Thrown Into The Snow

The forest ended abruptly, leaving Venetica with no offensive powers. The most she could do was cause the grass to thicken after they ran over it, slowing down the Divers. The clearing in the woods was roughly three hundred yards, and that was simply to the river surrounding the town. The gate was risen, and V's heart sank.

They continued running, Divers still behind them, but a gleam of hope was still present. A man, or a woman, was standing on a path almost invisible in the dark. They waved a single torch back in forth, attempting to make themselves seen. It worked, for the most part. There was a small stairwell up the side of the town walls, where two people could stand abreast of each other and walk up. They would just need to cross the river.

The group was within a hundred and sixty yards when mortar fire opened up.

- - Bianca - -

Bianca Roxanne sat alone atop the local clock-tower, which was easily the highest point in all of Zuss. She could plainly see her father and friends in the distance, though they were little more than specks across a field of black. Every couple of seconds she would see fire flash out, then hear a Diver scream. Father seemed to be enjoying himself.

This only pissed her off more. Why wouldn't he let her help? Why didn't she get to have any fun? She wasn't just some weak little girl that couldn't handle danger, and it infuriated her when father treated her as such. How dare the dog fear for the wolf's safety? It was bullshit.

Also, all this worrying was just plain bad for her skin. Growling, she decided that she needed a distraction.

Hopping off the side of the clock-tower, Bianca disappeared from the world, reappearing in the marketplace. She hid her tail with magic. It took concentration, and she hated doing it, but father would be displeased with her if anyone saw. It put her in a bad mood though. Her tail represented her happiness, and if it was not free to swing to and fro, then she was not happy. It was as simple as that.

Bah.

For a time, Bianca silently stalked through the market, looking at this and that. Zuss was a town that slept very little, and the streets were quite packed, considering the hour. Tail or no, she got a lot of attention, mostly from men. She figured they-

Suddenly, her vision went white, and her invisible tail frazzled. Jerking, she turned on her heels, just in time to see a wolf-tail disappearing behind a tavern. Bianca wasn't able to get a good look at who or what it was attached to, but dammit, she knew a tail when she saw one.

"What the fu-"

Before she even knew it, she was running. It took her half an instant to reach the tavern, yet when she peered around the corner, she saw nothing. Nothing but humans and various human shit.

Looking down, Bianca saw a man in tattered clothes, leaning against the wall. A beggar. Father had always told her to ignore them, but then again, father wasn't here right now. But something was off about the man. He just... stared straight out into nothing. And his eyes were clouded.

And he smelled a little strange. Not unclean, just... strange.

And then, it struck her. The man was old. Likely, he was a veteran of the Seventeenth War. They were all blind, father once told her, though he had refused to say why.

Snorting, Bianca stalked over to the broken man, quickly forgetting about the mysterious wolf tail. She crouched so that her eyes could stare right into his.

"Would you like to see again?" she cooed in a sympathetic voice, hazel eyes boring straight into a cloud of unsight.

The old man winced at the sound of her, but made no reply. How long had he lived in darkness? Grinning, she reached out with two fingers.

The man slowly closed his eyes, almost as if he knew what was coming.

Gingerly, Bianca laid her fingers on his eyelids.

The man died instantly, slumping lifeless against the wall.

"Mmmn."

Retracting her fingers, Bianca looked over her shoulder. People were watching... staring with screaming eyes. In the span of a second, whispers were passed. Then shouts.

"Shit."

Then the cry went out, "WITCH! A WITCH JUST KILLED A MAN!"

Her day went south very quickly from there.

