Derrix stood still as rejuvenating energy coursed through him and mended his flesh. He squirmed in place as his skin weaved upon itself and his body closed his wounds, as if it had an alien mind of its own. The sensation was unique and felt as though a thousand ants were crawling over him and quickly sewing him shut, minus the pain of a needle. The feeling naturally gave him goosebumps as it ended and the invading warmth of the woman’s spell faded away to be replaced with the natural breeze that flowed through the town. Of course his head still throbbed and flushed with feathers at the lack of blood in his body. He led his forehead and felt his brain swimming on low tide.

He shook his head to ward off the dizzy spells, and he swore he heard rattling. If he had his pack on him, he figured, he could drink some water to help fill in for the missing red.

The man paused in thought before gesturing at the old woman who had offered her healing hands to him and his throat vibrated with a masculine voice, “who were these men?”

He fanned the area with an open palm, as if reminding her who he was talking about.

No sooner had Hugh announced his challenge, he was graced with the audience of the beastmaster of whom had so rudely released the beasts upon him. The man wore furs and strange clothes, very different contrast to Hugh's attire. Now it would be a one on one fight between these men, no doubt a good battle to await.

The beastmaster drew his sword, snarling angrily at the man who had snuffed the life from his precious pets. "Those..." He hissed, radiating with anger, "Were my PETS!" He held his sword in a ready stance, staring Hugh down.

Hugh shrugged, "Well, fuck me, right?" Right after issuing these odd words, the beastmaster began charging forward at Hugh, screaming as he came. Of course, this man hadn't counted on one thing; Hugh's tomahawk. With a quick movement of his arm and flick of the wrist, the tomahawk went spiraling through the air, embedding itself into the man's head. The beastmaster collapsed onto his knees, eyes wide open and staring upwards, before falling face first into the dirt.

It was a weapon Hugh hadn't the chance to use in battle very often, as people rarely stepped within the perfect range of it. This happened to be Hugh's lucky break. Not so the man lying in the dirt; he was dead.

Hugh began waving his arms around, rotating them to shake off his muscles and perhaps go back inside to drink more of his coffee. He rubbed his shoulder some more, as it slightly bled, and felt bruised and beaten. It would feel terribly sore the next day, but at least he might only need to get a little rest for this one to go away.

Of course, his relaxation was interrupted by another enemy. More like two enemies; both wielding bastard swords. Hugh groaned in contempt as he finally noticed them. They seemed completely confident that both of them would take down Hugh with ease, as they outnumbered him. Confidence in numbers, they always say.

They seemed not so entertained with Hugh, more just trying to look as intimidating as possible as they approached him. Hugh drew his battleaxe for the occasion, thinking it one of the better weapons for the job. No sooner did he do this, when he felt a blade ram into his side and knock him off balance, causing him to lose his battleaxe as he stumbled away. It wasn't exactly up to Hugh's standard for a fight; they had made the first blow, and it had cost Hugh greatly. All he hoped for was that nothing was broken, as it felt bad enough even without a broken bone.

Wincing, he drew his falchion and charged the one closest to him. He ended up tackling the man to the ground, crushing him with his full weight. To keep the man on the ground, he delivered several blows to the throat, and slammed his elbow into the man's chest, before he felt a bastard sword blade slam into his shoulder and send him into the dirt next to the man.

Hugh screamed out in agony at the feeling of his shoulder. Now he might have several broken bones. It did appear, however, that his shoulder was not broken, just in serious, agonizing, pain. He began rolling away, before finding his battleaxe.

Taking up his most prized instrument of death, he staggered to his feet. It might not have been the best choice in weaponry, as his shoulder was in pain from holding it. He settling for holding it with one hand, letting it hang limply as he eyed the man still standing over the other body. The other man seemed to be sizing Hugh up in his current state, before the man raised the sword into the air and ran at Hugh, screaming his head off.

Hugh, using all of the strength in his one arm, swung the battleaxe from one side to the other, lifting it as high as he could, hearing it rip into the man's flesh. Blood began to spurt from the man incessantly, as Hugh had managed to slice the man's throat open. The figure collapsed, gurgling on his own blood as he convulsed on the ground.

Hugh dropped his battleaxe, went over to where he left his falchion to find both the falchion and the man still on the ground. The man seemed to be groaning and rolling around, clasping his stomach, appearing to be a rather pitiful sight to behold. Hugh picked up his falchion, and confidently strode up to the crumpled figure of a man.

He didn't particularly think the man a threat at the moment, that is, until he felt a blade suddenly stab him in the leg. Hugh glared, looking at the no longer pathetic looking figure, and gasped out the words "You MISSED!"

With that, Hugh brought his blade down on the man's throat, successfully severing his head from his body in one swift motion.

Hugh dropped to his knees, the blade still stuck in his leg, and all the wounds he had gained from the brawl now weighing on him. He dropped his blade and looked to the sky, beginning to scream at it while holding his hands out at his sides to receive anything that might rain down from the heavens.

"I'M. STILL. HERE." He seemed to shout the words as a curse you to whomever was up their listening. He felt all the emotions of it all, his breathing ragged, and his body in pain. "I'll always be here." Hugh ended, speaking softer as he let his head drop, and stare at the ground.

"Do you think you can find more rabbits? I could cook us all a meal if we had about 5 more of those about that size."

"Yes!"

Lob's face split into a great toothy smile as he bopped little bunny foofoo on the head like so many field mice and passed the dazed or dead animal to her before he took off for more rabbits. Hare were not too heavy on territory and in-fact were rather communal creatures so it would be easy enough for him to forage for food. Many screams were heard, not all belonged to the rabbits as one got his hand. In the end, many joined the thousand for their friends stopped running today.

After an hour on and off the road Lob returned with half a dozen, two in each hand and two in his mouth. The pelts were not going to make it to market, but they were not there for fur, they were there for food. He hoped the others could cook it, when he tried to feed rabbit to one of the old pack like this one, they got sick because it wasn't over fire first. He could eat them with no fire without a problem, but he wasent them and they needed the fire.

Everything Burns

Taking a deep breath Sana swallowed all emotion and her face became a steely gaze of nothingness before she took a step and then another; heading back to the soon to be former prison. Moving from place to place, body to body; slowly dragging each one to the center of the bivouac below the body of the woman who still hung from the high branch above. Perhaps she was meant to be a warning to others to do what they were told or face the same fate; perhaps she had been one of the lucky ones the archer thought, never having to wake up in the middle of the night screaming and remembering the tragedy. Stopping and looking at the pile of bodies, Sana knew there would be many nights ahead that she have to face this scene again; she pitied those that had lived through it for she knew their evenings would be far more traumatic.

Picking up a large hammer she began to break down what remained as best she could, a desire to cleanse the place of the unholy things that had occurred pushing her ever forward. Wood splintered and steel bent under the force of each strike; her muscles burning and her breath ragged as sweat dripped from her body. In turn each piece of hell was tossed over onto the pile of bodies and around them. No tears fell though, there were none left after the moment she held her father as he passed away. There was no anger, no grimace in pain as she continued to push forward. The look on her face remained as empty as the cages that swung from above.

