The Demon Lands

Apate slunk forwards with her illusions, eying the resistance members as they fought. The sniper from earlier and a redheaded guy were fighting fiercely with a few other men, but that wasn't what she was focusing on. A few of the soldiers were fighting with fearful expressions, their swings quick and sloppy as they fought with all of their desperation. Which, with the skill or lack thereof of some of the demon troops, was more than enough.

Finally, her eyes caught on a soldier nearly opposite from the sniper. His eyes were wide in panic, and he swung his sword too wide. Apate's muzzle twisted into a feral grin, her clawed hand reaching down to stroke the head of one of her monstrous illusions.

"Boys." She cackled to the growing shadow creatures, her voice turning almost singsong as she leveled her claw at the soldier. "Meat."

The beasts lunged out of the shadows, their deformed jaws open and snapping with ravenous hunger and their beady eyes as cold as the moon. They swept over the soldier, who screamed in pure terror before wildly flailing his sword about at the illusions, breaking the line as those around him responded similarly. The illusions dissipated around his swings with a chilling hiss, but they had served their purpose. With a roar, Apate charged the soldiers with wings flared and teeth bared, slicing her claws deep into the throat of one soldier before twisting nimbly out of the way of his dying swings.

The battlefield had erupted into a chaotic frenzy, however, and a sword found its way down on the scales of her back, the impact sending a shock of pain up through her wings. She gasped in pain, but her swing in retaliation only managed to hit air in the chaos of the field. Pinned between demons and resistance alike, she pulled her aching wings in tight and lashed out, hoping that she could get herself out of the mess she had made.

Toerga had always prided himself in his tracking abilities, but he was certain that even a newblood could have smelt the bloody battle from miles away. As he came closer and closer to the battle, however, he slowed until he was padding silently up to the edge of the fighting. He tried to get his bearings, but the smell of demon and human blood was dizzily overpowering. He put a paw over his nose, but it didn't help much. Looking over, he saw someone else hanging back from the battle. Her face was pale with fright, and she wore robes that he remembered as those of a healer.

He silently hoped that she wasn't a priestess, he didn't fancy the idea of fighting a searing light magic user, much less one of his old order.

The battle itself was chaos, as most battles eventually became, but the commander was still evident among his men. He saw the half-elf he had smelt before shouting orders and swinging expertly at the demons who attacked him, and there was no doubt in Toerga's mind about who was the Alpha of the Resistance party. Next to him was a younger, red-headed human who also seemed to fight in quite a skilled manner. Neither of them were looking in Toerga's direction.

After a moment of thought, Toerga set his sights on the redhead at the Resistance Alpha's right. The unnatural smelling demon from before had seemed intent on killing the half-elf anyways. Besides, the quickest way to cripple an Alpha was to crush his right hand. Unhooking his warhammer from his back he burst out of the trees, suffering a few small blows from some of the soldiers as he barreled across the short distance, using his momentum to help send the warhammer into a sharp arc down towards the redhead's shoulder.

 

As he was keeping a sight and fending off other demons, he didn't have time to address a sudden blow towards his right shoulder. It was a heavy force, like someone large in size had decided to take a dive onto his shoulder.

"AAARGHHH!!!! " he yelled in sheer pain as he dropped his sword momentarily, clutching his arm. He looked around for the source and his eyes faced a large sized werewolf with a huge warhammer in hand. His eyes widened slightly before scrambling painfully for his fallen blade.

---

If her face wasn't pale enough, she would have resembled a caricature carved in white marble. Rowena spotted how wounded Ewart and Ceithan were. Her eyes widened and her hands clasped over her mouth.

"Lord Hjalmar! I've to help them! " she turned to her protector----who was no longer by her side. He had his hands full apparently, swinging his halberd against other enemy belligerents.

She should have known. They couldn't protect her forever. Biting her lip, she made a dash towards the captain and the redhead.

(Wow I don't know if this is alright.)

 

Toerga blinked, momentarily distracted. He wished that the fighting around him could have been even slightly quieter, so that he could have heard more of what the vampire had whispered.

What he did hear, though... He saw her turn to wink at him, before once again forging deeper into the now thinning battle. He saw the redhead grasping for his sword, and he simply stepped on the hilt, sure that his weight would keep him down for a moment.

On the battlefield it was dangerous to pause for even a moment, so he quickly came to a decision. He kicked the sword away, before grabbing the human by the collar of his armor. He brought his muzzle down to his level, before he calmly spoke.

