100 B.C. (Before Cataclysm)

The world is prosperous, people are living in peace. The world hadn’t seen a war for the past hundred years after their new seemingly-immortal king took the throne. Cities grew bigger, families doubled in numbers, farms produced triple their yearly production. The seas were filled with boats bringing in fish that had grown in size apparently over night. The world finally seemed perfect, a heaven on earth; An Eden brought upon them by the mighty gods themselves. Little did they know that their king had chosen quite the dark path to make this all happen. Now keep in mind, the king wasn’t a bad man. He was an older gentleman, looking as if he was in his late fifties, a dedicated and humble servant of his people. He listened to their needs, and he loved each and every one of them with all his heart. He had even taken it upon himself to learn most of the names of the people living in his home city; Veiron. But when his dark past came to haunt him on the tenth hour of his hundredth year, everything was plunged into a darkness that would never seem to rise. The Demons broke free from their seal in his soul, and used it as passage into the crumbling Capital. The Demons, being greedy fiends, had taken the King’s soul fifty years ahead of time. Maybe it was because he sold his soul that they were able to see his work, his plans to get rid of the Demons once and for all. Nevertheless, they had immediately stopped him. Horrors were loose in the street, rampaging through stores and homes, tearing citizens apart from the inside with an insanity and hunger nobody had ever seen in their lifetime. The King laid burnt to a crisp in his chambers, his mouth open in a silent screech of pure agony, as if he knew everything was lost.

The whole city and it’s surroundings were scorched with unholy fire and even to this day nothing can grow there. Amongst the lucky few who made it out of the city alive some found that the event had marked them for life. A birthmark they’d never seen before, perhaps a scar, maybe their eyes changed color, or their skin turned black. Some of these people tried to hide their markings and did whatever they could to live on as if nothing had happened. Some embraced them, claiming that the mark would forever remind them of Veiron, and what the demons did there.

The immortal king’s last order was to form a new kind of army. The warriors, a band of highly trained and skilled fighters. Soon after Veiron fell a group of strong fighters took the name and now roam free, claiming to follow the last wish of the king. They care little for the lives of the innocent, their only goal is to exterminate the demons that terrorize the land. They are the only ones known to have killed a demon.

20 A.V. (After Veiron)

It’s been twenty years since the great Capital Veiron fell to the combined forces of Orcs and Demons. Humans, Elves and Beastmen live in fear, never knowing when or where the monsters will strike next. The Warriors, elite defenders - or so they say - of the once prosperous land have now taken matters into their own hands. They have erected a great fortress in Farest, from there they command their legions to battle the hellspawn and their mortal puppets.
The citizens of the kingdom has had enough. Bands of mercenaries and vigilantes have sprung forth. They try to fight the demons, win the support of the commoners and bring back the once great kingdom. Some even spread rumors of a previously unknown heir to the throne. Their forces clash with The Warriors’, both believe that they alone are capable of pushing back the evil that is running amok.
This story will follow a select few brave men and women who somehow survived the fall of Veiron. Since then they have scattered all over the old kingdom, taken different paths in life. But they are all connected by the marks that the great siege put on their bodies and the traumatic experience they all share. The threads of fate are still being woven as you read this. But the motif is unclear, the seers of the future and fortune cannot tell us anything. We have to write our own story.

This is the IC for Mark of the Demon. If you’re here, you’ve already been chosen to help this story progress, and there is no further information needed. It’s purely up to the player what happens next. We just ask that you’re polite, post regularly, and keep your mind open and flexible for what is to come!

Enjoy! - Vladhimir, Halvtand

Drip... Drip... Drip...
Beads of rain raced each other down the angled tiles of the stone cottage's roof, falling to splatter against the waiting ground below. A door opened with a quiet creek, a man walking out of the house. He took a step out, inhaling then letting out a light sigh, taking in the smell of the fresh rain that had only ended minutes ago. He looked out over the garden that lay before him, mossy paving stones making his path through the lush plants that seemed to grow in any place not already taken up. His eyes wandered over the plants, resting on the pond in the short-walled yard. He walked over to it, crouching down to run a finger along the petal of a water lily floating on the surface of the pond. A butterfly flitted by, stopping to rest on a flower for only a moment before taking flight again. Bees buzzed as they flew around, collecting their precious nectar from the flowers of the plants.

'So much for the evil, dark, satanic lair of a witch,' Urisk thought, turning around and going to close the door to his cottage behind him, locking it with the key he kept in the hidden pocket inside his sleeve. He turned again, then walked along the stones until he reached a stone structure in the center of the garden, hidden by overhead willow trees, their long fronds trailing down to the ground. It was a stone table, about four feet long and two feet wide. It had strange runes and glyphs etched into the sides in a language of which most speakers had ceased to exist. It was adorned with a red cloth, draped over the top of it, a candelabra on top of that, complete with five black candles. A silver chalice sat on the altar as well, off to the side and filled with pure spring water. A pentacle had been embroidered into the cloth on the altar, marking it as a focal point for the magic performed there. The altar stored the magical energy created by the garden, nature's essence fueling the spells he performed.

The inhabitation was an overall peaceful and beautiful place, very tranquil. He sat down on the altar, closing his eyes. He thought about what he was doing here, questioning why he had even chose to try to restart his life. He'd been having more doubts about things recently, like if he could ever live a normal life again, not that it was incredibly normal in the first place. He'd been trying for over a month now to even identify the demon that had killed his aunt, but he'd had no luck. Maybe he should just give up on everything involving that. His tongue ran along his pointed teeth. No, that wasn't an option. Not with this permanent reminder of what had happened. If he gave up then it would become a permanent reminder of his failure too.

A sudden shuffling of leaves snapped him out of his thoughts. He stood up, taking the chalice and candelabra off of the altar and swiftly covering up the pentacle-adorned cloth with a larger white cloth that lay beside the structure. The sound was more than likely just an animal, but he wanted to take no chances of anybody discovering what he was. He walked out from the willows, going to get his watering can. He picked it up just as he saw a figure out of the corner of his eye. He quickly turned to look, but it vanished in an instant. He was worried now that somebody, or something, was watching him. He dropped the can and walked swiftly toward his door, the key sliding from his sleeve into his hand. As he fumbled in his nervousness to unlock the door, he heard a thud behind him, like the sound of something landing on the ground. He turned around, afraid of what he might see. He knew that if they were so inclined to stay out of his sight until now, it wasn't somebody he was acquainted with.

Once a beautiful mansion, now just charred ruins, burning eternally from the demonic fire. Nianxi wasn't even sure why she came back here. The remains of Serilya mansion didn't really do much for her morale, and a chance that any books survived were slim, and the books that she needed - even slimmer. She had a few other mercs escort her, promising them anything else they find valuable in the mansion. It pained her to let lowlifes loot her former home, but it was too dangerous for her to go alone. Even though it was the outskirs of the city, some demons roamed here too, and at her current state she could barely take on an imp, the most pitiful and weak of the demons. Nianxi knew that she was missing something - she knew of the swords feat, and yet, it is as if it was hiding it's power from her. She saw her father cutting through thick sheets of steel with ease using Serilya, as well as amazing healing abilities. Her Serilya wasn't much better than a regular sword, with pathetic healing capabilities. That's why she came, to find something about Serilya, some kind of information about it, to unleash it's true potential.

Fortunately, the mansion wasn't looted, however it was barely holding apart, and a lot of rooms were destroyed. Fortunately, library was not, seeing as it was in the basement. While the mercenary escorts shouted with glee, looting all the expensive things they saw, rummaging through the rubble. She was never a fan of reading, so navigating the library which spanned nearly through all the underground space below her mansion was an issue. The mercs were too busy stuffing their bags with all they can find to interrupt Nianxi. "Nothing more than savages. Where will they even use all that gold and silver.." she thought to herself. Eventually, after hours of search, she found several books, though they were written in an unknown language, seemingly ancient. Their titles were written in the common language however: "The Legend of the Six" and "The Crimson Blade". Hopefully, out of all the rabble in the mercenary camp, there were a few "exotic" people who haven't left yet. As she started to head out, she heard screams of the mercs above. Moments after, incomprehensible pain came over all of her body, forcing her to the ground. But then, something curious, and quite frightening happened.

Nianxi felt as if all her senses were dampened, control of her body slowly fading away. The agony also slowly fading away. And then, her body started moving on it's own, as she has lost all control. From above, she could hear a voice that can only be described as demonic, it was a simple "WHAT?!. Her body, still carrying those books in hand, left the basement library. Above, Nianxi saw the mercs lying near a humanoid figure, reeling in pain. In front of her stood a pale, humanoid figure.


"Now, what are you? At first I sensed four humans her, but as soon as I gave your mind a few love taps, you turned into a demon. Well, aside from the looks. Is this some kind of new infiltration trick? the demon asked. To Nianxi's horror, her body started talking on it's own: "Indeed, what's a better way to gain their trust and infiltrate them from within? I can get all information I need, and end them all if it's required. And as such, it would be nice if left them more or less sane and alive, it would draw a little bit less suspicion. The demon approached her, walked around her, observing her features: "You could fool even me, you look, and smell like a true human, and even can disguise your own soul as human! Though you should show some manners, I am a Demon Lord after all. But since I am not that well known, you're forgiven. Let us introduce ourselves - I am Demon Lord Menos. "I am.... Xiandra." Nianxi was horrified. She was in no control of her body, and whatever was in control, was a demon, which called itself Xiandra. Nice to meet you, Xiandra. Now, since it seems you even deceived me, I'll leave you to your business. And here I thought I'll get to play with a few humans. Oh well. After taking one last look around. Menos snapped his fingers and disappeared. Moreover, the mercs were released of the torture spell, though still unconscious. "You will thank me later, Nianxi. We will have time for questions later. For now, tell those broken sods on the ground that you hid from the demon, and that he left when he didn't find what he wanted after they wake up. And don't worry, I lied to Menos. Was that Xiandra talking to Nianxi? Either way, Nianxi felt her senses return, as well as control, though in the back of her head, the voice of Xiandra persisted. "Don't you worry, you and I, are one, so are our goals. You may be scared of me now, but I am sure we will become the best of friends. After all, I am your repressed, demonified side of personality! Hahaha.

After the mercs woke up, they surprisingly believed the story, after all, for a demon lord, regular humans are mere insects, and it couldn't be bothered with squashing a few lowly mercs. After picking up all their bags, and Nianxi taking her books, they head back to the camp. Now more than ever, Nianxi needed answers, about her sword, about her family, and about her "other self".

