Fantasy The Lost Child

[LoneSniper87]

Silvyr narrowed her eyes at the Edan, taking a step forward towards the woman. "One would be careful, insulting me like that. I don't care much for arrests, so you won't fret over that much. But I do suggest you watch your tongue, or you'll be the one with the haft of my spear a foot up your ass." She threatened, before all at once letting her tension go completely in one heavy breath. "I consider us even, Edan." She didn't speak with any former spite, walking forward and sheathing her spear to offer her hand, "Silvyr Irian, and yourself?" She asked the Edan. Her attention turned up to Eleveil. Finally someone of repute, she thought to herself. She looked past Sanine to the newcomer, a faint smile on her lips. "Indeed, what use could we have for him?" She responded, then directly spoke to Eleveil. "I'd be careful what you say. The wrong woman may slap you for saying such things."

Hell0NHighWater Lekiel Seraph Darkfire Lefic

 

[Hell0NHighWater]

He smirked - just a small pouting of the lips; a narrowing of the eyes and a tilting of the head. It was so subtle that one might have completely missed the emotion if the shadow of his hood hadn't receded enough to show his face. He had been waiting for the loiterer in the trees to make himself known. Eleveil was a rather familiar face, one at least that he recalled from a more....nobler time in his life. Even then he couldn't look back on his time with the Moongarde and say that Eweca would be proud. A tiny snort left him, crystal blue orbs flickering towards the guardswoman who called him a thief. It was a degradation in his eyes. Despite all of the wrongs he has committed in life, he was not a thief. Though he could understand the assumption given the way his unruly student conducted herself.

The assassin stood still besides Amaranth as she spoke of what they had already discussed themselves. It didn't seem that the importance of what they were about to do was lost on the group and for that he was grateful. At least in this way it made convincing them so much easier. Those glacier blue orbs narrowed slightly on Elveil the moment he began talking. Rafe had forgotten the man's smooth tongue and there was something about watching the Isilhin remind Amaranth of his pledge that caused a seed of cold jealousy to settle in the pit of his stomach. His smirk faded to his normal flat expression.
"Eleveil." He greeted coolly, not sure how to take the name that he had called him out of affection? Mockery? Israfael wasn't quite sure what to make of the old acquaintance. He glanced at Amaranth quickly, certainly wondering how he had even ended up in this position himself. So he only shrugged, a gentle lift of his shoulders that suggested more nonchalance than he felt. His lips parted to reply in some witty manner when Silvyr's voice cut through his thoughts. His head turned towards the two women who had begun to square off. He made a low noise in the back of his throat that sounded akin to exasperation.

"Sanine." Her name came off his lips as a threat, a single word laced with a chastised warning. She could start fights on her own time, he could understand the aggravation....he had been worse at her age, but now was not the time to pick a fight. Especially when there were more important matters to attend to.

 

[Lefic]

At the guardswoman's retort, a thrill of excitement rushed through Sanine, once more lighting up her face with a dangerous smile. Oh, she's good. The thief was about to come back with something else when the sound of her mentor's voice cut her off. She swivelled her head around to face the Isilhin she'd trained under and nodded in understanding, light running along her nose-ring as she dipped her head. She sighed, quelling her mischievousness as she allowed it to flood out of her body along with her breath. "I will refrain, teacher." Though her tone of voice would hardly convey it, the unruly Edan respected her mentor's decisions and orders and would not disobey them. She had let her jealousy and thirst for a fight get the best of her. I guess I must save the fighting for another day.

She glanced over towards Silvyr's outstretched hand. She took it in hers and shook it with an iron grip. "Sanine Drahril," she introduced. The guardswoman wasn't too bad, she figured. In a way, Sanine respected her.

Observing before her the group that had assembled, she thought, I guess I can get through this whole thing without stabbing someone.

 

[Lekiel]

Amaranth opened her mouth as if to object when Sanine mentioned about repaying her debt, but instead, she offered the human woman a warm smile. "Thank you."

Didn't she know? T'was a gift I freely gave... and even now, I don't think it was ever enough. There didn't come a time where the princess did not question if she actually did the girl any good by saving her, only to abandon her to the streets and fend for herself in Numenlad. Her heart had been wrenched in two, the day she had to leave those piercing green orbs. Even all that time ago, for a girl so small, they stared at her with an intelligence that had haunted her dreams for many years after they had parted ways. Amaranth had tried to cope with the separation with any smidgen of news her servants and attendants could glean from their watch over the girl. She didn't know what to do back then, still didn't know what to do now; should she have taken a more active role? To offer anonymous guidance to the girl who struggled to even feed herself, while the princess lounged in the comforts of the palace as if she were some shadowy benefactor? To plot the course of a life she didn't own and didn't take responsibility for? So many questions left unanswered.

Amaranth took a breath and turned to the rest of the gathered people, nodding in turn when they each pledged themselves to the greater cause. She thought to step in between Silvyr and Sanine, when they began trading verbal blows, but Rafe got there first, and Amaranth relaxed when the girl decided to take the guard's offered gesture of peace. But just like any concerned parent, she resolved herself to observe the young rogue carefully in the coming days; knowing full well her feisty streak wouldn't be so easily tapered off. She waited until all of them had at least introduced themselves briefly before clearing her throat.

"Well... I'm glad that we're all acquainted nicely..." The anarhin clasped her hands together, as if overly relieved that things had not already exploded in her face; especially with the surprise appearance of the her Guard Captain. She couldn't help but feel a certain sense of childish excitement creep into her throat, despite the grave matter that had brought them together. She glanced briefly at her companions and thought they seemed not unlike the heroes and champions of old the Grandmagus had told her about in his stories, back when things were much simpler.

"Before we leave, I was just thinking if any of you would like to name our little group..? The Rebellious Five? The... Dauntless Few..?" She paused for a moment, before her eyes looked to the ruined tavern at their backs. "...The Drunken Nymphs?"

 

[LoneSniper87]

With everything dying down in this moment, it finally registered to Silvyr some of things the princess was saying. Borderline treason, but statements she agreed with. The peace was nice, but only fools would choose to not press an advantage beyond a minor victory in the scale of war. One city meant little when compared to a continent, captial or not. She removed her grip from Sanine's and turned to face Amaranth, barely a huff of a laugh from the woman. "Yeah... I'm glad for that as well. But, you have my spear should the need arise, and I one hundred percent will help you regardless of where it leads us." She said, leaning herself back against the ruined building. "I was never good with names... That's your department." She said, referring to the others.

Hell0NHighWater Lefic Lekiel Seraph Darkfire

 

[Lekiel]

⊰~C H A P T E R 1: Daughter of Kings~⊱​

Theme - Bound by Purpose​

"SILDORIN!" The cry of purest anguish cut through the darkness like a blaze of light.

She opened her eyes, and immediately tried to bolt upright, but an intense flash of pain burst throughout her body and she fell back to the ground with a cry. What... is... this? Fire... Where am I? There's fire everywhere! With immense effort, she rolled to her side and looked down at her hands. Through blurred vision, she saw gauntlets of coppery steel stained with crimson liquid as if she had just dipped her hands into a cauldron of blood. These aren't my hands..! Whats happening!? Panic begin the cloud her mind. She had to get up! She had to move!

"Sildorin! Enansal Felariel ma kuila! Uum'bel ar tulema."
Sildorin! Praise Felariel you're alive! Don't move, I'll get you.

There was that voice again, quite clearly male. Somehow she knew it was calling out to her, though she didn't understand nearly everything that was said. The language was definitely foreign, yet at the back of her mind, it sounded strangely familiar. It was an odd feeling. Like hearing unfamiliar syllables as if it was the most natural thing ever, yet not knowing a single thing. But she had no time to dwell on it. Her heart was beating wildly as all her sensory acuity returned to her in a rush of sound and sight. There was a lot of shouting going on, and the flap of feathery wings. She tried to move again, but finally realized why it had been so difficult. The lower half of her body was pinned under a giant armored creature. She couldn't see much from her point of view, just a large armored beast with chestnut brown feathers stained with blood. To her horror, she could see a large gash that tore into one of its crumpled wings so savagely the bone joint had been crushed and ripped out of its socket and it seemed to be only hanging on by a thin layer of skin.

"Andurin... na'uroloki?" Another voice, also male. It took her disoriented brain a moment to realize who had spoken it. She did.
Andurin... the dragon?

"Ta ndengin vir'rakt." Came the reply, this time much closer. A moment later, a tall anarhin in golden armor appeared over the edge of the feathered beast, strapped to his back was a golden lance. White warpaint marked his handsome features though a jagged scar ran over one of his eye and despite the brown iris staring directly at her, she knew that eye to be blind. The elf frowned down at her and shook his head sadly as his gaze shifted over to the beast. He touched two fingers to his forehead and bent down towards the beast's head.
It was slain, when I arrived.

"Esta seere Elanti..."
Rest peacefully Elanti...

Her lips hardened into a line. It was as she had feared, her companion didn't make it. "Re vara' ar.." she replied grimly, coughing out a glob of blood to the side. Andurin clenched his jaw, as a fierce look blazed into his eyes.
She protected me.

"Ron qualm sina... nan' yeste vir'ant usin ar quenathra." Andurin approached her side, and braced himself against the beast, preparing to lift. Then a distant shout drew their attention. Andurin whirled about to gaze at the sky, his eyes widening.
They will pay for this... but first, we need to get you out of here.

"Shem!" Her brother hurried back to the task at hand. Bracing his back against the beast, he adjusted his feet and pushed with all his might.
Quickly!

"Tul'e Sildorin, tul'e!" She struggled with everything she got, bit by bit she slipped out from under Elanti's feathered body. Then she heard it. A thunderous roar that cracked across the heavens so loud it was like the rage of a vengeful god. It rattled her skull and struck an inexplicable primal fear into her stricken heart.
Come on Sildorin, come on!

"a'Banalhan!" They had to leave now! Or they were all doomed! With a final shout of effort, she managed to struggle out from under the beast. Immediately, Andurin was by her side, hoisting her up to her feet. Finally off the ground, she could fully take in the extent of where she was. They were on a rocky plateau, the ground below their feet was jet black obsidian rock. Towards the east, Anara's fire had already begun rising above the horizon, though her brilliance was tinged with red. An hour just after dawn perhaps. There were many other forms scattered all over the place, soldiers... Dragonhunters The word flitted unbidden across her mind. Many lay dead, their bodies along with their hippogriff mounts ravaged and burnt beyond recognition. But they had not gone down easily. The twisted and speared remains of many smaller drakes and even two gargantuan crimson dragons overshadowed the rest. It had been a brutal fight. Many still lay injured, though hunters in matte emerald armor were rushing about trying to get them to safety. She looked down to find that one of her feet had been twisted badly out of shape. There was no way she could support herself on her own. She and her brother limped hurriedly towards a crowd of people near the edge of the cliff in a haphazard motion. Several of the hunters saw the golden armored form and rushed to the High King's aid but Andurin waved them back.
The Blightwing!