"Things are changing. Keep an open mind."

He dropped the swordsman, hefting his warhammer again and swinging it out at a soldier who had tried to rush him from behind. The clank of the hammer meeting his armor was almost as loud as the clanks of his armor as he had tried to "sneak" up on him. With a last pointed look, he turned away from the redheaded soldier and began to fight his way to the edge of the battlefield, watching the healer sprint through the chaos. For a moment, he nearly questioned himself as to why he had done what he had done, but he merely chuckled.

An honorable wolf should follow the actions of the Alpha, after all.

Apate hadn't seen where Naomi had disappeared to, but then again, fighting was taking up most of her attention. She caught a sword with the crook of her arm before twisting it out of the soldier's grasp and pushing him back into one of his fellow soldier's swords. She grabbed the sword she had acquired and swung it, but she wasn't used to the weapon and her strike was clumsy, missing everything.

With a huff of annoyance, she simply flung the sword out, striking a soldier and knocking him slightly off balance. She felt another strike hit her on the back of her leg, and her knee buckled slightly. She felt a strike attempt to hit her on the head, but the sword was diverted by her head spines. She lashed out, but missed as another strike impacted her. She lashed out again, but all she hit was air as another strike bounced off of her scales. She saw four soldiers from the corner of her eye, all of them swinging at her from different angles before quickly moving out of the way. Enraged, she lashed her tail out like a whip, but one of the soldiers blocked it, parrying her tail and chipping her tailspines.

Time almost seemed to slow down as she whipped her head around to the soldier, whose look had changed from cocky assurance to fear. Her muzzle twisted in rage, smoke pouring from her nostrils.

He did NOT just chip my spines.

"ENOUGH!" She roared, fire bellowing out of her mouth in a wave of cerulean. The flames caught some of the trees, setting leaves and bark ablaze and quickly spreading. She stood seething amid flames and charred soldiers, her pride aching more than her leg or her wings.

After a few moments, she calmed down enough to notice the forest fire that she had sparked. Well, that wasn't too smart. She sighed to herself.

 

Avery kept her steady pace on towards the sounds of fighting. As the trees started to thin out, she found herself at the back of a force of demons. Unable to see Morgan from her position, she took to a position among the tree branches, using her supernatural vision and agility in the dark to her advantage. From what she could see, Morgan wasn't among the demons on the ground-- rather, the source of the conflict was a fight between a scouting force of humans and demons. ...Now's as good a time as any to lend a hand. Dropping down from the branches, her rapier found a grunt demon's neck and her parrying dagger swung in short circles, ready to block incoming strikes. "Let's have some fun, demons," she smirked, her eyes turning black as stone.

-----

Morgan kept on his awkward run, breathing hard as the sounds of fighting only got closer to him. What's that..? Something smelled... burning? A break in the forest ahead told him the worst-- a forest fire in his way, cutting him off his intended route of travel. Turning around to run in the other direction, another wall of flame rose before him. ...Only one way out, then. Ditching his shirt and gripping the quarterstaff in both hands, he took a moment to breathe deeply before going in the only direction away from the flames-- towards the battlefield. Alright, just remember the stances. Ironstance, to stand strong. Flamestance, to burn the unaware. Windstance, to strike like the wind. Waterstance, to flow like the rivers. Avery taught you this, all you need are the motions.

And suddenly he was there, in the middle of a a trio of demons armed with blades of varying sizes. Too many for Windstance-- Ironstance and Waterstance will have to do. Breathing in deeply, he took up a position with knees bent, hands in the center of the staff, and waited for them to advance. Yes, Ironstance and Waterstance to wait for an opening, then Flamestance to--

One of the demons fell with a rapier in its neck, and the soft feeling of wings against his back instantly told him that Avery was at his back. "Dammit, kid," she groaned. "You just had to get us in trouble, didn't you." With a sigh, she lunged forward and took another down, and without any allies the third turned and fled. "Let's see if we can lend a hand, kiddo."

 

Clearly, Ceithan had equipped everything he needed inclusive of enthusiasm to go forward in this mission. And what happened? His shoulder was dislodged by a war hammer, having someone seemingly an enemy, case in point being a female vampire, whisper something in his ear which he failed to interpret in that moment of peril, being grabbed and dropped painfully by the intimidating wraith of a werewolf, as well as scrambling about for his sword that was kicked aside.

To make matters worse, Ewart was down for the count. He would gladly lay down his life for his commander, but apparently this was not the time for heroic deeds. The forest had caught fire from the dragon lady's wrath.

