He did not fear death. Not in the least did Draven Ire'Dante fear the cold maws of death. On the contrary, an agonizing death in sweet battle was something the dark warrior longed for more than anything in this world. However, Draven was a cruel man, and a merciless killer. When he fought, he always fought to win; and it didn't matter who or what his adversary was. If he was unarmed, he would have been brawling with the monster before him with his own teeth and fists, and he would have fought like a demon possessed. He did, however, wield Grishnak, held before him. It's black edge didn't even reflect the moonlight.

So Draven Ire'Dante, and the Hell Hound stood, squaring off now. Blood ran from both his and the beasts appendage freely, and both of their eyes glowed with the fiery light of bloodthirst, and he could not help but grin. A feral grin. Hefting his blade, he prepared to lunge again, when a pounding impact and a sharp pain shot through his ribs. Snarling, he cast a glance behind him; and he saw her. The figure of a woman in black. Their eyes locked, and he felt it. So she was the one. It was as if his soul had crept over the shadows of the clearing, and was lapping at her own, tasting it. He could feel the connection establish, and though his ribs were wracked with pain, he felt only the insatiable need for her, and the warm, soothing ache of his soul lapping against her own. She was the one.

Snapping his head towards the beast once more, Draven readied Grishnak, and sneared. His long, raven hair hung over his face, but his eyes burned through it with the unholy light of pure, hellish lust. With a savage roar, he lept into a battle that would not end until either the Hell Hound, or Draven Ire'Dante lay dead.

(I will try to position myself so that the hellhound is between me and the woman, so she doesnt have so open a shot again)

****** ****** ******
(If Victory)
He stood over the fallen monster like a predator over it's prey; and yet the corpse before was not what he hungered for. And while instinctive and primal hunger or lust may drive other predators blindly, Draven was as cunning as he was brutal a fighter. The pain in his ribs was a constant reminder of the danger this enemy posed. As soon as he had caught his balance from his final, killing blow, and before the hound had even fully crashed to the earth, he was leaping behind cover (tree, shrub, whatever she can't fling through accurately), and without hesitation, was muttering the words he had so well memorized, and was weaving the magic he had become so intuned with. When at last he cast an opened palmed, gloved right hand at the floor, and the black mist began to pour forth at his own command, he was already prepared to cast a second spell....

(So hes going to focus on killing the beast, while keeping it between him and the woman. Hopefully he wins....if he does, then he will IMMEDIATELY take cover, where he will cast Obscuring Mist. He will then cast Bulls Strength, withdraw a thunderstone, and begin moving silently towards her. Your call on whether or not I can sense where she is via...my calling. I know it's several rounds, maybe you can get them in in one post, or maybe, due to unforseen events, or the others, you can't, but im playing ahead so we can move quickly! ....Wish me luck everyone because I may very well be out of this game before it even begins....but *Shrug* thats Draven's style, and I gotta play it out)

Tobin searched the dead man’s body, looking for clues as to the cause of death. A deep wound in the young man’s gut seemed the likely source, the green flesh and ooze around the area a bad sign.

[OOC: Any clues as to what might have caused the wound? Or the green flesh? Or the ooze?]

In the process of searching, the little cidal gathered up the man’s belongings. Never know… maybe I’ll run into his kin sometime…
Shifting his attention the rest of the room, Tobin came across a panflute and a sewing pouch. These items he also placed into his backpack, almost without thinking.

Not finding an immediate way out, the littlest hero found a spot to sit and thinking about his situation. He wasn’t terribly anxious… Don’t do no good anyway…
The cidal had just settled into a nice thinking spot, when the two ants in front of his door started to move. One of them started to untie the rope that bound the door to the cell. The other one pressed its body flat on the ground. Even its head pressed down as if it wanted to sink into the bottom of the walkway. When the door was untied and opened, the other guarding ant joined its cousin in the strange position on the ground.

