-snip-

The Centaur almost responded in kind to the man who had insulted him, but others began to speak, and before Denryr could react, they were all whisked away by some power. There, they said they were from the gods, and that the eight that had gathered were to work together and save the world from what appeared to be giants. Denryr almost couldnt believe it. Humans, who had caused so much suffering and strife throughout the lands, were to play a large role in saving it? Maybe this is how they'll redeem themselves, Denryr thought. For their entire race.

"I must apoligize." Denryr said. "I allowed my preconceptions about humans to cloud my mind before i even met you. I shouldn't have been so foolish. I hope you'll forgive me." Denryr paused a moment. "So... saving the world. That'll be perilous, to be sure." Denryr then gave a light chuckle in attempt to lighten the mood. He was honest in his apology- who was he to judge those he's only heard rumors and stories of? Perhaps not all humans were genocidal idealists as he thought.

But Denryr wouldnt let this "Saving the world" buisness interfere with his duties as messenger to the elves in Blackwood. He was to deliver his message, without a doubt. Perhaps he could ask these elves about the mountain that the supposed god had mentioned. The elves did often tell stories, but they could be just that- stories. Then again, every myth has a grain of truth. The trouble would be finding that grain amonngst an ocean of hyperbole and lies.

Denrig had already turned his pony around and was moving as far away from the campsite as was dwarvenly possible. He would find no help there and from all of the things he had seen, would want no help from any of those homicidaly insane human..... centaur.... things. They were fucking insane on so many levels that he fully understood within mere moments of his first glimpse of human social interaction, why his people had voluntarily shut themselves out from the surface world for two hundred years. He had to admit, he never quite believed the stories that the graybeards told of the humans. They couldn't be that bad could they? And old dwarves loved to brag about how much more difficult life was back in the days of their youth.

But this was an eye opening experience and a first hand glimpse of their natural aggression and unpredictable nature. But he had just watched a lone girl be surrounded by the strangest group of people. And though his first instinct was to charge in, axe held high ready to jump to her defence in case these strangers meant to ambush that poor girl. He became utterly and thoroughly confused by the ensuing cast of characters that he previously thought only could exist in the fantasy realms of novels and tragedy plays. Or the minds of man men.

He didn't even know what they were talking about. He tried to listen at first but his command of the common tongue wasn't the most refined skill in his arsenal. And once knives were drawn and spears pointed it all descended past the point of reasonable conversation by Dwarven standards. Then there was a rabbit which seemed to become a heated focal point of conversation for some god's forsaken reason. These surface dwellers were truly devoid of the wisdom and guidance of the gods, at least not in the way the dwarves were blessed with such things.

But really. It was the sudden transformation of the demon spawn that was the final nail in the coffin. The true spark of understanding that told him to turn the fuck around and find less insane humans. Any other humans, and hope that what he just witnessed was going to be the exception and not the rule for surface mannerisms and social behaviour.

“Time t'go girl.” Best not to say that too loudly. Maybe he would be able to get away before anyone noticed he wasn't getting any closer to the campsite and was in fact dissappearing further into the darkness. Because suddenly the overwhelming gloom and solitary travel promised by this depressing forest seemed pretty dam inviting by comparison.

He was almost in the clear and on his way, away from these people when suddenly he felt his feet thump lightly into the ground. He had no pony, or reins or saddlebags of any kind. Any he wasn't farther away from these people. He was not beside them. His first thought was.... well he didn't know what to think. This was certainly a new experience that he couldn't compare with anything.

If this was the gods-realm than where were the Great bronze gates? Where were the guardians of the hall challenging him to prove his worth and state his accomplishments to be permitted to join the feasting and companionship beyond? There were not gates to guardians no mountains, hell there were no floors either. Which, when he finally took notice of made his eyes go wide and and his head spin around. What was he standing on? Dwarves were creatures of the earth. And being separated from the stone and soil did not feel right.

And then there was this royal tart. Or at least she was acting like one. He didn't know who she was or why she was talking down to him like a child as if he had some part to play in the clusterfuck display that was the campfire conversation. But his pride would not permit that kind of a slander without challenge.

“Now hold on just a minute!” his accent was rough and his stance was immediately set to one of dignified defiance. Strong arms folded over a muscled chest. It didn't take a scholar to figure out that this lady was responsible for.... whatever this was. It was only because of the obvious display of power she made plopping them all down in this white expanse, that he wasn't already threatening her with his axe.