Turning she made her way to the closest tree and began to climb, hands gripping as feet scraped their way up the bark of the trunk. Losing her grip several times and sliding roughly down the face of the plant that seemed to climb towards the heavens; her hands and knees bleeding from the scratches and cuts. It was a long climb to the branch she was after but she eventually made it; straddling it and moving carefully out from the safety of the trunk with a blade clenched between her teeth until she could reach the rope that held the cage. Taking the hilt of the blade in her hand she began to saw the material until it snapped, sending the cage crashing to the ground below. She did this with each one that hung and after each one fell she would climb down, hammer away until it was unusable and toss it into the mountain of death and decay.

Walking to one of the fires she pulled a piece of wood that was burning out of the fire, gripping it like a makeshift torch and tossing it into the pile. It took a while for it to catch what would burn on fire but Sana waited, watching the flickering flames slowly grow from small embers to a roaring bonfire meant to cleanse the world of this sickness. Once it was steadily burning Sana made one last climb towards the light above; one last ascension to free one more soul, the woman who had been hung. The world seemed to move in slow motion as the rope snapped finally; the body falling like a rag doll, tossed aside by a child after outgrowing it, until it crashed into the flames below. The world sped up, returning to status quo and causing Sanas head to spin; nearly toppling out of the tree herself before she regained her mental grip and clung to the branch.

Taking a few moments to breath before climbing down and walking slowly through the encampment; checking to make sure that all was as it should be, at least as well as it could be for now. Rodger slowly coming into view as she spun around hearing a twig snap beneath the draft horses weight. Sana let out a sigh of relief to know he was okay as he wandered over to her and nuzzled her slightly before beginning to push her towards the outskirts of the camp. Sana wondered what he was doing since he was not pushing her towards the village; that was until her foot fell into some leaves and a hollow sound could be heard echoing underneath it. She pushed Rodger back as she knelt down and felt around, pushing the leaves away to reveal planks of wood covering something. Quickly she pushed them aside and gasped in horror and disbelief at what she saw what lay beneath; a hand coming to her lips to cover them.

The Town

Sister Agnes coughed a few times but she nodded that she was okay. It was truth, she was okay but she was tired. Turning as she heard the voice of the new comer she held her hand out to Wylsen to help her to her feet before walking slowly towards him. "Slavers," she said in a weary voice. "They've been plaguing the town for sometime, today they decided to take it a step further," she explained as best she could at that moment before swiftly turning her attention towards Hugh as he screamed out to the heavens. Sighing she wobbled over to him and knelt down with the help of the apothecary.

"Deep breaths, it's over now," the nun tried to say in a reassuring voice but she doubted with that outburst that anything could be reassuring at that moment in time. Looking over towards Wylsen and gestured towards the sword in Highs thigh.

"Hold on young'un," the old man said as he wrapped his hand around the hilt of the blade before yanking it out of flesh and bone and tossing it out to the side. Sister Agnes cringed at the suddenness of the movement but she could only hope it was better that way than for Wylsen to take it out slowly. Rubbing her palms together she reached out and laid them on the most recent wound as she prayed. Her ever soft light slowly reaching out from her and to Hugh, hands moving slowly from his thigh to the rest of his form to heal each cut and broken bone. Letting what good lay within her serve as a catalyst to pull his flesh and bones back together; leaving only the smallest of scars on his flesh. She wished she could heal blood loss and desperation but those were not weapons in her arsenal.

"Wylsen, go tell the inn keeper to prepare meals for these men and water. They need to regain their strength," Sister Agnes said in a soft voice as she cleaned her hands of the blood that was caked to them on the folds of her habit.

"Righto Agnes, anything else," he asked as he helped her back to her feet.

"Yes, see what you can do to calm the villagers once that is done, we seem to be safe for now," she said as she looked around; those that had come to harm the town either now dead in the streets or running for their lives out of the south end of the village.

When Lob left to retrieve the rabbits, Vaeri set off to gather some supplies she'd need of her own. To properly cook these rodents she would need a fire, and a fire required firewood. Thankfully, it was rather late and the weather had been sunny for several days, so finding dry wood was a simple task in a forest such as this. It took a mere 20 minutes to find what she estimated to be enough fire to last long enough to properly cook the hares. She found a clear spot near enough to the wagon and set up the wood in a clean circle.

From her bag, Vaeri retrieved a set of cooking utensils. They were used to only preparing food for herself, a large group such as this would take more time, but she was certain that once she got moving it would be smooth going. For this, she pulled out a pan, a set of stands that would allow it to safely rest right at the top of where she estimated the flames would reach, a small cooking knife she used for skinning animals she hunted and general purpose cooking and a small container of salt. She then pulled out a piece of flint and a steel fire starter. With 3 decisive strikes, Vaeri created enough sparks to catch the wood on fire. She gently blew into it to strengthen the fire, but soon enough it came to a healthy blaze that quickly warmed the iron pan above.

There she sat and tended to the fires until Lob returned with six rabbits in hand and maw. A smile on her face, the cleric stood up and clapped her hands before took the dead beasts from the half orc. She walked back to her little clearing and dropped their bodies next to the fire. She felt like she was stalling progress on making it back to the village, but really everyone here could use a rest after the day's events. Expertly, she cut up the little animals' bodies into easily eaten cuts that could be consumed by even the weak prisoners that were travelling in the wagon. She didn't have time or mental acuity to do anything particularly special with the meat, so she seared the meat in batches on the pan, salting them as she cooked. Each batch took about 5 to 10 minutes and there were 3 batches in total, within the half hour, the cooking was complete and the food was passed out to everyone present. Hopefully it would be worth the delay in travel and hold everyone until they could reach the village. With her job as chef complete, Vaeri put out the fire and put away her stuff back into her bag before taking part in the meal she had prepared.

"Much obliged, Sister," Tobias said as the healing completed. Rolling his invisible shoulders, the thief leaned against a wall. The fight was winding down, and now all the brave warrior men were queuing up for healing. He heard Hugh shouting something at nobody in particular from some distance away - hopefully this would be a better outlet for his... random aggression than Tobias's face.

Someone new had arrived, and from the look of him, he'd done his fair share of the work. He seemed to want to know what was going on, which was a sentiment that Tobias could at least understand as he surveyed the destruction. Nothing could make this make sense.

Tobias had no interest in speaking to any of these people just now - especially being a disembodied voice as he was. He had no idea how such a conversation would pan out. Doubtless it would be far too comical for the mood Tobias was in.

The invisible thief wandered off silently, his feet taking him back to the scene of his battle without him really telling them to. Almost automatically, he began examining the pockets of the still-unconscious men, doing his absolute best to avoid looking at the headless, pantsless corpse. A memory filled his mind.

He was a much younger man - a child really - in that memory, in a city not so far from here. He was talking to three other children, bigger and stronger than him, bullies with matching tattoos. A gang that had heard about the silent thief you lived in the alleyways, and wanted to recruit him.

"Sorry," he was saying to them as he prepared to run, a glib expression on his face. "I don't hurt people for their stuff. I just take it. And more importantly..." he proclaimed as he snatched a coinpurse from the one in front. "I don't share."

They'd caught him, he remembered. Gave him two black eyes and a broken arm for his trouble. Yeah, there was definitely a reason he'd given up on ideals early on.