The moon was unforgiving. It gazed down upon Lumen with cold indifference. She was Lumen's mother- though no mother by the sense of the word one with a normal upbringing would understand. This mother was always there, watching and never interfering with his life. This mother he could poor his thoughts into without fear of judgment. She would love him no matter what and would never leave the night sky unless the workings of the universe commanded her death. She would keep any secret for Lumen and be a guide when the world looked dark. She was not perfect though. The moon was not but a reflection of the sun. the moon was not alive. His mother was nothing more then an abyss of thought and hope. In the end, his secrets resided unknown, whispered along the night winds. In the end, he was alone.
Just as lumen closed his eyes, an unnatural screech erupted into the air. it was far away, and barely audible. In fact, such a sound goes entirely unnoticed by those who have diluted blood. Lumen sat up in his bed and went to the window. By his reckoning, the unnatural creatures that dwell outside city walls had grown so restless and brash that they were beginning to set upon the human cities. "I've got to get out of here fast" he said, more to the beings trapped inside his two swords then t himself. Into his mind flowed their approval of his actions. "Their impudent attack is no doubt caused by the fallen lance."
Lumen quickly gathers his belongings. The map, he folds and places into his backpack. His two swords, he leaves sheathed and attaches to a leather harness that runs up his back. Once in place, the swords create an "X". His trusty mirror he slides into his pocket. There is no hesitation before he leaves the Inn. monsters would be upon the city very soon, and the wall guards would undoubtedly react even sooner.
Lumen quickly walks past the Inn and the adjacent tavern before rounding the corner to head for the North exit. He needed to escape before the city was locked down in preparations for an attack.

"WITCH! A WITCH JUST KILLED A MAN!"

The call attracted the attentions of not only Lumen, who was very near the 'witch' having just turned the corner, but also of many others. The bustling of the city was slaughtered as people dropped what they were doing to see what all the commotion was about. The woman was standing over a perceivably dead old man. Her eyes were quick, darting around to analyze her situation. Her muscles tensed and readied for action. Her concentration immediately shifted from whatever she was doing to this new obstacle that presented itself. Her tail bushed out with alarm for a moment before- Her tail? She had a tail? What the devil? The cry of witch was all too familiar. Witch, freak, monstrosity, they were all words he associated with mancer. There was no doubt in his mind that he should protect one of his own.
Using his photomancer abilities he bent the light around her to create the optical illusion of disappearance. To the witnesses, one moment she was there, the next moment she was not. Lumen turned away to head towards the North exit before similar attentions beset upon him. he knew the women could handle herself, based upon her reaction to the situation. a moments distraction was all she would need to escape, and that's exactly what he provided her with.

- - Sank - -

He awoke with half of his body submerged in cold wetness. He felt a slimy tugging at either wrist, and suddenly had the strangest feeling along his bare buttocks. The feeling insisted that he was being dragged through sand. Wet sand. Nude.

A memory of death and of murders innumerable flashed through his mind. Eyes widening, he rolled his head back to discover that his notion had been true. He was being dragged... right out of the ocean, onto a beach under cover of night. And indeed, he was fully unclad.

But perhaps most alarming of all were the things dragging him. They were dark and burnt, and... Divers. He remembered them now. He laughed suddenly, causing the once-men to release him in surprise. Lurching around, the inhuman beasts dropped into wary crouches, and began circling him... as if they were afraid to get too close, yet were unwilling to move too far away.

Like hyenas, circling a wounded lion.

No.

Like cubs circling a wounded mother.

The Hunger. Yes, he remembered the Hunger. It could drive a man without a soul crazy. In fact, it always did. Eating, eating, eating, and killing. All to fill a void that could not be filled. His memories were many and few at the same time. Millenniums were lived over, millisecond after millisecond, boring through his skull like a red-hot drill... yet they all spoke of the same tale, repeated night after night.

A tale of hunger. A tale of death.

Yes, he remembered the hunger well... because he still felt it. Rolling onto his belly, he vomited. Blood. Blood and entrails, that once belonged to a man he'd killed with his bare teeth. His last victim. How long ago had that been?

How long? HOW LONG? How long had it been since he'd died and risen again? How long had it been since he'd turned his first victim?

The first zombie. The first of the horde that nearly ate the world.

How long had it been since he'd first wandered into the sea?