Around the corner appeared an ant unlike any of the ones Tobin had already seen. This one was larger than the others, bore a bronze helmet on its head, and wore a robe the looked like it was made from paper. From the sleeves of the robe sprouted human hands, but for the rest it was every bit as insect as the other ants. This should make for a good ‘round-the-fire story…
Without even looking at the flat ants, the large ant walked up to the opening of Tobin’s cage. As it looked at him, the little hero felt himself sink away in the endless facets of the creature’s eyes. He had a vision of himself standing in a pit, a hole in the ground. The edges of the pit were swarmed with ants that cheered his name. I wonder how they know my name?
On one end he noticed the large ant with human hands, even several of the same kind. In their midst was the mother of all of them, so large, her head could’ve been Tobin himself. Her long body carried away into a tunnel beyond Tobin’s sight. But even she felt appreciative towards him and nodded gently as he looked at her.

The cheering faded, the image too, and the ant in the cell’s opening nodded at the Cidal like the queen had done. Then he turned and walked away. The cell door remained open, the two guards flat on the ground.

Tobin wasted little time getting up and exited out of the cage. He paused for a moment to regard the ant guards laying prostrate before him.

[OOC: Tobin will try to follow after the big ant in the paper robe. Should the ant elude him, Tobin will look to exit to the outside.]

Kharolis Mountains
East base of the mountains
24th day of the 7th month: Pfier
9:14 pm
Now Alyssia was in the air, dripping blood on friend and foe alike. The man now had to find a new target, but it wasn’t hard to decide who to pick. Loda presented herself eagerly, though with axe in hand. The long cut didn’t seem to hinder the old man too much. His rapier sliced the air from the side, while at the same time his left hand brought down a new sickle. The rapier slashed harmlessly over Loda’s studded leather armor, but the sickle pierced the skin on her shoulder, and buried its point deep in her flesh. Again, the man didn’t bother to pry loose his weapon, but instead plucked a new sickle from his belt with a well-trained flick of his arm.

In the mean time, Malius had gotten up from his seat near the fire. Apparently this man proved to be more of an enemy than he would’ve guessed. His bow was in his hand within a second. When Loda cried out in pain, the ranger found his clear shot. His arrow flew inches past Loda’s crying face, and pierced the man’s chest with a loud thud. The ‘old’ man staggered backwards a few steps from the impact, and looked around him frantically. Then more arrows hit him right in the chest. They were three magical force-bolts coming down from above. Alyssia was starting to unleash her goddess’ wrath over the man.

*************

Draven faced himself a dire problem. Life was slipping from his body in a rapid stream, and there were two enemies ready to break the dam. If he wasn’t careful, this could be his end. But Draven was never a man to be careful in battle. His best defence was a swift attack on the hound. Perhaps the creature read his mind, for it reacted sooner than Draven had anticipated. With a sudden burst of muscle, the beast lunged into the warrior and clasped its teeth deep in Draven’s right leg. Again, a hellish heat accompanied the bite, and his leg was probably scarred for life.
For life… if that was much longer.
With the last of his strength Draven made his move. He kicked off the hound, and with a few quick steps passed it, so that the creature was in between himself and the woman in black. In a fluent motion his katana came from the side and cut like a scythe through high grass. A big part of hair and flesh came loose from the hound’s back, laying its spine open. The creature howled, but then suddenly stopped, and ran for the bushes, and towards the campfire.
The woman in black still stood there, dagger in hand. She bend low through her knees, ready to take any attack he lunged at her.

*************

Loda recovered from the sharp pain in her shoulder. In the corner of her eyes she saw Gothard readying a jump at the man. Her own weapon seemed also eager to take more of this man’s blood. With all her strength, she slammed her blade in to the man’s flank. She felt the metal hit, pierce skin, and continue through organs and flesh until it stopped on hard bone, cleaving the man’s abdomen halfway through.
Still the man seemed to hang on to life, and brought up his rapier and sickle for a new assault. Then the man tipped over, straight into Loda, as Gothard bounced into them both. They all fell over, Loda on the bottom, the dead man topping her, and then Gothard, triumphantly tearing at the man’s black outfit.

(OOC: The old man is dead. Well done everybody.)