He looked down at the haul he's been blithely collecting. A purse full of gold, two funny-smelling potions, a magicy looking scroll and - holy shit, a diamond the size of his goddamn palm. At least, it looked like a diamond - experience had taught him to get these things appraised before he let his eyes bug out of his head at the size of his haul.

Narrowing his eyes, he read the inscription on one of the potions. Restoration. He didn't know what the damn thing restored, but he had a hunch he was lacking it at the moment, and he poured the potion down his mouth quickly.

Tobias scooped the rest of his loot into his bag and stood up, feet taking him nowhere in particular. This time he arrived in the inn without really knowing why. Food and drink was being served, but Tobias was neither hungry nor thirsty. Without really knowing what he was doing, the rogue shoved a chair aside, crawled under a table, and pulled his knees up to his chest, rested his head and back against the wall, and closed his eyes.

Derrix turned away from the busy old woman, content with her answer. He stared at the bloodied men he had slaughtered, and knowing now that they were dishonorable men he simply nodded in recognition of them rather than make a fuss about their gruesome deaths.

The golden eyed stranger tapped the body of the dead bard with the toe of his boot, and his eyes wandered over the dead man’s possessions. There were two magical scrolls, a hefty and very valuable ring on his finger, and who knows what kind of priceless potions filled the man’s knapsack.

Clearly slavery was a lucrative business around this town, Derrix concluded silently as he leaned over to place the dead man in a more dignified pose, rather than splayed out. Even if they had broken a code they didn’t even know of and fell as dishonorable in Derrix’s eyes, he wished he had a shovel, to at least put them out of sight for the town’s people.

He looked around quickly for a place to at least drag the fallen men, after all these corpses were by his hand.

Fiona had actually wanted to keep going, to get these people back to the village and better comfort as quickly as possible, but once they did come to a stop to set up a small cooking fire and a meal, she could see the use in it. Most of the people in the wagon looked to be near starvation, and the small period of rest would be good for them. Since Vaeri had taken care of the preparations and the cooking, Fiona helped hand out the modest meal, as well as offering small amounts of water to help the weaker ones wash it down. She took only the smallest taste for herself; she was hungry and tired from all the strain of the day, but nothing compared to the people she was helping.

She spent most of the meal with the rescued villagers, speaking with those who were awake enough to converse, and keeping her eye on those that were struggling. She'd never been through anything like this, but she supposed she had a good deal in common with many of them, being a villager who grew up in a place much like they had. A few of them seemed to take a liking to her. The experience of sharing food around a fire as equals was likely quite liberating. Before this she supposed they simply had to fight for scraps.

Fiona took the lull in activity the meal provided to quickly stitch up the small hole in her jacket the crossbow bolt had left behind. By the time she was done, the light was definitely beginning to shift and lead them towards dusk. She glanced around to see where the others were.

"If everyone's ready, we should move on. We can still reach the village before nightfall, I think."

The Village

The sun was heavy in the sky but it had not yet begun to set, the air was thick with moisture from the humidity and even though it was beginning to cool down thanks to the midafternoon breeze the heat of battles still weighed on the town and made everything move much slower than normal. Wylsen had been able to talk the inn keeper into feeding those that had fought for the town and put them up for another night, the town owed these adventures and he hoped that it would in small way repay them. It was all they had to offer.

Looking out at the street, Wylsen crossed his arms over his chest as he watched the town folk finally coming out of hiding. The women of the village were busy shuffling food from their own kitchens and the kitchen of the inn into the main room of the inn. The men had gathered up what remained of those that had been slaughtered and drug them to the south end of town where Hanzo and Mortosh had burned the bodies of those that had fallen during the previous battle. The blood still stained the street but Wylsen figured it was nothing that the next rain wouldn’t wash away. Standing there he wondered what had happened to the rest of the group that had headed out hours before to the slavers camp. They should have been back by now and he was beginning to worry that something horrible had happened.

The Journey Back

The now former prisoners were more than grateful for the food they had received from the efforts of Lob and Vaeri. For most of them it had been the first thing they had eaten in weeks and while it was not a feast it was more than enough to sustain them the rest of the journey. They began to open up, not talking about their life since capture but instead looking to what their lives had been before. Some spoke of looking forward to returning to their own villages and cities, to see their friends and their families again. Others spoke of how they planned to build a new life and start over siting that they had nothing to return to. Either way there were smiling gracing the lips of the weary bunch as the wagon pulled out of the forest and made its way back towards the village.

It took several hours to get the entire group back to the village but thankfully it was a peaceful journey and as the sun began to set in the west they could see the small town. Sister Agnes had given last rights to those that had fallen during battle. Such cruel lives were now over and it was time to move on. Taking a deep breath, she leaned on her walking stick she had had Wylsen retrieve from the shop for her and slowly wandered from the south end of town back towards the inn. Stopping as she saw the rest of the group coming back with what appeared to be a large wagon full of people that had seen better days she quickened her pace.

“Wylsen!” she called out and he came out of the inn, wondering just what could be happening now. As his eyes fell on the group of adventurers returning he let out a sigh of relief. They were back, they were safe and they had managed, from what he could tell, bring more back that had been captured. He smiled as he walked over to Sister Agnes and called for the rest.

“They’re back!” Wylsen yelled out to the group that had defended the town during the second attack. Sister Agnes grabbed his arm as she began to count the number of people that had returned and noticed that one was missing.

“The archer isn’t with them,” she said quickly as she looked over him.

“Sana? Wasn’t that her name?” Wylsen said as he returned her glance and then swallowed hard as the nun nodded in confirmation. They day had been long, both parts of the adventuring party seemed to have had more to deal with than they should have had to handle and Wylsen feared the worst. One was missing.

When Mortosh and Zam Had returned to bodies to dispose of them like before they had found very little left of the bodies so there was little to loot a couple of rubies,Some Gold and a scroll with a spell called "Divine Light". Why an assassin would carry such a scroll was unknown perhaps it was a payment of sorts it seemed complicated so it might hold some value but it didn't really matter in the end for Mortosh had to get them to the pyre.

Zam was very quiet and that had Mortosh worried ("Something Wrong Zam?") he asked through there link "was it necessary for you to kill them Mortosh?" Mortosh was not surprised by her question it was something he questioned himself on earlier in these few days he had killed more then in his almost entire 700 years of existence. but it seemed that she wanted an answer so he told her ("No It Wasn't But Death Through Battle Never Really Is") it seemed to put her at some ease but it wasn't much.

they had finally reached the Pyre so he dumped the body among the rest

The fact that the simple meal she prepared for the ex-captives cheered them up so much pleased her greatly, and the warm meal helped renew her strength, if making her feel more drowsy than she already was. Still, Vaeri manage to keep herself together on the long walk back to the village, although she had a few close calls with eyelids that shut and did not want to open again. About halfway though the trek, she remembered that she had forgotten to don her cloak after discarding it for the battle and quickly rectified that mistake. When she arrived in the village, she assisted all the people from the wagons.

She then turned to the inn, walking into it, vaguely registering faces as familiar from early that morning. Glittering coins were pulled out from the coin pouch at her hip and deposited in front of the innkeeper. He understood coin well enough and handed the elf a room key before directing her towards a room upstairs. Vaeri found her way inside the room and locked the door behind her. She dumped her bag off of her shoulders, leaving it to sit in a lump on the floor before walking over to the bed and falling onto it face first. She didn't even bother to take off her armor before she passed out asleep.