“Na' I din-nae know who ye think y' are! But it is gonna take more than some display like this before y' haf any right ta give orders to me. Unless ye be a Thane, a Clan-lord, or tha great King Moradin himself. Ye have no claim on m' honour or duties.

He was a dwarf of honour and whoever this woman thought she was, sorceress or no. Held no authority over him or rights to his respect or obedience without proving to him otherwise. His clan sent him out on a specific task and he was going to finish that task. With or without being thrown into visions of destruction. Her self stated position as messenger of the old gods meant even less to him. Maybe to these others her name held significance. But she was not his god (he still had no proof she was A god). If the great Soul forger Moradin wanted him to go on a quest with these lunatics. Than his ancestors would surely find a way to let him know that this woman's request (and that is all it was to him right now) was worth listening to.

His arms were still folded and his face still wore a scowl of disdain buried underneath his beard when the forest suddenly materialized around him once again. Worst of all he was now in front of the campfire, surrounded by the people he was trying to get away from five minutes ago. He looked around slowly at each one of them, seeing if any of them would start making moves for their weapons again, or go on about that damned fucking rabbit some more. When they didn't he let himself ease his stance a little. Well Maybe ease wasn't the right word. He didn't relax his posture any, or the scowl on his face. But he also didn't make any moves for his axe or shift himself into any more of a guarded posture. But he really, really wanted to keep moving away from these people.

Mostly he just wanted to find a quite spot, pull out his pipe and spend the next few hours processing WHAT THE FUCK JUST HAPPENED. He suspected that would take some time for his mind to sort out. But as long as there were eyes on him. His face betrayed nothing about the thoughts and confusion in his skull. he had no explanations for what happened and no way to adequately explain it. Even one of his elders were to demand his report on the events of the last few minutes on pain of dishonour. He was not sure he would be able to put the experience into coherent words.

"Well then......." Was all he had to say for the first few minutes immediately proceeding their return to the material world. "Aye.... I think..... I will be on m'way." At least his pony didn't wander too far off. He could still see it's shadow at the edge of the firelight. He loosened his arms from his chest and took slow, careful steps in it's direction.

The whole getting teleported back to the campfire thing wasn't his idea, but he guessed eventually he would have to come back anyhow. Most of the information wasn't new to him, besides the fact that they had to get some sort of crystal from a place he never heard of. As long as it wasn't too far... He didn't want to travel half way across the globe for a chance that he'll just get killed or disappointed. Well, he was already disappointed with the fact that half these people were actually somewhat important to the mission. He didn't understand how they were even competent enough to dress themselves everyday. Well, no matter. If the gods had told him that he was some sort of "sword" to this woman's "key" then he would protect her. Good news was though, it was more combat for him, that seemed evident. Surely more challenging than killing the low time criminals he's been slaughtering for the last few weeks.

But son of darkness? What did that mean? Maybe it was because of his demonic lineage. But the human, who was the daughter of light, why was that? He wouldn't try to think about it too much. To a degree, he believed the woman. But also, he was simply curious and had nothing better to do. Besides, saving the world seemed like the more important thing right now. With something like that, he didn't want to chance whether it was true or not.

Sinking back into his mortal state, he put his cloak on and pulled up the hood, sitting down next to the same piece of broken wall he did before, next to the fire.

"Look, frankly, I don't like half of you to begin with. And I just met you. But what the messenger said seems very important, and saving the world is a big thing. Like it or not, I'm not taking the chance of it turning out to be true and have myself not help. So once daylight hits, I'll be heading out to get whatever crystal she mentioned. I cannot force any of you to stay, and frankly some of you, I could care less. But if this is something important to you and you would like to help on this journey... Then I guess I'll have to suck it up. This is bigger than me."

Fredrick looked behind as he was stepping further and further away from the campfire. The light from the fire started to dissapear as he turned his head away from the campfire and back in the direction he was heading. It felt good to walk away from all that crazyness. The tension was so obvious you could cut it with a dagger if you could. But anyway, as he was stepping forward he noticed drops of blood on the bark of a tree and some on the ground. They were also accompanied by some footsteps, heading towards a certain direction. Fredrick leaned down as he checked the blood and the footsteps. He started smiling afterwards as he rised back up. They were from that bandit that tried to rob him some moments ago, that he wounded but which he lost because he got distracted by the girl and her campfire.