How long had it been since he'd ceased wandering back out?

Questions... to which there was only one answer.

"I sank," he whispered to the wind. And just like that, he'd been renamed.

Sank.

Wiping his mouth, Sank rose to his feet, stumbling forward. However, he recovered his balance effortlessly, ancient limbs remembering what an ancient brain had failed to recall. He looked around, turning slowly, pausing briefly to stare at the moon.

Sank quickly realized he was surrounded.

More Divers. More of his children. How long had he roamed the floor of the ocean as a zombie, before the Black Waters had given him a new soul? How long had it taken for the rest of them? He remembered the Burning. He remembered the relentless agony that accompanied the Hunger whenever he left the ocean to feed.

They were his children. The unluckiest of the undead. The unholiest of the unholy.

Smoking, red-eyed demons, spawned from a poisoned planet. Remnants from a dying world.

Sank looked down at his hands for the first time. Pale... like the day he'd died. No longer the burnt, rotted flesh of the long undead. How had he convalesced so thoroughly? Unable to control his mirth, he grabbed a handful of long, red hair. Oh the joy! He still remembered when the last of his hair had rotted from his putrid scalp.

He remembered. He remembered everything... except his name. It had been taken from him, along with his first soul.

He was whole again. Almost.

And he was hungry. How many centuries had he fasted? Had it been more than just centuries?

He laughed and shook his head. He remembered now. Questions were but luxuries for the well-fed. He'd read that in a book somewhere.

Drawing deep his first breath in over eight thousand years, Sank dove not back into the ocean, but into the forest ahead, seeking breakfast. His children howled after him, but made no inclination to follow.

They almost sounded happy for him. He wished them the best.

Sank, however, did not hunt in a pack.

The height of the trees had, until this point, provided Vrokos a modest defense against the undead below them. The tree line, however, thinned as they neared closer to the town; demanding a new tactic be sought. Reaching back, his hand was met by the cold metal of his weapon. Vampire’s Bane, a battle hammer used by the general who sought to exterminate the vampires now used by one to kill whatever the hell he wished. The weapon was the same length as its wielder and had the appearance of a staff with a boulder tied to the end of it. The general had sought out a mage who enchanted the weapon so that all of the leading vampires and the way that they were slain would engrave itself upon the sides of the hammer as the blows were dealt; ironically the last spot showed an unfinished story in which the owners weapon was taken from him, his legs broken, and his face pulverized.

Pulling the weapon from his latches Vrokos swung it through the air as a man would a sword. With each swing a new black charred body was slung across the field crashing to the ground. “They may not die,” Vrokos shouted to the others, “But how easy they are to take down is almost saddening.”

At these last words one of the corpses wrapped around Vrokos; a laugh, fallowing a kick to its sternum sent it stumbling backwards. Within seconds the hammer had been brought down upon the creature turning it into a pile of innards and smoke… Poor soul.

“How much longer do you imagine our feet must tread before we reach this town?”

- - Bianca - -

Bianca growled, instantly disappearing from the world. It was a nice gesture, but she didn't need any help concealing herself. In Veil Form, only those bound by blood could see her without permission. It tired her though, and she disliked doing it.

Then Bianca realized her tail was out. It was also a complete mess. She desperately needed to buy a comb, though that might prove tricky now.

"Balls," the she-wolf muttered, ignoring the panicking townspeople. Their noisy clamor had immediately doubled at the prospect of having an INVISIBLE murderous witch on the loose, "spell must have slipped."

Bianca had not been prepared to meet a photomancer... they were incredibly rare, after all. She'd recognized his gift immediately by the telltale way light reflected off of him. Such nuances were invisible to those without a gift for the Arcane, but Bianca saw them plainly.

Likewise, he'd seen her mark. Her tail. Had anyone else? It had been out for just a split moment... Fuck, this was bad. She couldn't bloody well take all of those people hostage.

Father was going to be pissed.