Hanzo allowed himself to breathe with more regularity now that his body was being mended. The exhaustion still remained, and he wasn't getting back any of the blood he lost, but at the least his body was undamaged. Hopefully a good night's rest without too further interruptions would do everyone a bit of good.

With a fresh new array of corpses to dispose of, the monk sullenly began the work of dragging them over to the bonfire south of town, still blazing in rage. The heavy smell of burning at rot mixed together as he approached the fire again, one of the bodies in tow. Some of the men peeking out from their houses offered to help, taking up some of the other bodies for disposal. It was a gruesome crowd and a grueling effort, but it would get done in due time-

"Wha- hey! This one's still alive!"

As he was about to heave the first body into the flames, Hanzo snapped to attention at the sudden shout, dropping the leg he was pulling around and looking back to the village.

"The hell is he- augh!"
"He's getting away, quick, someone stop him-!"

It was the thief Hanzo had knocked down before. His company all brutally murdered and his ass beaten twice today, it was safe to assume he had lost this fight. The thief placed a couple of fingers in his mouth and blew a certain shrill whistle, calling his abandoned horse. His new plan was to to leave the town and escape into the forest while the adventurers were winding down; Despite his wounded state, he still had superior agility to the common townsfolk, and he had a horse to carry him regardless.

His mount came galloping out from one of the alleys, and he swung himself up into the saddle as quickly as he could afford while keeping them both moving. His plan was perfect, in his mind - retreat to the southern fort, take whatever supplies he needed, then run away before nightfall and under the cover of night. As long as nobody could intercept him-

A bolt of energy speared the thief in the face, knocking him off of his horse and to the ground, the mount fleeing off into the southern forest. The wind forced from his lungs, he was left breathless and gasping as the monk approached. A hand went to the thief's collar, and the criminal's eyes widened, a mix of exasperation and fear present.

"Please-...don't- kill me...!" The thief rasped out, his gaze meeting Hanzo's tired yet fierce visage. With a pained gasp, he continued to beg, "All the others... are dead-! I-isn't that enough...?"

The monk threw the thief aside, onto his back. Pinning down the man's arms behind him, Hanzo hailed one of the villagers to bring some rope. Then, in a more sinister tone, he announced to the thief, "If I could help it, none of you would've died anyways. The likes of you deserve a proper punishment for what you've done." The criminal groaned and succumbed to his fatigue as Hanzo removed all the loose items on his being.

Besides a purse full of silver currency and a couple of odd trinkets the thief intended to sell, there wasn't anything of note the thief had tried to make off with. It did remind Hanzo, however, that there was one more person whom hadn't explicitly died - the magician. As he allowed some of the local men to secure the beaten thief, the monk returned to where the fire mage lay unconscious. Already one of the men was observing him, seeing as the figure wasn't bloodied or cold.

"He's just unconscious for now," Hanzo told the person as he approached, who gave a doubtful but appreciative glance at Hanzo. "See if you can get some help to restrain him- tightly, so he can't cast anything." The man nodded with some hesitation, and left to grab something or someone. There certainly wasn't much need for a plain village like this to hold any prisoners, but Hanzo wasn't going to kill them while they were already beaten, nor was he going to allow them to escape and grant them the chance to do more harm. If the village so decided, the criminals might just be put to death in any case, but that wasn't Hanzo's matter.

Loose items from the magician included a potion of 'restoration' and a magical scroll with a emblem in fresh ink. The intricate text on the scroll read that it was an enchantment of barkskin that could be applied permanently to the body, by pressing the ink to the desired spot and reading the enchantment. Hanzo could see it being useful to himself, but he didn't want to use it immediately in case one of the others happened to want it - he wasn't the only one, after all, that went so sparsely armored.

Agnes and Wylsen had personally made accommodations at the inn for the adventurers, a simple gesture of thanks for defending their village. Despite being ever the miser, Hanzo welcomed the offer, but still offered up some of the silver from the bag as payment. Hanzo couldn't help but unleash a tired yawn from the day's efforts; he had a feeling he would rest well in a village he knew he had a part in protecting.

The adventurers retreated to the calm and quiet of the inn, and Hanzo followed. Quietly, he ordered another cup of tea.

---

The sun was already beginning to dip below the horizon as the second group returned to town. Sister Agnes hurriedly called Wylsen out to look, and as he sluggishly did so, Hanzo followed suit. He had almost forgotten about the group Sana had led out to dispatch of the northern camp, and as he saw them return, he could understand why. Drawn by their horses was a large coach wagon, loaded with miserable-looking but thankful people.

The slaves, Hanzo realized. They had rescued the slaves, not just killed off all the slavers. Now this town was truly a haven.

Not so much exhausted as he was sleepy now, Hanzo waved to the approaching group. Cheers and thanks were shared, and some were eager to retreat to the inn and rest. The adventurers had also brought back a tremendous share of money - the spoils collected by the slavers, most likely. Largely satisfied with the lives they had saved today, Hanzo gave a soft, almost dopey smile, for the first time in a while.

Hugh simply sat, panting, and watching the drops of sweat fall into the ground in front of him. He thought of how appropriate it might before for a cool rain to pour down on his head, to wash over him and cleanse him. Cleansing and relief, however, came from a different place this time, as the nun spoke to him.

He didn't really care much for the words, feeling rather tired and desperate from all the fighting and energy he had spent. A sudden disdain came over Hugh upon hearing the word "Young'un" to refer to himself. Hugh looked at the man, about to raise objection, before he felt the knife ripped out of his leg. This simple action was greeted by Hugh feeling a large shot of pain and decrease in adrenaline, starting to make his head feel faint. He felt ringing in his ears, as he shook his head around.

He felt better as the old nun's hands crept across him, giving a soothing healing sensation over his entire body. It was all being put back together, now.

Hugh looked to the sky, closing his eyes, and letting his hands drop to his sides as he took it all in. "Ahhh, relief." He spoke his words softly, his body feeling better than before. Although, he was feeling cold. He felt a shiver roll up his spine, as the affects of blood loss seemed to always lead towards this weak feeling.

He shook it off, standing up, and stretching out his arms. He picked up his falchion, wiping it on the clothing of the dead, and sticking it into the sheath at his side. The sound of metal scraping against metal was heard, before a clank, as the falchion was fully resting in the sheath.

Hugh sighed, looking around the now peaceful town. He was dissatisfied and annoyed. It was too much fighting for the day. Though, he had been through much worse on more occasions. Perhaps it was more tiresome now, because he didn't have a vested interest in the fight, other than staying alive. He felt as if his prowess was being used by this town of cowards, whom hid behind closed doors, not even willing to protect their rightful ground and their neighbors. "What fucking bullshit is this?" He said, looking around all of the different buildings, noting the great amount of closed shutters.

His attention was soon diverted towards the wagon load of people coming into the town. It did appear as though there was a good sized load of them, and the group that had departed early was back. A smile stretched across Hugh's face at the thought that Sana had returned. His excitement seemed uncontainable, but as he looked on at the group, his cheerful expression turned to worry.