As he was following the footsteps Fredrick remembered that the elf woman spoke something about a bandit camp not far from the ruins where they were at the time. "Of course, now it all makes sense. That bastard that tried to rob me was surely one of those bandits. And now his footsteps will lead me straight to their camp. It looks like i'm gonna be severing some heads tonight." He said as he started running while following the footsteps. However all of his plans for vengeance towards the bandit that tried to rob him were spolied as everything turned white and he found himself in a circle, together with all of the people from the campfire as well as two new arrivals, a halfling and a possible dwarf. Then a woman appeared, dressed in a flowing white gown and with golden hair.

The woman spoke as she started admonishing them because of their attitude towards one another. After the girl asked her who she is the woman introduced herself as Lyphera, Messenger of the Old Gods. Fredrick was so stunned by everything that was happening, he didn't even reacted in any way. He just listened to everything that Lyphera said. That particular vision with the burning village and with people of all races being slaughtered by giants was particularily disturbing. Once Lyphera was done, everything returned back to normal and they were all back at the ruins, with everybody standing in the same circle with the campfire burning in the middle of it.

The halfling, Halen, who was in shock as well, was asking if everything was real and what will they do now. Imidieatly after that the centaur apologized for his attitude towards them. "No harm done!" Said Fredrick as he looked at him and crossed his arms. Then he looked at Halen, most likely he was the one that was taunting them from the shadows about how vulnerable they are. But all that didn't mean anything anymore. They would have to find that cursed crystal or everything will fall apart and the world will perish under evil's grasp. Then he turned his view towards Kynna, aparently the so-called daughter of light was the one that was supposed to lead them to the mountain of Valron where that crystal is but it didn't look like she had any idea what to do.

"Well I don't know about the rest of you but personally i'm amazed to see that the gods still care about us. I mean, they were forbidden after the Purge and nobody worshipped them for a hundred years. Needless to say that they are nearly forgotten these days. If I were a god i'd be pretty pissed about all that."

Unamia took the rabbit back from the girl and sat down. Things were going south very quickly. She twirled the knife in her hands, while the others spoke. When it became clear they would all rather bicker then have a conversation, she focused on skinning the now cold prey. The girl’s shouting did catch her attention enough to glance up; the kitten could hiss if not scratch. She resisted the urge to look up at the demon’s outburst. It wasn’t much a surprise, she had yet to meet a demon who was not prideful. Not until she had nearly finished disemboweling the creature did she sense Dragneel, and did all she could to mask her surprise. He recognized her, and hid it much better. Barely a nod; she pursed her lips and responded in kind. “Was hardly expecting you here,” she muttered mostly to herself and threw the insides of the rabbit to the flames. It was for the best that he had come, it hardly even concerned her which of the others he was meant for. Dragneel would know what to make of this mess better then she would. Though called himself Mikael now, and the way he addressed the girl made it clear. Unamia almost snickered he’ll have his work cut out. She finished impaling the carcass and lay it over the fire, pointedly looking, but saying nothing to the new half-breed arrival. It had been some time since she had needed to speak Elven and was not eager to deal with those sorts of questions.

--

There was almost a breath before the apparition appeared; as though they sensed it coming. Or perhaps that was Unamia’s imagination. But everyone was very still as Lyphera spoke. Unamia only frowned, barely listening to anything but the quickening of her own heartbeat. She knew what she was doing, Dragneel would know more still. What right had this god to intervene? The thought was contradictory but her ego was wounded; she had tried to get them all to listen and failed so horribly that Arvas or even Ral himself had thought it best to send ‘a helping hand’. She remained silently brooding while the others began to speak, until the dwarf did so.
“You expect to leave?” A bitter snort escaped her; “what you just saw,” she casually waved to their center with one blood-stained hand, the other propped her chin “you believe it would be that simple, that a god would appear after centuries to simply request your help?”she stood and looked at the human man and demon “I would suggest you think more carefully as to what you’re agreeing too. As it is I need to wash and time to think on what just happened. But if we're to remain together you may call me Amelise.” Without saying more she walked away from the fire in search of a stream to wash her hands, the nearly cooked meal forgotten on the fire; her appetite gone.

Kynna stared down at her hands. What was she suppose to do? Out of everyone there, she was the weakest. She couldn't kill someone. How was she suppose to help at all? The only thing she was good for was possibly healing the others if they got hurt. Maybe that's why she was chosen. Maybe the Gods knew there would be dangers, and she was the key to keeping them alive because of her healing ability. That must be it. That was the only reason she was called a key of any kind. As the horse-man apologized for the way he'd acted, she looked up at him. Her eyes didn't seem to see him, though. Her mind flashed back to those images she'd seen. The people, running for their lives from evil that took no quarter in killing everyone in their path.