Or... was he? Suddenly, Bianca had the most delightful idea pop into her cute little head. Photomancers were powerful... Really powerful. She wasn't sure how she'd missed him when she was off "finding friends." She was able to sense strong magical presences for miles, and his was unmistakable. If she could get ahold of him, he'd make an excellent addition to their-

Just then, Bianca's mind flashed red as she was nearing the photomancer, away from the mob.

"What?!" Her breath caught in her chest, almost making her stumble.

She felt something. Something powerful. Something... old.

Something wrong.

It was coming from the direction of father and the others. No... it was heading toward them.

Whatever it was, it was hungry.

Suddenly running, Bianca made herself visible to the photomancer. She grabbed his hand as she passed, shooting him a frightened, pleading look. "Go invisible!" she whispered.

Remembering her bearings and giving the photomancer no time to respond, Bianca turned and began running for the southern gate instead, yanking the poor man along with her.

As she ran, Bianca hoped two things: One, that she could get back to her stupid father before he could get himself killed, and two, that her new friend wouldn't make her get rough with him. He had a pretty face, and she did not want to break it.

"Name's Bianca! I'll explain later," she hissed to her new friend, "We've gotta move!"

In her haste, Bianca did not even notice that they were being followed.

- - Cassuner - -

"Persistent, aren't they?" the Voice commented as Cassuner spun, hacking the same Diver's head off for the third time, sending it flaming into a nearby bush, which caught fire. A rabbit came darting out, fur afire.

Cassunder wiped his brow on the sleeve of his sword-arm and began to mutter, "That's an underst-" but was interrupted when yet another Diver tackled him to the ground. He was beginning to get tired of that. Using the momentum of his fall, Cassuner rolled, succeeding in kicking the monster off as he spun back to his feet.

His cloak caught fire in the act, (as tends to happen when one rolls whilst holding a flaming sword), but Cassuner used it to his advantage. Drawing on what remained of his arcane might, the pyromancer lifted the flames into the air, holding them in place as the Diver scrambled back to its feet. Rearing back, Cassuner then slammed his fist into the airborne inferno, sending it flying into the beast's chest. When his fireball connected, the poor Diver literally exploded into burning bits.

"That should keep it down for a few seconds..."

Right on cue, the first Diver came back with a new head, which Cassuner lopped off again, spitting after its crumpled form. He had little time to worry for his companions, but considering that only two Divers were harassing him at the moment, they must have been holding their own.

Sparing a second to look over his shoulders, he could see that they were still in fairly close proximity, though the vampire was nowhere to be seen, having disappeared into the trees where no Diver could hope to follow. Bastard.

E'Nide appeared to be on the verge pissing himself. Why had such a spineless individual even been so far out at such a fatal hour? Very little about the man added up.

"We don't have time for this," the Voice reasserted.

Both Divers were already regenerating. Cassuner hacked flaming chunks out of the one closest to him, but ignored the other.

"Keep running!" Cassuner shouted, quick to follow his own advice. Though the two-dozen-or-so Divers in the immediate vicinity made no noise, he could still hear the shattering wails of more distant foes. Judging by the sound, there were definitely not enough for them to fight off. If too many more caught up with them... they were dead.

As he ran, dodging shadows, Cassuner held his flaming sword high, to serve as a beacon. Normally this wouldn't have been a good tactic for those seeking to flee from enemies, but it was impossible to hide from Divers anyway. They just... knew where you were. It was uncanny. And annoying. Safety existed only between four walls, and the nearest set of them was nearly a mile away... and the forest extended for at least half of that distance.

Cassuner paid no heed to the low-hanging trees his sword lit ablaze as he ran. Avoiding forest-fires was not high on his list of priorities.

Suddenly, a loud buzzing reverberated through Cassuner's head. "Grah!!" the Voice shouted. Cassuner winced.

"What is it?!" the pyromancer demanded, leaping over a small thicket.

The Voice sounded apprehensive in the offhand, annoyed manner of veterans, "We've got something bad coming this way."