"Sana?" He called out, speaking in a more normal tone. "Sana?!" He said, louder than before. "SANA!" He finally shouted, before quickly walking up to the group and looking through them. "SANA!" He continued to call out, his expression becoming more angry than before. He rubbed his head, looking from person to person, not seeing Sana OR Rodger.

It was like a nightmare, and he was still awake.

The Slave Camp

There in a hole dug into the earth lay the bodies of what Sana could only assume where a mother and child. The mother looked to have died a week ago due to the amount of decay but the child looked like she had only passed recently. Closing her eyes as she collapsed on her knees she fought back the urge to weep for the two down there. Then she heard a noise, a soft cry like the coo of a dove and Sanas eyes slammed open as her head twisted to look down. The child staring at her in fear as she clung to the tattered and bloodied gown of her long passed away mother. Sana reached down to the child but she curled closer to the corpse, afraid of the woman that was trying to rescue her.

The gypsy did not know what to do, she did not want to traumatize the child even further by ripping her from her mother but she knew she could not leave her there. Lying down on the ground she held both her hands out to the little one who could not been more than four years of age. Sana waited; speaking soft words of comfort to the child, words to let her know she was not there to harm her but the child understandably would not listen. What had they done to poor sweet soul Sana did not want to think about. She needed to think of something, anything to do to gain the childs trust but nothing came to mind at first that was until an old lullaby came to her mind; one her mother had sung to her in times of trouble as she grew up.

It was a sorrowful tune, a melancholy melody but it words were strong and Sanas voice soothing and calm as she sung. “The lights go out all around me, one last candle to keep out the night,” she sung softly as she pulled her hands back and rested them crossed under her chin as she watched the child. “And then the darkness surrounds me, I know I’m alive but I feel like I’ve died and all that’s left is to accept that it’s over. My dreams ran like sand through the fists that I made,” Sana caroled as her fingers gripped the dirt from the ground and let it slip through her fingers as she watched the little one. Oddly Sana began to give off a soft golden hue as she sung, one she did not notice herself. Something that has never happened before but things change; especially when one accepts what they truly are. “I try to keep warm but I just grow colder, I feel like I’m slipping away,” she whispered as she watched the child grip on her mothers clothing gradually loosen.

A soft smile came to Sanas lips as she continued to sing, ever watchful of the little angel before her. “After all this has passed, I still will remain. After I’ve cried my last, there’ll be beauty from pain. Though it won’t be today, someday I’ll hope again and there’ll be beauty from pain,” Sana chanted sympathetically, “you will bring beauty from my pain.” The child slowly turning away from her mother as she listened to the sad song, Sana reaching her arms out to the wee one to help her out but she froze as Sana did. Sana smiled to her and nodded, not pushing for her to move faster than she felt comfortable. So she kept vocalizing to the youngster. “My whole world is the pain inside me; the best I can do is just get through the day. When life before is only a moment I’ll wonder why God lets me walk through this place and though I can’t understand why this happened I know that I will when I look back someday and see how you’ve brought beauty from ashes and made me as gold purified through these flames,” Sana sung in a loving tone as the child finally reached out to her and the gypsy pulled her out of the death from below, encircling her arms around the child and holding her close.

Unsure of what to do next she continued to sing the lullaby to the little blonde hair angels with eyes like amber that now clung to her. “After all that has passed, I still will remain. After I’ve cried my last, there’ll be beauty from pain. Though it won’t be today, someday I’ll hope again and there’ll be beauty from pain,” she chanted as she tapped the girls nose softly and smiled, “you will bring beauty from my pain,” she whispered as she pushed the childs hair from her face and tucked it behind her ear. Slowly she stood, holding the child protectively in her arms as she rocked her softly; ever singing the now sweet melody.

“Here I am, at the end of me tryin’ to hold to what I can’t see. I forgot how to hope, this night’s been so long. I cling to your promise there will be a dawn,” she whispered as she rested her brow against the sweet ones and walked over towards Rodger, the sound of crackling flames in the background as the sun began to set. Climbing up onto the horse Sana rested down in the saddle, the child still clinging tight to her but Sana did not mind. The child was providing as much comfort to the one that held her as the she was to the child.

“After all this has passed, I still will remain. After I’ve cried my last, there’ll be beauty from pain. Though it won’t be today, someday I’ll hope again and there’ll be beauty from pain. You will bring beauty from my pain,” Sana sung as the song drew to a close and she hugged the child carefully, running her fingers through her hair with one hand as with the other she grabbed the horses reins and almost began to move away from the prison that had been the childs home but something stopped her and froze her to the core of her soul. An ominous feeling came over her as she heard another snap of branch from behind her, a demonic growl coming to her ears and echoing through her being.

The Village

Sister Agnes and Wilson walked over to the group as they pulled into the village proper. Helping the former prisoners off the wagon as quickly as they could, the villagers coming over and several taking in most of them to take care of them for now. They had eaten something on the way back but they would need a long time to recover fully. There was no healing that needed to be done thanks to the efforts of Vaeri at least. The ones that were left the inn keeper took in and put them up for the night, they had to double and triple up in the rooms of the inn but they didn’t care, it was far more room than they had had in the cages where they had been kept.

Some were too tired or weak to speak but most gave out a hearty thanks to everyone that was there helping them. Even those that said nothing had an expression of ever gratefulness on their weary features. Sister Agnes was glad the group had freed them and Wylsen ran off to the general store to get some basic clothing for the people, most of what they wore was covered in things unspeakable and once they were cleaned up they would need to burn what was worn.

Hearing Hugh screaming for Sana the nun had a worried expression fall over her features and nodded, walking over to the fiery red head quickly. “Where is Sana?” she asked in a concerned voice. She feared the worst since Sana had not come back with the group. Had they left her there because of what had happened in the village earlier in the day? Or had the worst happened? Had Sana died trying to free the slaves?

At the other end of town what could be called the towns political party had had the stronger villagers take the people into custody that Hanzo had captured and tied them up in the horse stalls for the time being while they tried to figure out what they would do to them. Most of the village was of the opinion that they should be put to death for all the trouble and pain they had caused though there were a select few that suggested just stripping them down and leaving them in the middle of the wilderness somewhere to fend for themselves, one even suggested they should spend some time as slaves to either the village or the group that had saved them. Whatever the decision would be would be left to the morning.

Fiona felt a weight lift off her when the village came in sight again, before nightfall as she'd hoped. Her eyes had been starting to droop at the head of the wagon, her weariness catching up with her a little, but the sight of the village was enough to reinvigorate her some. Food, drink, and a bed for the night were on the way. A few of them came out to greet the approaching group, no doubt surprised to see so many where so few had left. Fiona made it her priority to help the weakest of the rescued down from the wagon with Vaeri.

Of course, her attention was soon taken when Hugh and Hanzo approach, and the former of the two quickly became frantic upon not seeing Sana with the group. Finishing the task of helping an elderly woman down from the wagon, Fiona walked quickly over to Hugh, trying to get in front of him and get his attention. It wasn't an easy task, considering how large he was, and how he wasn't looking for a woman with fiery red hair.

