Loweneth crept silently through the vast woods, her ears keen to all sounds around her, her feet swift and her breath steady and quiet.

Her hand comfortably gripped around the hilt of her dagger as she leaned from tree to tree, peering around every corner before taking her next step.
An observer would assume she was hunting quite the predator...but she was actually just hunting for her next meal.

A rabbit passed her by a few minutes prior and she was fast on it's trail. It didn't suspect a thing. Her eyes were searching the brushes for it's furry little white body and a devilish smile crossed her lips as she heard rustling from near by. It took great strength to keep her pained stomach from growling. She knew it would give away her position and her lunch would be lost to the wilderness!

And there it was! The yummy, furry beast was rustling away in the bushes without an apparent care in the word. PERFECTION! In one swift flick she shot her dagger through the trees with absolute skill and heard a faint cry as it sunk in.

Running over to the bunny rabbit she withdrew her blade and bowed her head.

"Thank you, rabbit" She fell silent for a moment in a prayer of thanks before preparing to cook her meal.
This woman truly was too used to the wild...

Pyle smelled the acrid taste of smoke rising from the burning horse carriage, heard the screams of his fellow Kris Naga as the demons piked their hearts. He didn't dare turn back as he ran, didn't want to know how close they were on his tail, but he could already feel the chill of their raspy breaths beating down on his neck.

He didn't run fast enough. He couldn't. It was over.

A terrible iron grip tightened itself around his leg and pulled him to the ground. He fell, and thrashed and lashed out at his captor, trying desperately to break free. The darkness was so immense that it engulfed him completely, wisps of shadow blocking out the light, enclosing in on him.

"A warrior knows no fear," he whispered the mantra to himself, trying to draw courage and strength from it. And with a single war cry that deafened the forest, he slashed the demon, cleaving into substance of shadow, slicing it into two equal halves.

A banshee wail pierced the air, one of pain and agony, and the demon retreated away to the shadows.

"You battle a Kris Naga, demon! Come, face your doom!" he taunted, his sun-lit blade raised above his head.

An ungodly shriek reached her ears and her hands immediately covered them in pain. It was so loud...so pained...so...violent.

Her heart instantly began to thunder in her chest and panic attempted to sweep over her but she forced herself to remain calm. Her senses told her someone was in danger and she hadn't in her heart to leave whoever struggled alone in the wilderness to die. She wiped the blood from her dagger and shoved it back into the sheath, hunger being the furthest thing from her mind. She tossed her dagger into her pack and drew her the sword from her hilt.

Her feet seemed to direct her and her senses seemed to be leading them. Her instincts completely overwhelmed her and she could heard heavy breath and a voice. She saw Pyle's back and the sword held high above him...

"What was that?" She panted, catching her breath from how quickly she came to his side. "That did not look like...a mere creature of the forest..."

She kept her sword at the ready and her eyes continued to scan their surroundings anxiously, expecting to be pounced at any moment.

"Do you think it has left...?"

No ordinary creature of this world," Pyle replied calmly, eyes scanning the shadows, "A demon of my past. And it stalks us, I can sense its gaze upon me."

He swung his blade at what seemed to be a tree, and it was a tree, branches hacked off in a single swing. "Out with you, demon! You will not possess this body!" he cried, his voice harsh and menacing and powerful.

And it struck. Quicker than his eye could see, like a flash of lightning, blazing a trail of black coal in its wake. Pyle spun around to see a band of blackness coming straight towards him. It connected, and he slammed into the tree.

In the light of the mortal sun, the demon took the guise of a giant spider, a thousand widowed eyes staring into him with insatiable bloodlust, ululating an ancient shriek so terrifying it not only made your ears ring, but deafened your soul as well.

"Do not be deceived," he grunted, trying to mask his pain as he got back up, "This creature can assume many shapes. Even human."

"A demon?"

Loweneth had encountered lesser demons before but this entity was something completely foreign.
Normally she remained unphased in the face of danger but this struck true fear in her heart.

Another shriek and she cringed, pain shooting through her body from the shrill and menacing cries.

"How do we remove this demon?" She raised her blade and took a small step back, her feet apart and in the blocking position.

Her eyes grew wider and wider as it grew into a massive spider. Eager to do something she moved as swiftly as she could and took a swing at several of it's hairy legs, hoping to remove some from it's unearthly body.

Pyle watched in silence as the girl attempted an attack, her blade grating against the spider's inexorable hide. The weapon she held must have been made of well-forged steel, for anything less would have simply splintered upon contact. Sure enough, there was not a scratch on it.