And then Cassuner stopped. He listened but heard nothing, save the wind, his racing heart, and the ragged breathing of his compatriots. Suddenly, he realized they had outrun the Divers. But that was impossible. No man could outrun that which felt no exhaustion. And Divers were pretty damn fast by anyone's standards.

But most importantly, they never gave up a chase. Not ever.

And then-

Ripping pain. A presence along right side of his neck, and then a sudden pressure. Agony, and a wet noise.

Screaming, Cassuner fell to the ground, dropping his sword. Instinctively, he reached up to feel where he'd been wounded. A considerable chunk was missing from his neck. Blood spilled through shaking fingers, but Cassuner had no reason to believe that an artery had been severed.

Flipping onto his back, Cassuner grimaced up at what had bitten him. His eyes widened.

A nude man stood before him, blood running down his pale chin. The man's eyes were obscured behind red hair that looked as if it had never been cut.

"What?!" the Voice veritably screamed.

The man smiled in a way that went beyond insanity, chewing on the chunk he'd just ripped out of Cassuner. Suddenly, he frowned, and spat out the bloody glob.

"I tire of raw meat," the man announced in an extremely hoarse voice, as if he rarely spoke.

"Roll!!!" the Voice shouted. Cassuner did just that, narrowly avoiding the blade as it fell in an arc so violently fast that he couldn't even see it coming. Struggling to his feet, Cassuner realized that the man had picked up the sword he dropped.

Such speed.

"My name is Sank," came the man's broken voice again. He slowly backed away, head bobbing with his movements, getting a good look at the whole group.

Then in an instant, he was gone. Cassuner heard a sword being drawn, and spun around in time to see Sank on Sorrow's back, pulling one of his swords from its sheath. Before the giant could even react, Sank was gone again, reappearing where he'd been, several feet away from the group.

"No! No!!!" the Voice continued to shout.

The man was now holding two swords, one in each hand.

He smiled.

He brought his left foot back, crouching slightly, blade-tips held close to the ground.

Golvaga style.

Cassuner was stunned. "Barthathos?!" he demanded, baring his teeth at the stranger who called himself Sank.

"No," the Voice corrected, sounding strange, "It is an abomination that stands before us."

"Who are you?!" Cassuner demanded, pointing a blood-stained finger at Sank, who had yet to move an inch from his flawless pose.

The man grinned, displaying red, dripping teeth. "Who, me? I'm just a dead man."

And then he charged.

Talethal threw himself into Cassuner, shoving him out of the way of the vicious charge. Using a small blast of wind, Tal separated himself from Cassuner in the air and landed perfectly, palm first then, flipping himself over onto his feet. He sent two blasts of wind in the monsters direction.

What is this monster, I have never heard of such a thing

- - Cassuner - -

Cassuner would have died right there, had Tal not shoved him aside. However, as Sank barreled past, he unexpectedly changed direction ninety degrees, spinning away from Tal's blasts.

Cassuner twisted to keep up with Sank's movements, still clutching his neck in agony. He couldn't keep up. His vision blurred in panic and pain. In a fluid motion, Sank pulled another ninety-degree-turn, spinning behind the pyromancer, hamstringing him with both swords.

He thought he heard the Voice cry out.

Cassuner hit the ground before his blood had even begun to fall. Laughing, Sank tossed the sword in his right hand, caught it upside down, and dropped to one knee, sending it through Cassuner's navel, into the cold earth below.

To his credit, the pyromancer did not scream.

Vrokos’ swings had been fears as he first entered into combat; yet slowly he began to notice that with each swing he grew weaker and weaker, the hammer ever more weighted. Though initially baffled by his ever weakening state Vrokos soon began to realize that it was his fast that was causing the issues he was experiencing.

How did I even get this far? I should have dropped miles back.

“It’s because I willed it.”

“Thank you,” he sheathed his hammer, “Love.”