---

Alloryen Kingdom
Formian Hive
25th day of the 7th month: Pfier
3:56 pm
Tobin followed the ant with human arms. Its paper robe crackled with every move it made, as it walked through tunnels. Tobin followed tight, but was always aware of possible unexpected attacks.
The trip through the hive seemed to go down with every tunnel they entered. Every so many turns, Tobin could see the great gap that had also been outside his cell. It appeared to be some kind of centred shaft.
They passed hundreds of ants, and even at one point a string of humans, linked together with iron chains on their ankles. The humans were in a state of mental paralysis, and didn’t notice Tobin and didn’t seem to care carrying big sacks of dirt on their backs.
After fifteen minutes of steadily descending the tunnels they entered a walkway around the shaft. Tobin recognized this area from his vision earlier. There was something like a throne built on one side, and a wider space all around the opening in the ground. But the shaft didn’t go down much deeper. Thirty feet lower it stopped, forming some sort of arena. In the middle of the arena stood a large bush, but otherwise it was empty. From the side where they approached the arena hang a ladder made of rope and sticks.
The ant in the paper robes held out a hand towards the ladder, indicating that Tobin should descend. From all directions ants entered the area, workers, soldiers, and more paper robed ones. They all looked at the Cidal.

(OOC: as to your earlier question, you found no indication of what caused the green oozing wound.)

Pain, immense pain, swept through her body as the old man's sickle pierced the skin of her back and bit deep, striking the bone of what she presumed to be a rib. It mattered not that the foul man's blade struck hard, Alyssia's concentration was focused enough to not be broken, her devotion to Lysora true. A halo of light surrounded her body, and she slowly drifted into the air. There she remained fixed in the air as if she was an angel drifting on the air.

Alyssia could have sworn that she had spotted a smile flash across the man's lips as her body showed the draining of her life's energy. Loda and Gothard swept in to take her spot and the man's attention, with her now bein out of his reach. Loda's axe struck hard into the old man as Gothard missed him widely. Now her companions had joined in the battle.

The battle had not lasted much longer with the druid and friend attacking the old man and Malius's arrow striking him along with the force of her magic. Tears welled up in her eyes as the man fell to the ground in death, but it was not something that she could have helped. The fellow had made his own choice. Alyssia now had to turn her focus to herself. Her thoughts brought her back down to the ground as her flesh mended itself beneath her hand.

It had taken to be an eventful night. "Now, let us see to Draven if we shall," Alyssia spoke to her companions in a voice strained with grief. "Let us see that his fate does not become the same as this man's."

(alright, takin a round to drift back down to the ground. usin normal movement while cast cure Moderate wounds.)

If Elessarae can block the window she will, if not she will use her sword will sweep the window opening in rapid, deadly cutting arcs, a blade barrier to anymore incoming owls; forwrd cut, reverse cut, jab, and sweep.

Her song raises in volume as she bars the window with her sword.

She has no time to wonder what the others are doing, her entire focus was on stopping the incoming owlsa by maiming and killing them.

Loda winced at the scicle that pierced her skin, but still held on, and slammed her axe deep into the villians chest. He fell over, dead, right on top of her. Gothard was tearing at the dead mans clothes, still engraged at the fight.
" Gothard! Calm down, he's dead, no need to harm him any more."

With that Gothard backed off, and walked over to the seat where they were both sitting before the fight started, and started to lap up the ale they had left to rest. Loda rolled to the side, pushing the dead man off of her, and stood up. Now at her feet, she wanted to get that scicle out of her as fast as she could, but looked over, realizing that Alyssia needed the healing more than her. Loda moved close to Alyssia, and concentrated, mending her wounds with a spell of clerical abilites. Combined with her spell that she was casting on herself, it should get the job done. "

Now, let us see to Draven if we shall, Let us see that his fate does not become the same as this man's."

Loda seen that Alyssia was deeply shaken by the killing, and sympathized with her.

" Alyssia, do not feel sorrow for this tortured soul, you should feel happy now that he cannot take any more innocent lives, and that his own, has now repented for the many sins he had committed before his encounter with us."

Loda looked over at Gothard, who was still drinking up both his and her drinks. She sighed, because she had the same idea in mind.
She looked over and spoke out in a stern, serious voice to Alyssia.

" You should go look after Draven, and make sure he is not in to much trouble, Gothard and I will follow you i second, after I get myself healed up, and find out what is with this guy here."