Rinic woke up. His first though, This is it. Today we go to battle. Rini stood up and faced himself in the mirror, his black eyes shimmering in the weak grey light that shown through his window. Today was another chance to save more lives, and that's what Rinic did. He moved over to his closet, pulling out a clean undershirt, then pants. He then moved to the second closet in his well kept, yet humble two room cabin. He opened the furnished pine doors, carefully crafted by himself and looked at his armor. It was nothing spectacular, just his Mage mail and diamond brigade guantlets. But, he cared for them every night, regardless of whether or not they had been used. He donned these as well. After donning these items he picked up the Machiavellian sword, which lay besides a copy of Machiavelli's A Book For a Prince. This book outlined how to be a good and proper leader for a high ranking member of society. It was Rinic's favorite piece of literature. He flipped through the pages, as was customary for himself before a coming battle against the rath of hell. Even if it was a minor one. He closed the book and placed it back where it was, diverting his attention to his blade. It shined as he unsheathed it, but he retrieved his oils and grinding stone regardless. He took the stone and moved it up and down both sides of his blade, applying pressure as he did so, thus sharpening his blade to the point of cutting rock as if it were butter. He then took his oils and poured them onto a cloth, which he carefully moved up and down the blade, making it shimmer with each deft flick of his wrist that he pulled. He sheathed it and took a look around his house, it was not much, nor where the homesteads of any other mercenary in his company, considering the price for protection was quite low, but it was the home he had built through honest work.

He stepped outside and moved along the other houses in his village of warriors knocking on the doors of each home to arouse them from their slumber in order to prepare for battle. He knew they were already up, some of them probably couldn't sleep. Today was going to be one of their more difficult battles considering it was a mid level demon so chances are some people would die, but none the less, they were going to save the people of a small village a few kilometers out. These were good me , intent on making the world a better place no matter how they themselves lived. It would be an honor to fight along side them, and if it came to that, to die along side them.

"Mahtan...how long have you known?"

These words echoed in the Northern Elves' brain as he stared blankly into the puddle at his feet, his ice cold eyes unblinking in the dying rain. A small wind was rolling past, causing his silver hair to accompany it as far as it's length would allow. A bloodied war axe hung loosely at his side, his fair hands grasping the hilt until the knuckles were bone white. The blue of the puddle soon starting to darken as droplets of blood from the axe began tainting it's water, almost as if the very light were being eaten away. To his left, a large forest containing many old trees; trees that were older than Mahtan himself. At his right, the crumpled bodies of a dozen bandits, pools of blood beginning to form underneath their lifeless corpses. It's not like he had wanted his blade to devour their life force....Or did he? Either way, Mahtan considered it an act of self defense, and wouldn't let the act weigh on his conscience for very long. He could feel that dark passenger beginning to tug at the far reaches of his psyche, almost as if it was a child pulling on it's mothers dress and asking to play. So innocent, so gentle. The road on which Mahtan was standing contained another living being, another Elf. This one from the Northern Reach as well, as one could see from her attire and hair color. What seemed like many ages ago she had asked Mahtan a question relating to something that was long forgotten. Something that he no longer wanted to remember, but this issue was indeed present at this point in time, and it's holder was demanding an answer. Once more the fair voice broke the silence, it's gray eyes slowly making their way down to the Dwarven Axe in Mahtan's hand. Below the eyes a pair of thin lips, the color of Blood Roses, a pink tongue protruding through the gap and slowly running over their surface as it admired the quickly drying blood.

"Mahtan...my friend. How long have you known?"

This time, it was Mahtan's own cracked voice that came in return. His eyes lifted from the blood droplets dissipating in the puddle, and arrived at the Ranger's cold face.

"I knew about your presence from the moment I left Veiron. Only...There is something different about you, Arya. You are not the person I once knew. There is something I can see consuming your inner self. This is not the being sung from it's mother's womb in the cold lands of the Reach. You...You are something else, beast. Name yourself."

Arya seemed like a dog, the way she cocked her head to the side, her dead eyes staring into the very depths of Mahtan's soul. If Arya was indeed alive and inside the shell of a body standing before him, she had no control over herself. It's not like it was very hard to figure out, either. Elves have a certain bond, a certain purity about them that can only be sensed by other Non-Human beings. It's almost as if they're all related in some horrid way. Mahtan slowly took a long step forward, his emerald tinted eyes shining ever so slightly in the light. There was something off about them now, something dark. The veins were a darker color than they were a second ago, and the being inside Arya quickly realized that it could no longer hide. Arya's voice raised in pitch and adopted a sarcastic tone, her slim figure moving in such a way that looked almost fluid-like in nature.

"Mahtan...Prince of Ice...Heir to the Crown of the Reach. It's suuuch an honor to meet someone of your stature. Oh, wait." Arya stopped to giggle mid-sentence, a hand put across her lips in a childish and mocking manner; "I had almost forgotten, your highness, you were thrown from the Reach, weren't you? Oh...that must have been such a hard day for you. Seeing your friend butchered...butchering the Rangers sent to keep an eye on your movements. I wonder what it was like for you without your dark passenger at that point in time. Little Mahtan all alone in the world of Man, blood on his hands within the first day he stepped foot inside it's borders. Your Parents would be so disappointed..."

Once more, Arya cut off her drawn out sentence with a giggle, only this time it evolved into a frightening laugh. Mahtan sheathed his war axe and drew his Elven blade, the whiteness of the song-forged steel matching his skin color.

"Well, nameless Demon, I supposed we should get on with this. I grow tired of listening to you speak. As for Arya, I do not care for her life, as I'm sure you've consumed her being by now. What's left of her is a dead shell that you're using as a suit to get into the walls of Man. What happened with Veiron, were you not able to hold it for very long?"

As he spoke, Mahtan slowly trudged forward, his iron plated leather boots causing deep prints to follow. When he was within attacking distance of Arya's possessor, he raised his weapon and placed it at her lips. His heart pounded deep inside his chest as he stared into the lifeless eyes of his old love, it's rhythm seeming to drown out all other noise. Mahtan's green eyes stared blankly into Arya's, and the corners of his mouth twitched violently as the blackness tainted his iris', but not fully. It was at this point that he put all of his strength into a thrust, and his vision faded.

20 years, 20 long years…
He had been 16, young and in love with a beautiful girl. Next in line to his fathers noble title, money, fame, privileges. He’d lived the life peasants told fairy tale endings about, he’d enjoyed it, and he’d taken it for granted. THEY had changed all that. THEY had taken it all away, all in one day. He’d lost his family, his friends, his heritage, his money, his love… All in one day.

“That’s why I drink in the morning…”
The man in the other chair was young, pretty, but inexperienced. He was dressed in light armor that should’ve been smelted down years ago. He had a sword and a small shield by his belt, a buckler, and a rapier. A young nobleman’s weapon, only useable while you were still young enough to have reflexes.
Seth of Valeria raised his glass and emptied it of its bitter content. He shrugged, it tasted awful, but it would ease his suffering, at least for a while.
“I never actually asked…” The careful young man started, but was interrupted.
“I’d give anything to go back. By the gods, just to see her again… I have forgotten her smell, the scholars say that we never forget a smell, but I cannot recall which scent her hair carried.” He sighed and looked deep into the empty glass.
“All because of those bastards, first the Orcs, and if they weren’t bad enough they brought the demons with them, bloody imps, barely enough to be called demons, but still…”
“You know, the king…”
“I KNOW THE KING!” The nobleman had risen from his seat before he’d realised that he was yelling. He no longer held the glass and a crash by the end of the table told him where it had gone. The tavern was still, quiet, everyone was looking at the well-dressed man with the big sword, wondering if he was going to start a fight, wondering if he knew what kind of man he was sitting across. Seth too fell silent, he didn’t mean to yell, normally he would never raise his voice even in anger, but the drink…
The young man sat still, he hadn’t moved an inch. Even when people at the other end of the room had put one hand on their weapon he had remained composed, not even spilling the contents of his spoon.
“I mean… I knew the king…” Seth of Valeria said, he tried to appear calm, but his sudden outburst had surprised and shocked him. He tried to speak softly and silently, but his voice was shaking.
“I knew him, met him a few times. I know what he did… How such a man could look me straight in the eyes and tell me he loved me… He was like that. Loving, caring. All the knights and nobles wrote poems and songs, they praised each other and tried to sound like they loved each other deeply, but he spoke the words as casually as a farmer’s daughter on her wedding night. And he called the demons down upon us and didn’t have the guts to warn anyone.” Seth of Valeria sat down, he tried to hide his anger, but it could not be done. His lips vibrated, he had to force his fingers straight so they wouldn’t make fists out of his hands.
“Not as simple as that, if I heard right.” Said the boy. “I heard he tried to kill the demons domain.”
“Some say that…” Seth agreed. “some say he tried to become a demon lord and rule both lands with an iron fist… Don’t believe everything you hear, boy.”

A few hours later the two men were out walking. It was a sunny day, warm. The alcohol had lost its bite and Seth of Valeria could fully enjoy the breeze. the man beside him had introduced himself as Keattil. He was the son of a merchant and a survivor of the great siege of veiron just like Seth, that was why they talked in the first place.
“It’s a shame.” Said Keatill after a moment of silence. “Even in the middle of the day, like now, with the sun shining, we can’t relax. All it takes is an Orc hiding in the bushes over there, or a fight with a bloody outcome further along the road, the bigger the better… And soon a demon pops out of whatever hole they come from.”
“Yes, I have seen it.” Said Seth of Valeria “Working as a mercenary, you get to fight. At first I used to stick around the battlefield. I am not proud of it, but I was poor, and the dead have no need for possessions. My company was attacked by a small demon one day, it simply walked out of the air right behind the lieutenant, cut her head off with its hair. It took all of us to put it down, it laughed and called our struggle futile, said it would be reborn and come back stronger, to hunt us down. We ran away after that, from every field of battle once our enemy was slain. There is a tale of human nature for you, friend. Our spilled blood attracts the biggest threat we have ever witnessed, and yet we continue to fight amongst ourselves.”
Keattil nodded and sighed.
“Not everyone though… You know about the Warriors?”
“Ha! Yes, I have heard of them. They died protecting the corpse of the king at Veiron.”
“Well, I guess that’s also true. I’m talking about the new Warriors, we fight to rid the world of the demons, to protect the world.”
“Not the way I heard it…” Seth of Valeria stopped and looked the boy over once again. “We?”
“Yes, I am an initiate. My task is to find and kill a demon, bring back proof of it and they’ll make me a true Warrior.” Keattls face changed, like he just realised he’d forgotten something. “Speaking of the devil…”

The boy turned around and ran away from Seth of Valeria, one hand on his weapons to keep them from jumping around. Seth came close after, also a hand on his sword. the boy was quick, but not so fast that the nobleman couldn’t follow. The ran into the forest, no path to follow, but Keattil seemed to know exactly where he was going. Then he stopped. An opening in the woods was before him, in it two forms were fighting.
“What?” Keattil asked himself, as if he’d expected something else.
They were elves, that much was clear even to Seth of Valeria. they were locked in deadly battle, one with sword and axe, the other only with a blade. The fight would be over soon, the female clearly had the upper hand and the male was not used to defend himself. The blade bit his body over and over again until he fell, exhausted, unable to move.
“By your blood I shall be reborn… My love.” The female grabbed the man and put her mouth to one of his wounds. Seth of Valeria was disgusted by her, but knew little of elven customs, meanwhile a smile spread across the face of Keattil. “Here we go.”

