Not much reaction from his peers. It was reassuring to know they were focused. Battle was coming to them, whether they wanted it to or not, and they would be the ones taking down their opponents. He had only come out of their hole to make sure they didn't get killed in the process.

"How about it Chizu?" Farish whispered in Common speak. "Any idea what we're up against?"

"Filthy hell-spawns," she spat. "Not demons like before. Much worse. Antyr's mutts, but not the bottom-feeders from last time."

Nothing good then, Farish thought. "Can you be more specific?"

If the Sprite knew more, she wasn't telling.

Waiting was agonizing. They already knew the bad guys were coming for them, and there was some element of suspense, but mostly, the boy just wanted to get it over with. Not the best attitude to walk into a fight with, but Farish disliked fights in general. Now, when they should be resting after their first battle, a group of evil horsemen or something was making them stay up and wait for them to arrive so they could then have another battle. To a pacifist expertly trained in defensive magic, battles seemed more tedious than exhilarating or frightening. The only reason he didn't make a comment along the lines of "they're taking too long" is because he was sure they'd come into range the moment he said it.

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The horrors of the initial sight of the hunters, the helwyr, had passed. Kyosera grimaced, and lept to the side at the last minute, the horse narrowly missing her with it's hooves. A deft paw grabbed onto the arrow she jammed in it's side, and she climbed atop, leaving her bow on the muddy ground behind her.

She took hold of the reins of the screaming horse, standing atop it. She let out a shout, and steered the horse after it's compatriots. She couldn't ride a horse like this for long, but standing atop it gave her enough leverage to tug on the reins and actually turn it.

Her golden eyes were wide as she chased after the wraiths, mounted upon one of their own horses. What in the name of the Sun were these things? To be immune to an arrow? Likely a sword as well? And to be so accurate, so unerring as to not even take note that she was in their path? Kyosera swallowed such thoughts for now. There was battle to be had. Details of why and when and how could be sorted out later.

And so, the small fox hunched over, standing on the stem of the horse's neck as she tried to urge the wounded mount to go faster than it's brethren. If she couldn't kill the beings, she could at least kill their mounts. And level the playing field more.

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The undead horsemen crashed into the clearing, the wraiths on the nightmares' backs holding up their swords. The lead one howled again like it had previously. Morys gripped his sword hilt with a white-knuckle grip, his heart pounding like a frantic drum beat. For the second time since the war was over, the second time in the same day, his life was endanger. Morys recognized that he was suddenly very grateful to the Elf who had pulled him out of the inn. He tried to brace his mind as he had once been taught, to block out emotions, but his old memories flashed behind his eye lids with every blink. Without concentration he couldn't tap into his mana stores.

With a low grumble that may have sounded like a feral animal's growl, Morys ran forward to slash at one of the nightmares before his fear completely consumed him. The Almerkian's one sword stabbed into the shoulder of the first horse, and as the horse kept moving with a shriek of pain, the hilt was wrenched from his left hand.

"Give to us what is ours!" Demanded a wraith as it leapt off of its horse and seemed to float towards Morys, finally touching the ground just in front him, sword still raised. The Almerkian parried and reached to punch with his empty hand, only to sing too far since his hand did not connect with, but went straight through his opponent. Recovering quickly, Morys cursed under his breath and ran back towards the rest of the group, the other two wraiths and their mounts came to run next to him towards the others.

Why are their weapons real, but their body not? This fight is not a fair one by any means! Morys thought in despair, as a spell finally sprang forth in his mind. "Nithayus, I call upon you to smite thy enemy. As I will it, so mote it be!" At this, the one wraith that had attacked him caught fire, and by now the group that had been behind him were already engaging the three steeds and the two other wraiths. The one on fire shrieked, and Morys smiled. Alas! A weakness! Soon the flames consumed his entire body and the wraith dissipated like mist.

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Seneli banked to the left now and followed the wraiths as they ran deeper into the forest. To her the beings of shadow were bright lights in the night as all sources of magic were and it made them easy to track. When they finally stopped she figured that they had indeed reached their destination and potentially the prey that the other two mortals had been trying to prevent them from reaching. So, she carefully banked up away from the trees before turning and diving straight through a hole in the canopy. She landed carefully only a few yards behind the wraiths.