"Sangan awra, var nadas kel'mala-!" Another deafening roar split across the sky, so loud and terrifying many of the hunters clutched at their ears and fell on their knees, their morale nearly shattered as wails of despair escaped their lips. She turned to glance up at Andurin, but instead of the petrified features of a broken man, she only saw a smoldering flame that could kindle the spirits of a thousand lives. With a fierce look in his eyes, the High King gazed at his despairing men and took a deep breath.
Gather the injured, we must leave immediately-!

"TEL`QUESSIR!" His shout rang clear and true, and it cut through the clouds of hopelessness like a blazing dawn. There was a brief moment of silence, then the emerald legion rallied to their liege with a resounding cry. They would all live to fight another day.

"San'Aran eska varna, ret n'taum uuma n'alaquel!" Andurin ordered one of the riders as the they reached the crowd of gathered hunters ready to depart. Two of the soldiers helped her up into the saddle of one of the hippogriffs but the enormity of what her brother had said suddenly struck a chord within her heart.
Take the King home, fly swiftly fly low and don't look back!

"Aran..? Mani-? Andurin!?" No... this cannot be! She whirled back on her brother but only saw a warm smile on Andurins face. His brother reached over and brought their foreheads together in a final act of brotherly love. He reached up with his other hand and tugged on an amulet around his neck, before placing it in her hands.
King..? What-? Andurin!?

"Rin na'elear? Sina e'ta..."
Remember the vision? This is it...

"Ne' Andurin."
No Andurin.

"Ar vesta ma, lle Haran sii' Sildorin." Andurin released him and stood back.
You promised me, you are King now Sildorin.

"Uum sina toror!"
Don't do this brother!

"Meriel sal'wanwa, ar cael banal coi'a Sildorin." There was a certain resignation in his tone, and inside him, he knew his brother had already made up his mind. He was tired. Out of all people Andurin had lost so much, and sacrificed everything. There was only so much his proud shoulders could bear before it broke. And he had resolved to go, before that happened, like all others before him.
Meriel is gone, I have nothing left to live for Sildorin.

"Mala vhen?" A last ditch effort to convince him, but he already knew his brother's answer before he even said it.
Your people?

"Ron mala sii'vhen, yeste sen Sildorin ma toror."They're your people now, be their leader Sildorin my brother. With that, Andurin shouted a command and the hippogriff leapt into the skies. The sudden movement was too much, and with a yelp of surprise, she lost her balance and fell plummeting into the chasm.

"ANDURIN-!"

⊰~❇~⊱​

Aelyia woke up screaming, one hand outstretched as if trying to clutch at something that was slipping out of her grasp. It took her a moment before she realized that the dream was over and that she was safely on the ground, staring up at a dawning sky. Just like it was in the dream... Half lidded eyes shifted over to gaze at the stark oak tree which until recently had been her sleeping perch. She felt something poking into her back and with a start, realized that she was surrounded in..

"Hay" a gruff voice finished her thought. It spoke again, after seeing that the girl still hadn't moved a muscle "It's just hay Aelyia, calm down. This is the second time you've fallen out of the tree. I'd be wasting my breath if I told you not to sleep in there, so I had to do something before you broke your neck!"

"Yes uncle, I know..." Aelyia let out a sigh and rubbed her eyes, sinking back down into the soft bedding. She wondered how long he had been watching over her. He'd become more overbearing ever since the nearby village had been pillaged.

"Had that dream again?"

She said nothing, but nodded her head. Not caring if the old elf could even see her in the dark. Both were quiet for a moment, before the older elf spoke again.

"Come Aelyia, it's not safe outside-"

"Do you know of Andurin?" It could be her imagination, but the young sun elf thought her uncle's posture had stiffened at the mention of the name.

"Of course I do, Aelyia. He's probably selling his overpriced turnips in Cal`Ancalen by now, if the orcs didn't get to him first-"

"No I mean... I mean... from legend? You know the stories you told me of King Sildorin and the Drakarian Wars..?" Aelyia sat upright and fixed her uncle with her piercing bottle green eyes. "I think... I just dreamed about it.... it felt so... real uncle" Her voice trailed off into a whisper as her eyes grew distant.

"All dreams are that way... your mother had a very vivid imagination too, just like you."

"And they were speaking in that odd language..."

"Aelyia, you know how dreams are... even common words would sound foreign-"

"B-But I understood them this time-!" The girl whined, a little exasperated her uncle was being dismissive about the whole thing as usual. She reached up to grasp at the small mythrill amulet that hung on a leather thong around her neck, thumbing the cool metal as she often did when lost in thought. Cold northern winds swept down into the valley, bringing with it the promise of winter.

"Aelyia Amloruil, time to head back in." Her uncle spoke firmly, his tone left no room for debate.

"Alright, alright... I'm coming." The young elf extricated herself from the pile of hay and trailed after her uncle. She briefly turned to glance at the slowly brightening horizon.

"A red sun rises..." She spoke her thoughts aloud.

"Aye... Anara mourns, a great battle was fought last night..." Her uncle replied without looking back.

The girl gazed at the dawn for a moment longer before another breeze brought an involuntary shiver to her petite frame. She hurried over to her uncle's side.

"What's for breakfast uncle?"

"Nothing. Until you finish plucking the autumn berries and stacking the firewood."

"By the Goddess, that's torture!"

⊰~❇~⊱​

She did not sleep particularly well that night for some inexplicable reason, though Amaranth suspected she was still pumped up about the whole idea that they were at last, doing something. Even if that something was sneaking out of the palace and traveling all the way to Cal`Ancalen just because she thought she had been seen a premonition. No... It was real, there's no doubt about that. How she knew it, she didn't know. But she hoped the Librarian would have answers for her, something to make the risks worth it. There was no denying the fact that the princess and her companions were very capable fighters, but to travel in such a small group all the way to the mage city was almost akin to suicide. Almost.

After the little gathering the previous night, they had retrieved horses and ridden through the dark for as long as possible to take advantage of the empty roads. They had led their horses several score yards away from the main road before setting up a temporary camp. She didn't know how long it would take before Lucien found out where she was heading, but she fully intended to put as much distance as she could between herself and the inevitable search party. Which in hindsight, would be a good thing. Better to have soldiers scouring the roads than rotting behind the city gates.

Amaranth let out a yawn and decided to climb out of the little shelter she had taken under a large tree root in search of the others.

⊰~Translation~⊱​

"Sildorin! Enansal Felariel ma kuila! Uum'bel ar tulema." - Sildorin! Praise Felariel you're alive! Don't move, I'll get you.

"Andurin... na'uroloki?" - Andurin... the dragon?

"Ta ndengin vir'rakt." - It was slain, when I arrived.

"Esta seere Elanti..." - Rest peacefully Elanti...

"Re vara' ar" - She protected me.

"Shem!" - Quickly!

"Ron qualm sina... nan' yeste vir'ant usin ar quenathra." - They will pay for this... but first, we need to get you out of here.

"Tul'e Sildorin, tul'e!" - Come on Sildorin, come on!

"a'Banalhan!" - The Blightwing!

"Sangan awra, var nadas kel'mala-!" - Gather the injured, we must leave immediately-!

"San'Aran eska varna, ret arauka ret n'taum uuma n'alaquel!" - Take the King home, fly swiftly fly low and don't look back!

"Aran..? Mani-? Andurin!?" - King..? What-? Andurin!?

"Rin na'elear? Sina e'ta..." - Remember the vision? This is it...

"ne' Andurin." - No Andurin.

"Ar vesta ma, lle Haran sii' Sildorin." - You promised me, you are King now Sildorin.

"Uum sina toror!" - Don't do this brother!

"Meriel sal'wanwa, ar cael banal coi'a Sildorin." - Meriel is gone, I have nothing left to live for Sildorin.

"Mala vhen?" - Your people?

"Ron mala sii'vhen, yeste sen Sildorin ma toror." - They're your people now, be their leader Sildorin my brother.

 

[Lefic]

The Edan sat by herself, legs crossed upon the bare ground, leaning against the trunk of a giant tree. The shadows around her were gnarled, spreading outwards in twisting tendrils. From the look on her face, one could have thought the darkness was emanating from her.

She was sitting away from the others, neither bothering nor caring to talk to them. She'd told them she was 'keeping vigilance'. In reality, she just wanted to be alone.

The excitement from earlier of leaving Numenlad and finding strong, worthy opponents to irritate had simmered down. The young woman had switched from being hot-headed to cool-headed in the most unnerving way possible. Though, that didn't detract from the hostile, almost defensive, aura she radiated. It had sunk in by now that the people in their little group—The Drunken Nymphs—would be people that she would have to be around for quite some time. It was better to limit her time with them. Even fiery interactions could lead to some sort of relationship being built—as she'd learned from her innumerable tavern brawls. Sanine hadn't failed to notice that she was the only Edan.

She flipped a dagger in her hand, toying with it before holding it out in front of her, twisting it this way and that as moonlight danced up and down the cold metal, analysing it. This was a weapon she wasn't even meant to have. She scoffed disdainfully, scorn threatening to mar her blank expression. A moment of distraction left her finger cut on the sharp edge of her dagger. A trail of crimson snaked down her finger and she watched it with the same close attention she paid to her Marks.

I bleed. Just like anybody. Just like any elf.

So why then did the elves she encounter, drinking away their gold in taverns back in Numenlad, treat her almost as if she were an animal? Why did she have to bribe guards just to carry a weapon, when the elves could wield whatever they pleased? Had not the Edans once been a part of a powerful empire? Or perhaps that was just another lie her parents had told her.

"Bullshit," she breathed, stabbing her dagger into the soil beneath her. The angry utterance wasn't directed at anything specifically—just everything in general.

With care, the assassin removed her knife from the ground, as if plucking it from a corpse, dusted it off on her thigh, and slid it back into its sheath.

Her attention was caught by the shadow of the tree that enveloped her, surrounded by the similar shadows of the other trees. It had swallowed up her own shadow. Her lips were pulled up into a smile that her eyes did not follow. "Even my shadow leaves me in the darkness," she remarked morosely. Who else abandoned me during the darkest times of my life? In the back of her mind, her own voice seemed to whisper back, Maybe it's because you're an Edan.