As grateful as he had been, however, his eyes began to blur, the full effects of performance without sustenance was beginning to take its toll. Have it not been night Vrokos would be nothing but dust at the current.

Pondering cut short as Vrokos’ ears picked up a discussion. An unfamiliar voice had joined them… He turned to it. A battle had ensued with a red headed man with blood surrounding his mouth.

Vampire?

“You’ll want to stay away from him currently. He isn’t what you think he is. He will kill you.”

“What,” he said his vision diming even more, “What should I do?”

“There is a faun nearby. Use it.

Vrokos turned behind him noticing a small faun grazing in the grass. What was it doing in this commotion? So out of place. He walked towards it, pacing himself from collapsing upon the ground. He had distanced himself from the group through the use of the trees. Would he be seen from where he was? It was a required risk. As he stepped to the side of the creature it did not look up; instead, it continued grazing unaware of its surroundings. He dropped beside it and stared into its eyes apologetically.

“Had I any other choice…”

Fangs sank deep multiple times into the side of the creature’s neck until hitting the required artery. Blood seeped and Vrokos fed… Strength slowly returned to him. He would join the others momentarily.

The Pyromancer had fallen. "Sank" as it called itself was amazingly quick on his feet. And his sword style was unlike any Som had encountered in the past, although obviously effective as the thing had just demonstrated.

Had he an interest in swordplay Grom would have taken the opportunity to try and study it more closely, but what he had already seen should prove enough information for the plan he had in mind.

There was an elf in the group his eyes searched for--an expert marksman. He found him and saw that he was in a suitable position.

If Som could only get behind Sank...the way he held his swords, it would be simple to pin the thing's arms to it's body. And then the elf could get a clear shot.

It would take only a couple of seconds. Grom took off, he willed his feet to get him there quickly, and his arms to hold the abomination tightly.

- - Sank - -

Sank just stood there for a moment, enjoying his kill. The red-headed man was not dead yet, but he would be soon. Sank hummed pleasantly, savoring the meal to come.

With a dreadful noise, Sank pulled the sword free of its master's innards, but- Suddenly, he felt a powerful grip squeezing his arms into immobility. One of his snacks had somehow managed to sneak up on him.

"Hugs! Hugs and kisses!" Sank shouted, rearing forward, then slamming his head back into his captor's mouth with a horrible crack. The man was knocked straight to the ground in a daze.

Sank turned and stood over him in half a heartbeat, sword raised high, blood dripping onto its next victim, preparing to deliver the fatal strike.

It seemed like Aethr had missed something.

First he was drinking from a bottle in a peaceful meadow, and now he was surrounded by divers. Maybe it was about time for Aethr to stop drinking five bottles a day.

But no, now it was time to act. There was a fucking diver demon, who just killed the pyro, and was about to kill the scruffy, silent guy. So, Aethr did what he did best.

He raised his rifle to his shoulder and fired three shots, all aimed at the bastards heart.

- - Sank - -

Loud noises rang out. Sank stopped short in his precarious pose. He felt a strange feeling in his chest.

What was this feeling?

Not pain. It couldn't be. Sank knew pain. He had known it constantly for so many millenniums.

But it had to be. There was no other explanation. Sank lowered his swords, and looked down. Three holes were where his heart had once been.

Yes. It was pain alright. But to someone like him, it felt like less than a tickle. He tilted his head back and laughed, "This!!! This is nothing!"

He lowered his head again, his smile gone. He stared at the gunman with lethal intent.

Then he disappeared.

Suddenly the elf with the rifle was hanging in the air; a shocked look painted on his face. Two blades were jutting out of his abdomen. Sank had run him through from behind, and was now lifting him with superhuman strength.

Shifting on his heels, Sank spun with violent force, launching the elf free of the blades that impaled him. With bone-shattering force, the elf slammed into a nearby tree, and went silent.

Wasting no time, Sank turned and went straight for the aeromancer.