The runes upon her violet scales began to flare, a stark contrast in the night compared to the almost black scales they were etched upon. "Magic weaves its way through everything and the elements are no exception." She muttered the spell in draconic and at its end a bolt of blue lightning flew from her mouth straight toward the rear most wraith, hopefully catching him off guard.

She would not stay still after, however, as she ran forward to finish the one off that she had sent the spell toward. She could not have these beings of foul magic harm those who had perked her interest.

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Amei blinked as their enemy finally revealed itself. Horsemen she had experience fighting, but these things were different entirely. She could not actually see any riders a top the horses, only black robes that seemed to cling to the frame of something sinister. She was sure that they were a manifestation of some dark magic. She took up a defensive position beside Morys, bracing with her Nodachi before her in case they continue to charge straight at her.

And then the world became a light with magic and fire. As Morys called divine favor down against his target her eyes took a second to recover from the sudden burst of fire that now consumed the dark rider. But what was most disturbing was the sight of a dragon landing behind the riders with glowing lines all over its body. The dragon wasted no time in casting a spell that looked like lighting straight toward the rear guard of the riders. Amei's eyes were not suited for such sudden changes in light levels and so she stood their, dazed for a few seconds.

Seconds enough to give her enemy time to advance unhindered toward her. Her eyes cleared just in time to see a dull grey longsword being thrust toward her chest. She redirected the sword with her nodachi while stepping back, cursing as she did.

At last, the battle had begun.

It seemed the horsemen they were facing were not normal horsemen. First, the horses themselves were pitch black, with flaming manes and hooves, and dismal, hellish physique. On the other hand, their riders didn't appear to have a physique. They were dark, twisting, foggy beings that radiated evil. As ethereal as these riders seemed, it was clear the weapons they carried were real.

Thanks to Morys's courage they learned a little about their enemies. For starters, it seemed magic was necessary to fight them-- or at least similar ethereal forces like fire.

In support of Farish's theory, most of the foes seemed to have locked on to Morys as their main target. They were almost definitely after the object he carried. Three of the riders were attempting to box the man in, and Farish ran under one of the horses to join him and even the playing field. A deft hand swept up and conjured a barrier to deflect a dirty attack from the human's blind spot.

"I can keep them off of you while you summon up another attack spell," the boy offered.

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Jerakea had seen these creatures before during the wars, and was glad he wasn't the only one who knew how to beat them. "Much obliged my young friend." Jerakea addressed Farish as he gave a small smirk and opened the Tome he had received from Darakus moments earlier, only to curse under his breath when he realized he would need a different form to cast the spell he wanted. As the others fought off the wraiths, he retreated into the underbrush and began muttering to himself in the demonic tongue as his form changed yet again.

This time he chose to use his true form, as he could cast any and all spells in the Tome he carried that way. As he jumped out of the bushes, he pointed at a wraith and shouted in the Demonic tongue "Lightning of Antyr, cast thine gaze upon mine enemy, and burn them to a crisp!"

When he spoke, a huge bolt of lightning hit the nearest Wraith, disintegrating it almost immediately. Darakus recognized the spell, and assumed his father had changed forms again. He had never questioned the Demon Shifter's abilities, and wasn't about to start now. Darakus grabbed his head as yet another surge of pain went through his head. his eyes reverted to the Demonic black lines and he muttered a phrase in the demonic tongue. within seconds the Night Mare closest to him disappeared, dropping it's rider to the ground, then reappeared in pieces in front of Darakus, who began eating the various corpse pieces like an earthen wolf.

Jerakea took notice of this and muttered the phrase he used earlier, reverting Darakus to his prior self mid chew. Darakus began to gag and spit out the Wraith's mount as he had some choice words that even demons considered vulgar. Jerakea sighed. his son hadn't matured at all. "Could you restore my stamina, please? I can't cast spells like that on empty." Jerakea asked Farish, not realizing it was Chizu who did the act in question.

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Shoulder Demon: (Looking at controls of train) "Let's see how many times we can wreck this thing before we're all dead."

Shoulder Angel: "Are you crazy?!?!?! you'll get us all killed!!!!!!"

Shoulder Demon: "That's the idea, Moron!"