"Hey. Hey!" she shouted back, grabbing hold of his arms and doing her best to keep him still, difficult as it as. "Hugh, right? Look at me. Sana's fine." She waited until she had eye contact, and then tried to nod encouragingly. "She's completely fine, she just needed to stay behind a while for a personal matter. She'll be here soon." She hoped that would be enough to keep him together. Releasing him, she took a step back. "I don't think it's my place to explain. I'll let her tell you when she gets back." There was a chance Sana would want to keep whatever happened there to herself, Fiona supposed, even though she seemed very close with Hugh. Regardless, it was not Fiona's decision to make.

Seeing Sister Agnes nearby, Fiona went to approach her next. "We're all fine," she assured the woman. "No injuries that Vaeri and some potions couldn't clear up." Looking around now, though, Fiona frowned. The signs of further battle were obvious enough, and the place still reeked of fire and death, recent enough that no clean up efforts could wash it away just yet.

"Did more attack while we were away?" she asked, worried. She hadn't expected retaliation so soon, or at least thought they would've run into more attackers on the way if they'd come. If they attacked while half the group had been gone... it was fortunate the village still stood, with only the wounded and weary to defend it. "I wish we could have been here, too."

Obviously what they'd done in the forest was necessary, both to end the slaver trouble and free these people, but Fiona would've been crushed if the people had been killed behind her while she ran off to take the fight to the enemy.

The archers wasted no time, the one on the right knocked an arrow as the one on the left drew a short sword and advanced. And here they come... Melvus drew his straight sword then twisted his body to avoid the first arrow. Bringing up his sword horizontally he blocked downward slash from his opponent. He took note of the archer reloading while he stood, sword holding the enemy's blade, in between the two. As the archer took his shot, Melvus wasn't there anymore and the other man stumbled forward as Melvus' sword disappeared and an arrow lodged itself in his gut.

The wizard didn't have time to notice the dolops of blood soaking the ground as his opponent fell to the ground, in what was now a puddle of his own blood, the scarlet liquid changing the color of the dirt. Melvus was in a hurry. Six seconds left... I need to get into position... He though as he maneuvered himself closer to his enemy, knowing that there was no way the archer would notice him. Three... He was within reach of the archer. Two... Now behind the archer. One He raised his sword and lunged forward as he rematerialized, lodging his blade into his opponent's back. That's what the plan was anyway.

As the blade appeared behind him the archer dropped to the ground, twisting around on the way down. As his back touched the dirt on the ground his right foot shot upward striking the wizard's hand, knocking the blade from his grasp.

Melvus jumped back as his blade clattered to the ground, he'd lost sight of the archer. Where..? His gaze quickly shifted from left to right as he realized Down... He looked down in time to see the fist. As his back slammed into the ground beneath him, his hand shot forward and an arm sprung forth. The archer, now on his feet, sidestepped around the glowing appendage and fired an arrow at Melvus who caught it in his left hand, effectively knocking his staff to the ground. The spellcasters reached over with his right hand and, painfully, ripped the arrow from him. As it exited it took chunks of his palm with it, spraying blood over Melvus. The glowing arm shrunk and moved closer as it picked up his staff.

Replacing the staff on the wizard's back, many swords appeared around him, they revolved and whirled at great speed. The archer's next few arrows were swatted away. Realizing that it was a futile effort, also having noticed his comrades falling around him - the archer attempted to retreat back into the fog. As he reached the edge, he was shoved to the ground by a rather large horse, one of the beats large hooves crushing his head, killing him instantly.

"You! Bastard!" Came the voice of the rider, clearly not concerned that he just killed one of his own men.

"Ah... Slaver, I told you not to return..." Melvus said as he drew his sword in his right hand, ready for a fight.

"Dammed wizard! Think you can best me!" The man jumped from his horse, landing in front of Melvus, his sword drawn. Melvus unsummoned his swords, leaving him with the one. The man lunged.

Melvus sidestepped then pivoted, facing the man again, his sword held in a Mid-guard position. "You are the calm eye of the storm as your opponents rage around you..." his friend and teacher's voice, Cylus, came into his head. "Let their power work for you..."

"You can't avoid me forever!" The slaver yelled at Melvus as he swung his sword at Melvus' right side.

The wizard brought his sword up and swept his opponent's away then returned to a guard position. "Why do you torment this town?" Melvus asked the slaver, his expression not changing as he ducked, avoided, and blocked.

"Do you know what profit is boy? I do it for the fuckin' gold! Now have at me dammit! I want to see what you're made of!" He stabbed at Melvus' center.

The wizard swept the sword away, using the sweep to power his own attack. He brought his sword around and cut into the man's right leg. Nothing major, it would hinder his movements but the battle wasn't decided yet. "You see the world in such simple terms as power and profit... I envy your ignorance."

"Dammit!" The slaver yelled out of frustration. He reached into his pocket and pulled a scroll out. "Let's see how you handle this!"

A magic scroll... Can't allow him to use it... Melvus became invisible. I can only keep this up for a moment... He could tell he was weak... his spell wouldn't last as long as it usually would. He ran forward.

"Where?" Is what the man said as a wizard materialized in front of his, grabbing the scroll from his hands. His first reaction was, stab. And that's just what he did.

As Melvus took a sword in his gut he remembered what Cylus had told him many times, "Do not rush your opponent without a plan... They have a weapon and will not hesitate... Melvus silently cursed himself as he reached forward, grabbing the slaver's sword he pulled it toward him, he could feel the point against his back, not yet piercing him, but it pushed against his skin, threatening to break through.

"Gods!" The slaver yelled as he let go at the sight of the man pulling the sword into himself more, blood pouring into the ground. He looked as though he would hurl. The wizard winced at the pain. I have him...

From Melvus' hand shot a larger, glowing hand which grabbed the man and brought him closer to Melvus. "Pain means nothing to me... I have suffered a thousand deaths before you have met your on-" The slaver spat on Melvus' as he spoke. "And I will suffer more after your own death." With that the wizard ran his through, several times until the man's screaming died down and his eyes rolled back and his head hung, limp.

==============

Melvus was grateful for the food, he couldn't seem to speak as he ate. Afterward he made his way to the room, provided by the inn. He had given his cloak over to a wash lady to be cleaned of all of the blood spilled on it. Hopefully the smell would, be gone, but he couldn't get everything. He fell asleep almost immediately as his head touched the pillow. Nearly two days without sped cent sleep will do that.

---

As the party returned to the village, Drizzak found himself thinking rather introspectively. In the past day he had spilled so much blood, and for the first time he felt that it was not necessary. Sure, he may have enjoyed it, but there was difference between needing slaughter and wanting it. He was a good goblin, or so he thought of himself. No one had really told him besides himself. A good fighter, yes. A good ally, yes. Even a good cook once. He had cooked bone and onion soup. It was delicious. But still, he was not told if he were actually doing good.

He needed to find out, he had decided. After the disagreement with the dispatching of the slavers in the village and his duel with Xilipha, Drizzak was left with a strangely bitter taste in his mouth. He needed something more. Something more than just killing to kill. He needed a reason to do what he did so well. He departed from the rest of the party and began to seek his target, looking left and right as he limped around in search of Sister Agnes. When he left for the slaver's camp, he was to bring her back the finest warrior's hands as a trophy, but now he could barely even think of defiling Xilipha's corpse in such a way. He did not want to be a butcher without remorse or reason. He wanted to be hailed as a hero, to be revered and ascend beyond the common goblin. He felt a need to protect the weak.

