The Crystal of Creation (See OOC First)(MA)

[Seska Dragonslayer]

Note: MA - Mature Audiences only. This thread may contain graphic scenes depicting extreme violence, gore, and other questionable material, as well as strong language. This thread is unsuitable for people under the age of 13. If you do not wish to be subjected to suchlike material, then please - DO NOT READ ANY FURTHER!! Readers who continue may not come to me and complain about how nasty some of this is, as you will have agreed to the disclaimer above. Thank you.

IC:

"Their coming for the gate!"

The screaming of the sentry atop his gaurd tower - oneo f many along the massive wall at the border of Borogravia and what had become the demon Seths' territory - wailed in fright as the mass of the dark enemy surged forward from the tree line some thousand yards away. Even though the dusk sky was shading quickly to night, the figures running across the scorched earth of the open ground - burned for the sake of early warning - could nto be mistaken for a returning war party. The last war party to venture into the evil lands beyond had returned seven thousand men and women weaker without much more than a blow to the might of Seth and the Baron of the Southern Reach. The pale moonlight, just now coming from behind the hills - glinted bright against naked blades as the running group massed towards the gates, even though the creaking gears told the taleo f closure.

Seska had already retired for the evening. Though not part of the Gaurd - they rarely let women into that, and that fact aside they shunned the mages - she was here by dint of being of at least some use here, on the frontier. She awoke to a black world - the same that she woke to every single day since birth, and fumbled around for her staff. Outside the tent, the sound of armored feet thundering along to take up positions where they could both fend ogff the ladders and grappling hooks, and other could await the eventual breach of the wall - made it nearly impossible to sleep.

Her ahnd managed to find what she was looking for, and once she had gripped the hard, slender stave, she muttered a few declanations to a spell - one she had created, and memorized to a poinjt where she could say it in her sleep. At first, nothing happened, and she busied herself with crawling from her 'bed', as of yet half naked and shivering with cold. September was a viscious month, and even worse remained to followed as the year progressed, and as the years marched on for that matter. Outside, the first sounds of battle filtered in through the tent flaps - the creams of those wounded by arrows and then the distinct popping sound of the Thunder Guns being employed - which was followed by even more agonized screams. She could hear the patter of arrows as they dropped over the top of the walls. One arrowed ripped through the fabric of her tent, and landed quivering on the dirt in front of her. The dim outline if it began to manifest itself in her mind as the cadence of the spell of sight began to take up the slack and do the job it was destined to do. Outside, once more, she heard the sound of a heavy armored body slam against the earth, and without looking, she knew he or she had been arrowed to death and had been pushed or fell over the wall to here. The sounds of battle began to heat up.

She slipped into the thin cotton shift that was her usual under clothing, and then donned her robes once more. A tremeondous blast outside told her all she wanted to know about the situation, and her fears to that sound were strengthened when she heard the sound of angry men roaring into the seclusion of the space behind the wall. The sound of steel on steel, metal shrieking across shields and armor, and the sickening sound of metal biting, chewing, and stabbing living flesh, and being drawn free, carried clearly to her tent. She wasn't at all surprised as, her sword still in its sheath yet secured by a belt beneath her robes, the flaps were ripped aside.

She was not unused to the stinking creatures that Seth employed as his military. Many of them had once been fighting men amongst the armies of the cultured people, but had been horribly altered to fit the demon gods own wishes. But what stood in the doorway, drool sliming its jaw and hairy chest, even repulsed her. It was as tall as most men, but the face looked as if it had been twisted - perhaps it was a re-animated corpse from some terrible battle field, but whatever it was, it was currently reaching for her. It held a sword in its right hand, broken a foot and a half up from the gaurd, but nevertheless flourished it as menacingly as it could. It snarled something at her, but it was allready too late - the one chance it had was allready up.