"You attack it," he replied matter-of-factly, "You mock me with such ignorance, or perhaps you truly have never encountered such foes before." Lunging straight into its underbelly, he thrust the sword into the exposed fold of skin. Wisps of shadow vomited out of the laceration like a fount, spraying onto his cloaked crimson robe. The demon cried again, but not of anger or outrage, but of pain and desperation. It stumbled back, splayed, trying to regain its balance, its massive feet digging four-feet gouges in the dirt.

"Strike with knowledge and with certainty. This demon's greatest weapon is doubt," he advised, falling back into a defensive position beside the huntress, his blade lowered and poised to strike like a serpent.

Wide-eyed and terrified she merely nodded in response and her focus never left the creature. Confidence washed over as she managed to make a 'dent' and steadied herself before lunching forward again, this time thrusting her blade into it's underside as forcefully as she could, getting dangerously close to the beast before withdrawing .

Without second thought, without planning, without even considering she thrust forward again...and again stabbing it over and over, allowing the rush to overcome her panic and she couldnt stop. Rage seemed be boiling up inside her and she began stabbing and swinging at every exposed point on the spider. Despite her chaotic swinging she still struck with accuracy and remained in her frenzy, stabbing and slashing over and over, willing to go until there was nothing left.

A chorus of shrill screams echoed across the forests, as the spider reeled in pain at the flurry of blows. They stabbed through flesh and blood and sinew, or the demon's manufacture of it, shadowy liquid jetting out in turrets where its belly had been struck repeatedly.

It bellowed with paralyzing force, willing Pyle not to move, who dropped his blade to clutch his skull. The shadows danced around both their eyes, enveloped in a swirling black vortex, as shapes became the menacing figure of a werewolf, its mahogany hide rippling with muscle. With unsurpassed swiftness, it leapt straight to the huntress, the massive maw of its mouth open, like a cage of glistening scimitars, two-inch claws scything the air towards her.

"M'lady!" he picked up his blade and rushed to her side, but deep down he knew it was hopeless. Too much distance. Too little time.

He would never forgive himself if innocent blood was spilled on a hunt of his order.

The screams flooded her ears, her head, her heart and she felt compelled to fight despite the pain it caused her. No fear could live in her heart now as the will to defeat the being was too powerful.

Finally she withdrew as it began to change shape again and she panted, struggling to lift her blade again as she was beginning to tire from fighting so agressively.

She had but a moment to let out only a whimper as the claws dug into her small body. The drove through her arms and her back, and the creature dug them in deep. Too deep for her to pry herself away...and blood began to seep through her closing and trickle down her back and her legs and began to taint the dirt below. She struggled to free herself of it's claws but it had a good grip on her.

Thinking quickly in desperation she dove for the ground and tackled it's legs to get it's sharp claws away from her spine.

It happened too quickly for Pyle to react. For a moment time seemed poised in uncertainty, the werewolf suspended in the air towards the huntress. Then suddenly it was already on top of her, mauling and clawing ravenously, splattering blood across treebark and dirt. No.

Heat coursed through his veins, a battle-fury once lost in his forefathers, now restored, anger giving him an energy he never had. Anger, fear, and raw fury. In the palm of his hand, flames crackled to life and gathered in a nebulous sphere, blazing with the fury of a thousand suns. He poured every ounce of his fury and bloodlust, the raw power of primal instincts, and channeled them into this new life, and with a thrust of his hand, unleashed it into the world.

The fireball crashed into the werewolf's skull with a glorious golden flash and a thunderous boom, and Pyle smelled the acrid taste of smoke mixed with the awful scent of burned flesh. The werewolf howled, fur aflame, pieces of its flesh disappearing with the shadowy substance that willed it into existence. Then, it erupted with light and power, vanishing in a pillar of soul-searing black napalm.

The forest seemed so quiet now, deafeningly and maddeningly quiet. Pyle stared at his palm where the fire was summoned, his eyes glassy and distant. He looked alarmed, surprised even, as if that was not what he had intended to do at all. Perhaps something triggered it, something like --

"The girl," he muttered in realization. The cacophony of warfare was replaced by pindrop silence. Silence, save for the quiet whimpering of the girl laying sprawled in a growing pool of her own blood.

"Celaka," he cursed under his breath, quickly kneeling down to tend to her wounds. They were horrific, and the blood loss immense, but he hid his anxiety with a mask of impassiveness, in fear of spreading the worry to the girl. "It is not cause of severe concern," he lied, picking her dainty body up, "But regardless, we should have it looked by a healer. I was on my way to a town before this. We should hurry there." The girl he took up in his arms, and he sprang into the forest, unconcerned about the trail of blood she was dripping behind. Celaka, he had never seen anyone lose so much blood in his lifetime . . .