With that She started to cast her own spell upon herself, and once she is done, will go and loot the dead mans belongings, to see if he is a part of some cult, team, or anything of the sort.
( I will heal Alyssia a little, heal my self, loot the dead guy, then follow Alyssia. )

They had been in mid-battle, and he had just enflicted a nasty, likely mortal wound on the monster, when it turn tail and, to Draven, fled. He stood for a moment, gripping Grishnak and watching after the beast. He would, infact, have cursed it for all it was worth for it's cowardice, when he caught a glimpse of his other enemy. She stood in the open, fingering a gleaming throwing dagger.

Without hesitation, he lept (behind a shrub, or a tree, whatever is closest). He was angry. Very angry, and the fire in his eyes showed it. They very nearly lit the area around him as he began delving into the dark arts. Spiritual black lyrics began flowing from his mouth, and with his hands he wove the spell, before casting his gloved right hand towards the earth. From his palm the black mist began to spew, enshrouding him and all of the surrounding forest in darkness.

(taking cover and casting Enshrouding Mist.)

Malius quietly watched as the other members of the party scrambled to locate Draven or heal themselves.
Without a word he moved to the body of the dead man/creature and with knife to hand began cutting his arrow free of the man’s body, at the same time searching the body for anything of interest. He was soon joined by Loda, she having first taken time to heal herself and Alyssia, and as Malius finished cutting the arrow free she too searched the body. With Loda at the body he turned his attention to the man's weapons attempting to gauge the worth of them. .
With this done and the arrow free and back in Malius quiver the Elf retook his place by the fire.....

Tobin followed the ant with human arms. Its paper robe crackled with every move it made, as it walked through tunnels. Tobin’s inquisitive mind desired to touch the ant-man’s robe… Just to know what it’s made of… The scolding voice of his mother in his ear, reminding him to mind his manners, helped the cidal to resist.

The trip through the hive seemed to go down with every tunnel they entered. Every so many turns, Tobin could see the great gap that had also been outside his cell. It appeared to be some kind of centred shaft.

They passed hundreds of ants, and even at one point a string of humans, linked together with iron chains on their ankles. The humans were in a state of mental paralysis, and didn’t notice Tobin and didn’t seem to care carrying big sacks of dirt on their backs.

Hmmm… poor sigies… that doesn’t seem right… Tobin thought as he passed by. The littlest hero of Audalis was a cidal of freedom, and an enemy of slavery. I’ll have to bring it up with that big mother ant, if I see her, and see what can be done.
After fifteen minutes of steadily descending the tunnels they entered a walkway around the shaft. Tobin recognized this area from his vision earlier. There was something like a throne built on one side, and a wider space all around the opening in the ground. But the shaft didn’t go down much deeper. Thirty feet lower it stopped, forming some sort of arena. In the middle of the arena stood a large bush, but otherwise it was empty. From the side where they approached the arena hung a ladder made of rope and sticks.

The ant in the paper robes held out a hand towards the ladder, indicating that Tobin should descend. From all directions ants entered the area, workers, soldiers, and more paper robed ones. They all looked at the Cidal.

Tobin was caught up for a moment, distracted by the numerous ants, all looking at him, as if expecting something… something special… something big. Tobin stood a little straighter and smiled back at the ants a warm yet confident smile.

The ant-man in the paper robe, who had led him down here, was still indicating Tobin ought to descend down the rope ladder. “Oh, right! Sorry about that! Er… I mean…” Tobin had forgotten that the ants didn’t speak with words, but with thoughts, so the little cidal thought hard, trying to direct his thoughts towards the ant-man. Sorry about that! I got distracted by all your friends. Tobin got onto the ladder. What going on here anyway?
[OOC: Assuming no reply that makes a real difference]

The littlest hero of Audalis descended into the pit… the pit… the pit… Ants took them down into the pit. No more screaming. Find way out… The words on the wall of his room suddenly came into focus. He tried to shrug up the yucky feeling, Maybe this isn’t the pit he was talking about. Besides, if this keeps playing out like my vision, I think the mother ant just wants to say “Hi!” and “Welcome! So glad you could come and visit!!” She’ll probably just want to give me something special to eat, like a big welcoming feast. Then ask me a few questions about my adventures and send me off with her blessings. Sounds like a grand time… a grand time!