She pulled the trigger. In the fleetness of a half second she had drawn her weapon, and with frightening force, the gun - bane of all things - discharged its round. At first it was just the smattering of light at the end of the barrel, but the bolt of blinding whitel ight that issued forth burned through the vile creature in front of her, while knocking it backwards, thrashing and clawing at the gaping wound in its neck. Seska herself was tossed back easily by her own weapon, but even as she landed hard on the ground, she turned to watch with her slowly strengthening vision as the hole became wider and wider, and the monsters' frantic attempts to put out the holy flames became ever more frantic, until all that was left was an ashen body, and then it dissolved dramatically into a pile of ashes. For a few long seconds she lay there, too stunned to do anything, such was the vile influence of that creature. Slowlt she regained her wits, and staggered back upright, using her staff to steady herself. The ashes had blown clear away now, which was fine by her.

Quickly, she ran from her tent into the gathering dusk. Theo nly light afforded her was the fires where the enemy had made it through the defenses, and even in that flickering light she could see the enemy host being pushed back through the hole in the wall. For a minute she contemplated even joining the fray. That earth shattering minute seemed to dissolve in an instant as something that -did- strike dread into her heart reared its head.

"The SORCEROR!! The sorcerors' here! By Seths stinking breath, he's here!" Came another sentry, and the wail of despair was carried through the entire hose to combatants engaged in mortal combat with their most deadly enemies.

Seska could not move. Everyone close to the border knew the sorceror - Avanth, like the other unfortunates of the first trip into Seths' despicable lair, was a changed man. If he was a man at all anymore. For the last year, heh ad been part of most of the raids on the border, and through sheer might of magic, he had destroyed a number of strongpoints. The border Gaurd was getting weaker each day to his continuous attacks. No mortal mage had ever stood against his magics and lived, and those who had lived, would never speak again. He could turn ones mind to mush if they sought to counter his magics.

She managed, with a very consious effort, to make her feet work, and she ran towards the wall. She hadn't even covered half the distance before the sky flared like daylight, and she was thrown to her feet by a force that could only be described as bone crushing. The heat of that ungodly flame singed her hair, even though she was still several hundered feet away. When she looked up, she could see men running around aflame, and those horrible corpse, their heads cracked open, grey matter scattered about the grund near them with the blood covered stones that had killed them still seated firmly amid the amrored helmets and boney skull. She wanted to retch, but did not do such - because that would mean taking her eyes off of what was going on here. The Wizard stood against the treeline, far from the wall. There was no body gaurd, only a wall of corpses between him and them. The darkness seemed to move about him as if in shadow. She wasn't sure - but perhaps he had looked at her, but whatever he had done, he turned and walked slowly into the woodlands, leaving the demons' own footsoldiers to play a losing game of sword fight. As she watched, several of the Gaurd raced to fill the burning gap in the wall, and they were sillouetted against the light as they fought off the deformed freaks of the enemy. Seska merely hung back, laying belly first on the ground, and watched them with interest....

[GabrielThief]

Gabriel had awoken with the sounds of screams and he wondered again why he had come to this gods-forsaken hell hole in the first place. Then he reminded himself that he was still on the run, and this would be the last place they'd look for him. It was also the most likely to get him killed prematurely. Gabriel pushed himself to his feet not bothering to dress. He grabbed his large dagger and one of the medium sized ones, then pulled on his boots. He stepped out of the tent into the cold September air and looked around quickly. He was definitely conspicuous, standing outside his tent wearing nothing but a pair of cotton nightpants and his boots, his hair disheveled, wielding two daggers. The lean muscles in his upper body tensed against the cold as he began to cross the courtyard.

Then the battle began in full. There was screaming, the sound of metal on metal, the sounds of death. Gabriel quickly stepped to the side to be missed only slightly by an arrow, which embedded itself in the skull of a man who had been standing behind him. There were guns firing and arrows flying, and the guard were futilely trying to defend the walls against overwhelming odds.