"Yeah, maybe," she whispered sadly into the night as the shadow beneath her melted under the dying light.

The Edan was gazing at the stars, purposely avoiding the gaze of Eweca. You are not my Goddess, she seethed. By herself, she voiced a question she had wondered about for a long time, "The Anarhin are children of Anara. The Isilhin are children of Eweca. What about the Edan?... Who do we have?" The question lingered in the air, unanswered.

She grunted and hoisted herself to her feet ungraciously. I'll take a walk, she thought as she shook her legs, numb from inactivity.

She didn't even care to watch her step as she meandered through the area, as mindless as water.

 

[Hell0NHighWater]

The river is a ribbon of living turquoise, boldly flowing amid the green of the forest. No matter the chatter of the trees it is steady, welcoming, refreshing. On quiet days it can be heard to whisper its wisdom, on stormy days it is lost to all but those who listen closely. The river always talks, always speaks the wisdom of the water to anyone who treasures its musical words. Even on the rainiest of days it can heard beneath the splashes, a sacred melody, always moving, always present. He had been there that day, a boy of nothing more than fourteen, drawn in by the cries of a small girl amidst the rocks.

If he had his way their merry band of misfits would be known under no name. What was the point in giving a name to a group that was surely to be thinner by the very end of this journey? Perhaps it was just him being cynical but he saw very little point in forming needless attachments. But there had been a light that sparkled in the depths of Amaranth's gaze, an excitement for the trails ahead, and he found himself unable to refute her nonsense. There had been moments recently, more than he would like to admit, where he found himself giving into the antics of this little girl.

He had reached out, knuckles raw and bruised from too many fights but there was a kindness in his face. Giant tears had poured from the most magnificent pair of brown and green eyes that he had ever seen and her skin was so bronze it was like she was from another world entirely. He grinned at her then, flashing white teeth in a smile that proved he held no care in the world. There had been blood that swirled in the water and stained the rocks around her. He knew without looking that her arm was broken, yet her hand held so tightly to his that he was unable to leave her in order to find help.

"It'll be okay, I've got you." She hiccuped in reply, pressing herself closer to him as he lifted her into his arms.
"What's your name?"

"A..Amaranth.."
Not that she was a little girl any longer.
"That's a cute name for someone who looks like a soaked rat..."
No, his ai'mithe had certainly grown up...

The decades had been kind to her, despite the war she remained pure of heart. She only wanted the best for her people and she cared so much about everyone around her.

Time, in turn, had twisted him into an uuvanimo...
Long ago he had traded his soul and dyed his hands in blood. He had spilled so much blood that not even Eweca would welcome him into eternity.

Rule number one: do not show weakness.
As far as anyone knows you are emotionless.
This has been the most effective buffer for pain I've ever used.​

The corners of his mouth tilted into a barely there frown, calloused hands drifting idly across the midnight mare who he had tied to the same tree the other horses idled at. The horse let out a huff of air, as if sensing the darkness of his thoughts and shook her head a bit. Rafe pet her gently between the eyes, attempting to soothe the old girl in case she had any ideas of rebellion later. The group had decided to nestle themselves in a slightly forested area just off the main road they had been traveling on. While he did not wish to stop, one glance at the weariness in the Princess's face had him conceding. His glacier blue eyes flickered from the horse towards the direction where his former student had sulked off to. His face remained passive as he watched her meander through the trees with a continence that mildly worried him.

Israfael huffed a bit to himself, dragging his attention back towards the horse. Out of the corner of his eye he caught more movement, Amaranth who had descended from the tree she had been resting in. He watched her in silence, using the fact that he was brushing the horses to keep an eye out for anything that might be lurking in the shadows. Or that's what he told himself at least.

⊰~Translation~⊱
uuvanimo - Monster​

 

[Seraph Darkfire]

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"At the end of the day, if I can say I had fun, it was a good day."

Location: Off the Beaten Path

Mentions: Lekiel LoneSniper87 Lefic Hell0NHighWater

Mood: Amused

[div class=cover]

[/div]

Zephyr flashed in the early morning light, the glaive twisting through the air with a silent beauty. The light caught the sheen of sweat as it gathered on his bare flesh. Eleveil was in the midst of training, his body and weapon moving with almost eerie synchronicity, as if there was no difference between the two. He'd found a nice little spot away from the camp. Close enough that he could quickly get there if there was any trouble, but far enough away that he could train in privacy. His training was almost as if it were a dance, beauty and grace made flesh and steel. As he trained, thoughts rolled through his mind with gentle clarity.

'The Drunken Nymphs. A band of unusual and strange fellows.' he thought with some amusement 'and so many beautiful women!' that thought was punctuated with a powerful slash downwards, stopping just above the grass he was standing on. With a quick twist of his wrist, he turned the blade sideways and quickly swept it across the blades of grass in a large circle, sending them flying up into the air around him. His hands and weapon seemed to blur as he struck towards them, piercing and shredding grass as it fluttered down to the ground.

His training stepped up a notch, moving from the slow graceful dancing to blurred movements. His body was never seen for more than a second as more and more grass filled the air as he trimmed the area. Eleveil soon became so fast that the only way to really follow his path was to observe the grass clippings as they followed in the wake of his movement.

Then, as quickly as he'd started, he stopped. Standing in the center of the area, a smile split his face wide. This was it, the feeling of pushing his body to the limit! It was fun! He looked around him as he watched the grass begin to settle back to the ground, letting his breathing slow and his heart calm. It was so much better to practice instead of killing.

He then took a deep breath and stretched out wide "Alright! Time to get some breakfast!" he laughed as he turned towards the camp. The best time for food was after pushing the body vigorously. It always tasted the best.

"I wonder if the Princess is a good cook?" he wondered as he started walking back. He'd had food made for him by lots of women and had cooked for them as well, but he'd never had the cooking of Royalty. Then he made a face "Maybe she has no skill at all? That'd suck!" he grumbled to himself.

[/div]

[/div]

 

[LoneSniper87]

Sanine Drahril was still wandering aimlessly, lost in her own thoughts when the sudden appearance of a person she could've sworn wasn't standing there before startled her, snapping her out of her daze. She had to swerve to avoid colliding with the woman who she now recognised as the guardswoman she'd exchanged insults with before. Quite some time had passed since the last time the thief had spoken to her. Indeed, quite some time had passed since the thief had spoken to anyone in their little party as she'd been deliberately distancing herself from the rest. And she'd done that for a reason—interaction was the last thing on her mind right now, no matter how fun it was to rile others up.

"What do you want, you follow-along? Why aren't you by the side of the princess who didn't even invite you to come along in the first place?" Sanine sighed, drawing her fingertips through her rough hair, tugging out tangles.

Silvyr was walking back to camp, using her spear almost as a walking stick as she treaded back. Not fully noticing the Edan approaching, the sudden shift startled her and she brought up her spear, poised to strike until she realized who it was, lowering her guard with a sigh. "Follow-along? We were going opposite ways, Edan." She paused, head tilted to the sides. "Besides, I have no reason to protect the Princess when her best friend is an Assassain. Plus you and the Moongarde... She'll be fine if I take a ten minute walk."

just when I had my head cleared it gets all muddled again, she thought, but it didn't faze her much. The look the Edan held, however, almost spoke volumes, even if she misinterpreted it. "I don't say Edan with spite, Sanine. It was Sanine, right? Some of my greatest allies and friends were Edan. I hold you to that same standard until you prove otherwise, okay? I hope that helps with things." She said, turning to stand beside her.

"Let's walk? I'm sure another ten minutes won't kill, right?"

Sanine had bristled when she had been referred to as an 'Edan'. She was just about to launch back a retort when the other woman had corrected herself. The Edan furrowed her brow in confusion as she regained her composure. Why would I have gotten insulted by being referred to as an Edan? she thought as she drummed her fingers against her thigh. It is what I am, is it not? How has that turned into a bad thing? After a pause, she nodded and fell in beside the Honor Guard, accepting the proposal of going on a walk. Now aware of herself again, the rogue's footsteps were once again near-silent as she unconsciously avoided stepping on every twig in her path.

"Yes, Sanine is my name," she confirmed. It was weird to hear her name from another's lips. It had been the longest time since she'd known someone on a first-name basis. "Some of your greatest allies and friends were Edan?" she repeated, picking up on the past tense. "What, they dead or something? Did you outlive them with your long elf-y lifespan?" Though she had intended to sound as disrespectful as possible, Sanine's voice just sounded bored. She wasn't bothered to argue. Not now, when she had had so much on her mind just a few minutes ago. Deep down, she appreciated the guard's previous statement; it made her feel less removed from everybody else. She'd never show it, though.

She glanced at her, shaking her head. "Just because I am an elf, doesn't mean I outlived them. I served on the front lines, once." She paused, thinking back on it, the times were both good and bad, but she knew her place in the world, at the very least. "Try as you might... You can't save 'em all." She kept her eyes ahead, using her spear as before. "Yes, I outlived them, but they died in the field, the chosen few, not of old age. I will never forget them." Her feet faltered for a moment.

Had she really just divulged this much to a nigh stranger? It wasn't pertinent information, but it was personal. She picked up the pace to keep up. "Now every other elf on the continent may look at you all will disdain, and I admit I did at one point, but I admit I was flawed. After those years with those men... You weren't wastes... Or something to look down upon... You were warriors, like the rest of us..." She paused again, suddenly laughing.

"God I'm droning on like a fool, my apologies... what about you? Care to give me a little insight into your troubles? A little talk goes a long way."

Sanine had silently listened to everything the other had said, taking it all in. Ok, the elf wasn't as bad as she had originally thought. Sanine might have tried to comfort her if she hadn't been so desperately trying to emotionally block herself off from everyone. So all she did was fix the guardswoman with those piercing green eyes of hers and nod.

Then she was prompted to share something of her own. The Edan looked shocked for a second, unused to being asked for her own input.'A little insight'? Sanine scoffed. I've no idea where to even begin. With hesitation, she repeated, "'You can't save 'em all.'" That was all she said for a while, and the statement hung in the air. Her eyes seemed to glaze over. The Edan's dark features twisted into an expression of pain and deep thought. She reached an arm behind her back and pinched herself through her clothes, squeezing a section of her large burn scar between her thumb and forefinger. As always, the sensation felt dulled; she could hardly feel it. Sometimes it felt like her mind had also been seared back then, based on the emptiness she sometimes felt.