(OOC: My last post. I have to go. Sorry!)

Her senses came to a hault and she couldnt hear or see what was happening around her. The pain was too great at first, it was the only sense she felt she ever knew. She could feel the warm and wet blood as it continued to spill from the gashes in her back. After a minute or two the feeling of the blood seemed to be only feeling she had. It was almost soothing...the pain had passed and the world looked so...soft?

Yes...the edges around her vision were blurred together and colors and light all bled together. It took much strength just to keep her eye lids from shutting and she could faintly feel arms beneath her and she then realized they were moving. The edges became softer and softer and she became more and more limp in the arms of this stranger. She felt unbearably tired and couldn't find a reason not to give in. What harm could a little sleep do when she was so tired?

A tiny smile came to her lips as the pain was completely diminished and numbness overcame her frail and failing body.

"Hi" She said meekly as she peered up at the face above her. She thought she was flying. She saw only his face and the sky and knew nothing else. "Whats your name?" She asked as her eyes began to shut and she could barely fight keeping her eyes open any longer.

{Have a good night! Talk to you tomorrow I hope!}

He paused, considering. In spite of the Kris Naga's all-encompassing education system, small talk was never a subject they had delved too much in. But from the fading life in her eyes, it was one he needed to self-learn, and quickly, before he loses her to the carrier of death.

"My name is irrelevant. It carries no meaning. It carries no significance. Only preconceptions," he replied in a neutral tone, "I am a Knight of the Kris Naga, Guardian of Carthage, Wielder of the Dragon-Flame. You may call me whatever you wish to call me as it befits. As long as it is not Sheila."

The thickly-branched sky eventually gave way to more light, and the foliage of the trees lessened. They were nearing the end of the forest now.

The girl was growing colder and colder, her skin paling until it became ghostly-white. She had lost enough blood to fill an entire chamber of phylacteries, it was an amazing demonstration of resolve that she had survived this long. No medical aid could compare to the sheer force of willpower. Commendable for an infidel.

Then again, he had known that since he had laid eyes on her, her limber, agile form and inhuman grace, which only concealed a blind fury in the heat of battle. If she ever made through this alive, and there was undoubtedly no reason to think she wouldn't, she would need to be conscripted as an initiate for the Kris Naga. Her talents would be wasted otherwise.

"You would be a Venus in our lands, lady of fire and stone," he said, his voice so monotonous it was hard to tell if he was giving a compliment or not, "There are not many with that name."

Caradhras gasped as he lowered his body into the cold water. He often bathed in this spring; the tranquility of the clearing where it was located always helped to clear his mind.

Today, however, the water was unusually cold, despite the warm day. With his mind, he reached out towards the water, seeking the problem. The water pulled away from his probing mind, not something he was accustomed to. Whatever was happening had to be very dark in order to stir fear in the powerful water.

The elf directed his attention to the wind, seeking answers. The wind replied with whispers that gently touched his ears. It told him of a being they had seen. A being that didn't belong in the world. It sent him an image of a woman fighting a monstrous spider. Then they sent an image of a man carrying the woman, who was severely injured, through the forest.

Caradhras recognized their surroundings and decided that they would be heading towards a nearby town. He mentally bade farewell to the wind and pulled himself out of the water. He knew he was closer to the people than they were to the town so he threw on his clothing and, hoping he could reach her in time, ran in the direction of the injured woman.

A pained laugh passed from her lips tainted by a tiny amount of blood, "Venus, you say?"

It was astonashing just how responsive she was as she was rapidly slipping away from the beautiful world of the living and passing into nothing but dark spaces and echoes of empty sounds, and speaking of echoes...

His voice seemed to fade in and out, she caught only bits and peices but it was truly the sound of his voice that held her there, that kept her from sleep, that kept from death's icy grip.

"Tell me...more of...your people" she wrasped, wincing in pain as the numbness started to wain and the throb of her wounds were returning. "I prefer...not to think...of this agony."

She finally began to recognize the situation that she was in and how very slim her chances were of surviving. Her sudden awareness of the pain and how much blood she was losing began to frighten her.
"Perhaps you should...tie off...the wounds on my arm...to stop bloodless from...somewhere..." Her eyes rolled into the back of her head and she jerked it forward, pulling herself back, refusing to allow herself to slip away.

"Yes, I have considered doing that," he mused, but it was a thought he disliked to entertain. There were no other material here he could use as bandage, aside from his sacred cloak...