"Lord Ceithan! Lord Nagamine!" A female voice cried. Turning his head towards the voice, Ceithan greeted Rowena, who had gotten into a few scuffles on her way to them. Her hair was sticking out in odd angles and there were several cuts on her sleeves. She crouched, hands on her knees, and panted upon reaching them.

"Finally! What kept you, princess?!" Certain bellowed in her face, clearly exasperated by everything that was going on. He gripped his sword with much difficulty and only barely managed to block off an attack by one of the demon members who was trying to close in towards Ewart for the kill, not without getting knocked down.

Almost at once, Rowena had one of her hands outstretched towards the assailant and muttered an incantation. A white blast of light formed a circular shield protecting Ewart and Ceithan, pushing the demon back. While the demon slashed wildly at the barrier, a branch atop the tree they were standing under had caught fire and was about to fall on them!

While Rowena engaged in deflecting the demon, Ceithan slung Ewart's arm over his shoulders and tried to drag him away from the scene. Being in pain himself, he was not in much luck, as his strength was going to fade. He doubted that neither he nor Rowena would be able to hold them off for long. He also prayed that she could spare her powers for what would possibly be thirty to forty men who need medical aid. After sluggishly deflecting another blow, he called out to her "Come on!! Take care of him, I'll handle the---"

Before he could finish, the flaming branch had fallen in between the males and Rowena. It was too broad to easily step over it, and it was too long to have easy access around it. In other words...

Rowena was now in a death trap.

 

Unbeknownst to the fighting parties, a pair of eyes went undetected as usual, watching them with interest.

Vetria Hizora hovered in the air, sprouting the pair of dragon's wings that he had all but forgotten about. 'This forme is a bit uncomfortable,' he complained inwardly, reaching with a hand to scratch a spot just under his wings. 'Oh well, I'll have to get used to it, I suppose.' He returned to spectating what looked to be a one-sided fight, at least until a mysterious group of fighters had come to the rescue.

'Demons, dragons, werewolves, vampires, and even a healer,' he thought, shaking his head. 'What else?' His thoughts were interrupted at a roar and a spark of blue, causing him to look downwards once more and see that the forest was on fire. 'Damn dragon,' he cursed. He had lived in the woodlands all his life, but then again, nothing interesting ever happened here.

Until now, that was.

He sighed. He didn't know much of the individuals partaking in battle, but any fool could see that it was the Resistance and the Demon forces battling. 'Should I join? Or should I not?' he asked himself once more. With each passing moment, another phase of war seemed to pass as more and more creatures appeared from no where to get their hands bloody. With another sigh, he redirected his attention to the demon forces.

"Resistance or the Demon forces?" he wondered aloud, mind finally settling on a fight. Sure, he could only really rely on Nightwing, his cursed black dagger, but magic, though he could never really use it willy-nilly, had never failed him when he needed it either. Just then, he heard a crack, and managed to fly just far enough as to avoid the flaming blue tree branch that whizzed by him. He glared down at the dragon, annoyance tempting him into a fight all the more. He shook his head and returned to the question at hand.

His father had been a demon. Surely he should aid his own? Not only that, but a dragoness was in play, and he would never forget the kindness of the half-dragon that was his mother. His mouth tightened into a line at the thought.

His mother had been murdered.
By his father.

Resistance it was.

With a smile, and a silent flick, he drew his inheritance, the dagger he had dubbed as Nightwing, retracted his wings, and fell downwards towards the ground to join the fray. There was one who he had his eye on, a vampire who seemed to think it was funny to rob a dragon necklace from its proper owner, dragon or not.

(Did I do this right? Sorry, I'm new to forum roleplaying.)

 

((yup eevee looks good to me

italicized text is allouettian; regular text is common.))

"...I don't like our position," Morgan grunted as he took deflected another blow with the quarterstaff, retaliating with a half-spin to the demon's kneecap, cracking it with a vicious howl. His moment of weakness was not missed by the enemy, and he took a pair of cuts to the arm for it before falling back into place beside Avery.

