Terra » Places

         "All of them," Nid'Ridras replied, a smirk on his face. Dhaelhel had begun to match his pacing, as if she were the one who would devour him. It was quaint.

"However, perhaps I can lay priorities for you. Selwen must survive. If she dies, then I think your adversaries will find this feather to their liking more than yours." Nid'Ridras stopped pacing, his expression turning serious. He would brook no failure on that accord.

"And I will require the blood before you can proceed. Keegan's message and Jarlas' pain... can wait. But I will require them done before you receive your precious feather. Business is business, after all." He smiled at her again.

         Molko didn't take his sweet time getting to Pathos and Shayla. Indeed no, he tried to make sure he could get to them and stop them from firing on his friends. And so, coming into range, he charged and swung his axe mightily- only to impact the sludge monster that had just begun to form.

Howling out a Dwarven curse, Molko hacked at the thing while holding his shield up, preparing for its inevitable counter-attack. "Figh' me yerself, yeh bloo'y coward! I dunnae fin' a challenge in yer lil' fat disgustin' creatures!" Molko shouted at Pathos.

He was aware of his vulnerability at the front, especially with the foul, generating monster and its bow-using master. Molko was not one to back down once he had issued a challenge, however.

         Curtana whimpered in her sleep, and Kestrad could feel her muscles twitch.

In her dreams, they had shifted yet again. The children were kicking her and her one friend. Of course, it was just a oddly colored fox, but they had gotten along wonderfully. "Please! Stop!" Curtana cried, trying to reach out for the fox, but the children would kick her arm away. She yelled out in pain and curled up into the ball she normally did. She soon after found herself standing and fighting back for the first time in her entire life. Pushing, shoving, kicking, punching, she fought no matter how many times they pushed her back down.

The children, frustrated and with broken prides, ran off leaving Curtana there with the now dead fox. She held the limp body in her small arms, weeping and apologizing to it. It was her fault it was dead. If she did not exist, he would have lived a normal life time. The spirits around her wept with her, rain falling from a cloudless sky.

Tears fell down the sleeping Curtana's cheeks.

'It's time. It's time to leave this place little one.' She had remembered that voice, although she could not remember who told her that. 'You are meant for so much more. You must go and find your path.'

"It's time.. time to leave.." She whispered in her sleep.

         Tugark looked at the hologram woman then to Lady Samsara. She did seem to have better color now. Gently, as gently as he possibly could muster, he lifted her up from the table and cradled the lady to his chest protectively. "I will make sure she gets the rest she needs.. Thank you, from the bottom of my heart.." He bowed as deeply as he could without disturbing the resting woman.

He waited to see if Glixenheimer would lead the way, or if Aurora would. If neither moved, he would follow the light that Aurora had mentioned to see if they could find a comfortable place to have Lady Samsara rest. He was relieved, but not beyond the point of worry, and her health had taken priority over anything right this moment. If the light-teleporty woman thing said that Lady Samsara needed rest, then so be it! He would make sure she got that rest, or it would be the end of him.

         Nachytsm had become drunk on a few things. Ana's blood, her scent, her skin against his. He fought to keep himself from ravishing her wound. He was healing her. Helping, that was all. His mind wandered, as did hands. His real hand was on her back, and he had found her chest wrappings. He toyed with them, mindlessly.

His missing hand was other places that he could only imagine. Or so it seemed.

Nachytsm heard his name called. It was a high, soft tone. He opened his eyes and stared at Ana's face half lidded as she pulled his head away from her. He didn't fight it. He could feel that she wanted something more.

He followed her eyes down, briefly. He was clearly aroused now; his soaked, tattered leggings did little to hide the fact. His body was overheated with emotions that he was not accustomed to feeling.

Nachytsm glanced back up to meet her eyes when she began to explore his body. Ana's hand was drifting down his chest, his belly, his navel... he knew what she intended. He could see, from the look in her eyes, what she wanted.

And she would see, in his dark eyes, that he wanted it too.

"Ana," he mumbled. His voice was trembling, much like his body.
Ana had accepted him for what he was. She knew, somehow, and still she wanted him. At least... he hoped she truly knew. The moment of doubt passed in the blink of an eye.

Leaning forward, Nachytsm placed his lips against hers. Unlike Dhaelhel, who he practically mashed his face against, he was tender towards Ana. Even if he was not skilled, he gently nibbled against her lips. Her blood, coppery and sweet, was a bare memory on his lips.

Nachytsm's resistance had been broken.

         "Yeah, sure. Like I said, still plenty of invaders in the trees tonight. Enough so that its really beginning to bug me. Why do all these people assume they are welcome here? Nature doesn't want them, and neither do I." He was glad for the physical contact, and the annoyance spreading across her companion's face. It was a nice change of pace, to be sure.

"Any idea where to start? I've just been acting on instinct. No planning, no thinking, just doing. Its been working so far, but if these people are as potentially dangerous as ya say, I might need someone who can keep a clear head when it comes to violence." He would let her lead the way, the Godling turning half of his attention inward, to the voice of the woods. These woods in particular were vengeful, wanting nothing more than payback. The grievous wound it had been inflicted, though extinguished now, still glowed with hatred, and barely tamed embers. Each one of those shining, orange reminders of nature's pain stirred only one thought in Fang's mind...

Death...

These parasites had long since abused this world. It was time to wipe the slate clean, and let nature retake this world...

And the last, sentient life Fang would take in the end would be his own. As he stepped deeper into the darkness inside of his soul, he realized that no one was safe, and one day, he'd even turn against his allies...

         "We shall see about that," Eve cooed. She ran her fingers through her silver hair and considered for a long moment. What to do with the two brutes recently enthralled? Where to send them?

Eve nodded as if her silent questions had been answered.

"Make your way to Southton," Eve commanded. "I have a good feeling about sending you there. Do not return to me unless you have a feather. You do not want to see me disappointed." Eve ran her fingers along Vashal and then Drumas. They really were nothing but lumbering pets in Eve's eyes; expendable pets.

Her gaze flicked over to the cowering Xhes in the corner. Eve turned on her heel. "Clean up this mess before I have the daemons eat you," she told the Xhes. The shocked one-winged creature looked at Vashal and Drumas in sheer horror as Eve left.

         Grogthal simply laughs at the series of retorts. He was aware of Neria's restraining hand on him, but he pats it off to show he was not going to do anything she might consider brash. "If you're calling me attractive, Satyr, you are crawling into the wrong den." Then, to Neria, he speaks further as he begins to walk past the Satyr.

"Don't mind him. He is not from my land, I think, but he seems only slightly different. They're not much of a threat, even armed with a Warmaster's blade."

"Let's get you home. Maybe we will meet again, Satyr, under more interesting circumstances. May your eagle fly true."