Warm Blood

[Hysteria]

Response to Demonspawn Skirmishes, Allennia, Ganlon and Hysteria.“You want me to lead a rag-tag group of drunkards and adventures, with only a handful of Watchmen to harry the Werewolf and Vampire forces? Are you bloody insane?”

“Calm down Sargent.” The Captain of the Watchmen turned his steely eyes on the Sargent. “The forces are small, broken up around the forest. I doubt you'll find a force any larger than five or six demonspawn.”

Sargent Dawson was an young man, someone who had joined the Watch young and though he didn't have a formal education, his mind was sharp and he had quickly climbed the ranks. However, he didn't like the idea of becoming a dead hero before his thirtieth birthday. Dawson ran a hand through his swept back hair as he considered his odds.

“You'll provide weapons, and by that, I mean specialised weapons?” Dawson asked.

“Of course! and the Watchmen will be some of our best.”

Dawson's eyes lifted into the Captains.

“Fine.”


~*~

The morning sun peeked over the horizon and sunlight washed over the city of Underwood. Already the streets had started to pulse with activity and at its heart was the Watchhouse. The building acted as a centre for all things war during the current trouble and this morning there was a unique request for those who would lend their sword to the town. Whether it was for coin or some sort of drive to do good, it did not matter. What mattered was that the person could handle him or herself. Exactly a week ago there was a call for swords to travel into the forest and engage the werewolves and vampires that crept closer to the city.

The request had spread like wildfire throughout the city. Soon it had morphed by word of mouth into a suicide mission leading directly into the demonspawn infested caves. Dawson had worked hard to fight the rumour mill and managed to shift the focus back onto a series of raids against small groups of vampires and werewolves.

Now the day had come, and all interested knew to come to the Watchhouse at the break of dawn. Dawson stood at the corner of the large building as several Watchmen made the final arrangements before they could leave. With everyone that arrived to join the adventure the Watchmen their saddled up a horse and stowed his or her gear on a horse

[Allennia]

The fire of warm blood in the heart kindled Allennia's advance along the dusty road to Underwood. Many had walked this same route, and she felt a kindred spirit beside her; nature's own memory pulsating through the magical air that surrounded every living thing. That same natural providence had brought her to the small holding at the heart of Corone for a purpose far greater than the bounty hunt she had used as her cover.

Her father had relinquished his grip over her, and allowed her to finally leave the valley. She did so on the providence of needing to learn, to see, to hear the people of the free world so that she could better understand her duties as a paladin of the Knight's Watch. How, after all, could she realise what dangers lurked beyond the walls of the Valley of the Seven if she read nothing more than crumbling books in the necropolis of their dwindling household?

The horse cantered, then trotted, then slowed to a halt as the tree-line gave way to a smattering of wooden houses and casually strolling yokels. At first, she saw no difference between the inhabitants of Underwood and the kith and kin of Isould Village, but then small subtle differences began to stand out. The people had more pronounced, rugged foreheads, and bore hands that clearly tended fields and swung blades far too often. She rode into the village in silence, observing the rugged cloth they wore and the battered armour of the watch men that guarded the town against the horrors of Concordia.

Crossing the Rubicon and arriving at the heart of Underwood, Allennia pulled back the folds of her robes and let the morning sun strike her forehead. She had ridden the beaten trails over the wall and through the darker vestiges of Concordia for three days, and though tired, she felt invigorated by it's warmth. Nobody paid the strange woman, bearing tatooes on her palms and brandishing a blade of glimmering iron as she dismounted and tethered the horse to the bit and tackle station a small urchin operated by a trickling fountain.

She tossed him a silver coin, nodded gruffly and crossed the muddy centre of this strange place. The posters she had encountered, nailed to every tree for miles around had given a time, date and place, and she made towards the building which bore the very same mark that the posters did. True enough, she could see men gathering arms and mounting horses outside a fashionably structured guardhouse. Her knee length boots were already covered in mud from the ride, so they offered her a degree of natural adventuring she hoped would allow her feminine attribute to go unnoticed. She ensured her cloak hung wide of her sword hilt, and extinguished the flaming glyphs on her arms, before approaching the shiniest, most official looking watch men.

"Greetings", her accent was, by accident, perfectly acclimatised to Corone "I have come about the bounty". She unrolled the poster she had plucked from a tree trunk and smiled politely. The talk of demons and taint had drawn her curiosity, for if her brother still lived...if his exile had sent him away to find a new frontier...then it would be a trail of malody, madness and fire that would lead her to Haida where the rumours spoke of a madman aflame that wielded a rose tipped sceptre...

"I hope I am not too late?" She spoke with a dual metaphor, to the man before her, and the gods of the Seven Houses that watched over her.

[Ganlon Martel]

Ganlon bit into the Honey Bun that he had just bought from his new favorite place in the world: Katie’s Kitchen. The bakery had almost taken the place in Ganlon’s heart only reserved for Herbs. Almost was the correct word as Ganlon turned mid-stride and walked back towards Galt’s Apothecary.

Just as he turned the corner to the newly paved First Street of Underwood, Ganlon looked into the hooves of a large black horse. He brought his arms up in a defensive posture hoping that his head wasn’t crushed by the shoes that had been newly placed on the horse’s feet.

He stepped back and was able to right himself. The man who grabbed the horse’s reigns looked completely wrong for the horse. The horse and the man were completely at odds. It was an epic struggle or it was to the man who was trying to subdue a fifteen hundred pound black mare. The horse bit, spit, and kicked at the man as he pulled on the reins. Ganlon liked the horse immediately. The man on the other hand he completely disliked.

He wore the clothes of a Noble. Fine silks and jewelry decked every place on the man that Ganlon could see. Just as Ganlon was about to dismiss the entire episode and move on he caught a glimpse of the man’s face.

