Damien sat in stony silence as he nudged Blight after the other horses. He didn't particularly dislike any of them, but did they have to talk? When people were talking, it was hard to hear, and when it was hard to hear, it was hard to survive. Only a fool talked more than absolutely necessary when they were out of the safety of a stronghold. Only a fool wasn't straining his ears, his eyes, and his nose when he was no longer in a haven.

In his opinion, his companions were fools. Necessary fools, though, or he would just leave them behind. How he hated necessity. If it weren't for necessity, he could still be in Arghan, doing what he loved best--hunting through the woods.

Instead, though, he was stuck with a bunch of fools who seemed to think that group quests were meant for chatting.

His scowl deepened.

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((I'm going to skip ahead a little...not much happening here))

"Aye, half," was Seryl's ready reply. She flicked Eryllin a smile. "On my father's side."

She did not seem overly ready to enter into a conversation regarding her ancestry - on the contrary, her hazel eyes were constantly scanning the surrounding forest. Even this little distance from the city there could be danger, and she did not intend to be caught off guard. Her companions, however, seemed to think that this was a mere pleasure ride. A corner of Seryl's mouth twisted downwards. Either chatty or sullen, they seemed...Damien in particular. She couldn't blame him for resenting them somewhat, but must he have such a thunderously displeased expression?

Hours later, the conversation had ebbed somewhat and the party was relatively silent. Seryl felt herself relaxing and purposely sat up straighter in the saddle - inattentiveness, she knew, could cost her.

Copper balked suddenly, sniffing the wind, and as the group emerged from the shadow of the forest Seryl, leaning forward, glimpsed a prone figure on the road. This in itself was not unusual - bandits and cutthroats certainly lurked this far from any significantly sized settlement. But what caught her eye as they drew closer was the curiously vacant expression on the man's face.

He lay on his back, limbs limp, and lips parted slightly. His eyes were half open, glazed. But he still seemed to be breathing shallowly. Seryl hesitated a moment before dismounting.

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Damien's frown had relented in the last few hours of travelling, though that was only because he was ignoring his companions. So far, it seemed to work--ignore them, and he could remain calm and un-frustrated. Whenever he thought about them, though, he felt his blood boiling again.

At the present moment, though, he was managing to avoid thinking about it. What he was doing instead was watching their surroundings--if he could watch all sides, he would. So it was that he was more than slightly vexed when Seryl noticed the man sprawled by the side of the road before he did. When they got closer, the emptiness in the man's eyes caught Damien's attention, and he moved away from the rest of the group, scanning the treeline carefully, hefting his short, broadhead spear as he dismounted from Blight.

"Don't bother with the man--I've seen cases like him before, though rarely," he said in his rough, scratchy voice--courtesy of a fight in the dark long before that left him with a long scar across his throat. "His soul has been stolen, and by the looks of him, I'd say the same weapon that he is dying from absorbed it. At least, that's how it was done the few times I've seen a body like this."

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Seryl recoiled, her expression one of mixed revulsion and pity. "Nothing to be done, then, I suppose," she conceded reluctantly, scanning the road uneasily. "Mayhap we should travel off the road. Whoever did it may still be about, and I'd like to retain possession of my soul."

Really, the man deserved a proper burial, but Seryl didn't give the thought a chance to penetrate. They needed to remain secret and swift.

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Ewaviner held Devarion's dagger in puzzlement before walking towards his destination.

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I was cured all right.

Xaviera looked away sadly, and followed the others.

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- married fingon fingolfinion 6/4/13 -
~art credit~

Alythrya felt discofort in her group and nervous glances here and there. She nodded to her two new meet companions, but then she nudged Snowfire forward, looking around. Something wasn't right here.

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Just became a college freshman; be on sparingly

Xaviera shuddered, then finally found the courage to speak.
"What did that to him?" she said, her voice shaking. "And why?"

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- married fingon fingolfinion 6/4/13 -
~art credit~

Erillyn was somewhat glad for the silence that fell over them. True, she wanted to learn more about her companions, but she realized that there would be a time for that later. Now they had business to attend to. Also, she was relieved that she could once again retreat back into her protective shell. Her eyes scanned their surroundings, trying to watch out for anything unusual.

Then, she glanced something out of the corner of her eye and she flicked her eyes back to what had caught her attention. It was a body, lying on the ground. She sat up straighter in her saddle and looked to her companions. It appeared that they had noticed the body too.

As they drew closer, Erillyn was immediately taken with the expression on the man's face. Although she didn't have much experience with the dead, she had thought that some sort of emotion would have been written on the man's face, like surprise or fear or pain. But there was nothing. It was totally blank.

"Stolen?" she asked with surprise, "I've never seen anything like that done before." When Seryl suggested they travel off road, she immediately nodded. "Yes, that's a good idea." She looked around nervously. "What did this could still be lurking about." She now knew how very important it was for them to be quiet and careful.