Vrokos savored each swallow of the warm leaking blood. By now the faun was to near death to recover; a sad but required fate. He stood, wiping the blood from his mouth on his sleeve and turning to the enemy. After popping his neck he equipped his hammer and prepared.

“I’ll need your help with this, Love.”

~ “Bellini will be attacking soon,” spoke out a cutesy voice inside the Aeromancer’s head, “Perhaps you could assist him with your abilities?” ~

~ “When Bellini attacks he will be left open,” spoke out the same voice inside the head of the giant named Sorrow, “With such massive arms perhaps you can assist in defending him from the enraged dead man? Tehe”

The reply felt like a forever but it eventually came.

“I've relayed the pleads of aid. After your attack you'll want to run towards the giant and hope he feels like helping you.”

"Thank you," he said allowed preparing for an attack. Noting a few trees around their area; he would use them in this attack, such was a pro of being of elven decent. He willed the trees to rustle, acknowledging his wish the branches shook simulating the sound of an attacker hiding in the trees. Perhaps this distraction, combined with the blunt force of Vroko’s hammer would combine into a blow this unknown demon would not soon forget.


After the attack Vrokos would dash towards the one named Sorrow and use him as a defense against imminent death that would come from upsetting this condemned creature.

Talethal saw the monster sprinting at him. With part of his mind screaming to flee and the other screaming to attack, he compromised and sent a wall of air crashing forward and downwards at Sank, then looking around, he spotted fangs lurking in the trees, and decided to introduce him to the battle by hurling him forward with a blast of wind at break neck speed towards the charging foe.

Sorrow cracked the knuckles of each wrist. The blasted creature had stolen his hunting knife and was proceeding to use it as a sword. Still it did not matter. Sword or no sword he'd simply remove the creatures head, this way would just be somewhat messier. Just as he prepared to charge it a voice sounded in the back of his mind.

"Bellini will be attacking soon"

Looking towards the vampire he did indeed seem to be preparing to launch his own attack.

"I guess that means i'm the meat shield" He sighed "So be it"

With that he readied his mind for the inevitable wounds he was about to recieve in place of the vampire. At least he wouldn't be taken down so simply as the others.

The trees shook viciously at Vrokos' will, hopefully just enough distraction. As he charged a wind formed around his feet. Perfect, he thought, as at the same time he leaped and through the combination of vampiric agility and the power of the wind Vrokos soared at great speeds towards his enemy. Battle hammer ready, he closened upon his prey, upon reaching it he swung the hammer with a fierce might downward towards the enemy below him.

Venetica was not far ahead of the group, but she was alone. No divers, but the forest was crying. Something foul was inside it, and the trees desperately wanted it gone. The fairy struggled inside V's pocket, so she released it, the area around her was moderately safe now.

V turned back, as gasped as she saw the group being assaulted by something nude. The pyromancer fell first, then the gun elf.

There was a vampire running on the trees, and in a second it lunged at the nudist. V did the only thing she could in that second, cut off the naked creatures exit with roots and vines.

Adrian thought about what to do. With the nude creature's ability to appear behind his allies (And most likely, himself) it would be wise to guard as if he had missed.

The Vampire was attacking with a hammer from the sky, Venetica the Elf had blocked off the naked man's exit... The perfect time to make a move was now.

Adrian ran close enough to the creature to use his powers, and willed the ground beneath the creature's feet to move. It did, sending a spear of stone straight up towards the creature's torso.

He then raised Stonepikes around himself, pointing outwards and upwards.

- - Sank - -

Suddenly, things stopped going Sank's way.

Not expecting an attack from above, he was blown to the ground by an unexpected downward gale, which sent both stolen swords flying off into the forest. In all of an instant, his foes took advantage of his temporary immobility. Sank saw not the vampire, but he certainly saw the massive hammer as it slammed into his chest.

It knocked all the air out of him. If his bones were still made of bone, they would have broken a thousand times. Nonetheless, the damage was severe, though it had largely been to organs he no longer needed. Purple blood shot from his mouth, and leaked from torn flesh. Still, he felt almost no pain.