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Perched on top of a large rock, the archer lifted her nose up in the air like an alerted animal and froze still. To anyone who had never lived in the forest it seemed far too big and complicated to memorize, but she had made sure to note the biggest trees, the most secret ponds and the most ominious looking large rock formations. She understood the forest and felt connected with it in many ways. Now she felt like it was whispering to her, warning her that there was a battle between intruders. Outsiders in the forest was nothing new to her, but she would have to see this for herself and make sure her forest was not tremendously harmed in the process. This had been her home for quite a long time, after all.

Nelehtriel pulled her hood further down to hide her face and stood up, abandoning her work of making more arrows for the time being. This had to be investigated immediately. The dark elf hopped down from the rock, moving silently yet quickly through the forest bushes and trees. Her pointed ears shifted at every crack in the forest, soon enough picking up the unnatural noises of an ongoing battle. Nelehtriel snuck closer, the forest whizzing past her and eventually she found a nice spot where she could observe the battle from afar. While keeping herself hidden in the bushes, she parted the leaves just a tiny bit to allow her glowing, frost blue eyes gaze upon the hell that had been brought to her forest. Her forest, yes! Of course it was her forest and no one else's.

Her attention was first caught by a sinister group riding on demonic horses. The dark elf hissed and scowled at the thought of demon-like creatures on her lands. This was unacceptable! Her mother would turn in her grave if she knew these foul creatures were standing literally on top of it. Well, not quite but still, it was the same soil in which she had been buried. Nelehtriel witnessed one of the creatures go up in flames and, judging from the general physique and attire, she guessed they had to be some sort of wraiths or other non-physical creatures. Their cloaks seemed to flow far too freely. She then turned her attention to the other group that seemed to be fighting against the demonic creatures. It was difficult to give a general characteristic to the odd bunch of people who were gathered and at first glance Nelehtriel felt like she was watching the entire racial spectrum of her world. Some of them were casting spells against the wraiths.

Nelethriel was about to jump out of her hiding spot to express her distaste of having demons in her forest when she suddenly heard the sound of approaching hooves against the soil of her forest. The dark elf kept herself hidden, choosing to observe the situation a little longer before deciding if her intervention was needed to kick the foul creatures out of her forest.

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They'd made excellent progress. All the wraiths had been taken care of, and all that remained were two of the nightmares. Farish heard the request Jerakea made behind him, turning and seeing through the bushes bits and pieces of his demonic form. He was about to respond when the sound of thundering hoofs came up upon him. The boy hadn't time to turn around again. The instant he felt the drop in air signaling an oncoming assault he reacted on instinct, bringing up a small barrier on all sides to protect himself and the sprite resting on his shoulders. The barrier protected him from the blunt force of the impact, but the hell-born creature resisted the natural backlash of the spell and kept pushing. For once, the special quality of his favorite spell worked against him. The magic had to reverse the impact, or else it would have to be dealt to him, so as the nightmare's attack was pushed back onto it, without it budging, it was Farish who was sent reeling back.

He made impact against the trunk of a nearby tree. His barrier remained intact, but momentum still had him take some damage. Small tears welled in his eyes as his head thumped against the wood. Pain. How long had it been since he'd felt that unfriendly sensation? He didn't like it. Actually, the injustice of being injured, when he'd gone to lengths to avoid hurting others made him... mad.

A small barrier at his feet, so when he kicked the ground it kicked back. An unnatural jump placing him above the offending creature. A small barrier, in surface area, pushed out to protect from farther away. And an unsuspecting nightmare being forced a foot and a half into the dirt, its cervical vertebrae shattered. How's that for blunt force trauma? Chizu yipped excitedly as the flesh melted unnaturally fast from its body.

"Go ahead and heal him, Chizu," he muttered in common, sending the Sprite to answer Jerakea's request.

--------------------

Morgana loved travelers. She loved the lonely roads they walked and the precious things they carried with them. She loved them as some of the greatest prey a thief could ask for. Today, and for the two prior, she was searching for her fortune in the Goblin forest near Methodin. Granted, she was not so much looking for living travelers as for dead ones. She expected several had thought themselves strong enough to travel these woods, only to perish, leaving those shiny bobbles simply lying on their corpses. Well it wasn't of any use like that, now, was it? The demoness thought it would be perfectly fair to confiscate them.