Slowly, her eyes turned to the newest arrival. Another elf. At least that's what he looked like to her. He was staring at her. She blinked, wondering what it was he was thinking for a moment before looking away toward the shorter man who was beginning to wander off again. There was a faint tinge of pink to her cheek from the male elf's staring, but she tried to ignore that. What was she to do? They needed the shorter man, apparently. She had noticed the way the woman had called them each by name, looking to them as she spoke. Denryr, Denrig, and Halen. There was also Cedran, who was already saying he was in. The son of darkness...whatever that was. Whatever he was. She still remembered the way he'd transformed, and it caused a bit of a shiver down her spine to think of it.

Fredrick was watching her too. She paused for a moment as he spoke. He was right. Where she came from, any mention of the old Gods outloud was punishable by death. But she knew something of them at least. The Old Gods were the ones the gypsies worshipped. The ones they prayed to. She shook her head quietly.

"Not everyone has forgotten them. Some still pray to the Old Gods in secret, even in the Three Kingdoms." She spoke quietly. Amelise went to wash, warning them all to think carefully on what was going on. There was no other choice for her. She took a breath before standing and speaking loudly enough that the group could hear her easily, though she wasn't shouting by any means.

"I don't know about the rest of you..." She started. "But I for one can't stand the thought of the world ending. I may not be as strong as the rest of you. And I may not be the best person in a fight since I can't kill..." She paused, looking down at her hands. "But I can heal people. I was born with this magic. And it's caused me nothing but heartache." Her eyes closed for a moment as memories threatened to rush back to her, but she held them in check, looking up and around at the group. "We're not just being asked by the Gods to help. We're being begged by every living person on this earth. How can you turn your back on them, knowing that to do so will mean the death of everyone you've ever cared for? Abandoning them is the same as murder, knowing what we do." She looked to Denrig pointedly when she said that last sentence.

She moved then, slowly approaching Cedran and standing beside him. "I don't know what a son of darkness is. I don't even know what you are." She spoke to him. "But I'm not going to turn my back on everyone." She looked back out at the others then. "If it's my job to find this crystal, then that's what I'm going to do. Whether we like each other or not, we need to work together to put aside our differences for the greater good. I don't know any of you, save Mikael. But I'm going to do whatever I have to in order to make sure the rest of you all live. Even if it means giving my own life. So you all have this vow from me."

She paused a moment, taking a breath again before speaking with clear conviction. "Whoever comes with us, no matter what the odds, I will do everything in what little power I have to make sure you live. From this moment on, you're a friend. And I don't turn my back on my friends."

---

A babe, covered only by a blanket of moss. Her eyes haven't yet opened, she cries alone, weak in the forest. A pack, coming to investigate the call, their hackles are raised as they stalk their next enemy. Anyone this close to the clan was top priority, and to be handled immediately. The cries never cease as they close in, four wolves hide in the shadows, low to the ground prepared to pounce.

Their leader, a female alpha with luscious grey fur, crawled forwards. She tested the air, smelling a...newborn. She recoiled, raising her stance. Her hunters had smelled it too, they all came forward now, paying no heed to her words. They circled the young child, sniffing her and licking her. The baby cried, vying for attention.

A wolf snarled, in an attempt to claim the baby. It was futile, the alpha had made her choice. The alpha shifted, revealing a young girl no more than twenty. She was tall, carrying a loving grace. On her face was white war paint, covering her tan and beautiful features. She wore a thick fur coat, the hood was up, an antler crown concealing her flowing amber hair.

She kneeled, picking up the baby and cradling it. After covering the bare child in her fur coat, the baby stopped crying. The alpha planted a kiss on the child's cheek, it was clearly a druid, but why didn't it have a home? “You are now mine, child, I am Avina of the wolf clan. Your name is...it is Avelle.”

Avina held up the baby Avelle for the wolves to see. They sat on their haunches and began a symphony of joyous howls. This showed their new loyalty for the girl, who may soon become their leader if she turned out to be a shifter. It also showed their growing respect for her new mother, as the leader of their pack. This was Avelle’s beginning.