She was still walking solemnly when a sudden sound—oh so similar to the crackle of the fire that had eaten away her life!—had caused her to jump up and yelp in fright. Her heart was still pounding when she realised, "Oh, I stepped on a twig." She kicked it away with a bit too much force.

What happened to her all that time ago, she still wasn't ready to share. But what she did offer, though it came out a bit late, was, "...But I was saved. By a soldier, and—Amaranth. She had looked after me, for a time."

She listened, eyes down after they broke their gaze and continued walking. She didn't notice her punch herself, but did notice her jump at the twig, if not seeing her move completely. "Ah..." She said at first, unsure of how to continue. "Must've been before my time. You might've known my father. You feel like you owe her?" The question was sudden, and she didn't really allow a chance to respond.

"I wouldn't. Not in a bad way though! It's just- you worry so much about trying to make up for what someone did you miss out on life. The time will come where you save her, I'm rather sure of that." She smiled, glancing up to guage her reaction. "I wonder... What drives you? Don't answer, more me wondering aloud... I do that sometimes." Another stretch of silence ensues as they walk.

Sanine stroked her chin as she walked, an expression of mild confusion plastered onto her face. What does drive me? she thought, and could not come up with a concrete answer. Before... My only goal was to survive. But I'm alive now, aren't I? I have survived. So, what now?

Sanine's brassy voice pierced the silence. "I will not stop until the Wretched are wholly eradicated," she seethed, sheer determination rumbling in her rough voice. It may not bring her parents back but if it would provide closure—even just the tiniest bit—it was enough. She had found her purpose—for now.

"I said don't answer!" Was her reaction, hitting her shoulder lightly in a teasing manner. "Perhaps the bar was set to high for you..." But the words rung true in her. It sounded very similar to something she would say. "It's funny. You and I seem so similar. We fight for the same reasons, both hardasses at times... Both not good at talking, or listening for that matter. Am I on the right track?"

Regaining herself, the Edan smoothed out the deep frown that had wrinkled her face. And, surprisingly, what replaced it was a light smile. A hearty chuckle escaped her lips. "Yeah, I guess so."

(Last minute addition, obviously a collab between myself and Lefic , pardon my not giving him credit)

 

[Lekiel]

Amaranth was mildly surprised to see that most, if not everyone was already up and about by the time they reached the small clearing they had set their camp around. Even in the murky gloom, she could make out Eleveil with the silvery flash of Zephyr behind his back coming out from one side of the woods. From the other, was... Sanine and Silvyr. Amaranth chuckled silently in spite of herself. Though they weren't a large group, she'd least expected the guardswoman and the human assassin to be on friendly terms so early on in their journey. The only person missing was her dear sulky infiltrator, but the princess deduced that he was likely skulking in the shadows nearby. She made a mental note to remind herself to have a word with Rafe sometime soon about taking his 'cloak and dagger' too seriously. Perhaps he should learn a thing or two about making friends from his protege!

"Quel re il'er!" She greeted them, though she was careful to keep her voice just loud enough to be heard. Though they were barely a day's ride from An Falithe's gates, it still wouldn't do to draw unwanted attention in their direction.

"We have a long ride ahead of us, so I was thinking if we could have a proper-" One of the horses whinnied, a short almost casual grunt of sound; but it was enough for the ranger enchanter. Amaranth held up her hand to signal for quiet (more out of habit than anything). Something wasn't right... the morning had become too quiet... too still.

"Rafe! Manke uma pu'sul?" She hissed into the trees, assuming the assassin would take a higher vantage point almost immediately. A moment later, the whispered answer drifted back. North... Something was up ahead, whatever it was, they had to either take a wide berth around it, or head through. The choice was obvious. Amaranth nodded to her companions and they swiftly packed their things and mounted up.

~❇~​

The dirt road wound and twisted through the evergreen forests, their large boughs shrouded with morning mists muffling all sound but the steady clop of their horses. Shadows lurked on either sides of the woods, and in the dim light of the cold dawn, the muted contrast of their environment restricted her vision to no more than two score yards. Amaranth silently thanked the Goddess that she had two pairs of isilhin eyes keeping watch for their small company. There was a light breeze coming down from the north, barely strong enough to tickle the ranger's skin, but it brought with it a very worrying stench. The mists grew thicker until finally, the ranger called the Drunken Nypmhslol... to a halt. The unsettling smell had grown stronger by now, and there was no doubt that whatever it was, they were almost upon it. Amaranth leaned down to whisper to her horse, and dismounted, leading it to the side of the road where it stood obediently. She signaled to the others to do the same. The ranger unsheathed the longsword, and headed into the mists though she pathed her way through the trees. There was a brief moment of trepidation, as the murky fog filled her vision and wrapped her with its chill moistness like a glove. Her knuckles were white from gripping Anorlinder's handle tight by the time she saw the mist thinning up ahead. Then her vision cleared, and her hazel eyes grew wide as she was greeted to total carnage. The stench of death and smoke was so powerful it hit her like a wave of nausea; had she not seen such things before Amaranth would surely had doubled over. But such things usually happened on the frontlines... rarely so close to home. It was a scene of such utter devastation that it took the ranger a moment to identify each individual corpse. The bodies of dead soldiers lay everywhere, both men and elf. Many were ravaged beyond recognition, their armor stained with oxidized blood such that their original colours were no longer recognizable. Horses and other pack beasts littered all over the clearing, bellies hacked open with their guts spilled over the battlefield. And amidst everything... the bodies of orcs, goblins and unnamed horrors.

"Wretched!" Amaranth hissed a warning over her shoulder at her companions the same time Anorlinder's blade began to gleam a warm amber. There were still some alive! She crept lower into the brush and edged forwards. Then her boot nudged against something heavy and she halted. Eyes watching in all directions, Amaranth slowly ducked through a mass of ferns and came face to face with a dead soldier. An edan. His face had been almost split in two by some heavy bladed object, but Amaranth was more interested in his garb. The skyblue cloak and spell tome by his side gave it away. A Bluecloak mage. An entourage from Cal`Ancalen perhaps? Or perhaps they heading back?

The princess was unsure of what to do. From her brief survey of the battlefield, the dead among the Tel`Quessir perhaps numbered in the twenties. For a group of that size to be massacred, the Wretched would have to number at least twice that. Were they any larger in size, they would've surely been picked up by patrols. By the Goddess... how could they have come so far..? But they had to do something. No doubt the forces of Chaos had suffered heavy losses, but there were still some alive in the vicinity. They had to be hunted down or else... Amaranth shuddered to think how many smaller villages and farmlands lay exposed. The only problem was... how many were left alive? The ranger took a tentative step forwards, then suddenly she heard a strange clicking noise. The hairs on the nape of her neck stiffened as she recognized the sound, but failed to identify it. Then it dawned on her. She turned back to her companions, a warning shout on her lips.

"Ngwaw!!!" A second later, a shroud of darkness billowed out from the undergrowth scant feet behind the princess. Time seemed to hold still as the ranger turned back just in time to see the shroud leaping into the air, a dark twisted obsidian shape coalescing as it pounced on the elf. A mind numbing shriek blasted through its salivating mandibles as its two elongated front limbs stretched forward, long poisoned dagger hands stabbing towards her heart. Amaranth gritted her teeth on instinct and screamed back at the demon in an effort to prevent its mindblast from stunning her. Anorlinder flashed in the morning gloom once, then the demon crashed against her and both fell tumbling towards the ground.

⊰~Translation~⊱
"Quel re il'er!" - Good morning everyone!
"Rafe! Manke uma pu'sul?" - Rafe! Where does the wind blow?
"Ngwaw!!!" - Shrieker/Mage Bane. See Creature compendium lorebook for more info!
​

 

[Longhead]

There’s no denying the fact that we lost this one. It was going fairly well..wasn’t it…? I can’t hear anything anymore. No screams, no explosions of fire and ice, the clash of steel against steel no longer rings true. I can’t have been down for that long. The image of a humanoid spider hybrid standing over him flashed in his mind. For the split second he saw it, it was so vivid, like the fight had not ended. The screech..by the Twins, the screech is awful. It still rings in my ears. How many others have perished? Fenris’ thoughts lapsed for a moment. Ed’i’ear ar’elenea! I’m alive! Fenris’ eyes flew open for the first time in an untold amount. The dirt below him suddenly wasn’t as comforting as it was before. His body felt as heavy as lead, but he forced himself to get to his knees. The persisting pain in the back of his head was similar to the pain he felt when an Orc delivered a pommel strike to his head back on the outskirts of Cal’Ancelan.

Slowly, his hearing returned to him, the dull ringing fading into what you would expect to hear from a forest. He quickly preferred the ringing to the eerie silence he was now met with. The silence did not last long, thankfully. He heard a voice, it was female. The exact word she had said was nothing but a mess of syllables. His senses focused exponentially quicker. He began to shift his hands through the dirt, looking for the familiar sheathe. He had dropped it somewhere, hadn’t he? His hands flew to his back, running his hands over the shape of his dagger’s sheathe until he found the handle. He heard the familiar sounds of a fight, a lot closer than he had hoped. For a moment, he considered walking away with as much speed as he could find within himself, but on a second thought, he decided against it. He brought himself to his feet, slowly, lest he provoke more soreness in his body. He took a step in the direction he thought he had heard the shout come from, maintaining his balance well and then making the same motion with his other foot. There was no humor in the situation he was in, but he couldn’t help the smile tugging at one corner of his mouth at the thought that he had to relearn how to walk around.

More like, stumble around. He couldn’t walk in a straight line to save his life right now.

His direction was further aided by the sound of muffled grunts and shifting of dirt. He quickened his pace. After taking a few more strides through thick brush and stepping over bodies, he came across a struggling heap of a very alive Anarhin and the horror that nearly put him to a permanent rest. He could at least assume that it was the one that snuck up on him in the waking moments of the battle. He could only silently pray that there weren’t anymore lurking. He would not dare get any closer to the two - he could not fight at any sort of close quarters, and especially not with something so much faster than he. At the same time, he hesitated to cast a spell; he wasn’t the most confident in his accuracy right now. He was still shaky, but there wasn’t much else he could try. A Ngwaw was a slim target, and hard to hit. No doubt it would lose if he could get the sun elf on the ground to her feet. Two on one is always a much preferable chance. He rolled his wrists, and squeezed his hand into a fist a few times.“Tampa tanya!” He yelled dryly. He outstretched an arm and it took only a moment for a blue sparkling mist to swirl in front of the palm of his hand, forming a chunk of ice with an irregular shape that was roughly about the size of a Greyskin’s head. He fired the chunk of ice without any further hiatus, striking the Ngwaw square in its flank with enough force to knock it off of the sun elf. She looked almost vaguely familiar. It didn’t take long for him to regret helping. He wouldn’t doubt if once the Ngwaw would recover, it would come for him next - they’re called mage killers, it’s only reasonable that he thought it would come for him. Before it could bounce back, which was only a window of a few seconds, Fenris lunged closer to her as fast as he could, and lifted a hand above his head, a wall of ice roughly the height of himself and four feet across forming just fast enough to halt the Ngwaw’s next move. He could tell because of the resounding thud of its weight crashing against the wall. In attempt to further wound, Fenris snapped, and icy, barbed spikes wildly rose out of the Ngwaw’s end of the wall at different angles. He said, finally being able to get a better look at her face. His wits were still not about him, and he couldn’t quite place where he had seen her before, or if he even had at all. Morierea are not so easily killed. But for once, could this one just go down easier than the rest..? I can’t hear it anymore. Did I get it? I can’t have ended the fight this quickly.