He gently placed her on the bed of leaves, tearing his cloak into two and wincing as he heard it rip. Then, he expertly wrapped the wound, applying pressure as needed. Eventually, the flow was staunched. Now if only he had done it earlier, then the damage could have been controlled. But he was hoping not to defile his cloak then. He finally decided to tell her. "This is no ordinary wound. It bears the scars of demon claws, normally fatal upon immediate contact. Nobody survives."

A sigh escaped his lips. "The cloth I used to treat you . . . it was of great value to me. But it will be worth it, so long as you survive the hour."

Caradhras emerged from the trees and immediately ran to the girl that lay on the forest floor, skipping any introductions. He untied the cloth that was serving as her bandage and threw it aside. He placed his hands on her wound, using the same technique he'd used on countless animals in the forest. He closed his eyes and reached out to the surrounding trees.

The trees responded to Caradhras readily and asked him what he requested. Hoping that the nature would grant the same life force to this girl as it had done for the animals, he asked for the trees to use him as a medium to transmit some of their life force to the girl.

The trees reluctantly agreed and began channeling parts of themselves into the girl, but as they transmitted more into the girl, Caradhras began feeling the trees' pain as they began to whither, giving as much as they could without dying to heal the demonic wound.

Finally, the girl's skin pulled together and sealed, leaving a long scar. Caradhras leaned back, panting heavily. He looked around at the other trees, and a tear rolled down his cheek when he saw the withered branches and fallen leaves. Feeling his pain, the trees reached out and told him that they would heal in time. Slightly comforted, Caradhras turned towards the man.

"Her wound his healed, but the poison still infects her blood. What was that demon that attacked her? It can't be of this world!" He now feared that more such beasts would follow, and if they wreaked such havoc on one being, then what would they do to the rest of the world?

Pain radiated through her body from head to toe, it was paralyzing. As if she could sense his hesitance in his using his cloak she winced and said, "I'm sorry for tarnishing your clothing like this." She gasped as it became harder to get air into her lungs.

Her hands clenched into fists as the pain became even more severe; it seemed to grow with each passing minute and each time she wondered just how much more she could endure. As shocking as the truth he revealed to her was she was in too much agony to offer much of a reaction. She grit her teeth and closed her eyes tightly as she spoke with care, “Well that explains the agony…but…why has it not taken me?”

An electric wave of pain seemed to shoot through her body like electricity, her head threw back and she let out a cry. “Maybe…I am not meant..to survive this.”

Without warning another showed up and began to move her, she let out a pained cry as he removed the coverings and began to work on her wounds. Life began to pour into her and she felt her blood beginning to flow through her properly...but she was tainted. She could feel it coursing through her veins, pumping through her heart, intoxicating her bloodstream. Flashes of light flooded her mind and images of departing spirits surrounded her; it was the passing of the trees she witnessed, the very 'Earth itself was trying to mend her.

As she felt her skin heal over the pain had only subsided slightly. "These wounds only appear healed...the damage is deeper."

"It is cloth and nothing more," he said, mostly to himself, as if he still was not convinced. Truth be told, that was the only possession he had that reminded him of home.

"I do not know why you yet live. It is strange yet uplifting to see," he said simply.

Just then, another man came springing through the woods. His work was quick, a storm of leaves rustling as the trees whispered in quiet zephyrs, breathing life back into the girl. The wound disappeared, leaving only a long scar. The first thing Pyle did was reach for his cloak. He turned to the new man,"You have my thanks, stranger. Though I have nothing to give in return, know that you have gained the loyalty of a powerful ally. Until Ehoma wills it." He bowed in respectful address.

"This is where we part ways, Venus," there was a sadness in his voice, well-hid but prevalent, and he turned around and walked back to the horse carriage where the demon first attacked, following the plume of rising smoke in the sky. He had a task to attend to, one that precluded all in his life, and he shall not rest until it was finished.

(OOC: Pardon me for the substandard writing, I'm a bit lethargic as it is. I need to take a break.)

Caradhras watched as the man left, then turned towards the girl. He needed to get her into the town as quickly as possible, and he felt angry at the man for leaving when they needed him especially since it was evidently he who had brought the demon to the forest.

Caradhras got to his feet. The trees about them felt happy that the girl lived, yet he still felt sad for taking so much out of them. He put his hand on the darkened trunk of the nearest tree and voicelessly thanked it.

Out of a satchel at his side, the elf pulled a small piece of bread. He knelt down and put the bread in her trembling hand.

"Are you well enough to stand?" Caradhras stood up next to the girl. "A demonic poison flows through your veins. There is a town near here. We might find help there."

{OOC: I too am sorry for the short post. It's pretty late for me. I was wondering if you could read the application message I sent you. I really like the vampire story you're setting up, and I'm really eager to find a story to start RPing for real here.}