She tossed his limp body aside like trash and started to laugh, high-pitched, unfitting of her body. She bent over and threw up. A big lump came out, impossibly large for her throat, half the size of a man, and lying in a pool of blood on the ground it seemed to grow every second. The lump turned and no less than five piercing red eyes opened, looking straight at the two men.
“Company… Breakfast…” Said the same high-pitched voice. Seth of Valeria drew his blade and held it between himself and the thing, ready to defend himself. Keattil did nothing.
Arms and legs began to grow out of the thing, not in pairs like a man, but where there was room. Within seconds it had grown to the size of a house, at least a dozen legs and as many arms, its fingers were long and clawed. There was no mouth, but Seth was sure that it would contain a thousand razor sharp teeth.
“Only a lesser one, too bad, I need at least a medium.” Said Keattil and made a move to turn around.
“Wait, that man is still alive, we can not simply leave him here to die!”
“Perhaps you can’t, but I have no business fighting this low-life.”
“The Kings Warriors first duty is to protect the people.”
“And they died, we are after the demons.”
“So slay this one, unless you are a coward.”

Seth of Valeria didn’t give the Warrior any time to reply, he charged the beast with his sword held high. The thing turned and struck out against him with several of its arms and legs. Seth of Valeria was a master swordsman, trained by the finest masters Veiron could offer. He parried the clawed fingers, used his great swords length to his advantage and forced the sharp claws to miss. The legs kicked out towards him, no claws, but lots of force. He jumped, dashed, ducked and ran. Wherever he ended up at least one hellish eye was looking at him, and several clawed hands reached for his body. Laugher reached his ears, but not the high-pitched laugh of the demon. A low hearty chuckle. At the other side of the clearing Keattil was laughing his ass off.
It was only for a fraction of a second, but it was enough. Seth of Valeria let his eyes wander away from the beast, and was punished for it. Several clawed fingers shot out and when Seth finally noticed them it was too late, he could not defend himself. He stood and watched as the claws buried themselves deep into his arms. He dropped the sword, wanted to run but another claw drew blood from his thighs. He fell and did not get up, he couldn’t, his arms and legs would not support him. He was bleeding and in great pain, but wouldn’t die for a long time yet. Worse still, he knew why. Demons liked their food alive.

“Ahahaha, you kill me, you throw that sword around like an infant, did you really believe you could best a demon with that kind of skill?” Seth of Valeria forced his shoulders to work and managed to turn around enough to see Keattil, looking thoroughly amused by the fact that Seth was dying.
“I’ll do you a favor, I’ll show you how it’s done…”

Keattil walked into the clearing, still with a smile on his face and his weapons sheathed. The beast shifted its weight around and somehow appeared to smile as well.
“I see you, demon slayer… You slew Karash, I smell the blood on you. You are marked in death.”
“I see you too demon. You… Beat up these guys, I guess you’re not even strong enough to kill a human. Pathetic.”
Apparently angered by the taunt several clawed hands shot out from the demon’s body. Keattil kept walking. It attacked him, and still he did not draw his weapon. As the claws wred close he simply turned his body sideways and let the claws strike the ground on either side of him. His sword sung as he drew it and severed a finger of the demon. Two grew out.
Keattil moved with a speed and grace that Seth of Valeria had not seen before. No matter how the demon attacked, or where it aimed the Warrior was somewhere else. Even when the claws were about to hit Keattil seemed fully capable of parrying it all with his thin blade.
Only seconds later that thin blade had carved a long gash through the demons body. Black blood sloshed out and settled in piles on the ground. Keattil moved his body again and a leg came loose from the demons body. A quick slash severed an arm.

Keattil made sure Seth and the elf sat somewhat comfortably with their backs against a tree. He looked at their wounds and with some disappointment told them that they would live.
“I saved your lives today, don’t expect me to do it again. Stay away from the demons if you want to live.” then he turned and walked away.

Susanna sat in the bar sipping her drink slowly. She shouldn't be here she knew that all too well but she'd been on her own, not another soul for the last three months she thought she deserved a reward. Who was she kidding. She didn't deserve anything for not killing anyone in the last three months. The wine that they served here was bitter but it let Susanna forget. At least for a time. That was until there was an explosion at the bar.

“I KNOW THE KING!” yelled an energetic man to the high heavens. His drink sliding down the bar and shattering on the end. He appeared to realize that he'd been screaming for he sat down quickly and began talking again in a softer tone. Slowly the normal sounds of the bar which had gone silent returned and Susanna went back her drink.

Do you see the one at the bar, not the screamer but the other one?
"Shut up, I don't want you here." Susanna muttered to herself hoping no one else had heard.
Do you see him?
"Yes I see him now be quiet."
Lilith became annoyed at this. I was once a force to be feared. I killed people in there sleeps, slaughtered whole villages. I will not talked down to by a child.
"You're not that powerful any more Lilith and you don't really have a choice." To keep Lilith from talking about her conquests which was both distracting and nauseating, Susanna turned to the bar. "What about him?"
He's a demon slayer. Well perhaps that is too strong a word. He is more like a demon slayer "in training"
Susanna had a feeling that Lilith had some other word for it in her head but hadn't spoken it to keep Susanna interested.
"What about it?" she asked.
Take a sniff of the air. You can smell it on him."
Susanna sniffed the air and sure enough a strange scent came to her nose. It was like freshly baked bread, and an oak burning stove. Not quite, more like fresh bread when the ingredients have been badly proportioned and a stove that's been filled far beyond capacity. The effect was strangely intoxicating and repulsive at the same time. It brought back the memory of smoke and a room hot like a sauna and and sweat covered bodies pushed together.
"He was one of your lovers? Who was he?"
He was not a major demon, not many have heard of him but he knew how to please a girl. His name was Karash.
The name elected a warm feeling in Susanna and she struggled to push it down. These were Lilith's feelings not hers. She had her own life now and she didn't want anything to do with the beast inside her. At the same time Susanna felt a rage towards this man, this murderer. NO! He was a demon slayer not a killer. Perhaps he didn't care for the host inside but he would not be condemned by her.
Come on girl, it's just a little one. No one would hold it against you. After all you have a demon in your soul. You could get away with it.
By this time the two men had wandered out of the pub and Susanna was relieved. She would not kill today.
You could still catch him. Remember how Karash used to make us feel? Tell me you don't want to see him dead.
Susanna couldn't honestly say that because a bubble of anger at this demon slayer was forming in her chest. She wanted him to pay.
"ENOUGH!" She yelled standing up. The glass in her hand shattered along with eight others all around the bar and three bottles of good wine behind the counter. Susanna looked at everyone in fear.
Now you've done it dearie. You're on your own for this one. Susanna felt Lilith disappear which she was grateful for.

Everyone in the bar was now staring at Susanna and she knew all to painfully why. She had used some of Lilith's demonic energy even by accident. She knew that her eyes, normally a sparkling blue which most would call attractive were now a deep jet black. Susanna heard a shout of "DEMON!" and the whole bar erupted into screams and yells for her head.

Susanna knew trying to explain would be futile so she grabbed her quarter staff and used it to smash the window behind her. Susanna cut her hands climbing out but it didn't matter. She had to run and she did. She ran far from the town till she tripped or more like slipped in a great pool of blood. She landed in an area where the sticky red liquid had turned the ground to mud.

Dearie, go on have a taste. It'll strengthen you. You have no idea the power of elven blood.

Susanna was initially repulsed but she could smell it and it smelled so very good. Like her father's baking on her birthday. She sat up took some in her hands and licked it, smearing blood on her face. It was the sweetest thing she had ever tasted until she realized that someone else was in the clearing, a man, the companion of the demon slayer. The blood turned sour in her mouth like fruit that's gone bad.

Susanna quickly wiped the blood from her face. She knew her eyes were still black and she feared what he would do to her so with great effort she pushed Lilith and her power down further. A gasp of pain escaped her lips. It hurt, badly making Lilith leave forcibly but when she opened her eyes again they were once more a sparkling blue.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry. I'm not a demon I swear just don't hurt me." Susanna pleaded tiredly. For a moment she almost welcomed death but then she remembered that if she died Lilith walked among mortals again. She sat down by a tree waiting for the man's reaction.

He turned around, his eyes widening as he saw what was there. A black-skinned imp stood there, standing no more than four feet tall as it glared up at him, a grim smile on its face. His breath caught in his throat at seeing the creature. Even if it was only an imp, it was still dangerous. Whirling around, Urisk ran inside his house, slamming the door shut behind him in a panic. He looked quickly around for anything that might help him fend off the attacking creature. He didn't have long, the imp was already attacking the door, and it wouldn't hold up very long. He drew out a piece of pure white chalk that seemed to almost glow, taking out a glimmering golden piece after that.

Quickly scrawling on the ground with the golden chalk, he drew out a crescent shaped rune with a smaller symbol inside of it, similar to the greek letter Phi. Tossing the golden chalk onto a table from where he was, he started scrawling more runes with the white chalk as fast as he could. The imp continued to smash at the door, banging at it with its fists and clawing at the wood. The runes each had a meaning, one shaped like a double sided scythe with a slash through it meaning deflection. Another's shape was comparable to an upside down lowercase 'f' in calligraphy, meaning strength. Yet another's was a circle, three lines dividing it into sixths, another circled connecting the lines before they reached the center of the circle, meaning protection.

He jumped up from the crouching position he'd been in, going over to a shelf that housed jars full of herbs for spells. Grabbing a belladonna flower as well as a crushed foxglove blossom, he ran back towards the circle, the door swinging open forcefully, the imp having finally broken its way into the house. It entered the circle of runes just as Urisk threw the reagents into the area. The second they touched down in the circle, he yelled out a single word, activating the spell.
"Incarcero!"
A white light flared out from the circle, the runes glowing brightly as power was drained from the altar in the garden to fuel the spell. The imp charged forward at Urisk, being forcefully stopped short as it reached the edge of the circle. It smashed into the spell's wall, a white color flaring up where the imp had made contact with the invisible wall. It cried out in pain as the magic backlashed at it, causing it a good deal of pain. Sighing in relief that he'd been able to finish the spell in time.

Making his way over to a bookshelf that resided in the room, he began searching for a certain tome. He ran his finger across the spines of the books contained there, reading the titles as he went. Finding the book he was looking for, he pulled it from the shelf, opening it up to the index. Finding the page he needed, he flipped to it. He walked over to the imp's prison, glaring at the little monster before he began reciting the exorcism from the book.