They were inside the walls, vicious, hideous creatures wielding blades that were almost as wicked as the creatures themselves. Gabriel thought momentarily about running the other way, but before the thought was finished they were upon him. He neatly dodged the first attacker, burying his dagger in the creature chest in the process. The second was a little closer, but he dodged, then lunged, his attack barely parried before he brought the second dagger up, driving it through the creature's chin. His arms were coated in blood as the third creature approached at a full charge, stupid. The assassin ducked at the last moment and used the creature's own momentum to launch it through the air and into another group of creatures that were attacking some soldiers nearby.

Gabriel almost didn't see the next attacker, and paid for his distraction with a shallow slash across his chest. He leapt back a few feet before getting into a stance and staring his attacker in the eyes. Then a scream ripped through the night.

" The SORCEROR!! The sorcerors' here! By Seths stinking breath, he's here! "

The creature turned it's head towards the scream, and paid for it with it's life as Gabriel rushed forward and slashed it across the throat. Gabriel then turned to the wall in time to see it breached by a powerful spell that threw Gabriel back a few yards and bashed his head against a stone on the ground. Gabriel's face was cut open, and blood began to run from the cut, but still he forced himself to his feet and ran to the hole in the wall. He looked across the plain and what he saw shocked him. The Sorceror was there, standing alone, with waves and waves of corpses before him. Never had Gabriel seen such devastation, but instead of being disgusted he looked on the scene with interest.

The Sorceror then retreated into the forest and disappeared. Guards rushed to fill the gap in the wall and face the oncoming demons. Gabriel glanced around for other signs of life and saw a woman lying on the ground, watching the scene unfold before her. He had seen her around, but when he had seen her, she had appeared blind, so her watching anything didn't make sense. Gabriel moved toward her and crouched at her side.

Are you hurt? Or just watching?

[Seska Dragonslayer]

Seska did not make as if she heard anything at all from the first, merely continued looking through his spread legs at the battle playing out beyond. There was something wrong with this whole scenario - and she could not put her finger on it, but had felt it from the first. Something was not right at all...

"No....watching....listening....feeling...."

The enemy lines shattered before her eyes, and the warriors surged forward. Yet even broken, the enemy was simply too much at one time for the border patrol to ride into rout, and the going went pitifully slow. She watched as men died with their sword still swinging, and as bullets from the untrained hordes beyond ripped into those fighting like suicidal wasps.

"This is....wrong....." She stated, and as she did, everything blurred...

She sat bolt upright in her bed. Once again, the familiar darkness surrounded her, but this time, she was confused by it. Before...it seemed but seconds ago, she had been lying up near a ferocious battlefield. Quite clearly, this was not the case. Outside, there were very few sounds, despite the fact that several thousand men lay sleeping nearby. Only the wind and the crickets played their dirge to the pitchness of night. She muttered under her breatrh, speaking those hidden words she knew so well as she shivered the nights' chill away, and then reached to her bedside. The grass, soft and cold, brushed her fingertips as she gripped the her staff firmly and pulled herself upright. She reached down and grabbed the simple shift from its messy place, and slid it over the top of her head, pulling her silver hair free from the ankle length gray cloth.

She fumbled her way through the tent - it was not spacious, but she wasn't big. She passed through the tent flaps into the chilly night breeze, and only then did her half vision begin to work at all. A silver moon hung in the sky above, while the stars painted the sky a luminescent black and white, with silvery wisps of cloud hovering in the etherial space above. She walked softly, barefoot, across the grassy ground, and came around from behind the small thicket fo trees that had thusfar managed to attract the attention of the woodcutters. Beyond lay the encampment of an army - spread for a great distance over the meadows and into the forests. Amid the tents and sleeping bags, cook fires smouldered in the late evening hours, while the ground hugging fogs and the smoke from those fires mingled at the ground, giving the area a haunted look. Below, in those tents, came the occasional muffled cry as those who held fear of the enemy that beset them dreamed of their horrors. Behind her, the massive forty foot wall of solid stone loomed into the night sky, torches bruning in the braziers to illuminate the wide path along the wall and its parapets.