“Stephen Lajoy, is that you?” Ganlon watched as Stephen attempted again to gain control of a monster with just his arm strength. He was losing miserably. The animal seemed to be in pain to Ganlon as he bucked and pulled at the reins.

“Ganlon. It is you right Ganlon?” The horse pushed her full body weight against Stephen and drove him into a stall set up for fruit. The fruit vendor began beating Stephen soundly against his head and upper shoulders with a banana. The sound of the words coming from the fruit vendor were in a language that Ganlon didn’t recognize. This just made it funnier as Stephen lay there looking beaten in a completely different way.

Ganlon placed his hand on the horse’s nose before it could move away. He could feel it then. He followed the light of the Horse’s being until he found the one dark spot.

“Ganlon that horse is dangerous. He is unruly, and derisive.” Stephen had risen from his spot in the stall and having placed one of the jewels from his hand in to the vendors waiting pouch removed himself from the problem. The vendor spoke again in the same language, happily this time.

Ganlon found the dark spot in the animal. There it was. It was a small wound. A knife cut just inside of the horse’s upper right leg. There was more. The wound had something in it. Ganlon needed to focus and he did. He allowed the light from his head to flow from the doorway in his mind. He allowed it to find its way down to the spot on the horse. He pushed the darkness out of the wound and bound the wound closed asking the cells to rejoin with the light. The horse immediately calmed and nosed against Ganlon.

“Stephen, I want this horse.” Ganlon turned and smiled at Stephen. Stephen had stood watching Ganlon and the horse he had just won in a gambling match ten minutes earlier. He could see that the horse was going with Ganlon whether Stephen wanted her or not.

“Fifty gold pieces Ganlon and she is yours. Her name is Lucy.” Stephen reached out his hand in expectation of payment and Ganlon didn’t let him down. Ganlon happily paid the fifty gold pieces for his new Lucy.

“Good bye, Stephen. Milo said you were bad luck.” Ganlon took the reign of the horse and walked away. Stephen thanked his luck stars. He had made fifty gold and had gotten rid of a pain in the ass horse.

Ganlon realized that he couldn't go to the Apothecary with the horse. He turned around again and started towards the Livery. Lucy pulled just a little bit on the reigns and as Ganlon turned to see what she needed he saw the poster. The chance to make back the fifty gold pieces he had just lost must have been sent by Aegle and Ganlon smiled.

He made his way to where the soldiers were gathering hoping he had enough time to join the quest and make his money back.

[Hysteria]

Dawson looked the girl up and down, pausing for a second before reaching her face. He recognised a mage when he saw one, it was all in the tattoos. There were tribal, sea faring, warrior and mage ones, and the Sargent had learnt pretty quickly which ones to be especially wary of. A tinge of apprehension told him to deny the young woman, but then the stupid ones tended to be sorted out one way or another.

“You're not late lass.” Dawson gestured towards the other horses, “There is some feed and water for your horse, but we will be heading off soon. Don't over do it and give it a cramp. Oi! Johnson! Over here!”

A young Watchmen, no more than sixteen darted around the others and stood in front of the Sargent.

“See this girl's horse is fed and watered, not too much mind.”

Johnson nodded and ran back to the horses.


~*~

Some morning are better than others, and this morning was pretty good. Talen walked with a spring in his step as he neared the Watchhouse. The youth had spent the better part of a month in Underwood, and had lent a hand across many of the calls for help. The resulting notoriety had only improved Talen's attitude an nearly everyone knew the boy who helped out. Talen had even gotten used to being called 'Bun', a nickname the Watch, and a few others, had adopted for him after a sticky situation where he uncovered a thieving ring.

“Ho Bun! You coming with us?” Dawson ruffled Talen's hair in a slightly demeaning show of affection.

Thing had changed for Talen in Underwood, he had proven his worth and for a reason unknown to the youth, didn't mind being treated his age. Talen was in fact thirteen years old, and he never missed an opportunity to use his age to his advantage. His rather average appearance was at odds with his unique talents that made a very versatile person.

“Well, grab a horse and we'll be off soon.” Dawson turned and looked at his men, a flash of anger crossed his face, “Oi! Speed it up lads, this is not a dinner party!”

Talen looked around at the people that had gathered for the raid. There less than he had expected, but he hoped that those who had come could handle themselves. Talen had seen experienced people cut down like tall poppies, and those that thought of this as a game were likely to get themselves and probably others killed.

“Alright!” Dawson yelled loudly to get everyone's attention, “Circle up, circle up!”

Slowly those present stepped forwards into a rough semi-circle around the Sargent. There were twenty in all, ten from the Watch and ten 'volunteers'. Dawson walked along the semi-circle of people and looked them in the eyes. His body language was stern, in control.

“We are here because we face a threat. At a time when we are surrounded by enemies we can no longer afford to sit and let them close in on us. We are going to travel into the forest and drive back those demonspawn that threaten to encroach on our fair city. We simply cannot tolerate this any more!”

“The plan is simple, we will hit hard and fast! Taking out the small groups will be easy, and that is what we must do. Now, If you don't know me, my name is Sargent Dawson. Once outside the city, you will call me Dawson. You will not use any rank what-so-ever while we are outside the walls. Do you understand me?”

There was a murmur of agreement from the group.

“My second is Corporal Jones. Jones, step forward.” A man with thinning hair and the look of someone who had been promoted because he had survived the longest stepped forwards, “Jones is also our medic. He will be in charge of all things medical.”

“Next we have Zoe,” A female Watchmen with her blonde hair tightly pulled back in a bun stepped forwards, “Zoe is our magic support, she will handle magic and any of you who used ranged weapons. I will be the one handling the melee fighters. While on this exercise you will listen to them alright?”

Again the group murmured in agreement.

“Alright! Lets saddle up and move out!”