Kharolis Mountains
East base of the mountains
24th day of the 7th month: Pfier
9:14 pm
Now the old man was dead, the commotion in the camp rippled away, and peace was restored. But it would take some effort to restore the calm resting of less than five minutes ago.
Alyssia landed in a pool of her own blood mixed with sand. Her face was more pale than usual, drained of strength. She healed herself with a spell that stopped the bleeding, but left her cloths with a bright red stain and a cut across the belly line. Loda came closer to aid her, casting a spell as well. The divine magics repaired the sorceress’ skin, made her feel as healthy as ever.
Malius was occupying himself with investigating the old man and his belongings. While the man’s clothes were cut in half by Loda’s axe, especially his black studded leather armor looked of extremely good quality. Of further interest were a belt pouch with coins (18GP, 7PP, 23SP, 6CP), and a brooch that pinned the man’s cloak together. It was made of silver and represented one of the sickles the man had wielded in battle. That drew attention to his weapons.
On his vest, the man carried 5 sickles, strapped with the handle down for easy access. Combined with the two sickles he had punctured Alyssia and Loda with, that made seven. His rapier and these sickles were of average craftsmanship.
While closely inspecting the man, Malius found out that the wrinkles on his face were fake, drawn with griming paint. The white hair that made eyebrows and a small goatee were also fake, glued on to hide darker, real hair. Looking through the disguise, he judged the man to be no older than 25.
As they were each occupied, a sudden burst of flame surprised them completely. Burning tongues caught their skin and cloths and scorched them like a wave of hell flashed by. The flames evaporated instantly, but the sensation of being burnt alive tightened their skin in a sharp pain.
The source of the gulf of fire was a rust-red hound that had crouched from the bushes. It looked ravaged, and chunks of its flesh were dangling loosely as it came forward.

*************

Draven was angry. He was angry because the death he longed for didn’t take him. He was angry because that awful hound had also refused to die, and had run off, denying Draven the pleasure of killing it.
He dodged aside before the woman in black could do anything to harm him. Jumping behind a tree kept her from reaching him right away. He heard her footsteps on the sand, soft as they were. She was approaching.
Without a second thought he cast his hand into the earth, and immediately a foul black mist rose up from the spot where he hit, and from the palm of his hand. Shreds of humid air clawed at him, and the tree he hid behind.
He heard how the footsteps stopped, but another sound took over. Rustling branches and a set of four legs came crashing into the scene. Through the thick fog, Draven could see the vague shape of a dog. The woman in black was nowhere to be seen.

Then, all of a sudden she came from behind him, and her dagger pierced the air on his side, just inches from the spot where she stabbed him earlier. She now stood close, but so did the vague hound shape.

(OOC: I have to go, but I will update for Tobin and Elessarae later this week.)

The lunge had been sudden, and Draven smiled as he stepped beside her blade and looked up and into her pale face. Her eyes reminded him of his own...somewhat. They weren't cursed, of course, like his; but they lacked compassion. They had no care for life.

"Today you made a terrible decision."

He hefted the giant, black sword and held it before him, poised to parry or strike, as they squared off. His eyes were burning, and in the black fog, he was a shadow, crowned with two beacons of hate. To this woman, he may very well have looked like something far more then a man. A demon, perhaps. What she probably could not see in the dark, was the blood that flowed openly down his side and legs and puddled at his feet. Licking his lips, Draven lunged. As he fought, he spoke.

"Who knowingly wagers their very existance, to take a life? There is a reason why none do. The consequences are terribly severe. My dear, Some fates are far worse then death."

(He will fight her to the death...If she defeats him...Twas fun for me....and as a side note, she will be carrying his burden. If he wins...I'm hoping to not totally slay her instantly, but to strike a mortal wound )

Alloryen Kingdom
Formian Hive
25th day of the 7th month: Pfier
3:56 pm
He was their hero, their slave. Climbing down the rope ladder, more ants gathered, all over the sandy walls and on the shaft of their hive. As far as the little Cidal could see, ants peered down at him. He was their object of study, a curiosity and object of entertainment. He noticed paper-robed ants grouping by the throne. To them, he might be the embodiment of what they would like to be, with their humanoid hands, or perhaps they were laughing at his pitiful efforts of climbing down a ladder they didn’t even need.
When he arrived at the bottom of the shaft, the group of paper robed ants parted, and revealed a monstrosity positioned on the throne. She was a queen of dread with her large head with spiked chitin armor. Her bulging body didn’t even fit on the wooden building, but self-content pride kept her in position. Underneath her skin the small hero could see movement, as if her children were eating her from the inside.