"Exorcizamus te, omnis immundus spiritus, omnis satanica potestas, omnis incursio infernalis adversarii, omnis legio, omnis congregatio et secta diabolica

Ergo, draco maledicte et omnis legio diabolica, adjuramus te,
cessa decipere humanas creaturas, eisque æternæ perditionìs venenum propinare
Vade, satana, inventor et magister omnis fallaciæ, hostis humanæ salutis,
Humiliare sub potenti manu Dei, contremisce et effuge, invocato a nobis sancto et terribili Nomini
quem inferi tremunt
Ab insidiis diaboli, libera nos, Domine.

Exorcizamus te, omnis immundus spiritus, omnis satanica potestas, omnis incursio infernalis adversarii, omnis legio, omnis congregatio et secta diabolica

Ergo, draco maledicte et omnis legio diabolica, adjuramus te ... cessa decipere humanas creaturas, eisque æternæ perditionìs venenum propinare

Ut Ecclesiam tuam secura tibi facias libertate servire, te rogamus, audi nos!"

The imp choked on its own breath as he began the chant, then soon collapsed. It cried out in pain, writhing on the ground. Urisk continued, feeling nothing for the suffering of the creature, who's kind had caused so much suffering to humans. To him it was just punishment, which caused him only to continue the ritual with greater conviction. As he neared the end of the exorcism chant, the imp's skin began smoldering as it was forced back to hell, the demon combusting completely as it suddenly vanished, gone from this world forever. The strength of that particular exorcism meant that thing wouldn't be getting back onto earth any time within the next thousand years at minimum.

Left tired by the entire ordeal, he went back out into the garden, not bothering to clean up the smoldering ash on the ground that reeked of sulphur. He walked to his altar, sitting down on it and looking up into the branches of the willows, wondering why the imp had come after him. The answer was obvious he knew. He was marked, he would never live a normal life, he couldn't escape his past. He'd managed to avoid it until now, but the imp showing up said to him that it was coming back after him now. Now seemed to be the time, as he had heard about the demons being particularly active in their slaughter lately. He walked back inside the house to get prepared to leave. He didn't know where he was going, but he knew what he had to do. He was going to bring to fruition his plan to kill the demon that had murdered his aunt.

A few hours after first light of day, Rinic and his men were gathered around a large campfire, all thirty of them knowing what they were about to face. For some it was almost certain death. The only ones who really stood a chance were the mages, but it was dangerous, even for them. Sometimes they wondered I being payed so low was worth the amount of harm that could come to them, but it was to better the world and rid it of the retched creatures of hell. So, they would persevere throughout the fire and wrath of hell until they fell into death's embrace. However, this did not mean all were not afraid of the foe they would face. Rinic shook in his boots, only just hiding his terror in facing a moderate demon of hell. He stood up and drew his sword, thinking Sword, allow me to lead these men, let me inspire them, excite them, protect them from fear and doubt. Allow me to pierce through the cloud of the mind's horror and give me the strength of speech!

"Men! We all know what we are about to face and why we're facing it. Today, we kill a demon! As your leader I would like to say it will be an honor to die in battle, however it would be more of an honor to LIVE THROUGH battle with you! Too long, this demon has oppressed these innocent people, struggling to make a living in this cruel and unforgiving world, and this demon has made it even worse for them. Now tell me, will we allow that?"
A resounding cry echoed from the group of men, "No!"
"That is correct, my brothers in arms! We shall charge into battle and slay this monster, demon, devil, conceived of the bleakest womb with the holy light of righteousness! God is with us today, I feel his presence, do you? Even if you cannot feel it, know that he is with us! Let us take this demon back to its wretched birth play and bring up another step towards freedom!"
Thirty voices cried out, calling for victory. Thirty voices sought to bring down oppression. These thirty voices were truly righteous.
"Now my brethren, we must discuss tactics." Rinic payed down a map containing a sketch of the village, including the location of the demon that they would face.
"Here is the location of the demon, the entrance to the cave is well forgeries and guarded by an excess of fifty five oarcs. However, we have the advantage of surprise and magic. The oarcs have neither of these, but they have excellent night vision and will be out during the night. Now, arcane casters, did you prepare your spells as I instructed?" Heads went up and down signaling they had.
"Good. When we arrive, we will take a two mile detour around to the top of the cave. There, we will send down fighters and mages 10 fighters, five mages. The fighters will arrive approximately two seconds after the mages have castes holy light , which will blind the oarcs. The fighters will then be able to carve through them like butter. Then we shall proceed the cave with mages directing light spells down any coridors. They will be inside a protective ring established by the fighters which I shall be leading at the front. When a. Enemy is spotted, intensify the light to stun, and the fighters will lunge out with spears and stab them. If we do this successfully we will reac the demon. The real fight."

Mahtan's green eyes shot open and he gasped deeply, his chest expanding all the way and then snapping back to normal as he pushed all of the caught air from his lungs. His whole body hurt, and his head was pounding. There was no longer any black left in his eyes, and his silver hair was matted with blood as it rest against his shoulders. He remembered what had happened, and he kept his eyes focused on downward as he stared at the bruises and cuts all over his body. Slowly he began to shake, something completely unlike him, but not out of fear. It was because of the fact that he was alive, he was happy. He knew that he was currently resting against a tree due to the fact that the hard bark was pressing into his back, and his weapons were scattered at different distances away from him, but within arms length. He grunted as he leaned forward and grabbed them both, then slammed his back against the tree, already exhausted due to the exertion. It was now he realized that it was silent...far too silent.

Mahtan's eyes shot up as he stared at where he had faced Arya, emerald eyes filling with a black inky substance as he saw where she was...or rather, where she once stood. Black and red blood puddles dotted the road like polka-dots, both Demon and Elven body parts were a part of this. His knuckles turned white as he gripped the hilts of his weapons with incredible strength, and sweat began beading at his forehead. He could see someone walking away down the road, blooded weapon in hand. What had happened? Had he blacked out? Where was Arya? Why is he alive?

Intense raged boiled up inside him as he used the tree to push himself to his feet, body shaking all over even more violently before. He slowly began stumbling toward the heap of what was body parts and ashes. Among the gruesome mess, he could see silver hair, and a white-skinned hand gracefully grasping an Elven blade....but it was no longer attached to an arm or body. Mahtan's eyes filled with tears as he realized that he was staring at the body, or at least what was left of it. With a loud scream he dropped his weapons and slammed both of his fists into the ground, feeling something pop in both of them. He grabbed the hand from the Elven blade and held it in his own, staring down at the fair skin. Tear drops fell down onto the last noticeable body part of Arya as he pulled the green ring off of her finger, the large emerald almost seeming to stare back into his eyes. He remembered the day he gave it to her, she marveled at how is resembled his eyes so closely.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry. I'm not a demon I swear just don't hurt me."

Mahtan's eyes stayed an inky black as he swung around, the ring now in his pocket. He growled loudly, and in such a way that would make anyone think he was a Demon, for the sound that escaped his lips was not recognizable as human. "YOU! YOU DID THIS. DEMON. WHORE!"
With the blink of an eye, Mahtan was able to scramble to his feet and dart over to the woman that had made her presence known. When he reached her position he lifted a leg and spun completely around, then let out a powerful kick that connected with her face, sending her small frame skidding across the ground and towards the tree where he once lay. His eyes were completely black by this time, and the veins on his hands also started becoming tainted. His fists were left balled as he kept stomping towards his new victim, black eyes now set on her neck. "There is nobody here to save you, little lamb. You are going to die here..."

Mahtan chuckled as a thin smile pulled at the corners of his mouth, reaching the woman that was on the ground, clutching the side of her face. He reached down and grabbed a handful of her hair, yanking her to her feet despite her cries for help. "Don't you DARE scream for help, after what you did to her. HOW DARE YOU?!"

Mahtan brought his fist back, black veins having completely tainted his entire arm by now, and stared into the woman's eyes. Just as he was about to let it forward, he felt a strong hand on his fist, holding him back. Accompanying it was the smell of a bloodied human, and Mahtan realized what he was doing. The girl in his grasp parted her lips and spoke for the first time since the assault, "....Susanna. My name....is Susanna"

Mahtan's body went back to normal, along with the emerald green color dripping back into his eyes. His smile faded and he dropped the girl back onto the ground, turning to face the man that had stopped them. Mahtan recognized him immediately as a nobleman, being off noble birth himself. The human just stared at Mahtan, looking just as bloodied and beat as he was. Hey, could you change Seth's line in your post to: "No Elf...she did not do this. It was a Warrior, and I had attempted to before it bested me. But I lost somebody too, long ago. I know how you feel. I know that the darkness in your soul wants to lash out at everyone near you, but you have to keep it inside. I am Seth of Valeria, by the way."

Mahtan simply shook his head and took a knee, placing a hand on Susanna's shoulder. "I'm sorry." was the only thing he could think to say, and Susanna flinched underneath his touch. With a sigh Mahtan went to stand up, but immediately cried out and doubled back over as a pole struck him right in the crotch, and he could see Susanna grinning at him, her eyes flashing black for a second. Seth grunted and fell to his knees, then into a sitting position, staring at Mahtan and Susanna. Mahtan looked from person to person, clutching his newly battered crotch.
"Susanna...your eyes."

Shortly after speaking, the only sound from Mahtan was the releasing of air as his eyes rolled back into his head and he toppled to one side, blood beginning to pour from his wounds once more.

Nianxi returned back to the mercenary camp, with the books in her bag, while happy mercenaries, through shaken by the attack their mind felt, were happy about their loot, going straight to the local merchant. The camp was rather simple, though large. Large wooden logs, sharpened on the upper end constituted for walls, with platforms and towers for towers. Flimsy wooden gates covered the entrances, and some men started digging a moat, aiming to fill it with spikes. The smell of sweat and vomit permeated the camp, centered around the bar, nearly the only structure in the camp. Well, it was more like the camp was built around that bar. The bar owners welcomed this many customers, especially when they protect you, and the customers welcomed a place to get drunk and rowdy. And it was Nianxi's next destination.

"Can you feel it? We share our senses, our feelings, our emotions. You and I are different sides of the same coin, Nianxi, you CANNOT ignore me. And after all, I am trying to help you. Our soul is fractured, my side is demonic, and that comes with a few perks, as you just recently witnessed. Now, stop trying to ignore me, and FEEL IT." It was no use, she could not ignore Xiandra's voice in the back of her head. What does she want Nianxi to feel? And then, she realized. Without eve looking, Nianxi just knew how many people were around, and where. Each of them gave of an unique "feeling", yet she could not yet discern them, nor she could not explain it. Nianxi just felt, she KNEW. Is this the infamous 6th sense of the demons? "See? Not that hard. You are not very proficient at it, and I don't blame you, but I'm sure it will come in handy. Of course, it will be much more effective when I'm using it. See, that's the second perk! We can work together, "sis"!" Sister? The demonic piece of her soul was no sister to her. "No way... Nianxi muttered under her breath, and entered the bar. She took a seat, and put down her books, and started looking around. Nianxi remembers seeing some rather "exotic" individuals, and they were her best bet to translating those books, but neither of them were here.. All she could do at this point could wait, and read the only book that was in a language she could understand - "The History of House Serilya".