[Allennia]

The transition between outsider to an accepted member of the party was too quick for Allennia's liking. She was accustomed to the parley between council men and nobles, and long, exhausting debates between opposing parties before reaching a consensus. Though she was versed in the arts of diplomacy and civility, she could not help but raise an eyebrow at the tension she had received when she first approached the watch men. Whilst her appearance was perhaps not best suited to remaining inconsiderate, the contempt had come from the sighting of another mage. How could they scorn her for her magical talent, yet house a mage amongst their number?

It was a hypocrisy she had considered for nearly an hour as they moved out in a close knit group on horseback. The serenity of Underwood faded swiftly as they headed into the forest, and what limited sense of direction and purpose Allennia had possessed when she stride brazenly up to the task at hand faded. The clip clop of horses' hooves in the dirt and the canopy of elder spruces and diamond leaved Junipers began to box them in to nature's throng, threatening to consume them before they ever got to their destination.

She took a deep breath and pulled up her hood. The rough jolting with each advance of her steed, an Isould noble stallion from the ancient line of royal steeds kept her awake, but her mind wandered in and out of use as minutes turned to hours. She had been alert in the village, and had taken note of the other non commissioned members of their party. Talen intrigued her most, though more through a recognition of magical talent than anything else. Galon was something an enigma to her. Forever scorned, even by her family for her intellect, the brutish, somewhat muscular inclined people of the world were almost a mystery to her mind.

She kept herself to herself as they travelled far from the peaceful serenity of safety, and remained alert to the ever present danger they all faced. Lavender clods and broken bark embankments rose and fell in the background as the landscape slowly changed, reformed and fell away again. Broken beams of sunlight scoured the slumbering watch men as the road took it's toll and they briefly discoursed amongst themselves before awkwardness resumed and they returned to their statuesque silence.

Allennia smiled to herself. She had counted the minutes and hours, and from the broken glimpses of the sun through the Concordian canopy, she figured an hour or so had passed. With a canter, she approached the one she had heard called Talen and saddled up to him on his left. With a polite, and somewhat broken common, she enquired for an answer to her eternal conundrum:

"Excuse me, but I can't help but feel excluded by the watch men...do the people of Underwood not trust magic and those who wield it?" She swayed with the motion of her horse as she pulled up on the reigns to bring her own steed into line with Talen's.

[Ganlon Martel]

Lucy’s movements beneath Ganlon were a forgotten pleasure. He had forgotten how much he enjoyed riding and the movements of the wonderful creature beneath him brought him back to his youth. He could still feel every ache and pain in the horse and it took quite a bit of concentration to filter out the pains that the gifts of the Goddess allowed him to feel. Once he was able to focus on other things he realized he could shut out the feelings of the horse named Lucy.

He was where he would always feel at home; the Forest of Concordia. The sounds of his wood, yes he still thought of them as his as he smiled, were the only music that he would ever need to hear. The wood swallow sang to the chattering of the squirrels. The buzz of the bumble bee moved past him to meet the whoosh of the wind through the grasses of the wood. The music of the wood was accompanied by the light show of life that came as clouds rode the same singing wind and sunlight drew shadow drawings of things like: houses, cats, and people. That shadow reminded Ganlon of a farmer’s hoe.

Engulfed by the wonder of Concordia Ganlon barely noticed the time go by as the group moved through the woods. The landscape changed and people talked about things encompassing the normal banalities of daily life. Ganlon watched as the normal cliques of people formed. Friends bound by the common thread of soldier’s life began to form as the walk moved from minutes to hours. Ganlon saw the hooded Mage ride forward to where the boy called Talen rode. What was it that he had heard in Underwood? Oh, yes, that one they called Bun. He had a quiet following of admirers in the taverns of Underwood.

Ganlon was fit to sit quietly on his horse and not talk to anyone. He did however admire each of the women who had started the ride with the group. As both of them were Mages Ganlon immediately found himself thinking of Madeline Defabry. The Mage who was once part of the Team of Fellows and a woman who woke the parts of Ganlon that he thought were dead when Genove died. The fear of loss immediately began again in Ganlon. Genove his one and only love died when he could not heal her. Madeline had died in a fight in a ruin in these same woods of Concordia. Ganlon was helpless to stop that death as well.

Ganlon found himself making a silent oath to not allow anything to happen to either of these two women. The Mage who was talking with Talen, zall he wished he knew her name, looked to be capable of handling herself. She rode with the poise of nobility and the training of a warrior. The curves of her body were obvious to Ganlon as she swayed with the movement of her horse but common sense over rode his body's wants and he took mental note to try and talk with her with the respect that she was due.

The other one, Zoe, she laughed loudly, smiled brightly, and met with small touches the men who drew near her. She played with each and Ganlon noticed that she would keep track of which followed her orders and which would not. The robe she wore was expensive and Ganlon didn’t know the fabric it was made from. It was tailored to fit her form and sewn with runes and magical diagrams; the language of which Ganlon could not recognize.

Her beauty was the kind that came from youth. She was the girl next door, fresh with freckles and white skin. The woman part of her was subtle, gentle, and down right sexual in nature. Ganlon noticed that more than one soldier looked at her with a lingering eye. Ganlon found himself doing the same.

Ganlon also noticed that when the riding ceased to be exciting and most were lulled by the road, she studied a book from her pack. She was squinting at the book hard and Ganlon saw her mouth the words from the book repeatedly. Ganlon was by no means a magic user. He had no studies that taught him of the mage's way; but, he did know that magic users usually memorized their spells prior to combat. The ones that Ganlon had known either had the magic as part of them or they learned and memorized them the night before combat. Learning spells on the road, now in day light, seemed a little off to Ganlon.

Ganlon swore the oath again. He would watch this woman very carefully. The fear of loss and a need that rose from some where close to when men still hid in caves drove him to want to draw her near and keep her safe. Ganlon pushed Lucy forward to talk with the one called, Talen and learn the other Mage's name.