Fenris peeked around his wall. Surely something so feared by so many mages wouldn’t be killed so quickly, even if it was flanked? Sure enough, the Ngwaw was alive, but impaled all the way through its stomach. It would die soon, hopefully. His hand drifted towards his dagger - he had a longer blade while the main battle occured, but he seemed to have misplaced it at some point; he wouldn’t miss it, it’s not like he was good at using it anyways. I could finish it now. Without the dagger. Why get close when I don’t have to? His hand returned to his side, and with his other, he snapped his fingers. From the spikes that erected from the wall, more spikes grew on those, thinner, but just as sharp. The Ngwaw went slack just as quickly as Fenris’ face became bored. He turned to the sun elf. ”Lle creoso. Stand. The ground is dirty.”
------------------------------------------------------
Ed’i’ear ar’elenea! - "By the sea and stars!"
Tampa tanya - "Stop that!"
Morierea - "Dark one(s)"
Lle creoso - "You're welcome."
Lekiel

 

[Hell0NHighWater]

The infiltrator turned his head hearing the soothing lithe of Amaranth's voice. His brows furrowed, catching the uneasy stillness in the air at the same time as she did. Already in motion, he ignored her hand gesture already pulling himself up the nearest tree. "North." He spoke just loud enough for her to hear him, his glacier gaze focused completely on the area just to the North of them. Everything was too still, the trees, the wind...everything and he watched as a group of birds flew south in a hurry as if seeking shelter.

Climbing down from the tree, he brushed his hands off on his trousers before glancing over at Amaranth who had apparently already decided on a course of action. He breathed out through his nose knowing that she was going to want to ride straight into danger instead of taking the road around. It might have been longer, but it also could have been safer. He gave one last pet to his horse before mounting.

~❇~
​

This forest was a creaking shack created by nature to serve as a reminder that things could always be much, much worse. The unnatural, choking mist that swirled and sprawled on the forest floor was the first thing that spoke of a strange sort of wrongness. The sickly white substance seemed to possess liquid properties which only reminded him of the maggot-like texture of the eyes of a dead man who had been forgotten in a ditch for a few months, ready to burst at the slightest touch. The smoke made no sound however and only parted to swallow up the feet of their horses as the marched upon the giant dead, festering eyeball of the forest floor. The sound of mushy and dead leaves whispered from under the skin of the mist. It was all very unnerving and probably best avoided.

Israfael's nose scrunched at the stench that lingered in the air. As soon as the group stopped, he dismounted planning to look ahead. He had turned to tell Amaranth to wait but she was already heading off into the mists, sword drawn, and ready to charge head first into danger. Rafe made a noise of irritation, automatically moving off after her. His lips parted to chastise her when the fog parted to reveal the source of what had made this whole area of the forest stink. His left hand fell to the blade on his hip, scanning the area with an impressive lack of emotion. He turned away from her, catching movement out of the corner of his eye. The shadows around them were moving in ways that they shouldn't. "We need to-"

He was cut off by her warning and was a second too slow in his reaction.

What was a Ngwaw doing here!? There were no chaos gates...at least none that he knew of. It's mandibles flared out as it pounced on Amaranth, the creature desperately trying to sink it's teeth into her. He had a blade out and was moving towards her as fast as he could when a bolt of ice threw the monster from her. It let out a sickening sound as if flailed about on the forest ground. Dying slow and painful just as it deserved.

Israfael's gaze narrowed on the newcomer, watching like a hawk as he moved closer to Amaranth.

A surge of protectiveness flashed through him and he found himself moving into the space between Amaranth and this...mage. Rafe glared at the elf for a moment longer before looking down at Amaranth. He extended a hand to her, "Are you alright?"

He didn't have time to properly listen to her answer, there was movement again from the shadows behind the mage. Rafe pulled her to her feet and then put her behind him, pulling his second specialized dagger from it's sheath. "If you value your life, I suggest you get behind me. Slowly."

From the swirling mists came the sound of limbs being dragged across the forest floor. Whatever it was, it seemed to be moving rather fast. Either it was dragging its feet or a tail through the undergrowth...or dragging the limbs away from the bodies of the deceased. Every once in a while a cracking noise like bone on wood, or at least that is what Rafe imagined it to be - a thick skull crashing into a trunk. This beast was neither lithe, graceful, or blessed with night vision. Then the noise would stop only to be echoed in another area close by, following by another cycle of the same thing. He didn't like what he was hearing and he really didn't like the fact that he wasn't seeing anything to correspond with it.

He began to push Amaranth further behind him, "Get back to the horses."

The noises stopped.

Silence.

Then the sound of feet running full speed in their direction.

"Go!" He snapped at the both of them, turning just in time to see three figures bolt right at him.

Tigbanua.

They moved as if their limbs were jello, a trio of chirping demons that luckily couldn't see him. But they could hear and smell him enough to make up for it. Rafe charged the front one, missing getting bit by a couple centimeters as he plunged his dagger into it's leg. It howled in pain and the other two echoed it, springing towards him at the same time. He rolled out of the way of one attack only to get caught by another, a burning sensation pulsed in his right shoulder but he ignored the pain. They yipped and snapped their jaws, rotating in a circle around him as if scanning for any weaknesses.

 

[Lefic]

When Amaranth was tackled by the Ngwaw, the blood in Sanine's veins had frozen over. Her eyes widened and her jaw trembled with unvoiced shouts as her heart battered her ribcage like a caged animal. The same way it had fifteen years ago when she was being pulled away from that burning home, writhing, scratching, biting to get out of the arms of that soldier, her eyes trained on the charred corpses of Mummy and Daddy.

Again. It was happening again. The Wretched were trying to steal her loved ones away from her again.

Not if she could help it.

But by the time Sanine's body had surged forward, some mage had already taken care of the creature threatening the Princess. She breathed a silent thank-you to whoever this person was. In Sanine's eyes, she was indebted to them, too.

Drawing her hair away from her shoulder blades, the assassin twisted it into a bun and jabbed a hairpin through it. She did not need any distractions now. She slid her daggers out of their sheaths. The element of surprise was no longer on her side. Not that it mattered to her, though, as she advanced towards an Orc who was two feet taller than her. His viridian skin rippled with the muscle that lay beneath it. Hot saliva leaked out around his yellowed tusks as he took a step forward. The muscles in his exposed leg tensed as he drove his foot into a strewn corpse—the body so mutilated that she could not tell whether it was an elf or an Edan. The bones crunched like branches. The Orc's face twisted into a cruel, barbaric grin. And the Edan mirrored it.

She narrowly avoided a blow, the Orc's club just grazing her arm as she managed to sneak in a slash to his ribcage. As the Orc's club arm lifted, positioned for another strike, the thief launched herself at him, grabbed onto his upper arm as if it were an iron bar and swung, twisting herself so she landed onto his back in an unlikely piggyback, constricting her legs around his ribcage. Despite the Orc's thrashing and attempts to wrench her legs off of him, Sanine held on. She would never yield to one of the Wretched. The assassin snapped her wrists to the side so the blades of her daggers both faced each other, drew them out and then plunged them into both sides of the Orc's neck. Blood spurted out like fountains and as the creature slumped to the ground, the thief dismounted him, falling back into a fighting stance as soon as her toes touched the ground. Her calves would be bruised beyond recognition after this but right now, the rogue felt no pain. No, right now, all she felt was anger—and excitement.

Sanine whipped around to find her next opponent when her gaze fell upon Israfael, her mentor, injured and cornered by three disgusting Chaos creatures. Tigbanua, her memory supplied. Think, think. What do I do?! she thought, dancing through a group of goblins, rivulets of blood flying off the edge of her daggers as she spun, slashed, and lunged. Then, as she skewered the last goblin through the eye sockets, a scene jumped to the forefront of her mind, dragged out of the depths of her memories:

She had been just nineteen at the time, downing tankards after tankards of ale in a Numenlad tavern. It was just after she'd killed her first person for the Conclave of Shadows. They were—they had been—a man, an Edan, just like her, but middle-aged. Perhaps he had kids. Well, because of her, they'd have no father. Sanine knew the pain, and now she was inflicting it. Sanine didn't even know why he needed to be dispatched. She had been nervous, so nervous, when she'd snuck into his home in the dead of night. So scared that her hands had trembled like leaves as she tried to slit his throat. And failed. The cut had been too shallow to kill him, and he'd woken up, screaming, choking on his own blood as he jumped out of his bed, trying to escape, trying to escape from her. The Monster. He'd tried the door, locked by her, as the assassin had stood in the corner of the room, eyes bulging in horror as she witnessed what she had done. With no other possible escape route, he desperately tumbled out of the window that Sanine had entered by. All wrong, his jump had been all wrong. It wasn't a surprise that when Sanine had stared out of the window, she was met with the sight of his mangled, broken corpse on the ground.

No, it was herself that surprised the orphan the most.

So there she was, drinking away all her earnings in a tavern. Trying to wash the taste of vomit out of her mouth. Trying to wash the blood off her hands. She wouldn't have enough gold left over to rent a room at the pace she was going at. Good. She didn't deserve it. Neither did she deserve the company of the two Valiants drinking beside her but they stayed beside the solemn youth anyway, telling the brave tales of their battles.

"And the Tigbanuas?" the sturdy woman continued. "Ugly buggers, they are. Only ever seen six of 'em in me life. Them's were only two diff'rent encounters, mind you. Only ever appear in threes, them lot. The latest bunch I saw were feeding on the flesh of Orcs. Imagine that! Fel eatin' Fel! But they loves it, I tell ya."