This was among one of the few times she could be at peace. She stood there, leaning heavily against her staff with her breath coming ragged and raspy from her chest, and looked at the splendor of the world in the wee hours. Around her, the world slept.

And yet....still, despite the peace and seeming tranquility of the moment....something was not right. She brushed aside the thought and half walked, half staggered away from the protection of the trees. Somewhere in the depths of the night, an owl hooted - most likely at some unfortunate rodent which was probably allready on the menu, if not in the gullet. Slowly, she made her way as cautious as she could to the bushes to take care of such things as nature required.

And then it was silent. Not the kind of silence where there is simply an absence of sound - the kind of silence that sucks sound in and away. There was no breeze, there was no life. Everything was dead and calm, and despite herself, Seska found herself immobile. It was not an act of will, but of inexhorable terror that she turned her ehad to look atop the wall. She knew then why it had felt so...wrong, because it was wrong. Atop the wall, standing in the moonlight, was a woman with dull red hair. Light glinted off of her eyes - but any who had been on the border knew this nemisis. One of the five fell warriors of Seth...

She was looking not at Seska, but instead at the field of encamped soldiery beyond. The look in her eyes, even from this distance and even though those eyes were obsucred by shadow, was unmistakable. She had seen the same look in the eyes of harlot and sluts, and another part of that very look in the eyes of murderers. The woman stank even at a fair distance of evil, stank of ill humors, of the blood of fallen, and carried almost always the rank smell of a woman in heat. She lusted for the bodies of the men beyond - probably the women too, and did not care if either wered ead or alive when she took her pleasure with them.

She tried to speak, but her voice would not answer her. Either by terror or magic, she could make no sound - even the harsh fit of coughing that overcame her as she strained against this wall of silence came out empty and devoid of sound. As she watched, the deadly woman jumped from the wall, skirts of some dark colour and bronze chestplate flapping, clinking, and glittering in the darkness. The woman landed without sound, and with her arrival, the heavy curtain of silence seemed to lift like fog.

Seska could move once more. Slowly, unsure of what to do, she turned and ran back to her tent. When she got their, she leaned against the tent pole for a minute, drawing ragged breaths in an attempt to regain said breath. As she stood there heaving, she could hear no sound of alarm, no sound of stirring men. She did hear the sound of something beyond the wall - the horrid, guttural cries of those that spoke the language of Seth. They seemed excited about something -and to her own horror, she knew exactly what it was they were excited about.

She slowly ducked into her tent, and scrambled around in the darkness, seeking those posessions that she could not do without if it was to come to a fight.

She knew it owuld.

[Aeyliea]

"I will distract them, you vile hussy. I will distract them and prepare them for your arrival, and that of the Lord's own army, and then I will follow behind - but just keep it to mind that this time we don't plan on taking prisoners. Even if you are going to kill them later."

The words echoed in her mind like a metal rasp, and despite herself she found herself wanting to kill the arrogant bastard. She had, of course, tried that three or four times. One of them before they had ventured into the dread placesi n the first place.

The God seemed to frown on this, either that, or Avanth was simply too damned lucky for his own good. Either way, he had been right to a point. They were here to achieve a task.

Aeyliea the Damned sat in the shadows of the wall, and listened to the idle banter of those few watchmen still awake. No matter what amount of the Red Schepnn - a flower that when distilled, produced a potent anesthetic powder - these bullocks would not commit themselves to sleep. She could hear Lord Avanths' muttered incantations in the woods beyond the site of the watches, and could feel the power build like a thunderstorm on the horizon. Beyond, within the hated territory of the pure, she could discern the groans of those afflicted with his magics.

Dusk wore on to dark, and still she sat there. Once in a while, she could hear the sound of a terrified shout, which caused some stir amid the watchtowers and parapets, but they were quick, and assumed to be the fears of those warriors preparing to enter the Lord's own lands.