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I'm back!

Radearle's horse hung back, with the rest of the animals, reluctant to go near the living dead. The woman sighed in exasperation and swung down from the saddle, looping the reins about a convenient tree limb. She joined the elf ... Damien ... who seemed to be the only other member of their party willing to approach the man.

Visually inspecting the body, she noted the puncture wound - stabbed, then - in his chest. The hadn't hit the heart, but had slipped in amongst the lower ribs, which explained why the man was still alive - for now.

Radearle unsheathed her plain, leather-bound knife and slit open the man's shirt in a smooth stroke. The wound, surprisingly, had not bled much, and the edges were smooth, almost as if they had been cauterized. Extremely odd. She laid her palms on his chest. There was only the faintest flutter of a heartbeat. She'd seen comatose soldiers, but this beat them all by bowshots.

Looking at the elf, she commented, "I've heard stories from traders who put in at An ... stories about man-like creatures who prey upon souls. And yet they're not stories anymore ..." Her voice trailed off. Fell creatures who were purely physical were bad enough. On impulse, she maintained the physical contact and reached out with her mind, using her new power with caution.

It was like falling down a bottomeless well.

Radearle jerked out of it, gasping slightly at the shock. "Nothing in there. This lad is just a shell." She bit her lip. "You might as well put him out of it, Damien. He's not going to last much longer, regardless."

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<center>Nothing but the Rain</center>

Seryl was becoming increasingly skittish. The road's deserted state suddenly seemed ominous. Hesitating - the man could tell them nothing, she supposed - she quickly rifled through his pockets. Nothing but a few coins, nothing to tell them who his assaulter was. Another glance at his empty face and she'd slit his throat quickly, the dagger sheathed almost as it flashed out. One convulsion and the man's breath ceased to come.

"Let's get off the road. Now." Seryl tended to become more abrupt when anxious, and this was no exception. She mounted up, urging Copper off the beaten track.

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Damien nodded in grudging respect to Radearle. She, at least, seemed to know and accept the dangers of this journey--she certainly seemed to be the most controlled, at this point. Excluding himself, of course. He was almost never out of control. He was control. He was stone.

He lifted his spear to put the breathing, yet lifeless, body out of its misery, but Seryl slit the former man's throat before Damien could do anything. He sighed--that was not the fastest way, though the man didn't seem to have any awareness to realize that he was in pain and dying.

"Hopefully that will be a reminder to the rest of you of just what we might face on this journey," Damien said, addressing the entire group this time. He mounted Blight, the only horse that seemed undisturbed by the smell of blood and emptiness that came from the man.

Damien didn't give the body another glance as they rode off. Those stories, that Radearle had heard, they weren't myths. Hopefully there wouldn't be another one circulating soon about how one of those man-like creatures stole the souls of the land's last hopes.

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Alythrya just watched, silent, at the matter at hand, but she listened intently to her surroundings, in case this was some diverson of some sort.

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Just became a college freshman; be on sparingly

Seryl shot Damien a singularly unimpressed glance from where she sat atop a skittish Copper, some ways off the road. She resented being spoken to, even in this group context, as if she were a silly child unable to grasp the gravity of their quest. No use saying anything, though, as he seemed the type who would not take kindly to a retort. "Those who stand alone fall alone," she muttered to herself, an Elvish proverb, and turned Copper to edge along the encroaching treeline, off the main road.

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Errilyn urged Firefoot off the main with everyone else. She was even more tense now than she had been when they had set out, and her blue-green eyes darted about, constantly looking for danger.

She heard Seryl mutter an elvish proverb that she was familair with, and she immediately knew who Seryl was referring to. She was torn between irritation and understanding at Damien's behavior. She knew how hard it was to be torn from where you wanted to be, but still did he have to treat everyone else so condescendingly?

They road for a few more hours. They didn't gain as much ground as Erillyn would have hoped, for traveling off the road slowed the horses. But she supposed that she would rather travel slow than increase her risk of running into whatever had done that to that poor man back on the road. "Should we make camp for the night?" she asked the others. The sun had disappeared below the horizon, and the moon was rising in the cloudy night sky.

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I'm back!

Rothar had encountered dragons. Indeed, he'd fought and vanquished them countless times. Perhaps the most poignant memory of those battles was the dragons' infernal glare that projected from those terrible eyes of infinite fire.

But even a dragon's gaze paled in comparison to the intensity of this demon's green-eyed appraisal. Rothar found himself drawn into their hellish depths, consumed into eternal torment like all the rest...

Abruptly he snapped out of it. "Lord Devarion," he greeted, scrutinizing his employer's face for any hints of the dark soul that lurked underneath. Outwardly composed, he balanced easily on his clawed feet, his hand falling a few inches away from the hilt of his powerful morning star.

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