Sanine blinked, snapping out of her memory. Her eyes widened in realisation. That's it! her mind screamed, Orc's flesh! Stuffing her daggers back into their sheaths, she drew her axe off her back as she sprinted back towards the carcass of the Greenskin she'd felled earlier. Weapon in hand, she hacked away at the corpse, ignoring the blood that was now staining the length of her arms. With the same accuracy that she threw her knives, the assassin hurled the chunks of flesh at the Tigbanuas, hoping to distract them from her mentor.

 

[LoneSniper87]

When they settled in to find the Carnage, action came up in a moment's notice. By the time she fully surveiled the battle and was charging into the fray, an ice mage made his appearance, and more than a few Wretched. An Orc was currently was in the center of her vision, narrowing her eyes as she trucked into full force with her shield, sending it stumbling back as she got herself into her stance. "Come on ya ugly bastard!" She shouted, earning a shout of rage as it brought the club down hard on her shield, sinking her stance. She took the opportunity to stab into it with her spear, drawing back. A stabbing pain went into her leg and she reflexively kicked back like a horse, a little goblin screaming as it went into a tree, promptly knocked out. She stepped back and wrenched the dagger out, rolling and just barely missing the swing of a club. She got back up and went again.

"You can do better, come on now!" Blood was steadily going down her leg, but not enough to stop her as she lunged forward, ready to strike until she feinted, knocking it to the ground with her shield. She changed her grip and stabbed down into it's skull, felling it for good. She turned around and was met with another charging orc, this time dropping her spear and getting locked into a grapple with it. The wrestled for a few moments before she reared her head back and rammed it as hard as she could into it's head, forcing it to stumble back. She took the moment to sweep it and then punch it in the face with her shield. And she keep going, by the time she stopped it's face was shredded. She was breathing heavily as she stood, blood trickling down the bridge of her nose as she picked up her spear, seeing the Tigbanuas. She slowly moved closer, trying to look for the others as she approached. This wasn't her first rodeo with one, but then again it's been awhile since she fought the beasts.

Lefic Lekiel Hell0NHighWater Longhead

 

[Seraph Darkfire]

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"At the end of the day, if I can say I had fun, it was a good day."

Location: Off the Beaten Path

Mentions: Lekiel LoneSniper87 Lefic Hell0NHighWater

Mood: Empty

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Things went bad very quickly, which annoyed Eleveil a little as he hadn't had his breakfast yet. Goblins, Orcs, Tigbanuas. So many wretched here, so far away from where they should have been. He flicked Zephyr out and pierced a Goblin through the neck before he quickly slammed the blade flat against a tree. The glaive shook and rung with a clear bell sounding noise. Tigbanuas hunted through scent and sound. With Sanine using the flesh to distract their noses, he could use the high ringing of Zephyr to deafen them.

He was about to jump in before he flinched. The sound of laughter filling his ears. He hated that sound. No one should have been laughing while there was bloodshed. Before he could react, a blurred figure zipped by and tore through a small section of his shoulder, followed by more laughter.

"Mori Morwen!" he yelled out in warning. Vile little creatures that would attack them on the field at night, during some of the few times they got a chance to rest after fighting. They'd specifically attacked the wounded, reveling in their drawn out agony. Of course they'd be here. Whether it was the Wretched or any other creature, they just loved to see pain and bloodshed. Even worse, they were a perversion of the female form!

His eyes relaxed as he began to get into the mind frame for killing. Fear, happiness, amusement, anger, it all drained away into the nothing that was killing. He needed to kill the small creatures first. They didn't kill, at least not at first, but their passing attacks were enough to cause a momentary lapse in judgement. That would lead to death.

Where he passed, creatures fell and a bloody mist followed after him.

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[Lekiel]

Her instincts saved her. Or perhaps Felariel thought that her hunt was yet to be over. Even as the shockwave of the Ngwaw rattled her teeth, the ranger's resolve barely held on. The shriek of the twisted humanoid horror often had a paralyzing effect on the unprepared, particularly mages whose spellcasting often demanded a good portion of their focus. But the horror had chosen the wrong prey. Anorlindir's gleaming edge sang through the air as Amaranth instinctively swung it at her attacker. The blade sliced clean through through blighted flesh as it tore into the armpit of the Ngwaw's left forearm scant moments before the horror's momentum brought both combatants crashing to the trampled foliage below. Tucking her legs in, the ranger tensed her calves to take advantage of the Ngwaw's forward motion to throw it off but her footing slipped and she felt the ground at her back a fraction of a second later. Amaranth gasped as the breath was knocked out of her lungs, but didn't have time to recover as the horror immediately began wailing dagger sharp jabs at the downed elf. Narrowly twisting out of one of its jabs, she managed to get her left arm in between them and grabbed at its cold leathery shoulder in order to constrict its movements; the feel of its cold clammy hide made her skin crawl but the princess resisted the urge and held on for her life. The Ngwaw let out another shrill cry of frustration as the two continued to thrash about the forest floor, neither gaining much of an advantage. With its inhuman strength, the Ngwaw was the stronger, but the slippery elf refused to stay still enough for it to get in a good hit. As the horror reared back for another strike, Amaranth seized the opportunity to reverse her grip on Anorlindir and in one swift motion, stabbed sideways through the creature's torso. Fel black blood sprayed onto her scale armor as the Ngwaw screeched in pain, reflexively bringing its left daggerlimb down to stab at the ranger. She felt a stinging pain in her chest when the tip of the appendage struck her, but it did not pierce her armor. The Ngwaw let out another frustrated shriek as it realized that Amaranth's earlier swipe at its arm had torn through enough sinew to render it's limb severely weakened. With a triumphant cry, Amaranth twisted her blade and was about to cut a huge swath in the creature's side when she felt a sudden cold breeze and then a shimmering azure something slammed into the Ngwaw, knocking it clean off her.

Whatever it was, it had knocked the fel creature along with her sword and that moment of temporary vulnerability brought a slight panic to her heart. The princess scrambled to her feet as quickly as she could, unslinging her bow in the same moment as her eyes tried to take in the situation. She was just in time to see a robbed isilhin finishing off the Ngwaw with a final spell. Tempest! A survivor!? The question flashed through her mind the second she recognized the sigils upon the newcomer's robe. The mage moved closer to check on the horror leaving Amaranth time to take stock of her other companions who thankfully seemed largely unscathed; for the time being.

"Lle creoso. Stand. The ground is dirty.” She turned at the spoken words and stared in disbelief at the familiar face. She knew the mage.

"Fenr-? Rashwe!" Whatever happy familial reunion they would have had was quickly dashed as their group was quickly set upon by even more Wretched. Her blood froze in her veins when she heard Rafe's shouted warning. Tigbanua...
Rashwe! - Lookout/Trouble!

"Go!" The Rogue spat at them, immediately putting himself inbetween them and the coming threat.

Warm hazel eyes bore into the back of her dear friend, shifting over towards the three charging creatures that surely spelled death. Never. She whispered under her breath.

Ignoring Rafe's plea for them to make a run for it, Amaranth drew an arrow from her quiver and fired the shot in one swift motion. It pierced through the air with deadly precision, headed directly towards the head of the lead tigbanua, but at the last moment, the wretched beast snapped its head to one side with a sickening crack and the arrow flew harmlessly by. And then they were upon the rogue, who despite being surrounded seemed to hold his own for a brief moment. The enchanter was about to draw another arrow before she felt a sudden rush of warmth at her neck as her sixth sense kicked in. Keen elven ears barely heard a telltale FWIP, and in a burst of agility she pivoted on her foot, spinning off to her side as her hair fanned at her back in a flash of auburn. A long black arrow thudded into the ground barely a few inches from where she had stood. As she came out of her spin, the ranger drew on her bow and immediately let fly an arrow even before her eyes had fully focused on the unseen marksman. She heard a roar of pain as an orc clutched at his torso, a green fletched arrow protruding from his chest. Not bad... Even Amaranth herself was momentarily impressed she still had it in her. Then the roaring stopped as the orc fell to the ground, a second arrow now protruding from its eye. But not good enough... The ranger took a precious second to survey their situation. Sanine, Rafe, Sylvir and Eleveil. All her companions seemed to be locked in various stages of battle, though their most pressing concern seemed to be the tigbanuas. She had no idea how many more of the Wretched were rushing towards them in the foggy gloom. Something had to be done or they might be overwhelmed.

"Fenris!" She called out towards her estranged relative as she let another arrow fly, and yet another cackling goblin crashed to the ground mid-leap. She hoped the elite stormlord still had something left in him despite whatever he went through to survive. They could distract the enemy while he prepared for his spell. If he could at least slow the remnants of the Wretched down with his magic, that should buy them enough time to finish them off - or make a break for it. That brief moment of distraction cost her. Amaranth heard the faintest hint of eerie childish laughter as something zipped towards her face. Amaranth instinctively arched herself backwards to dodge out of the way, not before she felt heat flush across her cheek and then a warm wetness as blood dripped from the open wound.

"Ksher!" She cursed, clutching at her face but the Morwen had darted giggling away into the shadows.

 

[Hell0NHighWater]

One of the beasts' head swiveled towards a chunk of meat being thrown in their direction, the nose cavity twitching as it caught the scent. It was only a slight opportunity, but it was one he could not afford to pass up. With practiced motion, he slammed the blade of his dagger into the distracted Tigbanua's neck. It let out a horrifying shriek, a thick oozing of onyx flowed from the wound and it's head turned back to the assassin. A sliver of ice cold dread shot down his spine, blue eyes glancing behind him just to hear the echoing shrieks. A clawed hand swiped towards his face and he barely had enough time to dodge the blow while dislodging his dagger. The movement cost his hood to fall back, revealing his full face in the dimmed morning light. The myriad shades of blue in his gaze swirled together, serious, detached, yet singing in a savage sort of delight that breathed life into his facial features. The third attack came from the side, the last pained shriek entering the air around him as the demon dove at him. Rows of sharp gnarled teeth gleamed at him, saliva flying from it's mouth as the third Tigbanua attempted to take a bite out of him.

Israfael moved out of the way, missing the attack by a centimeter, but not paying attention to the first one that he had stabbed. He was too slow to correct his movements and the pain that had begun to ebb in his right shoulder flared up for an entirely different reason. Teeth sunk past the leather of his armor, stabbing into his flesh. He kept that scream of pain lodged in his throat, the only expression of pain was a sharp inhale before he brought his elbow back into the fel's nose cavity.
The sound of cartilage crunching was almost as sickly satisfying as it was repulsive.