The elven man whom Susanna had thought was dead stirred at her words. He looked around slowly at first before his eyes locked onto the source of the voice. Susanna found herself wishing that she'd stayed quiet or ran. The elven man's eyes darted from a handful of body parts lying around the clearing that must once have been another elf due to there complexion and slender but well toned muscles.

"YOU! YOU DID THIS. DEMON. WHORE."

Susanna took two steps back from the elf as he struggled to stand and found herself however odd taking offence to his comment. Whore? Susanna had been the victim throughout all of this. her father's death, the slaughters before Lilith left Veiron. Susanna was as badly scared at any of the survivors. What gave this fool the right to talk down to her like that.

That's right girl, he has no right. He assumes you did this merely because you are nearby. Just like all the rest of them. He doesn't want an explanation, he just wants to take his frustrations out on your hide. So go one, defend yourself. This one is clearly unbalanced.

Susanna fought to ignore what Lilith was saying but just as with the serpent in the garden everything Lilith said rang true, taken in the worst possible light of course but all of it was still true. The man ran up to Susanna with a yell of rage and his eyes black. He lifted his leg off the ground and in one fell movement delivered a devastating round house kick to Susanna's face.

"Demon," she muttered under her breath. Don't be stupid girl, smell the air. This elf for all his wrongs is no hellspawn. Susanna did as she was told and sniffed the air. A wonderful but distant smell reached her nose. The smell of bitter frost in the early morning and beautiful trees growing in the cold. A word reached Susanna's pain muddled brain, Reach. That is the smell of the northern elves girl. Every being has a different smell but all carry the scent of there homeland. Like you smelled of wheat and corn and dirt when I first laid eyes on you. A demon smells different, not repulsive per say but like something wonderful that is just passed its prime, like overripe fruit.

Susanna clutched her face in pain as these thought filled her head. If she lived then the left side of her face would be black and blue for the next couple of weeks. Use my power girl, he cannot stand against us. "NO!" Susanna muttered to herself into the mud.

The elf leaned down till his face was on level with Susanna's ear. He smiled sadistically. "There is nobody here to save you, little lamb. You are going to die here..." If not for the Storm Demon's warning that this was not a creature of the pit Susanna would have doused him in the holy water that hung at her waist. She herself couldn't touch it, the stuff burned her skin but thrown from a flask it made a fairly good weapon to stun demons.

Come on girl, do you want to die? Use my power. Go on. It's not like it will hurt. This ricocheted around in Susanna's head as the elven stranger grabbed her dirty blonde hair that was matted with blood and sweat and mud and the tears leaking from Susanna's eyes.

"Don't you DARE scream for help, after what you did to her. HOW DARE YOU?!"

Susanna began to whimper and cry out as the stranger yanked roughly on her hair. The elf brought his fist back, the veins on it normally a light red color where tainted with black. Susanna flinched expecting the blow but it never came. Susanna opened her eyes a crack to see an arm holding back the elf's fist. It was the man she'd first become aware of in the clearing. The one that she feared had seen her lap up the elven blood.

She was going to die here. by the fist of this elf she was going to die. NO! she had to contain Lilith. The storm demon could not walk among the mortals again. Susanna opened her mouth to send out some insult or challenge or a bit of Lilith's power but one small sad pathetic line came out instead. "....Susanna. My name....is Susanna"

Something changed in the elf. Perhaps hearing the demon girl in his hands talk so pathetically made him realize that there might be a girl in there or the man holding back his arm showed him how disgraceful his actions where. Whatever it was the black faded from the elf's veins and eyes and he let Susanna drop to the ground.

He was probably a foot taller than Susanna was and the fall hurt her already injured face as well as the arm she landed on and all of her already sore muscles. Her body was in agony. The blood girl, it'll make the pain go away. It'll give you strength.

Susanna could smell it again, like her father's best baking but she held in her mind how it had turned sour when she realized that someone else could see her. It was a shamful act to drink the blood of others. "It would make me like you." Susanna said with venom into the ground.

The man whose name Susanna just caught, Seth said some words of caution and consolation to the elf. The elf sank to the ground next to Susanna and laid his hand on her shoulder. Susanna flinched and scuttled two feet away from him. "I'm sorry." were the only words that came from his mouth.

Sorry? Sorry! He'd beaten her to a pulp in his rage and all he could say was sorry? Susanna pull the staff from her back with the a grace born of practice and she stabbed with expert precision into the elf's groin. Sorry.

"Haven't I suffered enough?" Susanna yelled smacking the elf in the face with the staff as he clutched his crotch. "Everyday I'm chased from towns, beaten... attacked... shunned... because I was in the wrong place at the wrong time." With each of those words Susanna laid a blow to the elf in the face or the stomach or the legs. The elf crumpled to the ground blood pooling around him. Her staff couldn't have caused that? No it was blunt weapon it didn't break the skin very often. That's why she liked it. Not much external damage but the internal bleeding took months to heal. Then she remembered how he'd looked when she entered the clearing. How she thought he was a corpse.

Her staff had reopened his wounds and the more shameful thing was that Lilith had been silent for this while event, not a word of encouragement or rage pushed onto her. She'd done this all on her own and what made it worse was the words the elf had uttered before falling, her eyes. She had smiled and enjoyed beating him enough to turn her eyes black and Lilith hadn't done a thing. This was all Susanna.

She sank to the ground, the staff falling into the mud, tears streaking down her face parting the grim that covered it. All the deeds of Lilith that Susanna had to atone for and she was just adding more wood to the fire that would burn her when her soul finally went below. She was a disgrace, an abomination.

She looked to the man in the clearing. Sobs interrupting her speech. "I... I just... wanted him... to hurt... for... everything he did... for everything everyone's ever done..." She said quietly her sorrow mangling her words. "I'm sorry." The same pathetic line that the elf had used after beating her but she could find nothing better to describe what had happened and how she felt about it.

Seth of Valeria drew a heavy breath, he needed the oxygen, but moving his ribs hurt. He held the air in, tensed his muscles and raised his head to look at what was going on. The elf was once again a pile of shame and blood on the ground, the newcomer was also down, crying. Blood poured out of several openings in his body as he did this and so he relaxed again, which at least slowed down the bleeding a bit. He’d been wounded in battle before, he knew his limit. There was no help to get from the elf, that one was damaged as well, and perhaps even more so than Seth himself, his only hope now was the strange girl with the staff.
With a last gathering of effort he managed to get himself sitting with his back leaned against the tree trunk. This caused his worst wounds, the ones on his arms, to bleed even less.
“I am sorry too, miss. I am obviously interrupting you at a delicate moment. Normally I would never interrupt a lady, however the recent situation calls for it, there seems to a slight emergency in the air.” If he’d had normal use of his arms he’d held one of them up before his face and stretch out his thumb and pointer almost parallel to each other to emphasize the word ‘slight’. This time he had to rely on his vocal prowess to work it’s magic without the aid of props.
“You see, miss, over yonder lies the butchered remains of someone apparently very dear to this man. Lovely as she was, she also held within her the seed of a demon and outright attacked the both of us in a most ungentlemanly fashion just before you arrived.”
He looked over at what remained of the demon’s body and found that as usual it had already started to decay, within hours there would be nothing left.
“Now, as you can see, miss, I am bleeding quite severely from the unnatural holes in my body, and I am sure my friend over there feels the same way, I would be very grateful if you could find someone with medical knowledge to save me and my partner from dying. That is, if you yourself do not possess such knowledge and would be so kind as to plug up the various leakages of our bodies… Please?”

From a pile of shame and blood nearby came a grunt, and unattentive bystander would interpret it as nonsense. But looking at the evidence of the situation, a linguist of moderate skill would immediately recognise the sound as “Yeah, what he said.”

Nothing, absolutely nothing was written about her family's history that she did not already know - the origins of the 6 Great Houses are just speculations and legends warped far away from reality. It's as if everything that happened with the 6 great heroes was erased from written history. "Don't you think it's kinda of suspicious that anything related to that era is just missing. People like to record things, one way or another, and there is nothing about that particular time. As much as Nianxi would hate to agree, Xiandra was right. What exactly had happened back then, how were these weapons made, what did the heroes do? That is, if they were heroes to begin with. Nianxi had tons of questions, and no answers.

After spending some time at the bar, the person she was looking for still didn't show up, and it was getting late. Packing up her books, Nianxi left the bar for her personal tent - a perk she could still enjoy as a noble, even as one who lost everything. Rumors of her heritage spread like wildfire through gossip, coupled with her brooding, vengeful mood and a sword unlike any other, no one really dared to deny Nianxi her comforts. Eventually, she earned a fearful respect of her comrades-in-arms, as being unforgiving, but just. She shared her wealth this those who risked their lifes to help her - that earned a lot of "points" for her in the base camp. Not to mention her commanding presence - the very thing she was taught daily back in the day. Tone of voice, stance, the way you walk, the way you move - all this could be used to assert your authority, and sometimes you wouldn't even need to say a word. And as a delegate of House Serilya, Nianxi was a master of social interactions. However, her calm and calculated persona was long gone, killed in the attack on Velron - and only a shell of her former self remained, with only one thing on her mind - vengeance. A shell that was split in two...

Her personal tent was rather small, but it contained all the basic necessities: a bedroll, small pouches with various medical and food supplies, as well as a storage chest she carried from the nearby ruins. Putting her books in the chest and locking it, she finally decided to rest - this day was quite eventful. Also, it seemed that Xiandra respected Nianxi's need to focus or relax, and only speaks to her when she has something useful to say. Laying down, she drifted to sleep rather quickly, unnaturally so, even.

In her dream, she would herself in some kind of white space, everything was white - there was no floor, no sky, nothing, and yet she could feel something beneath her feet, allowing her to stand upright. "Well, this is awkward." a voice exclaimed, just like hers, behind Nianxi. And it was something that looked just like Nianxi, but with black eyes instead of red - without a doubt, that in this strange dream Xiandra and Nianxi are separate entities. "YOU! Nianxi shouted, raising her fist to try and punch her demonic, alter ego. "Your attention, please!" a familiar voice came out from a distance. As if under a spell, both Nianxi and Xiandra quickly turned towards it - it was the Demon Lord Menos! "Sorry to barge in your dreams like that, but... we need to talk." he said as he briefly disappeared and reappeared in front of them. "Your conditions is one of a kind, you know. Nothing even close to this has ever happened before. Though your demonic persona is a very, very bad liar." Xiandra's facial expression briefly turned to a frown. "But I'm not hear to discuss this. I'm here with both an announcement, and an offer you just won't be able to refuse."