It was after midnight when the decayed power began to wan to nothing, and the first of the horde of damned to arrive. Were it not for the arrogant fools spell of silence, the gaurds would have been able to warn the entire camp beyond - but that, with the help of several well aimed gunshots - put that threat down.

Aeyliea had been waiting for hours for this. Despite the fact she had been in a crouched position for such time, she stood up as though it had been for a minute, and looked at the wall before her. She but considered her path for a moment before sharp talons flicked into the stone works, sending shards of stone and dust falling to the ground below. She scrambled up the wall as nimbly as a child, cresting the top with the grace and speed of an acrobat. The first of the sentries didn't know what hit him, as her teeth slashed through his jugular, spraying crimson blood down her bronze breastplate. The man collpased, allready well on his way to death, but she had allready moved on to the main gaurdhouse along the wall. It was a simple matter of crushing their skulls against the stonework, the pink and grey matter mingling with blood, as well as their urine as they evecuated those regions of the body upon death. With that menial task accomplished she walked as serenly as was her wont alobng the wall, looking out over the fields of sleeping warriors. Behind her, the sounds of the advancing army faint, but there.

The field was unalive, and nothing moved....well, almost nothing, but Aey only noted the presence of the girl in her nightshirt for but a second. Her real interest was in fact the encampment, and for more than the blood that could be released there. Her flesh flushed slightly at the thought of the acts she could commit there, and she kept that thought in mind as she leapt over the side of the wall, landing lightly on her feet some forty feet below. She reached over her shoulder and gripped the hilt of her sword, a sardonic, bloodthirsty grin crossing her features as she set out across the field, firey red hair waving in the rising breeze.

[Ravan_Kiir]

The beautiful colors danced before his eyes, almost coming into focus, then darting away as would a woman who knows she has you thralled by her very sight. The scene shifted to that of a face, one that he had known very well, loved very deeply, her very face brought a pang of remorse to his chest, looking at the face longingly, he watched it contort, the flesh melted away from her finly sculped features. He watched as her deep blue eyes lost their shine, and in mere moments were nothing more that a pair of hollow holes in her skull. The scene shifted again, to a battle, the screams of the wounded and those who were near death assailed his sences, the smell of blood, the cracking of guns being shot. It was almost too real for him, almost.....

Sitting up in bed, Ravan was drenched in a cold sweat, the face of his deceased loved one still was clear in his mind, the horrid image as her face melted away from her skin. The curse of the elven race. Wiping the beads of sweat from his face and through his hair, Ravan was only vaugly aware that the sounds of battle were still all around him. Thinking the sounds still the dream haunting him. A bang from a shot gun made him jump in his bed, the pugnant smell of death was all around him. Was he still dreaming? Was this some twisted nightmare from the gods to remind him of past failures? Shaking a defiant fist into the air, Ravan cursed loudly in elven, why was this happening? Pinching himself on the arm, Ravan looked at him arm shocked as he felt the slight pain ripple up his arm. This was indeed real, and not some figment of his twisted imagination. Jumping up from his bed, Ravan quickly ran to his weapons, not caring for his clothing, if this was indeed real, men would die as he fumbled around in the dark for his carelessly discarded clothing, but his weapons, he always knew where they were. Tying his belt around his waist, Ravan's memory flashed back to the past, his master had granted it to him when there was nothing more for him to learn, when he had mastered all the fighting skills his master knew, it was a reminder of where he came from in the forever changing world. Tucking his knives into his belt, Ravan then slung his katana, another gift from his master, around his back, feeling renewed by the very feel of it resting comfertable on his back. Then running to the door, Ravan grabbed his quarterstaff as he exited his dark chambers. Feeling the smooth wood against his palm, Ravan felt reassured, he would at least have the element of surprise as he entered the fight. A slight smile began to spread on his face as he thought of this. Although he knew he would never hit someone from behind, they would still most likely be shocked at the sight of him, espicailly dressed in nothing but his training pants, baggy white pants that allowed him his full range of flexablity.