“Hey,” Ganlon smiled his best smile “I hate to interrupt a conversation, but do either of you know that woman Zoe? I mean can anybody tell me about her?” Ganlon waited a moment and then he smacked himself in the middle of his forehead.

"Oh, I am Ganlon Martel. And you two are?"

[Hysteria]

Talen had been given a small white horse, a subtle jest at the boy's small stature. The youth rode patiently down the small lumber trail in the middle of the group. The mighty trees of Concordia lined the trail with their massive trunks. It was something to marvel at, even for the city born Talen. As he rode the youth idly listened to the conversations around him and wondered what forces lay in wait for them. Talen's musings were broken by one of the newbies that joined the team. Talen returned her greeting with a smile.

“Its not so much that they don't trust magic,” Talen turned and glanced around the group before meeting the woman's eyes, “If I came up to you and said that I was a master swordsman, I'd expect you would greet me with some apprehension. Its the same here, they don't trust you because you are new, your occupation is irrelevant.”

The woman paused in thought as another of the newcomers rode up beside Talen. The youth twisted in his saddle and greeted him with a nod. Apparently he was attracting all the attention today, however this time Talen was far less helpful, but not by choice.

“I don't really know many of the Watch here. Dawson, well everyone knows Dawson he's kind of a legend, he's gone up the ranks faster than anyone else ever has. As for the other two in command, I've seen them around, but that’s about it. I think they are pretty tight with Dawson.”

“But anyway my name is...” *thunk*

Talen looked down to see an arrow embedded in his horses neck. The creature took another step and collapsed and the youth toppled forwards over it's head and onto the ground. Chaos erupted through the group as more arrows rained down, striking beast and man alike. The second wave shot through the air but was deflected mid-flight as they impacted on a wall of energy. Zoe lifted her hands above her head as she powered the shield.

“Find cover! Spot for the archers!” Dawson lifted his sword and pointed it towards the sky, “Prepare to counter attack!”

The cries of one of the men wounded by an arrow managed to be carried over the shouts and din of coming battle to Talen. “This doesn't make any sense! We are leagues from where any werewolf should be! Leagues”

“Shut it and get ready!” Replied a gruff man who was already drawing his sword.

Talen pulled himself to his feet and looked around bleary eyed. The commotion, sudden fall and the start of battle was quite a shock to the little warrior. Talen stumbled forwards and tripped over his horse and fell flat to the ground again. The youth pulled himself up and met the eyes of his steed. The massive eyes blinked slowly as its chest rose and fell quickly as it struggled to breath. A trail of crimson blood ran down the horses coat and pooled on the ground. Talen placed a hand of the beast's neck as its breathing slowed and finally ended.

“Wolves!”

Who made the cry was irrelevant as seven massive werewolves tore along the ground between the trees and towards the group. Each of their steps ripped earth into the air, and Talen watched every movement as a cold dread descended over him. The sort of dread that one feels when they know they have walked directly into a trap.

“Vampires!”

Talen twisted his head up to the trees and saw the unholy creatures. Normally they would never come out in sunlight, but they were clad in thick material that covered every inch of their skin. The youth looked in wonder as they leapt from tree to tree, still carrying the bows that had felled some of the groups number already.

Talen reached behind his cloak and pulled free one of his black pistols. The weapon wasn't common, in fact it was a unique item that only Talen possessed. His zodiac weapon, the Snake Pistols. The youth held it in front of him as he faced the werewolves. Zoe's shield would protect them from the arrows, but not the werewolves.

[Allennia]

"My name is Allennia" she said in a plain, monotone accent with little friendliness or malice. She was not yet accustomed to the mannerisms of the outsiders she was now so frequently encountering, so she did not make a habit of revealing mistaken emotions through her words. "It is a pleasure to meet you, Ganlon Martel."

Talen resumed his conversation and the mage's heart sank. She was going to have to get used to the mistrust and dishonesty the men of the wider world wielded so openly as weapons and shields. Magic, at least in the Valley of the Seven Houses was a tool and a force for good. It came with respect and honour and to learn it's secrets was to learn how to protect, not to destroy. She smiled to herself as the boy continued. The irony of her flame in her heart burning through village and cloth had always been a source of contention when her brother had taught her the morals of the arts.

"Tell me" she began, when she was sure Talen had finished. "What do they call you young one?" For a moment, she lightened up, and smiled at Ganlon over her shoulder as if nature and the serenity of the watch's advance through the forest washed over her. When the thud of an arrow dampened both her spirits and the calm, her skin bristled and her own horse bridled wildly. "Stay!" She bellowed, hand patting the mare's neck as furiously as she might to stay his fretting. Rocking back and forth and swaying to and fro amidst the sudden chaos, Allennia did the only thing she knew how to do well. She panicked.

A circle sigil of fire writing sprawling with life burst into existence around her palms, and set about unleashing sparks and flicks of crimson and tangerine death. Before she knew it, she had let loose two small balls of fire towards the nearest shadowy movement, and cringed when the creature, dead by a thousand turns of the moon burst into flames. It fled back into the tree line, to fall from unbelief into ashes and dust.

"By the grace of the Seven!" She screamed as she realised what was attacking the patrol. "Never have I seen them with my own eyes so brazen!" She dismounted her horse with a sideways leap and in a twirl of bravado, her cloak wrapping up behind her as she pulled back her hood. "Do not let them bite you, for heaven's sake, do not let them bite you!" She repeated her warning to Ganlon and Talen several times, just to drive the point home. Werewolves had often raided the valley over the Isould Cliffs, and Abhorrash had told her tales of such creatures by firelight's glow.