"I'll agree with you on that one," she grinned, eyes sparkling red in the firelight. "I'll bust an opening in three... two... one...-" she counted, before breaking position to dart forwards and stab a demon in the neck with her rapier, parrying knife blocking blow after blow as each of her strikes took lives. "C'mon, kiddo! Time to move!" With a grunt, Morgan pushed back the demons around him and spun, darting through the slight gap in the demonic forces as Avery cut her way forwards. "Alright, alright... Hey, look at her. She looks kinda defenseless," Avery murmured, low on breath. A short ways ahead of them, a human female was trapped by the flames, a weapon next to her. "Let's lend a hand." A few more demons fell before her blade before the duo reached the woman's side. "Hey there. You alive enough to lend a hand, or should we just camp out here for the time being?"

Taking up a position next to Avery to form an Allouettian wall, Morgan shifted to Ironstance to fend off the encroaching demons. "...C'mon, Avery. There's no way she speaks Allouettian." Switch over, easy. His Common was better than hers, anyways, even if it was bad. "Greetings! We help!" he called over his shoulder as his staff crunched a demon's collarbone, the 'w' in 'we' slurring into a 'z', as it usually is in Allouettian, and 'help' gaining a 'y' at the front.

 

Vetria couldn't help but feel a spark of curiosity at the strange vampire he was charging. She stood perfectly still, eyeing him with not wariness, readiness, but with a simply blank expression. 'Interesting,' he thought. 'She's probably got something up her sleeve. Oh well though, too late to turn back now.'

The next thing he happened to take notice of was her pitch black sword, which seemed to have a dent in it. 'I've never seen a sword like that before,' he thought. Then he smiled and glanced down at his own pulsing black dagger. 'Oh wait, yes I have.'

He looked back towards his soon to be adversary. She was toying with that dragon necklace. His mouth tightened and he gripped the hilt of his dagger a bit harder, completely ignoring the large sapphire dragon who hadn't seemed to notice him yet. His chances didn't look good, but that was alright.

He was never supposed to exist in the first place, so why should he fear death?

Fire was everywhere; eating away at the trees, grass, practically everything it could get its hungry tendrils on. Few were still able to fight; in hindsight, he probably should've taken action earlier. As far as he could tell, he might have been able to hold his own with the vampire, provided his magic didn't fail him, but with a dragon involved as well, his chances were quite slim. Even so, he could at least count on dragon and demon speed, instinct, and sense combined to aid him in this feat.

He smiled at the thought. 'Makes it all the more exciting, I suppose.'

His heartbeat sped up in anticipation as everything seemed to slow down around him. His sword arm moved forward out of second nature rather than command, as he engaged the blood-sucker in combat. Her black sword met with his own Nightwing with a deathly clang, as the battle commenced.

 

Apate heard the clash of metal meeting, and turned her eyes to the center of the burned area. Naomi was fighting a... dragon? She paused in shock. It was a creature about the size of a human, but it had some features of a dragon and some of a demon. She pondered it for a moment, before her eyes slowly narrowed in curiosity.

"Half-breed." She growled, before chuckling slightly. "Looks like I've met another dragon outcast. Too bad it's fighting Naomi." Her chuckle turned dark, her tail lashing about and stirring up the ashes around her. "Looks like I'll have to kill it."

She strode forwards in the battle, the few resistance soldiers left fleeing before her fire. She thrust her claws into the blaze around her, darkness impossibly forming within the flames. The darkness shifted into what seemed to be dog-like facial features, the flames around it taking the form of a twisted, unnatural beast of shadow and flame. She took a moment to fondly scratch the beast behind one of its ears before whispering softly to it.

"Burn the half-breed."

The fire apparition barked distortedly, before it flung itself into the fight, clamping it's fiery jaws onto the half-breed's free arm. Sprinting forwards, Apate waited until his sword once again was locked with Naomi's before she lunged at the half-dragon, her jaws ready to clamp onto his throat.

Toerga was mildly upset. Scratch mildly, he was very upset and very much blind. The fire drowned out his senses, the smoke burning his nose and eyes and the crackling groans of the blazing trees preventing him from hearing anything else. Growling in frustration, he ran away from the smoke, and the battlefield. Though it was dishonorable to run from battle, it was also stupid to attempt to fight blind.

Once he had made his way out from the fire, he stopped to catch a breath of clean air. On the wind he smelt human, and dismissed it at first. After a moment, however, he realized that the smell came from a direction opposite the battlefield.

Someone got away. Toerga thought. Probably escaping back to their stronghold. He paused, looking back in the direction of the battle. It was nearly over anyways, and he didn't want to be around when the surviving demons started asking where he'd come from. Following the survivor would lead him to the Resistance, and possibly to more information about the war from both sides.

His decision made, Toerga set off at a swift lope through the woods, following the scent of the last survivor.