Also, though, she enjoyed scavenging in less populated areas. She could make a quick and easy silver in cities, but the pressure was always there to maintain her human form. Also, she took more pleasure in fighting (from a safe and entertaining distance) for her gold. That being said, she was in a natural half-state, common among demons who used their human forms often. Her horns and wings were showing, her eyes were orange with slitted pupils, here tail was showing, and her fingernails were long and sharp and claw-like--but the majority of her physical structure was human enough. She would never be mistaken for one like this, but it didn't send them running as quickly. They stuck around plenty long enough to be robbed of their lives and valuables.

Now, as she searched for her quarry, the scent of death wafted to her nostrils, and she breathed it deeply. She smiled to show her dainty fangs and turned in the direction of the scent. Her confusion began when she was close enough to hear the sounds of battle, and she crept stealthily forward to observe. The smell of death had not come from travelers, but from the rotting and skeletal presence of nightmares. Her luck had not run so dry, though. For the nightmares were being engaged by travelers.

"I'll take them out while they're distracted by another foe," she whispered, crouching in a tree and pulling her drawstring to her cheek. She loosed the arrow, aiming first for the fair-haired human with the blades. He looked to be a ranger, so it was better to get rid of him before she was noticed.

As she loosed the arrow--a straight and true shot-- the final nightmare moved in to attack the same target, and her one-chance surprise attack planted itself firmly into the abomination's posterior. The ebony equus lost focus, and turned to determine the source of the insurgent insulting it. Her only probable ally in this situation had just become a sitting duck. Morgana cursed vigorously under her breath and pondered whether she could take this group on now that her presence was known. But perhaps she could manage another sneak attack, if they thought she'd meant to help them...

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"Thank you, my little friend." Jerakea pleasantly responded as Chizu restored his depleted energy. As the arrow was loosed from Morgana's bow, he turned his head toward her and immediately cursed his luck. If this Demoness recognized him, he would never hear the end of it. He immediately morphed in plain site back to his Wolf Anithrope form, in hopes that she was too busy with her aim to notice.

Darakus on the other hand, raised his hand holding a small knife that he carried with him at all times. as he aimed it at the last remaining nightmare with the arrow protruding from it's back and muttered "Setaro Kotama Caseto Chromel!" and appeared to throw his knife. While the knife remained in his hand, fifty copies of it soared towards the Night Mare that was otherwise occupied and formed a sphere around the beast, then impaled it from all sides, exitied the Night Mare on the opposite sides of where they entered, then disappeared as though they had never existed.

"Oh yeah! We bad!" Darakus exclaimed as he held his hand up to Farish in a high five manner. Jerakea, who seemed to have figured out who the arrow's intended target was, walked toward Morgana and asked "And what would a Demoness such as yourself be doing in the forest at this hour? Wouldn't you rather be looting something that can't fight back?" He wasn't the type to be fooled easily, and since they had just gotten out of a conflict, he needed to be sure they hadn't walked into another one.

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Shoulder Demon: (Looking at controls of train) "Let's see how many times we can wreck this thing before we're all dead."

Shoulder Angel: "Are you crazy?!?!?! you'll get us all killed!!!!!!"

Shoulder Demon: "That's the idea, Moron!"

"Shouldn't have agreed to take this sodding job." Doring was far from home, heading to deliver a blade to a client about a week's walk away. He was deeply regretting his decision to take on this delivery. The gold he was offered was nice, but now it was becoming increasingly not worth it. He pulled his cloak up over his face. He had been attacked by bandits four times, he had gone through rain and sludge to get where he was going, and he was very, very tired. "Maybe I should just head back. Tell him to come get the blade his own damn self." He finally came to a clearing in the forest. A good spot to camp... He thought, taking his pack off of his back as the sun was just barely peeking above the trees. He gathered some wood for a fire.

After a few minutes, he was back, a bundle of dead wood from fallen trees in hand. He set some wood inside a circle of rocks he made, creating a makeshift fire pit. He took some flint and steel and before long, he had a roaring fire going. He set his boots near the fire, deciding to warm them up before he continued on his journey. He decided to take out the blade he made and was going to travel so far to deliver. He drew the blade from its sheath, setting it on his lap. The blade shone a brilliant orange in the light of the fire. It was a steel blade that he silvered. Perhaps the owner intended to use it against undead? Perhaps. The blade was etched with a swirling pattern and the handle was inlaid with gold. It looked more like a work of art than a weapon. But Doring assured that it would be more than battle ready. Some time later, he suddenly felt like he couldn't sleep yet. He felt pulled by something. Fate, maybe? He got up and packed up camp. It was foolish to move at night, he knew that, but he couldn't go to sleep now. Not while he felt that pull. And so, he began to walk.