Rounding yet another corner, Ravan stopped dead in his tracks as he looked up this creature, it towered above his small frame, but guessing, it was about as tall as a man, it had a hairy chest, and it drooled. Bringing his arm up to cover his mouth, Ravan wondered how anything could give off such a rancid stench. Realizing that he was leaving himself wide open to attacks, Ravan attempted to regain his composure in the face of his apparant enemy. But it seemed the creature realized it as well, he large clawed hand swung awkwardly at him. Batting away the attack his ease, Ravan took no time in going on the offensive, Swinging his staff with practiced ease, Ravan smiled as he saw the creature start to falter and take steps back, at this rate, he would not last much longer. Stepping back, Ravan straightened and brought his feet together. Resting his staff on the ground as a walking staff, Ravan leaned against it, a smirk on his face. Looking at him casually, the strange creature cautiosly started to approach him. Smiling, Ravan knew that these creatures did contain some inteeligence, although they did not really look it. Smirking as the beast came near him, Ravan tossed up his staff at the creature. By reflexes alone, the creature threw up his hands to catch the weapon he had just recieved a beating from, that move was his last though. As the creature caught the staff, Ravan quickly pulled his katana from its sheath and cut deep into the creatures stomach. A look of shock registered on the creatures face, almost comical. Pulling the staff out of the creatures grasp, Ravan kicked the creature in the chest, sending him reeling back. Looking down at his katana, Ravan wrinkled his nose as he inhaled the stench that was also on the creatures blood, this thing was stinky all over.
Wiping off his sword on the creatures leggings, Ravan re-sheathed his sword. Picking up his staff again, Ravan ran out to the battlements. Pausing when he saw the scene play out before him, Ravan was momentarily stunned at the sight.

[GabrielThief]

Gabriel opened his eyes, a strange dream. He had been killing, and enjoying it. He had been covered in blood, and as he sat up he felt slighly discontent at the fact that he no longer was. Lifting his blanket Gabriel glanced at the area below his waist, a slight smile touching his lips. He pushed himself to his feet and decided to dress and take a walk, hoping the cold night air would cool him down a bit. He pulled on his clothes and checked his daggers, then stuffed his feet into his boots. He left his tent, glancing around at the surrounding encampment. There were a few muffled screams throughout the camp, probably people who were having nightmares, nothing for Gabriel to worry about.

He began his walk, not really having any particular destination, deciding eventually to make his way toward the wall and have a look at the surrounding landscape. He was twenty yards from the wall when he saw her. She had dull red hair that shone in the silvery moonlight. She had jumped over the top of the wall and ripped out a man's throat with her teeth. The sight frightened Gabriel, yet at the same time it filled him with excitement. She leapt from the wall and landed soundlessly, light as a feather. Gabriel crouched to the ground and moved quickly to a small clump of trees, keeping his eyes on the woman as she surveyed the camp. He got a quick look at her eyes, they were filled with expectation. Her face and armor were smeared with blood, giving her a look that was strangely appealing to Gabriel.

Gabriel reached the trees and stayed hidden among them, watching the woman as she set out across the field, her hair waving in the breeze, her sword drawn. She had a grin on her face that told Gabriel she was contemplating terrible acts, and finding them appealing. The fact that she would come into this encampment, filled with thousands of armed men, spoke either of extreme arrogance, or extreme power. Remembering the look he had seen in her eyes, Gabriel decided that it was the latter. He crouched in the trees, waiting for some sign of what she was going to do before commiting himself to action, for he had not yet decided whose side he was on.

[Harthar]

Avanthar awoke from his meditation, his eyes opening quickly and those purple orbs ajusted quickly to the lack of light. He was sitting cross legged within a cave, not too far from what sounded like the noise of battle. He grasped the hilts of his shortswords, which had been resting across his knees, and sheathed them as he easily got to his feet, seeming to flow, his grace and ability to move without sound adding to his fluidity in movements.