 

Ceithan cried out in alarm as the flaming branch fell in front of him, being able to yank Ewart out of the way in time. Rowena was trapped on the other side. Her magic barrier had faded, he was unsure if she was able to hold it out for long. As he watched Ewart toss Rowena his blade before losing consciousness once more, Ceithan gave Rowena a slightly irritated yet worried glance. He wanted to help her too, but he had his hands full.

"Go! Get Lord Nagamine to safety!" she cried out to him before she heard snarling of her enemies some distance behind her.

"If you say so... I'm not gonna come and reap your remains afterwards!" Ceithan spat at her, not caring if he meant it as a joke or otherwise. Noting Ewart's wounded arm, he wrapped the crimson sash he wore around his waist around the wound as he lifted him up and made a run for the resistance stronghold.

Eyes darting around, he was hoping that he didn't have to face more demons. The fire had spread rapidly, and more overhead branches were in danger of searing their heads. The youth managed to maneuver himself around, only barely dodging a burning falling tree, slamming himself hard against a tree trunk. Grunting slightly, he tried to stand, but his legs were quivering with exhaustion. The smoke was getting thicker. Covering his nose and pulling Ewart's hood over his head, Ceithan staggered at his level best to escape.

Despite his seemingly harsh words, he also aided Ewart in silent prayer that she would survive. Solaris Heulwen would have his neck if his daughter was to die in such a fashion.

---

Paying no mind to Ceithan's insensitive remark, the healer just noticed the blade on the ground that Ewart had tossed her. She had little knowledge on how to handle blades, except utilising smaller knives in the kitchen whilst preparing food or medicinal concoctions.

Scuffling and some crushing sounds were heard. she wheeled around to see two petite humanoid beings with avian wings fighting off what seemed like a small gang of demons heading her way. The taller winged individual walked up to her and asked her something in a language she did not comprehend.

Upon hearing the deafening crunch of someone's collarbone over the crackling flames, she saw the shorter one fending himself from a demon. He looked over his shoulder and cried out "Greetings! We help!" It was heavily accented common language, but it was sufficient for Rowena to understand him.

"Thank you." Rowena replied as she picked up the blade, moving towards the two to assist them in combat. She would admit to herself, she was not proficient at all in wielding a blade. She just managed to block a blow from a demon, not without suffering a bruise.

There was no other way. She had to keep her magic intact and survive. There were possibly fifty men who need her help at this point in time.

 

Vetria and the vampire had entered a dance of swords of sorts, with no clear advantage on either side. Sure, he had been grazed on the shoulder, but the injury was just a scratch, and he hadn't gotten very serious. Though something told him that his opponent wasn't exactly putting all her effort in the battle either.

'Parry, strike, dodge,' he thought inwardly, performing each action as soon as the notion came. So far, he hadn't been wounded very badly, and his blows would only get stronger due to the properties of his dagger, Nightwing. He didn't expect the dragoness he had spotted earlier to stand by idly, however, and his hypothesis was proved correct upon the flaming feel of, well, fire on his left arm. A canine-like apparition, a work of magic, was hanging there. 'Oh my, I've been too careless,' he thought with a smile. 'I haven't felt pain like this for a while. Feels good.' It was then that he decided it was time to quit screwing around; he proceeded to quiet down his mental activity and leave the battle up to luck and his senses, since it looked like he wouldn't make it out alive without magic.

'Drop,' came a subconscious command. He nodded and did as told, narrowly avoiding the dragon jaws clamping down on the spot his head had just been. Now under the dragon, he took the opportunity to bring up his left arm, to slam it along with the fiery illusion into her blue scales.

'Roll.' He obeyed, doing so without hesitation. He could feel both the dry, leaf covered ground, as well as the black sword that smashed down upon the dirt next to him. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw it lift once more.

'Spring. Now.' Two words were quite a rare event, notifying him that this was serious. He pondered on this a split second too long however, and when he finally did follow orders, the black sword which reminded him of his own was already arcing downwards. He could do nothing as a cut appeared on both his shirt and along his chest, the wound burning like fire and stinging like lightning.

'Damn,' he cursed, tracing the slice over with his eyes. He smiled and added aloud, in a whisper, 'That was my favorite shirt.'

Never before had he felt as carefree, excited, and adrenaline-filled as he did now. For too long had he hoped for such an event to occur before, and it didn't matter to him whether he lived or died. His mother was dead, his father was who knows where, and he was completely alone, destined to stay away from all; what did he have to lose?