Then, he came across a most curious sight; people fighting a group of monsters. He hid behind the trees. Was this what he was feeling pulled towards? He watched. He would wait for the battle to end before he got involved. It seemed like they didn't need help anyway.

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Morys felt fatigued, and could feel his god's magic leaving him. He gripped his sword hilt firmly, even as his strength ebbed from his muscles. Morys blinked as his edges of his vision began to blur. He had noticed the Half Demon woman perched on a rock with a bow, looking some what irritated even though she had hit a Nightmare with one of her arrows. As Morys's vision began to fade and twist like a dream, and he felt his knees buckle, causing him to fall on his arse.

"Eveewun..." Morys began, but coughed when he realized he sounded some what like a drunkard. "Everyone, I think we need to get back to the hide out, re group, set a watch, and get some sleep." Morys stood, though it took several seconds longer than it should have. He gave a weak smile to Farish. "You handle yourself well, kid." The Almerkian young man was almost too proud to ask for help, but he could feel his tired muscles complaining and all he was doing was standing. "Could you send your companion to help restore me next?" he asked hoarsely.

After clearing his throat again, Morys seemed to ignore the presence of the Half Demon and asked the group, "Who wants first watch? I think the mages should be ruled out on that one, I'm sure we especially need sleep to recharge."

At this point, the peaceful noise began to return to the forest. A bright red songbird flew over head, landed on a nearby tree branch and began to sing a soft tune. A squirrel scurried down another tree not far away, rustling the still-wet leaves that were scattered on the ground.

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Farish looked at the hand Darakus had extended and gave a small laugh. "You act so childishly," he said, but he must not have meant it as an insult, since he returned the high-five. The boy shook his head at Morys. He opened his mouth, ready to protest that that would be foolish since they were about to go to sleep, but he noticed that the poor ranger was struggling to stand after the effort he'd put into the previous battle. "Give him enough to help him carry himself," he whispered to Chizu, who floated off to oblige.

"Not me," he then responded to the volunteer request. "It's way past my bed time." Surely the "adults" could handle sorting these things out. Meanwhile, he started back to their hollow to get some sleep. "Wake me up for the early morning shift." He started to clamber down into the hole, Chizu now reunited with him.

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Morgana stared at the one who'd approached her. She sniffed the air. He didn't smell like a Wolf Anithrope. He smelled like a... well... like a Wolf Anithrope and a bunch of other things. Had he picked up these scents from the ones he was traveling with, or was he a shape-shifter? She honestly couldn't tell.

"Demoness?" she asked, aghast. "Oh. Right." She said, stroking one of her horns. "I wasn't expecting to run into anybody out here so I got lazy with my transformation magic." She took a slow breath and regressed to human form. "Well, I'm among company now, so I should look my best, right?" she leaned forward, allowing her cleavage to aid in distracting her interrogator (when Morgana was in full human form, she put extra attention toward the things that would distract other humans from questioning her: she increased her... visual appeal, shall we say?)((*cough* big boobs! *cough*))

She didn't want to seem like she was dodging the question, so she answered it after a pause. "I smelled rotting flesh and thought there might be deceased travelers near by with no further need for their valuables," she said plainly and honestly. "When I saw what was really happening, I thought maybe I should lend a hand. Is that so wrong?" Obviously, the second part, not so honest. But it was a reasonable excuse.

"I wouldn't mind taking the first watch," Morgana called to the human ranger when she heard him asking for volunteers. "I'm wide awake, and I hardly exerted myself in that little scuffle." She walked closer to him for a face-to-face acquaintance. "If you don't trust me, you can have someone else take it with me." She crossed her arms, drawing his attention to her form, and winked with a charismatic smile. "My name's Morgana~"

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( My sincerest apologies, there are no excuses for the lateness of this post. D: )

Nelehtriel shifted slightly in the bushes when she realized that she was picking up other distinct smells as well. It seemed that she wasn't the only observer who had decided to stay hidden and watch the battle from afar. An arrow shot from another hiding spot proved that someone was itching to get involved, and she didn't like that one bit. Chaos in her forest? They would have to take responsibility or she'd make them. The drow retreated from her hiding spot and began to move around the group, being careful not to show herself just yet.