---

The woods, the damp and inky blackness that was so thick it was palpable. The trees were covered in bark as black as tar, their flesh a pure and refreshing white. Avelle usually had a good feel of time, having lived in the forest all her life. Here though, there were no stars peeking through the leafy canopy, and no sun to measure. The only thing that helped her keep track of time was the silver moonlight that created spotlights on the undergrowth. Every time she entered her Tiger form, she would lose track, making it next to impossible.

She was on the run, but it was almost laughable to be wary in the forest. Her druid lineage made the animals peaceful around her, even the more...eccentric ones gave her no trouble. She was mystified endlessly by the creatures there, and they naturally made great company. Though they were friendly, and their coos were quite sweet, she followed after the chain of life. In her tiger form, she preyed on them to keep herself sustained, nightly her maw would be covered in their blood before she went to rest in the undergrowth.

That day, she had decided to stay in her tiger form. She was an imposing creature, a white streak against the dark hues of the forest. When standing amongst the tall undergrowth, only her upper half could be seen. Her shiny coat, once a plain contrast between black and white, was stained with dark berry juice and the blood of her prey. The pink pads on her feet allowed her to traverse silently, her long tail waving peacefully over the brush. Whenever she opened her mouth and allowed her sandpaper tongue to loll out, she revealed her three inch fangs, a surprisingly blinding white. Her whiskers and ears twitched, instinctively checking for danger.

She was still in the thick of the forest, but it was very clear that she would soon break through. Undergrowth become more sparse, making it harder for her to hide all nine feet of herself whenever she paused to rest or give herself tongue baths. Although it was a good enough cover for her, she refused to climb trees, hugging them with her four inch claws was horribly embarrassing.

From time to time, she found herself wishing she could have long conversations with the animals she came across. It was usually countered with the realization it would probably make her more hesitant come time to prey upon their flesh. Instead, she had brief conversations with herself, to remind her why she was on this journey through the Blackwoods in the first place. Everyday, she craved human contact, someone to talk to in her fake monotone, someone to break the endless cacophony of the forest creatures. She had no idea that she would find what she was seeking in the woods.

She had tucked herself under some brush, curling her huge muscular body in on itself to make room. She chuffed her loneliness, the sound making her throat vibrate. To pity herself, she began the vigorous process of giving herself a tongue bath. While cleansing herself, the slow breeze of the forest shifted. She felt it, cool as it ran through her fur. With it, came an unexpected scent. Smoke, flames burning acrid and rich. Her first instinct was to run, flee the forest before it caught flame entirely. The human part of her forced her to stand, and creep towards the scent.

The nearer she got, the more she could pick up on. A whole mishmash of bodies, all in a concentrated area. The sulphuric scent of a demon, the sickeningly sweet aroma of Elves, the plain yet distinctly earthy scent of a human life, and the rough scent of grease and stone that made up dwarves. ‘What a strange blend’, she commented, nearing the group.

On her way, she found small wisps of blue light surrounding her. She knew of the wisps, Avina had told her much about them, but she had never seen one in person. She also noted that the undergrowth gave way to ruins of a city long since past, feeling strange beneath her padded feet. She walked out towards them, staring at them as her tail flicked like a whip behind her. Her claws extended naturally, digging into the ground below. She chuffed, staring at them all with eyes full of knowledge. They seemed to be in their own worlds, as though they had been brought together against their wills. Once she had passed them all over, she shifted.

What was once a tiger, on all fours, was now a girl in a crouching position. Before she looked up, all they saw was her dark brown hair, some strands braided and others decorated with vibrant beads. Her flowing skirt was expertly died, colored in bright purples, reds, and blues. She had a top made of thick fur, reminiscent of her alternate form. It was all hemmed in gold, with many decorations throughout. When she looked up, and stood, she revealed her face. While not as beautiful as any elven, she carried a sort of grace that many strived for. Her green eyes displayed mischief, with full and fluttering lashes. The rest of her face displayed a simple calm, on her cheeks was red paint that resembled two claws. Her arms were covered in tattoo bands, what they didn't know was each band marked one of her eighteen years in her pack.

She bowed curtly, her lips curling up in the ghost of a smile. “What a strange crowd you all are.” She said, her sweet voice carrying over them without a hint of emotion. “I am Avelle, pleasure to meet everyone. I came here with the understanding that this forest was...abandoned. Apparently I'm ever the fool.” She graced them with a smile, seemingly amused by everyone. “Is it too much to ask everyone's name?” She wondered if anyone would have the courtesy to respond, or if they would kick her out, or maybe just leave her to romp through their camp.