He looked back upwards, immediately catching sight of the flashing dragon pendant.

His mouth tightened into a line as all his positive feelings faded.

Just what the hell was he doing?

He swore to avenge his mother, by killing his father, most likely under the same allegiance as the ones he was facing currently. His eye twitched, as both his resolve and his demeanor changed. Still, he didn't care if he died, but he would at least inflict as much damage as he could before doing so.

'I'm not going to lose here,' he decided.

"I'm going to kill him," he spoke aloud, not caring if the two heard. They seemed to pause for a moment. "And I'm sure as hell not going to let you stop me." He first turned to the dragoness. He was forced to look away after just a few seconds, being reminded all too much of his slain mother. And so he zeroed in on the vampiric dwarf, running at her with speed he didn't know he possessed. A few tears, evoked by anger, streamed through the wind, to be forgotten the way the world had forgotten about him.

He brought Nightwing in a deadly arc towards her head, only for it to barely be stopped by her weapon. He couldn't help but smile as he saw that he had put a cut in the material, to join the dent that was already there. He immediately turned his blade and sliced downwards, catching her sword hand on it as it slipped past.

He looked straight in her eye, fiery anger burning within his.

Now, the battle had really begun.

 

"Gah. Damn." Apate breathed as waves of pain rolled across her ribs. That guy hit hard.

She tried to stand, but her knee injury from earlier had chosen a terrible time to act up. Her leg buckled under her weight, and she slammed back down into the ground. She kneeled, panting from pain and exhaustion, as Naomi and the half-breed fought. She was about to curse again when she heard a slight whimper to her side.

She cautiously looked over, her eyes going wide as she saw her fire apparition curled upon itself on the ground, its body cooling into ashes. She dragged herself over to it, but it was too late. The monster's last wheezing breath broke the ashes of its body apart and scattered them in the wind. The darkness that had been held within the monster seeped out from its form, coalescing back within Apate's shadow. Apate kneeled there for a moment, before she brushed its ashes away into the fires that still blazed around her.

"That was my favorite pet." She whispered, her eyes hardening in cold fury. She turned her eyes to the half-breed, and what she saw boiled her blood.

He was smiling. The half-breed was smiling as he battled Naomi. Smiling as he had tossed her aside.

She didn't even see his smile fade. She only saw red. He thinks he's so much better than us that he's smiling. So much better than me. She didn't even notice that she was growling, the sound growing louder by the second. I'm stronger than any dragon, half breed or not, and he's going to know it.

She stood, the pain in her body nothing compared to the rage in her mind. Nothing existed to her but herself and the half breed, and she was determined that he not exist for much longer.

Her growl had grown into a full roar as she held her claws above her, darkness pulling itself from her to wrap around her claws. With a final screeching howl, she separated her hands and sent the darkness in each side crashing back into itself. A beam of pure shadow rended the air, shooting out with deadly precision at the half-breed's sword arm.

Apate fell to her knees again as the cost of the spell took its toll, nearly eliminating her shadow. She felt as cold as ice, but she couldn't seem to breathe any fire to warm herself. Wheezing slightly, she fell to her side, unconscious.

(nothing for Toerga today.)

 

A bizarre pattern of slight cuts decorated Morgan's arms and chest from the demons' blades. "...How much longer?" he grunted, deflecting another broadsword and pushing a mace wielder into the path of Avery's rapier.

"Shouldn't be too many more," grinned, deflecting a blade with her parrying dagger as her rapier found another hole in a demon's armor. "Look, they're fleeing." Almost suddenly, there was nothing left but a hefty pile of corpses at their feet. Avery looked around, inspecting the bodies, slitting a few throats with her dagger. "I counted eighteen kills. You?"

Morgan shrugged. "You know I don't count, Avery. We've been over this before. Also, what do we do about the fire? And the human? I believe I ruined your plans."

"Doesn't matter," Avery shrugged. "Look, we did something important, they can't throw us out."

"Truth," Morgan grunted, switching back to English for the benefit of their human guest. "Which way to go?"

 

It wasn't as much of a hell to even breathe normally as what they had to run through.

Ceithan, with his commander in tow, settled down in a small clearing just a few miles off from the flaming zone.

"Dammit, I should have taken some of the burning wood... " Ceithan cursed inwardly. He had laid Ewart on the grass and monitored him as well as his surrounding. Apparently the people who were in the forest were thinning out. Looks like the battle was somewhat over.

