "Listen here, tough guy." she muttered, her soft and delicate appearance changing within seconds to a fierce and cold one. "You make one move and I will put this arrow in your head faster than you can pull your sword out." Arwen shifted, tilting her head up so the ray of sunlight seeping through the green above managed to cast on her features. "I suppose you aren't a Hunter; I could be wrong, and I'll let you go if you aren't." she shrugged, "But do you know about the two sides going at it looking for these things called, Shards?"
 
Oddly enough, Xivran's tone of voice did not change. As if he were still in control.


"Before you *attempt* to release that arrow, I will ask YOU only one question. Are you a hunter yourself?"


One of Xivran's hands lay against the ground, and he remained completely motionless.
 
Arwen smiled lightly, this man wasn't afraid, which was something that most Demark men usually were well-known for. Her hands quivered a little, removing her tight grip on her weapon just a tad. "I'm not a hunter." she answered, taking a step back to give herself some space. "I'm one of the Shards." she whispered, lowering her bow immediately after the statement. She felt no need to use it anymore, the man was completely harmless it had seemed. "I'm the "White Witch" everyone is looking for." she turned around, grabbing her small leather-bound bag and digging through it swiftly, finally pulling out a folded piece of paper. Arwen, after un-folding it, held it up to the man in clean view. It was a bounty, her exact appearance on the very front center with the title underneath being "Wanted White Witch, Shard of Arrogance".


"That's why I was asking so many questions." The elf said, raising her eyebrows.
 
When Xivran turned around, a great deal of tension left his shoulders. It was visible as some of the fight left his eyes and his hands relaxed.


"Well, 'White Witch', you can rest assured I'm no enemy of yours."


He sat down, staring into the fire.


"If anything . . . I would probably be the exact opposite."
 
Arwen turned and threw her bag and bow into a pile away from the flames and let out another exaggerated sigh, ripping the hood off the top of her head. "Thank you." she could only say, ambling over to take a seat across the fire from the Demark man. "It's nice to see that some people don't want or need me, but actually see me as a person instead of a Shard." she whispered, pulling her prodigious white hair from her hood and letting it flow from the sides. Her dim gray eyes stared at the fire before her, just like he did, and rested her chin on her palm. The warm flames danced to the whispering winds, and spewed brilliant sparks, which floated into the air and dispersed into the green above. "I never got your name."


-


Large paws gripped the handle of a leather-bound bag soon slung on Qa'naro's right shoulder as the old man continued complaining, going on about how customers usually never paid him to someone even stealing a cheese roll that day. His squeaking, ragged voice persisted on, shaking his fists and stamping his unkempt feet in a circle around the cat, who happened to be twice as big as he was. Qa'naro just stood there, taking it all in while his beady blue eyes peered outside one of the windows, witnessing the chaos that soon unraveled before him just like a picture show. His small ears wiggled, hearing the loud noises and crashes firsthand, even from standing inside. "Look old man, I'll give you ten more gold but that's it," he quickly piped up, cutting one of his "they stole my sweet roll too" stories in half and throwing the amount of gold into his bearded face. The old man gasped, allowing the gold to hit the floor in soft clinks and dove to his knees to pick it up before it fell between the floorboards. No complaint came out of him after that so Qa'naro threw in a delightful, "Have a nice day." before exiting the humble inn.


Qa'naro hobbled his large appearance to outside of the inn, witnessing the whole scene firsthand, which immediately made him throw his belongings to the side. "Hey!" he roared, flaring gums which flashed a row sharp pearly whites. He seen the blood and the Minotaur, one of his own kind, charging at a rather dark person who appeared helpless at the very moment. It angered him greatly how his own kind thought they were superior to the "human" race, because of their animalistic natures, which in most cases only lead to stupidity. Qa'naro stepped down the steps and unsheathed his iron sword, just about to jump in the chaos as well.
 
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