She observed the tree line and the whistle of many more bolts as they rained onto the watch men. Many eager recruits and press ganged criminals gargled their last breath before the ravaging claws and hellish bestiality broke through the tree line. Those claws, she knew all too well would easily rake through the vanguard of their number unless they offered a more stoic resistance. Allennia lowered her head briefly, to calm her nerves and to dispel the sigils around her hands. As they faded, she drew her blade with a swish and took to her sword art stance at Talen's side. "Let them come, let them claim us if they dare!" She brought her blade up over her head and prepared in her mind a spell to break fast against the three hulking creatures that made straight for them.

"Look into their eyes, Talen, show them no fear. Ganlon, fight!" She stepped forwards with a scoop to her step and brought the blade down and up at the first creatures jaw, hoping to cleave the maw of the world wolf straight from it's neck. She had never felt so free and invigorated in all her life, even staring down death. She was no longer chained by her birth right, her nobility or the sheltered existence of her people. Her blood was warm, her heart ablaze, her soul sang through the ring of her blade.

[Ganlon Martel]

"My name is Allennia. It is a pleasure to meet you, Ganlon Martel." There was no emotion in her words. She held the true noble nature. Ganlon was immediately entranced by her black eyes, and black hair. Most would think that her words were aloof, meant to keep her distance from people. To Ganlon they were strange, mysterious, fascinating. He needed to be nearer to her.

Talen continued speaking. His words were a noise now in Ganlon’s head, a simple buzz of bees. He was talking about the locals and Ganlon heard the sound on a subconscious level. He could probably even recall them later if asked; but, she was all that he could look at. Then she smiled at him and Ganlon felt warm. There was a warm pit of sunshine in his stomach and a tingling on his skin.

“But anyway my name is...” *thunk* Wait a second that was not right. Ganlon realized that something was wrong when he saw Talen and his horse go to the ground. He stopped Lucy and watched for a millisecond to get his bearings. Arrows rained in on the group from the front of them and then there was a shield. Zoe’s hands were in the air powering the shield. Maybe he was wrong about her. He was notoriously wrong.

Ganlon felt it then. That feeling that came before any fight. His head felt like it was filled with cotton and his hands became wet with sweat. The sunshine in his stomach was cooled instantly by the ice of fear as he saw an arrow strike one of the men in the group. Time slowed and noises went to a dull blur. He heard, “Prepare to counter attack!”

Then heard, “Wolves” and then, “Vampires” yelled in front of him and was impressed as balls of fire erupted from Allennia’s hands and turned what he thought was a man to dust. He felt for the light of life in Talen’s horse and could find none. What a shame that such a beautiful creature was killed. Ganlon thought about Lucy then and hastily dismounted. He was no knight to fight from horse back. Lucy would be better off by herself against the menace. Her teeth and hooves would do tremendous damage against any foe and Ganlon only held a small amount of fear for her safety.

He forced his shield onto his arm just in time to stop an arrow aimed for his head. It hit his dehlar shield and shattered. He was never gladder for his acquisition than in that moment. He drew his sword from his sheath the same moment he heard, "Do not let them bite you, for heaven's sake, do not let them bite you!" That was one thing Ganlon had no intention of doing at all. He would fight if necessary but the whole biting thing he could do without.

The fight apparently would fall to just a couple of them. Ganlon watched as their ranks slowly decreased from the bolts and now the encroaching werewolves. Ganlon watched as men fell and smelled the one smell he knew better than any, death. Cooper and iron, feces and sweat wafted through the air to Ganlon’s nose. He had just long enough to glimpse one memory of a dead face in his mind before he saw the three hulking werewolves headed his way.

Ganlon heard his name again, “Ganlon, fight.” Ganlon laughed out loud. Not a bad idea he thought as he shrugged his shoulders. He stepped back with his right foot and raised his shield with his left arm. He raised his sword in his right hand above his head and made the imaginary X on his first opponent.

“Not a bad idea, you do the same.” He yelled. The first werewolf came forward and swung. These were no stupid animal creatures and this swing was calculated. It was meant for Ganlon to drop his shield guard and be hit by the follow through. The werewolf swung his left paw; Ganlon saw his right paw was raised for the follow through. Instead of taking the hit on his shield he stepped into the swing and let the werewolves forearm hit him rather than his paw. Half of the force of the blow dissipated against his shoulder. The other half of the force stung but was spread out by his chainmail. He looked at the X on the werewolf’s chest in his mind and placed his sword where the middle of the X belonged.

There was no need to overextend his body and the blow he gave to the werewolf was a quick in and out motion, more from his wrist than his shoulder. The feel of the sword piercing the werewolf’s chest was one of small resistance and it was the look in the creature’s eyes that stuck with him. From the eyes of an animal came a look of recognition, surprise, and shock that his life was over. The creature stopped in its tracks and fell to the ground.

Ganlon twisted his hips to see what came next. He gave a quick look to see how others faired and then was once again beset by the first werewolves’ friends; now cautious after watching the first one fall. The thing that Ganlon feared the most was about to happen. Two werewolves surrounded him. Ganlon felt his fear raise higher, "Can't people just fight fair. How about one on one for just one time, huh? "

[Hysteria]

“To me! To me!” Dawson's voice rose up over the clash of steel, claws and flesh. The chaotic rabble of watchmen and mercenaries rallied and fell back into a defensive line around Zoe and the few ranged mercs. Swords bristled from between the line of shields like an angry porcupine as a second of silence descended on the fight. Then ground thundered, werewolves charged forwards and smashed their giant forms into the line of defence. Blood and steel met in ferocious carnage as beast and man fought in mortal battle.

Talen lifted the barrel of his pistol up to one of the werewolves circling Ganlon like a lion stalking its prey. A weak spot, any at all, would be exploded and could spell the death of the healer. Talen wasn't going to sit by idle and pulled the trigger. The gun fired and sent a ball of energy hurtling towards the giant beast. The crack of dark magic and flesh sent the beast stumbling backwards but little more. Talen walked forwards and fired another blast into the creature, then another. Each shot and the werewolf stumbled back further. The youth paused, his blue eyes trained on the creature as blood trickled down its chest from one of the strikes.