Flexing his dislodged arm, he winced, trying hard not to roar in pain. Ceithan looked at Ewart and sighed. Drowsiness was starting to plague his mind.

----

Rowena fell on her knees, tired from the battling, Sunrise puncturing the earth in her grasp.

Looking at the corpses, she stood and turned to one of the winged creatures who asked her a question. Turning her head about, akin to that of an owl, she replied. "I am not sure. But we can make a run somewhere to camp in for the night. "

(edit - 9/10/2014 - 18:26pm GMT + 8.00)

Picking up her blade, she once again bowed in gratitude towards the two. "Thank you very much. May I know your name and allegiance? "

 

The very next moment, Vetria felt quite a powerful magic spell crash into his sword arm, both rendering it useless and kindling the burning anger within him. He cursed and knelt down, clutching his wounded arm to his chest, sword forgotten and lying at his side. 'This isn't good. Get up before you're attacked,' he told himself.

"Apate, no!"

Vetria immediately looked up, eyes widening at the sight in front of him. His vampiric opponent had all but forgotten about him, instead choosing to rush to the side of a now unconscious dragoness. He blinked. Slowly, he stood, keeping his arm from moving. Just then, she gave a command of retreat, and the remaining demons gathered themselves, fleeing into the darkness. When he saw that she was attempting retreat as well, he gathered himself and snatched up his dagger, ignoring the pain completely.

'Oh no,' he thought, gritting his teeth. 'You're not getting away that easily.' He funneled his remaining strength into stumbling after the two, Nightwing raised in preparation for a killing blow. His injuries, especially the large wound on his arm hurt like hell, but he managed to block out the pain with hate and a desire for vengeance.

Then, smoke exploded everywhere, blocking out his sight entirely. "Damn!" he cursed, gazing around wildly for any sign of either the dragon girl or her vampire friend. It wasn't until the fog faded completely did he catch sight of the two, crumpled on the ground.

He grinned, stepping towards them, bringing up his dagger as he did so. Focusing on a point on the dragon girl's neck, he got ready to bring his weapon down and slay her, to balance out the loss of his mother's life. He now stood above the two helpless creatures, free to take what had been taken from him.

"Apate, no!" The cry rang out, clear and loud, within his mind. His grip tightened, as he hesitated for a moment. He shook the thought away, and once again steeled himself.

"Emera, no!" Vetria could only watch helplessly as his mother was slain in front of him. A bloodcurdling scream, a splat of blood, and then all was silent. He watched with wide eyes as the now lifeless body of his mother fell to the ground in seemingly slow-motion, her golden hair streaming as it hovered downwards. "You killed her!" he screamed, turning to face his cold hearted father, tears gathering in his eyes.

"Shut up!" he yelled at himself. He looked down at the sapphire dragoness, who happened to be lying on top of the vampire dwarf. What he had skipped over last time made itself clear, as a shining gleam of silver caught his eye.

The dragon pendant, around the dragon girl's neck.

Now he saw his mother, in place of the dragon, lying in front of him. And instead of a vampiric dwarf lying under her, he saw himself, cowering behind the body.

"I'm just like my father," he murmured aloud, as his fury melted away. He shook his head. "No... I'm worse." He was forced to look away and squeeze his eyes shut as he brought down his dagger in a curving arc. It resounded with a dull thud as it stuck in the ground, half an inch away from the dragon's neck.

He sighed, slumping down. Not knowing what to do next, he took the opportunity to rip a piece of cloth off his now ruined shirt, wrapping it around his injured arm as a makeshift binding. Almost immediately, it became sogging wet with blood.

Once again, he cast his gaze to the two in front of him. He couldn't kill them, but he couldn't simply leave them here, which would end up being the same as murdering the pair.

"You owe me for this," he muttered, rising and slinging the vampire over his shoulder. "Big time." After securing Nightwing to his waist, as well as the sword so much like his own, he dragged the dragon girl with his left arm and carried the vampire with his right as he exited the battlefield, moving slowly. He made sure not to head in the direction of the Demon Lands, instead choosing to travel in a direction he did not see anyone else go.

His arm throbbed, as did his other wounds, but the pain was not as bad as it had been when he was first injured. He didn't know how long he had been transporting the two for, but he assumed that he had covered a reasonable amount of ground. He looked up at the sky, and seeing as the signs of sunrise began appearing, decided to stop.