Both Nianxi and Xiandra found themselves unable to talk, or to turn their gaze away from Menos, "In the coming days, you will meet some other, interesting individuals, and circumstances may arise for you to work together, or not, I don't really care about the others anymore.. I am in a need to find several things in your world, and one of them would be a great boon to your cause. Don't worry, if you find them, so will I - I have eyes everywhere. And I assure you, the knowledge you will gain is more than a fair "trade", if you find them first. Do not worry, if I am successful in my endeavors, you will not have to worry about demons anymore. But before that, tons of blood must be spilled, both yours and mine. The pieces are set, the gears swung in motion - and this grand game has just begun. The prize is either salvation, or damnation, and only time will tell which. Oh, and a fair warning - some other Demon Lords found two of your relic weapons, and they are currently in Velron. Good night!"

And with that, Nianxi once again felt exhaustion overcoming her, finally drifting to dreamless sleep.

Susanna almost screamed when the man, Seth started talking again. She scrambled away from him in her shock before taking a closer look. When he was standing to stop the mad elf from killing her he had looked perhaps a bit pale but healthy. That could not be said of him now. There was no color left in his face and he struggled to adjust to a position where blood stopped leaking from the holes in his body.

“I am sorry too, miss. I am obviously interrupting you at a delicate moment. Normally I would never interrupt a lady, however the recent situation calls for it, there seems to a slight emergency in the air.”

This man was obviously a noble from some pure lineage but it didn't really matter to Susanna at the moment she was considering her options. These two men were dying. Even the most ignorant fool could see that however she had a choice herself. She could save them or she could let them pass into the next world.

Look at him girl, he's knocking on death's door and insisting that he's got the wrong address. It's sort of sad really. I've seen great warriors grow and fall, some even by my own hand but this, a human so blind that he cannot see his own death coming. It's pathetic, we should help him.

Susanna was instantly wary, Lilith had never in the ten long years that Susanna had known her been moved by anything. Susanna could feel the sincerity in her statement. This man was dying and obviously Susanna possessed no power that could save him. The best thing she could do now was to give him a painless send off. Send him to the afterlife with grace. No, that was absurd. This noble still had a fighting chance if medical attention could be brought to him what was she thinking, kill him?

So close girl, you really are one easily taken in. Though I suppose if it were anyone else that man's head would be on the ground by now. I knew I chose my vessel well. Perhaps too well.

Susanna shook her head to knock the suggestions Lilith was pushing forth back where they came from. Seth of Valeria continued to talk but Susanna ceased to listen. She knew what he was saying. Seth of Valeria used large words and elegant language as he spun his tale of sorrow in an effort to obtain Susanna's help. She tuned it out, the message was clear: Save us or if you cannot go get someone who can.

Susanna sunk into the mud. She hadn't the supplies or the medical knowledge to fix these men. There was no choice to be made, she could do nothing to help these men. She had not the knowledge and she could not return to the town for everyone there believed her a demon. No healer of that town would go to a secluded clearing with her even if she did convince them to hear her out.

I can help you. Lilith? Lilith was offering assistance. Susanna turned her back on Seth of Valeria to prevent him from seeing her talk to thin air. "What do you mean?" Susanna asked suspiciously. You know very well. In my repertory I have the ability to heal these men, knowledge of destruction ensures knowledge of the opposite. "What price do you ask?" Susanna asked knowing that Lilith would want something in return. "My soul?" Please girl, I am not a petty Crossroads demon promoting the lives of the mortals so I can live on scraps. Besides the dark pits of the underworld already own your soul. You should know that by now, it's why you fear death so much. No for this I want something else. I want a favour. Something I can ask any time and you will carry it out. Otherwise I revoke the magic used on these and they fall.

"Alright." Susanna said without hesitation. Perhaps healing these people would do her some good when her own Trial of the Damned started. This is not something to be taken lightly, I could ask you to kill or torture or summon the greatest of monsters. Do you fully understand what you promise? "Yes." said Susanna defiantly. She would regret these words when the time came.

Very well then, let it begin. Lilith filled Susanna's mind with the memory of a ritual, a ritual Lilith had not performed since she had learned it so long ago. A ritual for healing the mortal form of a hellspawn. With some minor adjustment it could be applied to these dying souls.

Susanna turned around and walked up to Seth of Valeria, she leaned uncomfortably close to his face. "I can heal you and the elf but you must promise me this, no matter what you see while I heal your wounds no one ever knows. The elf is unconscious he will not remember."

Seth looked into her eyes "I promise as the last member of the house of Valeria and swear on the bones of my father that it does not."

Susanna sighed with relief. "Good, I have a dark power in me that I struggle to control and try to ignore. I am going to call on it now to repair your bodies."

A bead of sweat rolled down Susanna's face. What she was doing know was wrong in every sense of the word. She should not be using such unclean energy for healing. It just felt wrong. Then let him die, he's halfway there already Lilith's comment drove Susanna on. She had to do this.

Susanna stepped away from Seth held her arms out and her eyes closed gathering her nerve. She stretched her arms heavenward and started to speak. The voice that emanated from her did not sound human, it was Lilith's voice, the sound of a demon's true nature.

"Dark gods that slumber in the earth, lend me thine power. Whether I stand in house or field or mountain or plain my need remains the same. The form that which I call my own falls from me to the stone. With the master's work so far from done, nit the flesh and cement the bone."

Black storm clouds gathered overhead in a funnel converging on the spot were Susanna stood. The wind around her picked up as lightning shot from the clouds. It struck Susanna running through her being. Strangely it did not hurt and she found the bruises on her face turned back to pink skin, her ribs cracked back into place and her muscles knitted themselves back together. Susanna stretched out her arms and the excess lightning shot from her into Seth and the elven man healing both there wounds.

As soon as the madness began it was over. The wind died, the clouds vanished and Susanna sank to the ground exhausted. "Please, Seth of Valeria, tell no one of this. I paid a very high price for your health. Do not let me burn for it."

Susanna smiled weakly at him before lying down in the mud and letting the darkness claim her. Though she had not a scratch on her body but her scars she had no energy to stands and let the world of dreams take her where they will.

Urisk looked around the house, deciding what he should take with him. His nose curled at the smell in the house as what was left of the imp began to rot right there by the doorway, the rotten egg smell of the sulphur still strong as well. A cabinet door creaked quietly as he opened it, looking inside at the collection of herbs contained in small fabric pouches. He took out the pouches containing Belladonna, Spanish Moss, Ember Moss, Glintweed, ground Water Artichoke, and ground Mandrake root, then placed them on the table in the corner of the room. Walking over to another area of his home, he picked up three effigy dolls he had made earlier that month, sticking the bone needles used to make them inside of them. He walked back and set them on the table as well, then walked over to another cabinet. Opening it, he retrieved two small taglock kits, a small needle paired with an enchanted bottle that kept fresh collected blood indefinitely. The bottles were thick glass, and no bigger than his thumb, so they fit easily into one of the pockets on the inside of his cloak. He found a thick string in a drawer of various miscellaneous items, tying it around the neck of each of the herb pouches. He tied it into a loop afterward, wearing it over one shoulder diagonally across his torso underneath his cloak. Finally he walked over to a case on a bookshelf, carefully taking it down from the top shelf and setting it on the table. Inside was an ornate silver knife with a jet black handle, a pentagram inlaid to the base of the blade in gold. It was a consecrated knife called an athame, used in rituals and for taking certain ingredients. Taking the sheath out of the case with it, he strapped it around his waist, the the hilt of the knife at his left hip.

Urisk walked back out to his garden, ready to depart to wherever fate may take him. Retrieving a piece of golden chalk and a purple Otherwhere chalk from another pocket in his cloak, he set to work. He drew a heart glyph the same as the one at the center of the imprisonment spell with the golden chalk, drawing the circle right on top of the altar. He began drawing the other glyphs carefully in the purple chalk, preparing a ritual to search for waystones for the next ritual. After finishing he began a quiet chant, speaking quickly but clearly with a deliberate tone of voice.

"Adiuvare quaerit quod quaerimus, quid opus est in hoc tempore, ad auxilium mii. Id unum quaerit ut subinde ut mergit. Propterea, scuta fac sedibus, et nunc ostendisti mihi quae quaeritur."

With a slight glow, several points of light began to glow within the circle, the locations of the waystones on an invisible map, one only seen in his head. Something else set off a slight glow close to the area of one of the waystones as well, giving off a small point of red light. He gave it an odd look, it wasn't something he had been dousing for, so what was it? Did it have some connection to the demons? He wanted to know, so he locked that location in his mind for the next ritual, focusing on that waystone.

Drawing another circle of glyphs with the purple chalk, he began chanting again. He finished writing the symbols and walked over to a belladonna plant, plucking a flower from it. He retrieved the athame from its sheath, placing it in the middle of the circle, right over the golden heart glyph. He placed the flower on the blade of the athame, putting his hand over that. He resumed chanting once again, focusing on the Rite of Transposition he was performing.

"O di, precor, et celeritate praesidium tibi iter, ad potestatem amet iunxit. Hoc flos natura tibi munera nostra. Sacro cultello incide per spatium tempusque. Hac oratione auxilium abs te. Ut sic esse volumus, quod patitur tuam."

Picking up the sacred knife, he traced a line in the air above the altar, from as high up as he could reach down to the surface of the stone structure. Closing his eyes, there was a bright glow of purple light as he was transported through space to the waystone. The sudden change of ground and position threw him off balance, causing him to stumble as his feet touched the ground, nearly falling down. For a moment, he was incredibly dizzy, but once he had regained his balance, he sheathed the knife and looked around. The waystone he had been transported to was buried halfway in the ground, looking simply like a large boulder, however he knew that the symbols marking it were just hidden under the earth. He saw a road, and walking towards it, looked up at the sun's position for a moment, making sure he was going the correct direction. He was walking straight toward where the red light he had doused out. Finding it would hopefully satiate his curiosity, although he wasn't entirely sure he wanted to know. He certainly didn't have the element of stealth or surprise if it had been a demon, as that display of witchcraft would have certainly attracted its attention. His mere presence to a demon would just scream that he was a witch after performing a rite like that.