A blood curdling howl came from the other werewolf as it leapt onto all fours and charged towards the youth. A massive claw cut through the air just above Talen as he launched himself backwards. The youth fired again from his pistol into the beast just before hitting the ground. The blast caught the beast in the head and it staggered unevenly backwards. A dark shadow moved above Talen as one of the other hired sword leaped over the boy and brought his sword down on the creature's neck. The finishing blow severed the beast's spinal cord, but failed to cleanly cut through its entire neck. The man kicked the beast and yanked his sword free. The man shot a smile at Talen from behind his shaggy hair and unshaven face.

“You gotta be more ca-”

The words were cut off as a flash of darkness landed behind the mercenary. In a blink a hand grasp the man's shaggy hair and pulled his head to the side to reveal his neck. Talen's mind only saw the long white fangs as they buried into soft flesh. With another flash, the man was lifted into the air as if he had never been. More vampires dropped from the tree canopy through Zoe's shield to engage the party in direct combat.

Talen's hand pressed into the cool ground of the road as he watched with burning anger at the demon spawn. The youth gripped the dirt so hard his knuckles turned white, but it was not enough to elevate his anger. Talen grabbed his pistols and shoved them into his belt. His eyes were filled with rage as he looked past Ganlon at the werewolf. The youth's arms exploded in flames and his sleeves were incinerated in an instant. The youth was going to bring fire and death.

[Allennia]

The sword cleaved the werewolf's skull in two, veins and tendons snapping and bending beneath the rising objection to the creature's advance. With elegance, Allennia spiralled backwards with a tuck to her step, as if she were mid-manoeuvres of a delicate tango or a summer ball concerto. Her blade rested in the air and her free hand came up behind her back into the arch that she made to maintain balance as her right foot rose to a tipped position.

"I intend to," she answered Ganlon finally, and watched the werewolf fall onto it's side with one last roar.

Allennia made to sheathe her blade, but the harsh echo of gun fire turned her attention over her shoulder to Talen. She blinked and stared at him with lingering awe. She had not expected someone so young to be so adept with his weaponry, and as she watched, and the creatures of the night fell from the skies, she saw in him a kindred flame as he burst into flickers of rage.

"More to him than meets the eye," she muttered, looking back over her shoulder at Ganlon, who was now in a much better situation, one she hoped he could deal with on his own.

With a thud, a blur of movement landed to her right, just in the corner of her eye. She turned slowly to face it head on, maintaining her stance and calling on the imagery of the sycamore tree to temper her preparations for the incoming attack. The creature bore it's fangs at her, and malice seemed to ooze from it's form. Though she had only read of vampires and werewolves, the demon spawn from the dark corners of the world, she had been a diligent pupil, and recalled the weaknesses and strengths of such beings.

She cocked her head, which the vampire took as an invite before lunging. It's fingertips seemed to morph with the wind that rushed past him, casting his long robes into a trail of sorrowful matrimony. Allennia's stance dropped, and with it, her blade came crashing down in a dividing strike that pushed the creature's advance back and thudded into the road with a satisfying crash. Little shards of rock and dust scattered into the air beneath the drum like stroke, and she brought it up and set her foot into it's ballet position once more.

"The wavering branches of the sycamore are felled only by the wind," she said resolutely, drawing on the very air around her body to bolster her dancing sword art, "but they do not fall without one last lash and strike!" It was her turn to lunge, and with the clash of blades, the scream of hastily torn throats and judgement and the roar of magic filling the air of the lonely forest, she span as she approached, and with the force of a storm behind her attack, cleaved the vampire in two.

With a pounce, she jumped back, sword raised over her head once more and breathe slipping heavily and painfully from her lips from the exertion. Her magical memory had faded, and a strength had driven her blow that she only possessed in the heated moment of her dance. The wind from the sword strike kicked up dust and spiralled around the vampire's body for a moment, before it fell into a slump, lifeless eyes lingering on it's murderer, tongue lashing futile, teeth brandished harmlessly and glinting in the dark.

"Talen!" She snapped to attention, almost falling for the trappings of remorse, "those flames, throw them freely!" She walked to his side with urgency, and set her sword into it's scabbard to be free of the magic null her dance had created.

"Together, we can burn these creatures from history."

She flexed her wrists and conjured the spiralling sigil which surrounded her palms and fingers with sprawling, moving and living writing. The red flames cast an orange glow on her perspiring face, and she pulled up her hood to steel away the last of the cold, and to hide her tears as she, for the first time in a long time, began to feel very, very afraid.

She turned and readied herself, choosing a target near Ganlon and casting her hands to the skies. The twin fireballs converged, hung in the air above her body for a second, then rushed over the road with illuminating vigilance towards the nearest sword or pair of teeth that threatened her new found companion.

[Ganlon Martel]

Ganlon looked around at the mess the woods had become. His father had described situations like this when he talked about his military service. His father had told him, “The rich nobles often made little maps with cute toy soldiers on them. All of the soldier in neat little lines, clean, and organized. It made them feel happy. When I stepped from the tent to look at the real fight, it was in fact like maggots on rotten meat moving this way and that, messy, distracted, uncontrolled” The glade that the fight had started in was a flat out messy, distracted, uncontrolled explosion of death and blood.

One second he had been fighting three werewolves now he stood facing no one. He was in utter awe of the capabilities of his compatriots. Talen stood flames enshrouding his arms and Allennia’s fire was ready to destroy the undead. The bodies of the mercenary soldiers stood in stark contrasts to werewolves and vampires bodies. Ganlon watched as one of the werewolves reverted from wolf to its human form. The magic gone from its body in death its change was slow, and broken by the cracking and shattering of bones and sinew. Vampires resembled rotting paper as their desiccated bodies fell apart in flakes blown by an unnatural wind. Ganlon imagined himself suddenly part of the stories told by the wandering minstrels from his youth.