Among the gathered masses is where Drizzak found Sister Agnes, tending to the weak and weary. He wasted no time in advancing and attempting to grab her attentions, interested only in furthering his goals. He pushed his way through the crowds, now that the slaves were safe and his companions were tending to both themselves and those weaker. With a tug on her skirt, Drizzak spoke directly to Sister Agnes.

"Lady Eggness tell Drizzak how to be big good guardian. Tell Drizzak how to be goodest. Drizzak want prove he good goblin."

As he stared up at her with those large eyes, the glints of gold in his wounds shone in the light. Like little jewels beneath his skin.

@Afina

The Village

Sister Agnes let out a sigh of relief as Fiona grabbed ahold of Hugh and let him know that Sana was alright and that she would be back later on. The news was a large weight lifted off her shoulders for the thought of losing just one while helping the village and the former slaves made her queasy to her stomach. Taking a long calming breath she kept tending to those that needed her help. As Fiona asked about what had happened she pulled her aside, not wanting to worry the captives that already had been through enough. She explained about the battle that had occurred while she was gone, letting her know that a few had been taken captive and would be dealt with in the morning along with informing her that everyone was okay and either eating in the inn, helping around the village or asleep at this time recovering from the battle.

Going back over to the new additions to the village she did what she could until she felt a pull on her robes and looked down to see the little goblin that Sana had referred to as Drizzak. He looked slightly different to her in some ways. She could tell he had been injured in places but it wasn’t scars that made it look like he had but where wounds may have should been where now golden as if they had repaired themselves in some exotic fashion. Kneeling down at his words she looked into his eyes and gave him a soft and genial smile with a quick nod. Seeing his change in demeanor and his profession of wanting to be good she started to put two and two together and had a rough idea to why the change could be occurring. She dared not say anything because if she was wrong it could be heartbreaking and if she was right it could be overwhelming.

Instead she took his clawed hand in hers as she would a child and gave it a soft pat as she righted herself before leading him to the apothecary where they could talk alone. Wylsen was busy with the new villagers so she knew they would have some time. Walking into the shop she closed the door behind them and motioned over towards a stool that Drizzak could sit down on. With all the blood and death that surrounded the village that day it was wonderful for her to see some good come out of it. Not only the freeing the villagers of the horrible darkness that had been placed over the town by the slaver but the freedom of the captives and now one that wanted to be better than he felt he was.

“You wanting to prove you are a good goblin already tells me that you are,” she said in a kind voice to Drizzak as she stood before him. “To be a good guardian one must weigh if death is truly needed and only harm when needed. Even the great paladins of the past had to defend themselves and those they cared about, even killing. But death is a part of life; it comes to all in one form or another. It is measuring if death is truly needed and to what extent. Death, while sometimes needed does not always have to be brutal,” she said as she looked out the window. “Today some deaths were needed to save the greater good, though some deaths needed not be as vicious,” she said before looking back towards him.

“To walk a path towards the light, at first one must walk away from the darkness of the past,” she said in a gentle voice as she pulled out her prayer beads. She had not granted atonement in a very long time but it was not something she was unfamiliar with. Taking the beads she placed them in Drizzaks hand and gave him a soft smile, resting her hand over his and the beads before she began to pray. As she did a holy light came from her palm and slowly enveloped them, a cleansing light to bring his soul into the a righteous state that could perhaps eventually find a lawful existence of good at one point. As the light faced she closed his claws around the beads and nodded.

“What you do now is up to you, your soul has been purified. You have a clean start in life now to choose the path you wish to follow. Where it goes will depend on what decisions you make with the choices that are provided to you,” she said as she stepped back. She took some time to explain to him the difference between good and evil, that it wasn’t so much of the actions one took but the reason behind such actions. She told him this and much more in hopes that he would understand.

“Don’t worry if you falter, we all do at one point in our lives. The biggest challenge you will face in the future is admitting your faults and correcting them,” she said as she stepped back over to the door and opened it, motioning to him that he was free to leave then. “I wish you the best and I look forward to when you and your group return from your task to see how far you have traveled,” she said in a light hearted voice filled with confidence for him. “You already at least have one friend in this group, I am sure there will be many more. Now, go eat and rest. You have earned it little one.”

The Slaver Camp

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” a cold voice echoed through the air and cut through the moment like ice, sending a chill through Sanas spine as the child whimpered in fear. Sana turned her head slowly, the smell of sulfur wafting into her senses as she swallowed hard; her eyes falling on the one that had spoken. A cruel looking man with a face that was scarred beyond recognition beheld the pair; a dark armored knight who felt as if he emanated an evil aura rode atop a beast that was not of this land. The beast was a hound of sorts but that was the size of the draft horse Sana sat upon, with fur the color of rust and blood. Its teeth and mouth the color of coal and its eyes shown in the late day sky like two balls of fire; drawing a large dark blade Sana had a flash of tales from so long ago, tales of the dark one that would roam the night steeling children from their bed and hunted down the purest of them all. Before Sana rode a man that was anything but a Holy Warrior on his mount of a Hell Hound.

Even at her best Sana knew she stood no hope of survival against the foe before her, it would take all that stood to have a chance but could she reach them in time? Could the old steed out run this beast and get them to safety? She had to try.

“Hold on tight,” Sana said in a commanding whisper to the little one and the girl clung harder to Sana.

“That child is mine,” the man growled.

“You can’t have her,” Sana spat before driving her heels into Rodgers flanks and the horse took off through the woods. Whoever this man was knew of the child and in the gypsys mind meant he was perhaps the sole cause for all the death and destruction that she was trying to escape from as the flames flickered into the air and the smell of roasted death became fainter. Sana wished she was on Epona, this was something her own horse was built for, speed and agility. Rodger was not but she had to try, it was their only chance. The Hell Hound bayed as Sana sped through the forest, the girl clinging to Sana; trying to remain on the horse. The howl ripped through Sanas ears, it was hollow and empty and the smell of sulfur grew with each step the horse took, the beast closing in quickly.

“Come on Rodger, faster!” Sana screamed as she pushed the horse harder and faster than she ever remembered him moving, then again they had never been together while trying to run for their lives. Sana almost lost the little one a few times but managed to keep her in the saddle with her as they drove towards the village at a breakneck pace. She could not slow down; she refused to lose one more soul to this evil. So many had already been lost; how many she may never know but in her arms clung an innocent and she would save this one from his clutches no matter the cost. A quick turn in a different direction and they were able to shake the monster that was nipping at Rodgers heels and make a break for it on the straight away towards the village; it coming into view quickly. Sana just hoped that once she reached the small town they would be ready to help. She did not know what had happened to those that had been with her on their way back to the village nor what had happened to Hugh and the rest that had stayed behind but there was nowhere else to go, no place else to turn. They would have to push forward to save this last one.

“To arms!” Sana screamed as she saw the village, screaming it over and over again. She didn’t pay attention to any that may have been in the streets, she just keep pushing Rodger further into the village until they reached the inn and she leapt off with the child in her arms; tucking and rolling into the dirt as she did and coming up to her feet. She didn’t stop and kept running, clinging to the child protectively as she ran towards the entrance of the Inn. “Run Rodger!” she screamed at the horse and he took off towards the other end of town as Sana ran inside. Pushing passed any that may have been in her way and weaving through the inn.