The demon removed its teeth from Rafe's shoulder in favor of letting out another rattling scream. Before the other two could echo it, there was a loud ringing sound that rendered them almost completely vulnerable. He spun to sink both daggers into the Tigbanua's head this time not leaving it the chance to get away. Pulling the blades out with a twist, he ignored the fine spray of blood as he kicked the body away. It flew back a couple feet into a tree where it slouched against the bark and laid there unmoving.

His attention flew to the pair that screeched at him in a blind rage. They flung their bodies at him neither seeming to be distracted by the noise or the smell of orc flesh. There was only one target now and Israfael had the unfortunate luck to become their sole focus.

He was dodging their wild swings and bites as fast as he could. A bead of sweat ran down his temple and his breathing became more labored as his stamina began to wain. There was no way he was going to be able to keep this pace up forever.

There was a chime of childish laughter, loud and echoing and for a moment it seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere. One of the Tigbanua turned in the direction of the noise, giving Israfael a brief moment to take a breath. Fending off one was much easier than trying to keep two at bay. Something zoomed towards him and he had about a second to get out of the way of both the object and the attack from the Tigbanua. He side stepped, another flash of pain went through him though this time the pain originated in his abdominal area. He didn't have time to gage just how deep he had been cut because he was moving again.

The demon staggered slightly, apparently whatever had cut into Israfael's side had also slammed into the Tigbanua with enough force to render it disoriented. Without thinking about it, Rafe plunged a dagger into the crater in it's face. Almost instantly it began to sag, but he didn't have time to remove the blade before something struck him from the side and he tumbled to the forest floor. He could feel the cold ground pressed against his form, the heat from the pain, and the rhythm of the drumming of his heart. Above him loomed the last of the Tigbanua, jaws snapping in vehemence just aching to end the life of the man who had killed two of it's counter parts.

Rafe reached for his dagger only to find air, the blade in question having been knocked away from the force of the impact. The second one was still in bedded in that disgusting creature's head. Rafe turned his head to the side, pressing against the much smaller beast as it tried to go in for his throat. With his shoulder in considerable pain and arm weakened, it took all of his concentration to keep the thing from killing him.

 

[Longhead]

Fenris opened his mouth to respond to the sun elf, who seemed to know his name, but he froze as hell broke loose and Wretched seemed to just be coming out of the woodworks at a rapid rate all around him. At first he thought he was fortunate enough that nothing had paid him any attention, but the thought quickly faded as he heard the pounding of something big’s footsteps coming from behind him.

Maybe this is why she shouted a warning?

He spun on his heel to face the noise as quickly as he possibly could, but even then, he was much too slow. A orc at least an entire head taller than him slammed into him with brutal force, flinging Fenris a few feet back. Fenris flailed in an overzealous attempt to get his feet under him and wound up falling with his right arm painfully tucked behind his back. The orc wasted no time advancing, raising his blade, one that widened near the point, to finish him. As the sword came down, Fenris rolled to one side of his body, narrowly avoiding the blade, so narrowly that he swore he could feel the coolness of the steel on his back for just a moment before he got to his feet. Despite the pain flaring in his arm and shoulder, he still reaching for his dagger before he could even think of what to do next.

Unfortunately, the orc was much quicker than anything he had fought, or much smarter than the rest, for he had dropped his blade entirely and was already upon Fenris before he could draw his dagger. Fenris found himself clawing at his throat as the orc’s seemingly immovable hand constricting around his neck. He gasped for air while being lifted off of the ground, and after a few more attempts of trying to get out of his grip, he abandoned his attempts and quickly used his right hand to grab his dagger quickly. He plunged the ironbark blade deep into the orc’s bicep, enticing a roar of agony from the orc, but a tighter grip on his throat. The edges of his vision began to darken and his body started to feel tingly. Gritting his teeth, he lifted the blade again and plunged it down roughly in the same spot, but with more force, twisting the blade.

Fenris was dropped to the ground, gasping for air. Before he could get a decent breath in, however, he was quickly kicked in the stomach, further knocking whatever little wind he had out. Fenris rolled further out of the way, knowing that it was no good attempting to challenge even a single orc in close quarters. With some distance between the two, he reckoned he only had a few seconds to do something. He sheathed his dagger and outstretched his palms to face the ground a few feet ahead of him. Quickly, a small spike of ice roughly the size of a jack rose from the ground after an almost invisible gathering of mist around the miniscule area. In this time, the Orc had picked up his blade and began his charge. Fenris, however was still in the same position he was when he began the spell. He was pouring more mana into the small ice spike, building it up, but its growth was hidden underneath the earth.

Just as the orc’s foot was upon it, he smirked. The ice spike casted abruptly rose, revealing a spike much bigger than the orc’s entire body. It impaled only parts of the orc’s leg however, entering through the foot, exiting through the calf, and reentering mid thigh, the tip showing barely through the skin. He had made it just big enough. With the orc’s face frozen in a silent scream, Fenris pounced with his dagger quickly in hand, plunging the short weapon in the area between its neck and shoulder, before removing it and stabbing once more, but in the side of the neck. With the amount of blood seeping out of the wound, he had to have severed an artery. He removed the blade and brought the blade down in a similar fashion in around the same area of the neck a few more times. The only thing that kept the Orc from tipping over onto his back was the spike embedded in his leg, leaving him down on the knee that could bend, the rest of his body slack.

Now that Fenris was on his feet, and more than prepared for more fighting, so long as he didn’t have any more up close and personal encounters like the one he concluded. He looked around at the others, those he failed to notice before. One was tossing meat, likely to be the hide of an orc to a trio of Tigbanuas - smart tactic. It especially would serve to divert the pressure being put on the one who so defensively came to stand between himself and the one who was grappling with a Ngwaw.

He was hit with the sudden realization on why anyone on this thought-to-be forsaken battlefield would know his name. He remembered the face vaguely, but the name did not come to him easily. He recognized her as a relative, definitely a cousin of his. He nearly cursed himself for not putting in my effort into remembering anything. The only thing that stopped him was a second call of his name, reminding him of the chaos ensuing around him. Killing all the Wretched an individual of this group came across would spell death for some, if not for all. The forced nap he took definitely did something to rest his mind and body. He considered the easy victory that casting a violent blizzard, but also the relatively easy escape that a mild one would bring. He deduced that he would have no time.

Snapping out of thought for just a moment, he outstretched his hand, and out came ice in the shape of a jagged spear, sent to impale a leaping goblin, the spear did as intended, going through the stomach and sliding further into its body about halfway down the shaft, before the tip impaled itself into something yet again, but this time the ground. Two more leapt in to take his place, and began a charge with crude weapons. Fenris swiped his hand across the air in front of him, and a row of skewers arranged themself in front of him, effectively putting two more wretched to rest.

He reached into his satchel, feeling the seemingly constant cold silver of his favorite amulet. Perhaps if he had used it earlier his comrades would not be dead. He fumbled with it, trying to seperate the thin links so he could actually fit it on his head. With this, he could certainly facilitate an escape. He returned his attention to the one who was combatting tigbanuas. The other two were eliminated, it seemed. He threw another bolt of ice - similar to the one he used to befall the ngwaw earlier - with great accuracy. It slammed into the Tigbanua’s head. Seeing the Tibanua was not immediately thrown off, he only missed a beat before throwing two more bolts, both of them slamming into its body with great force, sending it onto its side only a few feet from the one it so zealously attempted to kill. The amulet nearly making his spells cast instantly, he threw an icy spear at the dazed horror.

It came down on its torso, not going all the way through, but deep enough to incapacitate it. Not a moment after that, he dove to the ground on the cue of laughter. He heard three things whistle over him like an arrow, but his better judgement told him they were not arrows. He quickly got to his feet. He was too slow, and whatever flew by rebounded and began to charge once more. Crossing his arms in front of him, he instinctively raised a wall of ice in front of him. He heard three resounding thunks come from the other end. He timed it perfectly.

He turned his back to the wall, and pressed up against it, and raised three more on a whim. They were roughly his height, and they boxed him in. Clutching the amulet hanging at his chest, he held it in between his index and thumb, rubbing his thumb over the surface. He slowly slid his back down the wall until he was sitting in the dirt. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes. Even though he had practiced this spell many-a-times, it wasn’t a spell to be casted on a whim. Slowly, the walls began to shift, curving to fit over Fenris’ head. The end result was a ball, a protective dome that covered him. With any luck, he wouldn’t draw any attention.

’Ah. I remember. Her name’s Amaranth.’

He closed his eyes, and slowed his breathing and began to focus. The sounds of fighting died out and became nothing but white noise, and then, nothing at all. He began to envision the storm - the spell was casted quicker with visual cue aid. He could almost see the area outside of his ball, but it was surreal, dreamlike. He drew the picture in his mind with no enemies, not even the ones who had fallen before his cousin’ arrival. It was just him. Still unconsciously rubbing his amulet out of habit, he began to imagine snow to fall. At first it was blurry, but the snow became more clear, the image being vivid enough that it coated the ground at a steady pace.

Externally, snow indeed did begin to fall, even through the trees. It came slowly at first, but it began to pick up over a few seconds. This was only the first step. The rest of the spell would come, eventually.

’Perhaps I don’t need to do this. This is such a great length to extend to, but~ this was the first solution that came to mind. Maybe I should work on learning new spells. If I ever become the Tidemaster, I think I should be able to cast hundreds...No..that’s silly.

 

[Lekiel]

There was a dull hammering that seemed to originate from somewhere at the back of her skull as she slowly came to. A tangy metallic taste permeated her mouth but she resisted the urge to retch, concentrating instead on gritting her teeth in an effort to stave off the head splitting headache; she almost wished she had not regained consciousness. So it was, that the elf allowed herself to lay flat on the dewy trampled grass a moment longer despite the fact that she had no idea what kind of danger she was still in.

~❇~​

She remembered the blizzard gathering rapidly as Fenris' spell came into full force. Huge chunks of ice began to solidify in the whirling gale as the spell apparently turned out to be much more powerful than the Tempest had anticipated. But the Halduk had been coming on to her more viciously than ever, and she was barely holding on. Each strike and parry against the orc's jagged blade rattled her arm painfully. She had heard the shouts to find cover or retreat into the eye of the arcane blizzard. She thought of turning tail and just running, but the fear of taking a thrown blade at her back stopped her. And so she had fought, slowly backing in what she hoped was the calm center of the storm, bits of magical icy shards stinging painfully as they hurtled against her unprotected face. Amaranth was running out of time, her movements increasingly becoming hindered by crippling cold. She took a chance and lowered Anorlindir's gleaming point to the ground.