Thankfully they defeated the demonic creatures on their own. Perhaps they weren't all that bad after all... But there was still another smell, another stench that warned her of the evil presence of some sort of a demonic creature. Why tonight? Why on the soil in which her dead parents were buried in? Ah, the nerve they had. The drow's jaw clenched as she followed a stray scent her nose had caught, thinking it would lead her to this demonic being that hadn't been killed. Her quiet footsteps came to a halt when suddenly, between the dark green foliage, she could make out a short figure hiding behind trees. The person was clearly just as intrigued as Nelehtriel about the battle that had just unfolded. The drow was about to pounce on the figure when suddenly a voice reached her ears and her head snapped back to the group further away.

Some sort of a demonic creature seemed to have joined them and as she snuck closer, she overheard parts from their conversation. A half demon was still a demon, an uninvited guest on land that was sacred for her. It seemed like the group was encountering the creature for the first time and already it or "she" was offering to help them. Nelehtriel growled in disgust. Demons were not to be trusted and she would be very much surprised if these poor travellers trusted the word of a complete stranger who claimed to be, of all things, a half demon.

Then again, perhaps they were foolish. They were in her forest in the first place, so that had to be an indication of their recklessness. Before she decided to approach the group, she turned her attention to the figure standing only a couple of bushes away from her. In one long lunge through the foliage she was standing behind the short creature and aiming an arrow at him.

"Who are you? What is your business in this forest?" Nelehtriel must have sounded a bit crazy. Technically and actually, no one owned the forest, but years of solitude and mourning over her parents had made her a bit, well, strange in the head. She liked to think that this forest was hers because her parents had become one with the soil, because her blood was on its leaves and had dripped on its foliage. The drow felt extremely connected to the forest, something which many bypassers or strangers would probably find very odd.

As she observed the short stranger in front of herself, she realized it was a dwarf and relaxed a little. There was no need to be rude, but old habits died hard; she didn't trust strangers easily, which was a necessary survival instinct in the forest. "You are not with them, are you?" She asked, nodding towards the group. "And I do not smell any demon blood on you." This caused her to lower her bow a few inches, but she was nonetheless hesitant. You could never be sure about people who wandered into the forest.

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Doring was watching through the bushes whn suddenly, he was ambushed by a Drow wielding a bow. On instinct, he drew the commissioned sword that was in its sheath on his hip. He pointed the silver blade at his attacker to force her to keep her distance; which was rather useless. She did have a bow after all. That was when she began to question the Dwarf. This Drow was clearly crazy, talking about this forest as if it was hers. Doring lowered his blade as she lowered her bow, but he still kept a tight grip on it, ready to use it should the need arise.

"I am Doring, a smith. I am on a journey to deliver this blade to one of my clients. So no, i'm not with those people. By the gods, I have no clue who they even are." He narrowed his eyes. "And who are you? By the tits of my ancestors, you have some nerve threatening me!" Doring's shock had worn off and now he was back to his normal self. "I am the greatest smith to walk this sodding world! I am the Berserker that single-handidly warded off one hundred and one bandits from a town!" These stories were of course not one hundred percent true. He was a talented smith, but he was nowhere near the best. And he did ward off bandits from attacking a town, but it was more like twenty and he failed to mention that he had the entire town guard backing him up. "I could smite you from this world in an instant, little Drow! Give me a reason not to!" He tightened his grip on his sword, but some reasonable part of him deep... deep... DEEP down inside forced him to amend his previous statements.

"Ungh, I mean..." He sheathed his sword. "I had some help with those bandits. And, um, i'm not going to smite you. Forget I said that. I haven't had my midnight ale yet. When I haven't had my midnight ale I can get a little cranky." He paused. "Same for my morning beer. And my late morning wine. And my mead with lunch. And my afternoon beer. And my evening mead. And my mead with dinner. And my wine before bed..." He stopped. "Speaking of..." He took off his pack and looked around in it, finally pulling out a large glass bottle. He took the cap off and took a long, drawn out swig."Let's start over. I am Doring Firehand. Weapon and Armorsmith of Methodin. At your service." He bowed, then addressed the group. "You all look incredibly out of your element here." He stepped out of the bushes. "What business do you have in a place like this?" He stroked his beard.