The foe was not far behind Sana but slowed his pace as he came to the edge of town and nearly trotted his beast into the village, a look of fury coming over his features. He was livid that he had been outrun by a woman and child on a mere horse. He was out for blood and he would have it. Sister Agnes and Wylsen came out as they head the cries of Sana echoing through the night, looking on in horror as their eyes fell onto the man that chased Sana into the village and the monster he rode.

“What in gods name is that?” Wylsen muttered as Sister Agnes gripped his shoulder, her fingers trembling.

“That is nothing of Gods making….” she managed to say as she looked on the pair that trotted into town. “You know that,” she added as she looked over to the apothecary, fear in her eyes. Wylsen nodded, he knew it wasn’t. In a distant past he had run across such beings and he just had hoped that his old eyes were playing tricks on him.

“Bring me the child!” the demonic voice demanded as he brought the beast to a stop near the inn. It would be evident to all what he was and what he rode. The man did not hide what he was in any sense of the word. Sana ran up the stairs, taking them two at a time and kicked a random door to a room open before darting inside and prying the child off her.

“Hide,” Sana said as she set the childs feet on the ground.

“Don’t go,” the little one pleaded as she tried to cling to Sana but Sana held her back.

“I have to, you have to hide,” Sana whispered as she brushed her hair out of the childs face and kissed her forehead. “I’ll be back, I promise,” she said quickly. The child did not like it but stopped trying to cling to Sana as Sana pulled the lace of her cloak and handed it to her. “Hide, don’t come out no matter what until you hear me,” Sana said quickly as she ran back out the door and the child went to find a hiding spot. Sana unslung her bow from her back; leaping down from the second floor to the first. Her face was not angry or vengeful; it was the look of a mother protecting a child. Sana was no parent but she had found the child and was the closest thing she had to one right now.

“Bring me that child!” the man bellowed once more from outside of the inn. Sana nocked a silver arrow into place as she stepped slowly outside of the inn, back towards the street, and aimed towards the evil being trying to take the little one back into his custody.

“Over my dead body,” Sana hissed; she was in no condition to fight but so few were right then. Her clothing was singed, torn and tattered from the battles of the day. Her exposed skin had been burnt; blisters and raw flesh exposed to the night air as her arms trembled to just hold the bow string drawn back. Blood caked to her face from the gash in her cheek, it coating her shoulder where the dog had ripped into it and her legs marred from the same jaws. It didn’t matter, nothing else did in her mind right then. Sana stood there unwavering in her determination that he would not lay a finger on the child that was now hiding.

“So be it,” he retorted as he drove his heels into the beasts flanks he rode and charged Sana; a dark blade drawn to strike her down. His face looking as corrupted as his soul and looking as much as a demon as the very hell hound he rode. Sanas lips parted but she did not move even as he charged her like a bat out of hell; a slow calculated breath escaping her mouth as her fingers let loose the arrow and it shot forward, whistling through the air and cutting into the flesh of the hounds shoulder. It drove deep, the silver cutting into the meat and lodging into the bone but the beast kept charging.

Sana had held her ground until the last possible second, removing any chance of leaping out of the way but the arrow hitting had helped and thrown the man off balance as the hell hound stumbled in its attack. Instead of his sword tearing through her flesh his arm came pummeling across her chest and sent her flying through the air from the front of the inn, across the street and slamming back against the post of the apothecary on the other side of the wide road. Sanas bow soaring from her fingers and to the wooded porch in front of the general store as her body crumpled into a heap on the ground. The man pulling back on the reins and the beast coming up on its hind legs as is spun before its paws came back down and dug into the ground, ready to attack again.

Sister Agnes screaming out as she watched Sanas form take the hit and rushing to her side, pulling her into a seated position as she looked over to her. Wylsen kneeling down next to the two and trying to open the archers eyes that were now closed to see if she would respond; pulling her lids up carefully. Sanas eyes fluttered slightly signaling she was still alive but not by much, her eyes rolling into the back of her head. The blow and subsequent crash into the post had crushed her chest and shattered her bones.

“She’s alive… barely,” Wylsen said quickly and Sister Agnes nodded. The nun had used most of her healing earlier in the day trying to help the others after the previous fights and tending to those that had returned to the village. She was not sure she had enough left to save Sana but if ever divine grace was needed, it was needed now in their darkest hour as the moon peaked through the clouds from above. Wylsen looked over to his old friend as if to plead her to at least try and the sister understood, moving slightly as Wylsen pulled Sana over him to and rested her down on the ground fully; Sister Agnes resting down on her knees and leaning over the nearly lifeless body of Sana, saying a quick prayer for the strength that would be needed as she began to heal the injured archer. The nun just hoped she had enough in her left to so what was needed.

Carefully read through the OOC post before posting!!!

Vaeri awoke to the sudden shout to come to arms. Her body felt a bit torn and sore from the battles earlier today, her arm wounds now crusted over with ugly scabs. Well, she figured looks like I will have two more scars to bear. Vaeri had had several hours of sleep, enough so that she was probably in the best condition she had been in today since she first arrived in the village. From the noise outside she could tell that something was wrong. Some foul being wanting a child. And it was strong. The cleric removed her cloak and cast it aside. She withdrew her weapons from her bag. Across her back was the bow and in her hands, her powerful axe. The last item she pulled from her bag on the floor was the Scroll of Protection from Evil. It was soon than Vaeri expected to need it, but no use being stingy in battle.

She read the scroll out aloud and allowed its magics to infuse her before tossing it onto the ground. Silently, the elf stepped over her bag on the floor and looked out the window at the unholy warrior, grinning from ear to ear. Vaeri took a few slow steps back before leaping out the window, landing in a crouched position on the street below.

"Felling a beast such as yourself would greatly please my lady, and I would be doing the world a favor." Vaeri stood to face her opponents, at the moment alone, the recklessness of her actions not registering in her head.

Whatever that potion was, it was working. Tobias was feeling positively recovered after his nap under the table, and was helping himself to a hearty plate of on-the-house stew (being a hero had perks - he got it free and didn't have to steal anything). The jovial expression was returning to his face as he eyed a group of local girls, trying to find exactly the right words to tell the tale of his earlier heroism. Indeed, it seemed the worst was behind him, at least for today.

That was when the heard the hoofbeats pounding. You have to be fucking kidding me.

Sana burst into the room, carrying something precious - the rogue caught a glimpse of blonde hair and saw that it was a child. She ran up the stairs and back down almost as quickly, and that was when Tobias heard it.

It was like nails on a chalkboard - it hurt just to listen to. "Give me the child!"

A child. Tobias could let men, women, dogs, cats, horses, dwarves, elves, orcs, and halflings die without guilt. Why was it always children?

Tobias was out the door just in time to see Sana crash to the ground. It was out there, massive, riding some sort of demon-dog. If the rogue hadn't been so dehydrated, he was sure he would have peed.

The elf crashed out the window and faced the monster without fear, an actual smile on her face. For his part, the rogue stepped forward, a dagger in each trembling hand. His throat was dry, but he managed to choke out a statement. "Y... y... you're not getting any kids. Not while I'm here."