He walked around the bend in the cave, and then another bend before seeing that it was almost day break. He moved to the edge of the cave and looked out over the forest to a city that lay not too far away at all, a frontier city. He could easily make out the figures of Seth's creatures trying to breach the walls of the city. Avanthar, the dark elf, not a very well known, nor a very liked person, felt that he would be of some help to these people, and that his presence may see to some lives not being lost and therefore lengthening the time that the city would have to stand against the evil forces of Seth. And so he lept from the cave entrence and into the branchs of a tree, flipping himself up onto its branch he employed his fast way of travel. Moving quickly along branches connecting trees, he moved toward the distant city, not making a sound, other then that which would be taken as the wind.

His movement through the trees proved to be the right move as the forest was full of Seth's creatures. He ran over their heads, using the trees cover as well as high level mode of transport. When he neared the thinning of the trees into he cleared land that surrounded the city, he crouched. His sences heightened so that he could hear and feel if anything was going to attack him. His eyes focused on the city, watching the ladders and grappling hooks that flew from the horde of creatures to be secured on the wall, only to be thrown or pushed off by the defenders. But there were many hooks and many ladders and the defenders seemed to be sustaining quite a few losses.

And then he seemed to sence something, and he turned from looking at the city and looked to a man, Avanth, not much of a man anymore, more closel related, now, to one of Seth's minions. He could feel that power that built up in the man and blinked when he saw the deaths of many many people from Avanth's attack. He then watched the man turn and walk into the forest, leaving the city to be taken by Seth's minions without anymore help.

Avanthar tore his eyes away from the man and leapt from the branch as far as he could, his shortswords sliding easily from their sheaths whilst he was in mid air. When he was just about to land amid a group of the creatures who were running toward the city, he struck out, his right hand blade moving swiftly and fluidly to slice open the back and side of one creature's neck. His right foot landed upon the ground. His left hand blade sliced the calf of one of the creature's legs, making it stumble and fall into another of its fellows. His left foot landed infront of his right and he used the momentum to move him into a roll upon the ground. His blades slicing disabling wounds into the creatures around him. One calf slice, stab to the back of a knee, two hamstrings, a stomach slice and a groin stab. And then once more he was on his feet. The creatures around the group Avanthar had attacked became aware of the attack that had ensued right beside them and were now moving in to attack.

Avanthar struck out, pushing off from a crouched position with his right foot, he flipped into the air, narrowly being missed by a slashing sword which would have killed Avanthar if it had found its mark. His right hand blade struck out once more, slicing a wicked wound across one of the creature's faces, his other blade clashed against a creature's upraised sword, this he did not turn away but rather used it to add to his propulsion, that and his left foot landing upon the chest of a creature which he also used to push off with. He flipped again in mid air and then landed outside the group he had attacked, only to be encountered by another group of creatures.

He blinked, and looked around. No longer was he on the field of battle staring death in the eye with no chance of survival, but every chance of inflicting wounds to the enemy, he was again sitting cross legged within his cave. He shook his head to clear his thoughts, putting the battle down as a wandering of his mind during his meditation, a thought that had presented itself to his mind whilst in such a state.

He gasped the hilts of his shortswords, flowed to his feet and sheathed them. Moving out of the cave and looking toward the distant city. HE leapt from the cave entrance, down to the trees below and once more ran along its branches until he was at the edge of the forest. He crouched upon the branch, his black cloak pulled tightly around himself, the hood up, producing shadows which hid a face so many would like to have as a troffie.

His attention found that of a woman who scaled the wall with an ease that Avanthar thought might be his equal, and he watched as she ripped out one man's throat and then dispenced of a few other guards by smashing their heads into the stone. His hands reflexively found the familiar hilts of his shortswords, but that was the only movement he seemed to be able to perform, other then that he waited, waited for what the woman might do next.