With another sigh, he carefully laid the vampire down next to her dragon friend, making sure the two rested in shadow, and seated himself against a tree. 'I should leave. They're probably pissed at me, especially that dragoness,' he reasoned. He shrugged. 'Oh well. Let them do what they will. I deserve what's coming to me.' With that, he laid himself against the rough bark and closed his eyes, to think and pass time, as he waited for either the vampire or the dragon girl to wake.

(Italicized text represents a flashback.)

 

((Long post, sorry))

Apate jolted upwards with a gasp, panting as her heart rate settled down a bit. She shifted a bit on the rocky floor, before she paused. Something wasn't right.

She looked around the cave she was in, but nothing looked off. No one else was there, and the only fixture of the cave was a fire glowing on the center. Something wasn't right about it though. Apate grimaced in pain, her throbbing headache feeling as if it would break her head open.

She got up, walking to the mouth of the cave. Outside, sheer cliffs fell away around the side of the mountain that the cave was dug into. Down and away from the mountains, desert stretched out to the horizon. It was beautiful, but it just seemed wrong.

She was about to sign in resignation when she heard a familiar bark behind her. Turning around, she saw that what she had mistaken as a fire was actually her fire apparition. It turned and nuzzled her friendlily before laying down beside her.

Something clicked in her mind. "You can't be here." She frowned, "You dissipated in the battle. I couldn't have remade you that quickly."

Then it hit her.The battle. Naomi. Where is everything? And everyone?

She suddenly realized why everything seemed so wrong. "I'm not awake, am I?" She asked the apparition. It merely barked at her again, licking her hand with tounges of flame.

She tried to playfully breathe a bit of fire back at him, but nothing happened. She froze in confusion for a moment, before she looked down. Her shadow was gone.

"I really did it this time, didn't I?" She groaned. "It'll take forever to accumulate enough shadow for spells again."

She absently stroked the apparition's head, looking out over the empty mountains of her dream. She didn't even have to guess what place her mind had decided to recreate.

The Eastern Mountains. Home.

She looked back, craning her head up to try to see the mountain's peak. Just as she remembered, a temple of black rock sat upon the top of the mountain.

Unfurling her wings, she flew up the rocky mountain face, coming to land at the foot of the temple, the obsidian doors reflecting glaring sunlight down on her. The full-grown-dragon sized doors dwarfed her, but she managed to shove one open.

Inside, the temple was mostly empty, but a stone altar took up the back of the building. It was engraved with the mythology of the eastern dragons, mostly of the god of fire and shadow who was said to have granted them their magic, Taom.

Apate walked up to the altar, ignoring the dripping sound of blood still dropping from its edges. She pushed aside the body of the dragon hatchling that lay on the alter, revealing a single word carved hastily in the stone.

Ruthless.

"Exactly like it was when I left." She chuckled, carelessly pushing the hatchling carcass to the floor. She heard a tearing sound, and looked to see her apparition knawing on the body.

"No, don't eat your old body. That'll make you sick." She shoo'd him back. "Just because you think you're a dog doesn't mean you have to eat like one." She looked up to see the statue of Taom glaring down at her from above.

She rolled her eyes, letting the apparition continue its meal. "I know, I know. A dragon granted your magic must be ruthless." She sighed to herself, picking up the ceremonial knife and twirling it around her claws. "That doesn't mean you have to be stupid though."

She felt her statement incredibly validated when she heard the apparition gag on a scale. "See?" She chuckled, though she knew full well that she wasn't getting a response, dream or not.

She sat down on the altar steps, patting her apparition's back while it coughed up the scale. "Nothing to do but wait until I get my strength back, I guess." She sighed, staring at the choking beast.

After a moment of thought she smiled at it. "I never named you, did I? I'm gonna name you Dummy." She told him fondly, and he barked wheezily. After a small moment of peaceful silence, he immediately choked on another scale.

"Really, Dummy?"

Toerga was exhausted by the time the first rays of light shone over the horizon. He had been following the human for what seemed to have been hours when he smelled something strange. Slowing to a near halt, he raised his nose to the morning winds.

Humans. Lots of them. There seemed to be elves and dwarves too, and many other smells he couldn't yet distinguish. One thing was for certain though.

"The Stronghold." He spoke to himself. "I'm nearly there."

(( Okay. I tried to use the opportunity to explain Apate and her magic a bit better. Hopefully I wasn't too vague or too blatant, and I tried to make it so that it only applied to a certain group of dragons in case anyone else wanted to have different canons for dragons. I hope this wasn't too boring or exposition-y and that it didn't throw anyone off.))