Seth of Valeria could for the first time in his life actually feel his body healing. It was a very strange feeling, but a very good one at the same time. the blood stopped flowing out of the wounds on his arms and legs, then the holes closed up and perfect new skin covered them. The bruises on his body faded away until they became invisible. Seth was left with a feeling of energy. He’d hear people say that they felt like they could take on the world, and he’d smiled and thought them silly for saying something so droll. But there was no better way to describe what he felt this time. Every muscle in his body felt both well rested, more durable and stronger than ever, his mind was clear and racing with questions for the young miss. Then she suddenly stopped and the feeling of bliss was replaced by longing and a kind of sadness.
She asked him again to keep the event a secret and as he nodded in reply she started to fall.
He knew that he could catch her, he felt strong and fast enough, but his body hesitated, it still recalled the wounds and almost bleeding to death. He held himself back only for a second before he sprang up and toward the woman. He moved like the wind, he would’ve caught her if he’d moved when he first saw her go down, instead she hit a puddle of bloody mud with an unsettling squashing sound. A heartbeat later he was there and pulled her out of the dirt. His worst fear was laid to rest when he saw her chest move, and felt a strong pulse in her throat, she was still alive.
She’d made a mess of herself and appeared to be sleeping peacefully. The sleeves of his arms were red with blood, but they were marginally cleaner than her face. So he used a sleeve to wipe off the worst of the grit from her face like he would with a child. She moaned softly as he did this, but still appeared unreachable. He patted her cheek and encourage her to wake up, softly. She did not respond, that was bad. He’d seen people fall into endless sleep before, when the mind experienced trauma too great for it. He knew little about the ways of magic and decided that it would be best to find a safe place for her to rest, and a medical man to make sure she was alright.
Beside him the elf was out cold as well. He was doubled over, resting largely on his neck. As a man fast approaching a respectable age Seth of Valeria thought it must be uncomfortable, and that the elf would have pains when he woke up. There was a patch of untouched grass nearby and Seth put the woman down on it, at least she would be comfortable there while he took care of the elf. He pulled the exotic man up and laid him on his back under a tree. Seth patted the man’s cheek and tried to make him wake up as well, but like the woman he was far away.

Destiny tugged at his heart, and the question “What am I going to do?” burned in his mind.
One thing was clear; he could not simply walk away and abandon them. In a world where Orc warbands roamed up to fifty heads strong, each perhaps capable of summoning horrifying demons, they would probably die before sunset. It was bad enough that they were out in the forest and only Seth conscious and able to defend the three, no matter how young and strong he felt.
He looked them over. They both appeared to be in good health, the elf even looked like some sort of warrior, certainly he could look after himself when he woke up?
The woman looked well, sweet and innocent as she slept, attractive even. His thoughts wandered and the face of his lost love, Elena, crept up from some deep, dark chasm in his head. He shut his eyes and looked away for a second. Twenty years was nowhere near the time needed to mend a heart broken by loss. As he opened his eyes the woman was there, still innocent, plain and at peace.

The inn where he and the Warrior had shared a table was not far away. He should be able to get a room and some help there. Once again he looked at his two protectees and weighed his options. He could not carry them both there at the same time. Not only would it drain his stamina fast, it wouldn’t be a comfortable ride for any of them and he might drop them at some point, risking injury not only to them, but himself. That was the last thing they needed right now. After thinking about it for a while Seth of Valeria retrieved his bloody, dirty sword, the blade of Valeria, and sheathed it. Then he scooped the woman up from the ground and held her in his arms. She made a noise when he picked her up, but once again refused to wake up. Before he left he gave the elf one last look.
“Do not worry, lost one, I will be back soon. I don’t know if you can hear me or not, but please stay right where you are, wait for me.” Then he left.

To find the road was easy, he’d left it only a few minutes before, and he clearly remembered which way he and his companion had been walking, and so turned the other way. He didn’t run, didn’t even jog. He knew that his power would fade fast if he did. Humans are made to walk, with the correct weight added to our bodies we can walk forever. While he walked he also spoke to the woman. Soft, calm, certain.
“You are going to be fine, all you need is to sleep this off.”
“You must be the third most helpful stranger I have ever come across.”
“It is going to rain later today, the clouds are dark and heavy”
The inn was farther away than he’d remembered, or did it just seem like it because he was also carrying her? He had worked up a sweat and his breathing was heavier than he’d expected. Still, he didn’t feel tired yet, his body still pulsed with power.
He pushed the door open with the woman’s feet and entered the dim room. The smells came back, stale beer and fresh bread, the first fresh bread he’d had in months.

He was stopped immediately.
“Hey, you there, what do you think you’re doin’, bringin’ that one here?” It was the manager, a large man who obviously tasted everything that left lis kitchen.
“I am looking for aid, this one has fainted and will not wake. I will need a clean room and a doctor to have a look at her as soon as possible.”
“Not that one, you aint. she was in here earlier, makin’ a damn big ruckus, tore up the place and bolted. She aint welcome here no more.”
“Look, Sir.” Seth of Valeria tried, using the authoritative voice he’d practiced with a teacher since he was seven. “I will pay you good money for the lodging, food and any trouble that will come of this.” He flicked his hip, making his money pouch rattle like the tail of an angry snake. “Do we have an understanding?”
Another man stood up, almost reached the roof, muscles bulging. Im mass he was easily twice the size of Seth, if not more.
“She aint getting anything here, what part of ‘not welcome’ don’t you understand?” He said and moved toward Seth and the girl, back straight, his arms held out a little, chin up. He was trying to intimidate the nobleman into leaving. Seth moved the woman from his arms to his left shoulder and held her there with his left arm while he grabbed his sword with the right and took a step back.
“I do not want any trouble, I just want a room and peace. is that not exactly what this establishment sells?”
“Eyes open, this is a bar, not a hospital. I sell beer and food to people who can pay, and I can refuse to serve anyone I want, now get out!”

The big man in front of Seth took this as permission to use force and raised his arms against the two. this time Seth did not hesitate. He took a quick step forward, bent his knees and drew his sword as fast and hard he could. The weapon slammed into the man’s stomach and he doubled over in pain with a confused look on his face. Seth stood still for a second to let everyone in the room see what they were up against if they chose to get dirty. his knees were bent almost 90 degrees, his back straight, but he was leaning forward just a bit. He held the woman tight against his neck with one hand, and in the other he held his sword. The blade was turned away from his opponent, the tip still hidden by the sheath, but the arm was not fully extended. In a fraction of a second he’d made his choice and decided not to kill the man.
He stood up again and returned the sword.
“I told you I did not want any trouble.” The words he spoke were aimed at the room as a whole, making it sound as if he said “you brought this on yourself” to the man on the floor.
With great determination he turned around, opened the door, opened it with his free hand and left. As soon as the door closed behind him he could hear voices inside. they were upset, some even angry. He could not hear their words, but the meaning was quite clear. He looked up at the sky, seeing that the rain was not far away, he had to make another decision. He could stay and fight the angry mob. But that still wouldn’t get him inside and warm, it would just end on blood and misery for anyone, and he could be killed. He could hit the road and hope that the next inn, village or town was willing to take them in. He could go back to the clearing and see if the elf had come back from the land of dreams and see if he was able and willing to help.

It was a longshot, but it was the best alternative he had. Back to the road, he picked his direction and started to walk. there was a certain rhythm to walking. After a while you fell into a pace, a state of mind where you didn’t need to think about the next step or where you were going anymore. He repositioned the woman so she laid across his shoulders instead of over just one. He held her in place with a grip on her leg and arm. it felt good, he could walk forever. He even became so lost that he almost missed the spot where he had to turn and had to go back a bit to find it. He knew that it would be just around the corner, and he hoped that he’d made the right choice.

The clearing was empty. Well, not really. There were body parts, blood, mud, discarded equipment, torn clothes, rotting demon flesh, rocks, trees and grass. But the elf was gone, a trace of blood led deeper into the forest. There was something new as well. On the tree he’d left the elf beneath something appeared to be carved into the wood. He recognized the elvish symbols of writing, and he understood their meaning, but the other thing was far more disturbing. A coat of arms, one well known to all noblemen and many commoners as well. The house of Jernlod.

"Wake up, child."

Mahtan's eyes shot open at the sound of these words, and he quickly scrambled to his feet. Black eyes darting to and fro, observing every inch of the clearing. On the road he saw signs of the long-over battle and instantly began to shake due to his memory of what happened. The Nobleman and Warrior had killed her. Slain her in cold blood when she was simply a pawn for the Demon. It was their fault....all their fault. Lips set in a firm line of anger, Mahtan quickly scooped up all his fallen gear and sniffed the air, smelling a scent of roses and death. Susanna. It was the only thing that popped into his head. As he sheathed his weapons he ran a hand over the openings in his armor, feeling scars where his wounds once were. "The human girl, she did this. She has mended my body so I may fight. Or was it....Lilith?" How he knew this name, he didn't know, but it was plastered in his mind. Looking down at his hands, Mahtan saw the black veins pumping from underneath his pale skin and couldn't help but smile. Once again, a voice filled his head. Sharp as steel, filled with some warmth that comforted him. "Mahtan, Susanna needs you. Go to her now, wait for the one that is Seth of Valeria to release her from her prison, then save her from the clutches of evil. Good luck my Prince, and take care."

Immediately Mahtan sprang into action, using blood from the ground and simple magic to carve the coat of arms belonging to house Jernlod into the tree, along with 'VENGEANCE' in the Elf language. He knew this would attract the attention of anyone that came for him, and he had a prickling feeling at the back of his neck that it was Susanna. Once more her scent filled his nose as he sucked in the cool air. Roses, Blood, Flesh. The thought it all somewhat calmed Mahtan as he finished up his crude carving, smiling as he wiped his hands dry and cleared his throat to ward off the pain from singing the tree into shape. With the stealth of a cat stalking it's prey, he pulled the fur hood over his head and dashed into the underbrush, bone bow at the ready and pulled back to his pointed ear, arrow aimed at neck level of anyone that would venture unknowingly into the clearing. It was here that Mahtan would wait for Susanna, as the voice had told him to. He would not fail the girl this time, no, it wasn't in his agenda. He would rescue his soulmate from the clutches of evil and continue down his war path.

Time past that felt like hours when suddenly Seth reappeared from the road, carrying Susanna across his shoulders. It seemed the girl was still out cold, her limp form resting against the man's armor as if it were his latest kill. Mahtan backed deeper into the woods as he watched Seth approach, taking a knee to read what was carved on the tree. Just as planned, Seth's brow furrowed at the sight of the coat of arms, and Mahtan grinned. The House of Jernlod was well known for their blood thirsty ways, and they had died many hundreds of years before Mahtan's time even. It was said that their Viking ways had brought peace to the land, and that they had influenced the build of Veiron, which one could easily see in the way it's building were crafted. Jernlod himself had apparently been a giant of a man, standing at a full head taller than anyone else. He wore a great horned helm and wielded a giant battle axe, said to have cleaved any animal or man in half without so much as a nick in the blade. The House quickly made a name for itself as it conquered most of the known world, and it was said that his House had great relations with the Ancestors of Mahtan's family. Mahtan was pleased at this, and was always proud to see their coat of arms carved into bodies, trees, and anything else that was around. It signified the death of a significant other, and that the person grieving would get revenge, no matter what he had to cut down in his path. This tradition was formed when Jernlod himself lost his wife to a small rebel clan they were warring with, and he rampaged through their camp, cleaving everyone in half. Despite the many wounds Jernlod took, he managed to destroy most of the residents in the camp, including all of his enemies personal guard and family. Before finally falling dead beneath the moonlit sky, Jernlod watched the killer of his true love kill himself due to the grief of losing his family to the giant Viking. This was how the legend of Jernlod was formed, and this is what Mahtan planned to do. He would destroy every Demon and horrible thing that came before him, no matter the cost. All for Arya. All for Susanna. They needed him the most, and he would not stop until Arya's memory was honored, and Susanna's safety was ensured.