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After Chizu had returned to Farish, Morys noticed his muscles had stopped shaking, and he felt more awake now. His mind and body were still tired, but had enough energy to at least get to where he needed to go. Turning to follow the boy and his sprite, Morys ignored the Dwarf as well as the Half Demon. Waving an arm dismissively, he said, "Whoever wishes to follow may. Any questions will be answered on the morrow... perhaps." Morys was more worried about sleep and ignored his better judgement. He had no reason to trust a Demoness who had appeared close to the end of their battle, but at the time, he was too tired to care.

Morys was pleased that the forest was alive again. Soon the birds had all settled down, and instead the shadows that flittered over head were bats instead. Darkness had descended on the forest faster than Morys had realized. He yawned hugely as he walked, half-stumbling through the darkness. He nearly tripped over a tree root but caught himself at the last second. Absently, the Almerkian heard the others were following him through the wet leaves and grass on the forest floor. However, Morys didn't bother to look back to see just who was following.

Morys saw Farish's form disappear next to a tree, and he moved carefully to the edge of the tunnel, feeling with his feet before putting any weight on them. He waited, though impatiently, at the entrance, giving Farish time to move away from the other end of the tunnel before sliding in himself.

Once under the tree, Morys laid down on the cold ground, laying his swords within arm's reach. He laid on his back, his hands under his head and his legs stretched out. It wasn't long before he fell asleep.

~~~~~~

Chaos walked through the streets of Fainta City, admiring the dragon's blood that flowed through the glass network inlaid in the side of buildings, visible to all, and a reminder of the Dragon Wars long past. He noticed his wife before she noticed him, and Chaos took a detour to avoid her. She needn't know what her husband was up to. Chaos walked to the heart of the city, the city square. He stood at it's very center, where the dragon blood fountain stood, the place that all of the blood in that traveled through the city came from and would always come back too. It made for an interesting and unique decoration to say the least. Unfortunately, it would also lure an unwanted vampire or two, but Vanishing Forest was usually enough to take care of those pests.

Continuing on his walk, Chaos decided that enough time had passed and he hoped his wife was either headed to the castle, or at least in another part of the city. The head Demon walked to the temple, where he expected to receive an audience with Dermythis himself. Chaos was not looking forward to this meeting, for he knew that the God must already know of the Demon's screwing up their latest mission.

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Morgana pouted for a moment, slightly offended that her splendor had been utterly ignored by the group's apparent leader. Hmm... Not big enough? she wondered, glancing down at her chest. She thought again, though, when she saw just how exhausted the human looked, stumbling over to their hidden den. He really was so tired that he'd hardly even noticed her! Was she offended? Yes. Did she get it? Yes. Was she going to take advantage of however muddled his memories would be in the morrow? Hell yes.

"No objections?" the Demoness hummed. "Then I'll take the first shift." She followed the others to the Hollow Tree they were using for shelter, hopping up into one of the gnarled branches and relaxing with her back against the trunk.

The way she saw it, the only reason a group as diverse as this one got together was because they didn't have a choice. In other words, they'd all gotten themselves into something that somehow merited a battle with Nightmares. They were on a quest of some kind, and she wanted to find out what kind it was. If, after sticking around a while, she found out there would be no monetary gain, she'd ditch them. But until then...

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Farish had a habit of curling into the fetal position while he slept. It was warmer and he took up less space. With Chizu nuzzled into the space between his knees and chest, they kept each other cozy.

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Morgana had ignored the Dwarf when he first appeared. Asking what business she had in the Goblin forest--What business did he have? After she was up in the tree, though, she decided to throw him a bone. "You heard the man. Stick around a couple hours and you might find out."

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Doring looked around at the little group. Stay and find out? While Doring never really had a taste for adventure, he found himself wanting to stay. Mere curiosity? Or perhaps something more? "Hmm... yeah. Why not?" He set his pack against a tree and leaned up next to it, taking another swig of the sweet, fiery liquid in his bottle. A couple of hours and many bottles later, Doring was **** drunk. He wandered around the camp, drinking from his bottle. "Achemabs... adem factus... mephegh... " He mumbled nonsense as he staggered around camp. "Gotta... take a ****..."

Doring did his business and staggered back to his designated sleep spot. "Dwarven ale... besht thing evah..." And just like that, he snorted and fell face first to the ground, sleeping soundly until the morning.

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