He was spun around by a blown that struck the side of his helmet. The force pushed the face piece past his eyes, suddenly placing him a shroud of darkness. There was no time for fear. Panic now would ensure that he was dead. Ganlon immediately dropped to his left knee and swung an arc with his sword that started from his left ankle. He left the force of his weapon carry move its moment past his middle and around towards his shoulder behind him. At his right shoulder height he connected with someone or some thing. The lack of cry after his sword connected made him think something. He tucked his head forward and rolled through a summersault to standing.

“Zalling, no good, rotten, son of a …” Ganlon muttered as he pulled on his helm to get it straight. He pulled it straight just as the vampire grabbed a hold of his chainmail shirt. Ganlon could feel the cold death of the creature as it grabbed him. The skin was mottled and patches were marked with blood vessels. It smiled at him as it lifted him and pulled off his helmet.

“Need some help little one.” The creature’s words were full of sarcasm and his fangs shone through his smirk. Ganlon pushed with all of his might against the creature in an attempt to pull away. He might as well have been attempting to pull down a full grown tree. As the creature pulled him closer to his fangs Ganlon felt sure that he was dead. In the last instant just before the bite his thought was of a honey bun he had eaten earlier.

As the creature’s teeth touched Ganlon’s skin something strange happened. The door in Ganlon’s head opened. Light flooded through the open portal. Ganlon could feel her. She was with him. His Goddess, the reason for his being here today, she was his path, his light, his salvation, and he shouted her name.

“AEGLE, in the Name of AEGLE, I command you gone creature of the night.”

Ganlon’s body was filled with a white light. His hands, his face, his neck, and arms shined like a radiant sun. He felt the Chalice in his pack on his back burn with the light and light shined from the flaps of the pack.

The vampire was blown backwards as if a gale force wind had picked him up. The look on its face was one of sheer hatred as it land on its feet three feet from where Ganlon stood. The creature attempted to move forward towards the light but was held back by the sheer brilliance and covered its eyes finally and turned away. Its mouth opened in a cat like hiss and it jumped back up into the trees.

Ganlon knew that his own strength could not hold the undead off for long. But if he could have just a little more light from someone else’s life force he might be able to destroy or banish these creatures of the night. He reached back and pulled the Chalice from his pack.

“Any one of you who wishes to destroy the evil that walks may help by taking my hand.” Ganlon held the chalice in his right hand and held his left hand out for any takers.

[Hysteria]

Talen lifted his flaming arms in front of his face to create a flaming X. The youth inhaled deeply, arching his back before jutting forwards and exhaling. It was not however air that left the youth's mouth. The boy summoned from the darkest spaces of existence extremely volatile energies. The black gunk that spewed forth in chunks and globs crossed the flames from the youth's arms and ignited, sending the flaming ooze across an unlucky werewolf.

The beast reared back and howled with pain. The blood curdling scream was cut short as Talen's fist cut the beast across the face. The youth landed from the jumping punch and turned his wild eyes up at the giant of fur and muscle. Under the flames on Talen's forearm, the mark of the Thayne of Strength glowed brightly. The youth didn't stop to think about the blessing that granted him more strength than a normally fully grown man, instead he brought his fist up and caught the creature in the chest. The sizzling of flame on flesh was met with an even stronger smell as the youth released a hail of fiery blows into the beast. Instinct caused the werewolf to lash out and the beast's claw caught Talen across the face and knocked him to the ground.

Talen twisted a lopsided smile up towards the beast from the ground. Blood trickled from two large cuts across his face, and it started to puff up almost instantly from the swelling. The werewolf staggered backwards as Talen's ooze continued to burn across its body, providing the perfect opened. Talen was back on his feet in a flash. The youth ran around the beast and leapt onto its back. In a frenzy Talen wrapped his arms around the creature's neck and held on with all his strength. The creature struggled as the fire burned through his neck and into his throat. A few seconds thrashing and the beast fell to the ground dead, leaving Talen to land with easy.

The youth's head turned slightly on the side as a grin hung across his face. The boy started to giggle, then cackle with laughter as he looked down at the still smouldering body in front of him. Talen wasn't immune to his own damage, across his chest his cloths has been burnt away and his skin was blackened from leaping onto the burning werewolf. For now the youth felt nothing except the ecstasy of the fight. The youth's blue eyes twisted towards Allennia and for a second their gazes met.

Talen twisted into a run towards the red haired mage with his bloodied face ajar with delight. The youth crossed the distance between them in a few short instances and reach out his fiery hands. Just before touching the girl Talen ducked out of her reach and sided stepped around her. The air was filled with the acrid smell of burning diseased flesh as Talen slammed his open palm into the face of a vampire a moment away from Allennia. The youth leapt into the air and pushed down the demonspawn to the ground and held it there as the fire ate away at its face. Talen leaned his head as far back as possible and looked at the upside-down girl with a slight chuckle.

[Allennia]

The promise of death came knocking on the scorched ground between Allennia and her enemy. In her stomach she felt a swell of nausea that tasted of iron and blood and the morning’s gruel. The sensation mimicked the spiralling, churning flames that flickered all around the besieged watchmen. Talen was a blur, the melee tearing her senses from their usually firm grasp on reality. Ganlon’s offer of salvation in the bottom of a silver chalice fell on echo laden ears as she struggled to keep up with the pace of war. Her earlier sentiment faltered along with the last dregs of her conviction. Without that spark of hope she was lost. With a sigh, she let her blade fall to her side and the sound of Talen’s laughter ringing in her ears. How could he remain so buoyant when all around their comrades were being torn limb from limb?