"COME ON! IS THAT ALL YOU'VE GOT!?" The enchanter taunted the halduk with her arms spread to the side in an arrogant gesture. It obviously did not understand her words, but the orc sure as hell understood her insolent display. With a snarl, the halduk gripped its weapon with both hands and swung a slower albeit powerful blow diagonally at the ranger. It had taken her bait. The princess might've grinned if she wasn't about to play dice with death. Hopping backward just out of reach of the swinging blade, amber eyes immediately judged and estimated its next trajectory. And when the follow-up swing started, Amaranth charged forward with a cry, but at the last moment, she checked her footing and arched her back near perpendicular to the ground. The huge blade swooshed directly overhead, so close she thought she could see her wide staring eyes reflected against its rusted surface. Then like a coiled spring, she righted herself and spun around to the halduk's back, her blade slashing into its ribs as she passed. Anorlindir gleamed, suspended momentarily in the air as Amaranth released her grip on it. Then in one swift fluid motion, reversed her grip on the blade as she came round back-to-back with the orc snarling when he realized he had been outmaneuvered. A snarled that turned into a roar of pain as Amaranth stabbed backwards with all her strength, her blade's fine edge piercing through the orc's vitals until it poked out its grey chest. She wrenched the blade free as the halduk fell to its knees, taking a half step forward as she suddenly pivoted, blade extended. The orc's head thumped on the blood soaked ground.

She remembered stumbling around then, breathing ragged gasps as her heart worked overtime from the exertion. She remembered seeing the others through the white and blue haze of the icy storm. Then something crashed against the back of her heart and she fell to the ground as darkness enveloped her.

~❇~​

Frosted eyelids fluttered open as the last vestiges of Amaranth's recent memories washed over her mind. A low pained moan escaped her lips as she put her palms under her, and gingerly pushed herself off the ground keening her overworked senses to detect any form of danger, but there was only silence. Finally managing to at least put her knees under her, Amaranth surveyed the battlefield. The blizzard had ended, and much of the magical ice was in the midst of melting, leaving the surroundings awash in sparkling droplets of moisture. She couldn't yet see anyone, friend or foe.

"Is everyone alright?" Her voice cracked as she took a risk to call out. Amaranth flinched involuntarily as the sound of her hoarse voice rang eerily in the stillness.

 

[Seraph Darkfire]

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"At the end of the day, if I can say I had fun, it was a good day."

Location: Off the Beaten Path

Mentions: Lekiel LoneSniper87 Lefic Hell0NHighWater Longhead

Mood: Tired

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Eleveil pulled himself out of the already quickly melting slush, the amount of blood on his body shone in the light of day, making him appear like a living ruby. He cocked his head towards where he could hear Amaranth calling for them "I..." he coughed and rubbed his chest where numerous small slashes covered it. He shook his head as he examined the larger gashes that crossed his legs and sides. Not life threatening but...painful. Mori Morwen didn't do much damage but they were a distraction for other creatures to get blows in, he ended up surrounded at one point, but he always returned more than he got.

"I'm good!" he called out after getting his voice to work "Wish I'd packed for colder weather" he laughed softly before wincing as he started to head towards Amaranth. He would occasionally stop and stab a body if he found it. Same thing they'd done in the actual war, make sure nothing was faking it and couldn't attack them at their weakest. Most of the smaller creatures would have been killed by the cold, but if he and Amaranth survived, then it wasn't too far to doubt that their enemies had survived as well "Stay on guard" he said as he got closer to the princess.

"I did not expect to run into Wretched here, bandits or thieves maybe, but not them" he said softly "That is not a good sign for us"

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[LoneSniper87]

She was completely unprepared for the blizzard, and even still ice adorned itself on her arms as she surveyed the now quiet battlefield. A lot of dead, and better yet it was all Wretched. "I'm here, Princess!" She said, glancing to the sound, and realizing the state she was in jogged over. She had a little admiration for the princess, to so fearlessly fight. She crouched down next to her, face full of concern. "Princess! I do ask you be more careful. We will still need you after this is over, after all." She warned before trying to rise, her face turning to a grimace as she fell to one knee, sticking the haft of her spear into the dirt. "That didn't feel good..."

 

[Hell0NHighWater]

Somewhere between fighting for his own survival and trying to murder that creature a blizzard the likes of which he had never seen conjured itself from thin air. Israfael had never been a fan of snow, but this was just ridiculous. The cold that had seemed mild at first now numbed his face and extremities. What residual heat he had was gone, it had been his buffer, but unwittingly he had squandered it believing that the fight against a now very dead Tigbanua was more important. With each breath more heat rose in puffs of white vapor, with each gust of wind more heat dissipated into the whiteness, with each second that passed the unnatural cold pulled more heat from his marrow.

Time crawled and breathing became something of a struggle. As the adrenaline ebbed he realized that he might have been hurt far worse than he originally thought. Rafe could feel where his clothes clung to him, drenched in his own blood and sweat. It was uncomfortable, but then again he would rather feel discomfort than to be dead.

Clear blue eyes stared at the forest canopy, watching as that thick cloud of magic faded away. The blood --from what he could tell-- didn't gush in a constant flow, but flowed in time with the beating of his heart. At first it came thick and strong, flowing through his fingers as they clasped the ripped flesh. He felt the blood move over his hand, the thick fluid no warmer or cooler than his own skin. After a few moments more the blood was still leaving his rapidly paling flesh, but the pulses were slower, weaker.

Rafe let a groan slip and rolled to his side, wincing against the white heat that flared across every single nerve. Off in the background he heard Amaranth call out, but he couldn't quite get his voice to cooperate. The forest around him became fuzzy before his consciousness left him, the final sound he heard was her voice ringing out in the distance.

 

[Lefic]

When the blizzard hit, Sanine let go of the last threads binding her to consciousness, let her overworked body slump to the ground and be blanketed by snow. She wasn't used to drawn out battles like this; after a few fights, adrenaline had been the only thing driving her on.

So even when she regained consciousness, she didn't get up. She lay on the cold ground, letting the ice cool her wounds, numb her body as well as her mind, with the stillness of a corpse—and the peace of one, too. It was comfortable, really; the thief never could doze off in the heat. Blood seeped into the slush beside her, washing off from her body. Was it hers? A Wretched's? She didn't know. Probably both, she guessed, grumbling as her pillow of snow melted from beneath her pounding head. With a groan, she rolled onto her back and gazed absently at the sky. The icy water was now seeping into her clothes—seeping into her bones, it felt like—plastering them to her skin and shaking shivers out of her body, now so feeble-looking on the ground. Yes, the cold was good but not this kind of cold. A sigh boiled out from between her lips. "I-If only s-s-snow n-never melted," she managed, her trembling jaw causing her to stumble over her own words.

Her muscles ached in protest as she pushed herself into a sitting position. Yup, definitely overworked, she decided as she tried to rub some warmth into her calves. Her soaked cloak was a heavy, dead weight on her. In the corner of her vision, a blur of colours flashed by and the rogue's head clanged in pain as the sound of raised voices filtered through her ears and into her confused brain. Shouting? The princess's shouting? The possibility of danger spurred her to her feet and the thief staggered towards the source of the noise—much like a toddler or an undead creature.

By the time she was stood with the others, the cold racked her body, shaking her like a leaf in a storm, barely clinging onto its branch. Though her vision was shaking as though she were in an earthquake, the assassin couldn't miss the blood spilling out from her mentor, nor could she ignore the too familiar metallic scent in the air. With a shaking grip, Sanine used her dagger to rip her shirt into ribbons. Dropping the material onto the floor, Sanine hoped somebody would take the initiative to try and bandage Israfael's wounds after tending to him—if his wounds weren't fatal.

 

[Lekiel]

"I did not expect to run into Wretched here, bandits or thieves maybe, but not them" he said softly "That is not a good sign for us"

"It certainly isn't... This group was too large... and to think they had come so far into our lands..." Amaranth responded quietly to the Moongarde. Slowly getting to her feet, she winced as she felt another stab of pain pulsing from the back of her head. She was going to have one hell of a headache.

"I'm quite alright Silvyr, thanks..." She smiled wryly at her Guard Captain. "Perhaps it'll be better if you call me by something else from here on now... Em might do nicely." She added, almost as an afterthought. She surveyed the battlefield, noting with a sudden concern that Sanine was bent over a body lying on the ground. Rafe... A cold stab struck at her heart when she realized who it was that Sanine was tending to, but a quick look at Sanine's facade quelled her rising panic. The human appeared worried but not overly so. Nevertheless, it looked serious enough as the assassin hadn't yet made any move.

"Silvyr, Eleveil, check and see if there are any survivors. See if you can learn anything, we need to find out how these beasts have managed to slip past our troops." Without waiting to see if they agreed, the Ranger Enchanter rushed over to the young human's side, placing a hand on her shoulder a worried look evident on her face. Her eyes quickly scanned over the bloodied form of her friend before she crouched down by Sanine's side, placing her own hand over the human's where she held the hastily bandaged wound on Israfael's shoulder.

"Thank you." She looked into the girl's piercing green orbs. Satisfied that Sanine was not badly hurt herself, she spoke quietly but firmly. "He's hurt... the wound's deep, but I think my magic can stop it for a moment. The problem is, Tigbanua saliva has a kind of taint that prevents wounds from healing, if it gets deep into your flesh. I don't know if that's the case here... But I don't want to risk it." Amaranth bit her bottom lip, as she let out sigh. "I'm going to need you to do something for me Sanine... There's a herb, its called Nirronut. They are quite common on the river banks of forests..." Amaranth's brow furrowed together as she looked around them, trying to use her pathfinding knowledge to judge the lay of the land. "I think... there's a small brook about a mile out west from here. Take Silvyr and Eleveil with you, if you must. Look for a blue flower with red speckles, take only the buds that are yet to bloom. Once you're at the river, they shouldn't be hard to miss." Amaranth reach out a hand to fondly smooth Sanine's dark brown hair away from her forehead.

"Go quickly... and be careful. There might still be stragglers..." She kissed the girl's head and sent her on her way. Turning back to the source of her concern, she leaned down close to the rogue, brushing the dirt and blood stains away from his face. "Castien'amin, kuile Castien." She whispered softly into his ear, gently laying her hand on his wound as she closed her eyes and beseeched the Lady of the Woods to hear her prayer. A warm glow began to emanate from her palm as she willed his wounds to close. Her head had not ceased to stop hurting and coupled with her waned strength from the battle, Amaranth struggled to focus her healing powers. She didn't know if she could do much, and not for the first time, cursed herself for being so out of practice.
"Castien'amin, kuile Castien." - "My Castien (affectionate), wake up Castien."