Big black eyes stared down at Tobin, and suddenly she pointed with one of her legs. A terrifying scream followed, the first sound uttered since his time as a ‘guest’ of the ant-like creatures. Upon this calling, the ants with human arms all pointed at the bush in the middle of the arena. From their fingers, bolts of light shot straight at the bush. On collision the bush erupted, almost seemed to explode. A space opened between the branches and from it sounded a roar of pain and terror. Vines sprouted from the bush like tentacles that started whipping around at possible enemies. It wouldn’t be long before the bush found Tobin. And the ants leered down in high expectation of that moment.

(OOC: the rope-ladder has been hauled up, so you’re pretty much trapped in the pit. Unless you want to start climbing. The ants will try to kick you down if you do so.)

Londelirinen Kingdom
Aerie of the High King
Urvanial’s tower
26th day of the 7th month: Pfier
1:25 pm
The chaos kept building inside the tower. With its big open windows this level of the tower was very vulnerable to the owls’ attack. Singing and slashing, Elessarae fought off the dreaded claws of the owls around her. Telliri and Urvanial were both under attack as well.
The druid paced backwards to a wall.
“Free me some room so I can concentrate on a stronger spell!” he yelled at the bladesinger and the captain of the guard. From his hands shot roots that grabbed a nearby owl and dragged it to the ground. Unable to fly, the creature crashed and started squirming on the floor.

The other owl didn’t even seem to care. They circled the elves and dove in with their claws. Six talons shot at Elessar, and though she could bash aside on owl with her sword, she spun out of the way too late to avoid collision with the other two. Sharp nails punctured her legs and her left arm. She stepped aside and initiated a series of disciplines that complimented her song. Her blade carved up, shot forward and missed an owl by inches. Again the three owls that chose her as their target came in, but she was prepared now. She ducked low and made an unexpected step to the side, dodging two of the birds. The third one got its claws in her hair and squeezed hard. A pain shot through her head, and made her stumble for words for a second. The owls talons were now constricted in her hair, and the creature flapped frantically to get loose. With her free hand she grabbed the thing, yanked it loose and threw it on the ground. The tip of her sword came down after it, but only sliced a small cut and a chunk of feathers.

Then the gibberish started. Although she couldn’t understand a single word, she felt the bitterness of the tone, the despair of weakness in the sound. It swept away her own singing, and for a brief moment she felt a limpness wash over her. In a haze she saw Telliri fall to his knees, hands covering his shaking head. Then she snapped out of it, willing herself back into the fight. Urvanial didn’t seem to be affected with the foul gibberish, but he was being swarmed. From the hole in the ground, a Khordaldrum beard came swinging on to their level. A head followed, eyes covered with two black goggles. Urvanial’s companion carried a shovel and lunged himself into the battle.

(OOC: took the liberty to update two rounds at once. Hope that's alright.)

Loda gasped at the searing pain that crawled up her back and body, smothering her in its deadly embrace. She turned around, and looked at the hell hound, and soon realized she was shieldess. She ran over to the bench she once sat at, and grabbed her shield, and weilded her axe, ready for battle once more. Gothard, at her side, was just as willing. Soon the two of them engaged, tooth and axe trying to tear at the beast itself.

( quick post, sorry couldnt be longer, no time)

Elessarae raised a booted foot and stomps down hard on the downed owl. She then races to the Druid and raises the volume of her song until it fills the room. She positions herself between the Druid and the owls, weaving a dance of blade and footwork, trying to be everywhere at once. Defending the Druid and maiming and killing as many of the owls as possibe was her main focus.

Demon birds I will defy you.
What'er your goal I will deny you.
See my sword now flash before you.
Come now meet your death.

Strangely certain words seem to pop into her head as she sings them. Creating verses that had nothing to do with the standard verses she had learned, yet they had everything to do with the situation at hand.

Everything she every learned at the Tower, along with moves and bladework that combined maneuvers into something new as she adapted to the enemy. Elessarae pits her entire being into the battle.