A carnal scream brought her back to earth crashing and screaming. Without thinking she snapped her neck to level her attention to the source. A shadow stood over a soldier, who had fallen to his knees beneath the weight of death and the vice like grip placed onto his exposed and sweat laden neck muscles. Her instinctual movements propelled her forwards without any regards for her own safety. She felt her boots smash through the furrowed soil of the woodland road and tear canals into Underwood’s blood stained highways with every step as she advanced. As she drew near she saw that she was too late. The whisper of air that left the young man’s lips shot her nerves and left her harrowed. The vampire’s disregard for the man’s life, his lover, his family shattered her composure further still and left her wavering in her stride.

The vampire standing over the dying soldier looked at her with a calm, happy and serene smile. Its deathly grimace shone in the man’s sparkling pupils as he looked up at his murderer with the last seconds of his life. A long black cape hung loosely from its thin, gaunt shoulders. The drab material stood in stark contrast to its elegant doublet. His attire, well-travelled and aged was adorned with rabbit fur gloves and heavy woollen vambraces. Allennia had not taken the time to analyse their assailants until now. The werewolves were simple enough to understand. Behind the swell of muscle there was a ferocious and guttural killing machine. They were creatures born from nature’s wrath. There was nothing to analyse, except to take care with their claws; not even bolstered rock could withstand a well-placed swipe from one of those.

He struck the dying soldier around the face, a heavy back hand with his gauntleted limb. The crack of steel against flesh caused Allennia to flinch, but she levelled her blade across her chest with a defensive flick of the wrist as the ending of one life gave her the strength she needed to save her own. The soldier dropped softly forwards, a pained face flashing in the limelight before smashing harshly into the dirt. The vampire remained unaware of the chaos going on around him as he stepped over the corpse. Its tight leather breeches pulled over the muscles that they barely contained, and with grace and finesse that surpassed its heavy armament it closed the gap.

With careful delectation he licked his lips clean of the trickles of blood still warm and steaming on its porcelain chin. She levelled her sword to his neck as he approached and glanced over her shoulder at Ganlon through the criss-cross of bodies, screams and behemoth shadows. Torn between retreat and a firm stand, she turned to her would-be murderer and conjured from nothing a flicker of warmth to the tip of her blade. Her right foot, shaking with nerves pushed up into a dance born stance and she made her mind to avenge the youth she had seen drained and cast aside like a draft of fortified wine. Like the trees all around the beleaguered caravan, she swayed back and forth with the swell and strength of the ages, ready to rebuke the creature’s malice.

“Warm blood,” the vampire whispered. As his words trailed off into the treeline he drew his needle of a sword from the scabbard on his right hip. It flashed with natural light and announced its presence with a soft ring of danger. The blade was a masterpiece, wrought in steel and laced with spirals of mithril along its razor edge. Its golden basket hilt was a mass of spirals, poised and adorned with amethyst roses, which would strike jealousy into the hearts of lesser men. Allennia drew the logical conclusion that the rapier was a ceremonial piece, seldom used on morsels or common folk. That fleck of doubt gave her some of her lost hope back. If he had to draw his weapon to kill her, when he could snap a man’s neck with the slightest of movements it meant only one thing. It meant that he judged her a threat, and a woman scorned was a woman to fear.

“I will take your hand, Ganlon. Stand by me, and let us revel in whatever pious grandeur you hold in that silvered vessel!” Her voice carried itself over the melody of steel and roars and screams. Her elegant stance twisted to the left, so that her left hand was extended behind her towards her companion, and her right, and her sword, was firmly planted to her front. The vampire craned its neck with curiosity, but soon returned its pallid expression to one of murderous intent and hatred for the life that dared to stand before its majesty and rebel. As it darted forwards, Allennia brought her sword around in an ark into the approaching rapier’s lightning fast swing. As they exchanged blows, she bit her tongue and hoped that whatever Ganlon had in mind with his relic, it was worth the compromise between extending her hand in aid and concentrating on the defence of her feeble, unarmoured and tiring body.

[Hysteria]

The air crackled with heat as the youth snapped upright and lifted his flaming arms. The burning appendages darkened slightly as the youth pooled his dark energy in the end of each extremity. With a burst of power the war hungry child sprayed out two jets black liquid, which burst alight less than a second after manifesting. The two streaming jets of oil leapt through the air without care for collateral damage and struck an ornately dressed vampire. The beast cried out in pain and confusion as it was doused in the burning liquid.

Talen didn't paused as he swished the jets of fiery death through the air, causing trails of burning pitched to fall on dead and dying foe and friend alike. The youth was not quite so lost as to knowingly have killed allies and cast off all for the death. But the servant of N'Jal new enough about the dark nature of the curses of werewolves and vampires. Those who were injured had already been marked, and nothing the isolated group could do would stop them from becoming beasts of destruction. Those that lay gasping on the ground were already losing control, turning from bloodied bodies of brothers and sons and daughters and sisters into raving beasts the like of which would kill previous kin without a second thought.

Sargent Dawson moved like a flash through the fray. Without pause he sliced down the vampire in front of Aliene in a flash of steel and blood. The man reached Talen moments after and slammed his fist into the boys head. Talen crumpled, the flames covering his arms disappearing almost instantly as he fell unconscious to the ground.

As if taking cue from the sudden appearance of flames a howl echoed through the giant trees that encased the group. A flurry of movement followed almost instantly as the attackers retreated into the depths of the forest.

An air of unbelief hung between the survivors almost as thickly as the smoke from Talen's magic. Dawson scanned the surrounds like a hawk searching for prey, but found nothing. He coughed slightly, and broadly addressed the group.

“Kill any beasts still alive, tend the injured and pile the dead.” The words seemed cold, unbelievable, “Jones, Zoe, console.”

Dawson walked quickly to his seconds and left the unconscious and slightly smouldering Talen where he lay.