Mahtan's ever-blackening eyes followed Seth until the point he stopped reading Mahtan's writing, then went back for Susanna's unconscious form. Once again Lilith's voice popped into his head, and he listened intensely for his new set of orders. "Mahtan, my Prince, I will wake Susanna. Make sure you are waiting to rescue her. She needs you, Mahtan, do not fail her." Mahtan agreed to these terms and removed the arrow from his bow, returning it to his quiver before slinging his bow onto his back and scrambling through the underbrush. His goal was to follow Seth until Susanna woke up, it was then that Mahtan would make his move to rescue his damsel in distress. As the Elf crept closer, his nose caught Susanna's scent again, and his eyes darkened to a black that could only resemble a moonless night in the darkest of caves, along with the veins all across his body. His breathing became shallow panting and black liquid dripped from the corners of his mouth. His jaws opened slightly to guzzle down more air, and his pearl white teeth were revealed, each tooth having now formed into razor sharp points. In the darkness of his eyes, pupils appeared, but they were not his normal emerald green. Instead, they were red. Red as the pits of hell themselves, and nearly as deep.

"Susanna..."

Early morning breeze, chilling but yet refreshing, woke up Nianxi. In the distance, loud grunts could be heard, as a lot of camp's population was out exercising. After taking care of her natural human needs, she rolled up and picked up her bedroll, but the two illegible books, some dry food and first aid into her back pack, she prepared to hit the road - the man she was looking for was not here yet, and Nianxi was not willing to wait any longer. Deciding to hit the road and try her luck at the next camp, she reflected on the dream she (and Xiandra) had - Nianxi could remember it perfectly, much to her dismay. Menos thought he has a pawn for whatever diabolical plans he has, and she was about to prove him wrong, and when the time comes, drive Serilya through him.

The path was leading through the forest, now infested with orcs. Ugly creatures, made even more dangerous by their fanatical worship of the demons, and their numbers. In the days before, humanity hunted them down any time they started making trouble, and yet, left the peaceful tribes live. Unfortunately, none of the peaceful orcs remained. Despite their relatively poor intelligence, they were extremely strong, so Nianxi had no desire to meet their roaming bands. "Don't lie to yourself, sis, you want to meet some orcs, you WANT to slaughter them. After all, you did it before. Not alone or outnumbered, but still. And I agree, it would be fun!" And the peace of the morning was broken, as Xiandra started to talk again. "I would not stand a chance alone against a warband, sadly. But here I am, talking to myself." Nianxi replied, hoping no one is around to hear her. "And now you are just underestimating yourself, Nianxi.". Deciding to once again try and ignore Xiandra, she marched on, only to sense a lone presence nearby, though she could not exactly make out what it is.

Suddenly, Nianxi's body froze in place, her being unable to move, at all, only to start to move on it's on own moments after - Xiandra was once again in control. But unlike the last time, the haze was gone, and Nianxi could feel everything Xiandra feels, including emotions. And Xiandra was excited, as there was a lone orc up ahead. It was not a trap, as there were no other orcs presences around, and she could feel Xiandra's excitement, as she drew her sword and rushed forward. The orc in question seemed to be a hunter, standing nearby his freshly killed deer, ready to drag his back to it's camp. Hearing loud footsteps quickly heading towards him, the orc drew his blade, ready to slay someone stupid enough to attack him. Except Nianxi (And Xiandra) knew how to fight quite well.

The orc thew his blade downward, hoping to catch the charging crazy woman off guard. Xiandra however, quickly parried the blow and returned one of her own aimed at the orc's right eye, gouging it, as the blood drawn shot off the wound and flew towards the blade to be absorbed. The orc reeled back in pain and grabbed gouged eye with one of his hands, growling. Nianxi could feel Xiandra's excitement and wicked joy, as well as her anticipation to cause even more suffering. "Just kill it already!" she tried to shout, but Xiandra seemingly ignored her. Entering a defensive stance, Xiandra tauntingly motioned for the orc to attack. "Is that all that the might orc can kill? A deer? Oh, will your mommy be mad at you if you come back with a few missing limbs". The taunt succeeded, as the orc roared, becoming berserk and attacking recklessly. However, each of his blows was met with either a timely dodge or a parry, always resulting in a counter attack. Xiandra, however made sure to inflict extremely painful, but least lethal wounds. After a while, the orc could barely stand, obviously in immense agony. It didn't help that every wound inflicted wound make his own blood violently shoot out of his body towards Serilya. Even Nianxi started feeling pity for it, though Xiandra joy and happiness overwhelmed that. "See, sis? See what fun is there to be had? Now imagine all of them kneeling before us, ready to serve and die on our whim. It is our destiny to enslave them, and make the House Serilya the greatest power ever seen by humanity.". The orc, with cuts all over his body and a gouged eye, let out one final, deafening battle cry, before impaling himself with his sword with the last of his strength. "What?! Orcs do that? What a killjoy..." And now, it was disappointment, as Xiandra seemingly was just getting started.

But the loud shout of the orc willing to kill himself to save himself from the torment seems to have attracted a large group of them, quickly heading towards the warrior. Nianxi wanted to run, asked, demanded and shouted for Xiandra to run, but to no avail. With a grin, she impaled the corpse of the orc hunter, quickly draining it dry of blood, leaving but a wilted husk behind. Facing the incoming attackers, Xiandra froze for a second, and Nianxi's numbness faded, leaving her to deal with the 4 orcs that have rushed to help their kin. After noticing the human, and the wilted orc corpse nearby, the biggest one motioned the others to stop. You will regret doing this, human. You will experience such agony, that you WILL BEG FOR DEATH!" the orc growled. Out of options, Nianxi prepared to stand her ground. "Save your breath, filth, for it will be your last." she said rather calmly, tossing aside her backpack, not sure whenever she got a huge boost of confidence, or just desperately bluffing. "GET HER! the orc shouted, and they all charged towards her.

Fighting against four proved far harder, though the minor cuts she received were quickly healed by Serilya. Not allowing them to surround her, she kept them at a distance in front of her, though she had no time for offense, and Serilya's blood supply was running dry quickly, as it's color was changing from blood red to nearly crystal white. Eventually, the cuts were no longer healed, and pain started to kick in, resulting in even deeper wounds, while the orcs were nearly untouched. Nianxi had to do something, and do it now. Suddenly, Xiandra offered her some advice: "Maybe you have to tell the sword to do something, sorta like casting a spell? Now would be a good time, though." Desperate, and without any other ideas, Nianxi leaped backwards, with the 4 orcs in right in front of her. "Do something, you stupid sword! Impale them! she screamed in her mind, as she lunged forward. Suddenly, Nianxi felt a sharp pain in her hand gripping Serilya, as if blood was drained out straight through her skin. Suddenly, the sword started expanding in length at an incredible speed, instantly impaling the first orc through the chest. Sharp tendrils shoot out of the sides of Serilya, branching out and expanding, yet adding no weight at all. In mere moments, Serilya tripled in length, with twisted and razor-sharp root like structure shooting out of it's sides, mangling and impaling the rest of the orcs. Holding her sword arm straight in disbelief, as the only additional weight was the impaled orcs, she lowered her sword, with a "Whoa..." Serilya quickly returned to normal, the drained husks slumping to the ground, as the once again sated Crimson Blade healed Nianxi's wounds. "So... That's how it works... It needs OUR blood to start obeying. You did, however, overdo this, not that I blame you. But try not to use so much of your blood next time... Xiandra consoled her, strangely enough. However, all this strain on her body started taking a toll on her body, as Nianxi started feeling dizzy, vision gradually darkening. The last thing that she was aware of was falling.

The mere sight of Jernlod’s mark sent a chill down Seth’s spine. He wasn’t sure if it was the elf that had left it there, or why. He only knew that he didn’t like it much. He looked at the trail of blood that led deeper into the forest. He was no tracker, nor a hunter. If that blood didn’t suddenly start to dance and sing he wouldn’t be able to follow it through the woods.
“Well, if he is hurt, I pitty the best that wounded him…” Seth said and sighed before he shifted the body of the nameless woman a bit to his right.
“Come on, let us get you to a warm bed.”

When he reached the road again he felt lost. He looked down the roads, but could see nothing that suggested a society nearby. To his right was the inn where he most certainly couldn’t return. And further that way was where he’d come from earlier that morning, not even a farm for several days. And so he decided to turn south and follow the road that had once led to the great city. On his shoulders the woman had started to stir, he suspected she was having nightmares or something like that. At times it became hard to keep her still, and he feared more than once that he would drop her. After one particularly violent outburst he tried to wake her up, but she refused his request once again. This frightened the nobleman even more and made him pick up the pace. Whatever she had done to heal him obviously plagued her greatly and he would be damned if he didn't do all that he was capable of to repay the favour.

Jogging along the road, he eventually laid eyes on a building. Hope rose in his heart, but it sank when he came closer and saw that it had been badly burned and abandoned. The road split here. One road would take him to the ruins of Veiron, where not a living soul dared to stay for long. The other led to the coast. There was a chance. You didn't build roads that didn't lead anywhere. He knew he’d hit the jackpot when he spotted a sign that said “Rudin”. He’d never heard of the place before, but any settlement was better than none. So focused on his task was he, he didn’t even notice that he’d been followed all the way from the clearing.

In the village everyone stood still and stared. Seth of Valeria was used to drawing a crowd, but never like this. Everywhere he looked it was open mouths and wide eyes for as long as he could see. It took him a few seconds to figure out why, then he had to step around something on the ground and caught a glimpse of his clothes. This morning they’d been clean, blue and silver, nice cut, both fine and functional at the same time. Now they were red with blood, and had holes on the legs and sleeves. He was muddy too, as was his sleeping companion. He was a bizarre sight indeed.
“You there!” Seth of Valeria shouted at a man leaning on a rake. “Do you have a medical man in this village? Anyone that can look after this woman?”
At first the man was dumbstruck, then he came to his senses all at once. He dropped his tool and led the bloody nobleman down the only street in the village to a slightly larger house at the far end. A woman clad in white came out, took one look at Seth and forced him into the house. Several times he had to ensure the white lady that he was fine, and that it was his companion she should be looking at, but not until he finally gave in and let her see his non-existant wounds did she listen.

“She’ll be just fine, she’s asleep, exhausted. What caused this?” The white lady asked after a while.
“Not sure.” Said Seth of Valeria “I think she performed some sort of witchcraft to heal my wounds, then she fell over and has been asleep since then.”
The white lady, Seth never asked asked for her name, assured him that the woman only needed to rest for a while, and that nightmares could be considered normal. He opened his money pouch and gave the white lady a gold coin. “It will cover any expense you have to make, correct? Keep the rest. I am sorry, but I cannot stay.” Then he simply walked out, looked up toward the sky just in time to catch the first drop of rain on his nose, laughed a little, and walked away from Rodin.