Such an attack would have killed a man. But he was no man. Reaching up with a speed that belied his damage, Sank prepared to break the vampire's hammer with his bare hands. After that, he'd merely regenerate and continue making quick work of his prey.

Just then, a dull pain hummed through his chest. An earthen spike had sprouted from directly beneath him, ripping through his sternum, extending into the air, purple with his blood. The spike pushed the hammer out of his grip in the process.

Now he was beginning to feel true agony. He loved the sensation. It clutched at him, like some minor torment that wouldn't go away. Meanwhile, vines had skirted across the forest floor, and began to entangle him.

Oh god the pain. It felt so divine.

"Ha!" Sank laughed, his voice returning, "What fun this has turned out to be!"

Now he would show them. He was done playing around.

But-

...

He couldn't move.

And then he remembered.

A Diver's one weakness: an object lodged in the heart. It seemed he hadn't evolved past that little Achille's heel.

Not yet.

Sank was quiet for a time, impaled and bound. He worked his jaw in annoyance. It was one of the few parts of his body he could still operate.

And then he laughed.

"I acknowledge your strength!" he announced, smiling, "Bring the wounded to me."

- - Battle Concluded - -

After seeing the thing was defeated, at least for now, Sorrow had retrieved his hunting knife and Cassuner's sword while he was at it. Returning he walked over and jammed the once flaming sword into the ground next to the pyromancer.

He then walked over to the creature.

"So you liked my knife did you?" he muttered to it "Would you like to feel what the sharp end is like compared to the handle my underclothed little friend?"

Sunk's head tilted back and stared at him before laughing off the threat. Seeing that stabbing it would do little good he sheathed the knife before walking over to the vampire.

"Care to explain the voice I heard during all that?"

"And what will you do with them?" Adrian responded to Sank's query. "I hope you aren't still feeling undernourished, with such a full stomach like that."

- - Cassuner - -

He was in quite a bit of pain.

"Suck it up, you little bitch!"

He was cold. Pyromancers were not supposed to be cold.

"Get up!" the Voice demanded, "You have to kill that fucking thing right NOW!"

So cold.

For once, Cassuner agreed with the Voice. But the means required to kill such a creature were well beyond what anyone in the immediate vicinity was capable of.

Where the hell was Bianca when he needed her?

Oh, that's right. He sent her away.

"Don't... Don't trust him," Cassuner said in a weak voice.

Laughter, old and dark. "Take my blood," Sank called out from his place on the ground, ignoring those who had addressed him, "and drink it. Regenerative qualities, and all that jazz. It'll work wonders for that hole in your gut."

"F... Fuck you..."

"Get up! Fucking prick!"

Cold.

Cassuner shuddered, then lost consciousness.

"Tick tock tick." said Sank.

- - Bianca - -

She landed in the clearing, carrying the photomancer across her shoulder like a sack of potatoes. Having quickly decided that he moved far too slowly, Bianca'd simply picked him up and ran.

What she saw did not immediately register in her brain. Dropping the photomancer onto his feet, she darted to her father, where he laid in a pool of his own blood. She noticed nothing else, such was her shock and fear.

"Father!" she shouted, kneeling over his pale form, "Say something!"

He was unconscious and cold... but his heart was still beating. Barely. Bianca could tell that he would not survive but for a few a few minutes at best. Her eyes were frantic, hands shaking as she tore his shirt to get a good look at the wound. It did not look good. The cut was jagged and deep, leaking blood at an alarming rate. She didn't know much about anatomy, but she knew some important guts and stuff had surely been ripped through. Not to mention he was missing a good bit of his neck.

She could heal. She was no vitalmancer; it was just something her kind could do. But her skills in that department were almost random. She could not control it, as had been demonstrated mere minutes ago when she'd killed a man she meant to heal.

"No!" she shouted, looking around. Hadn't one of the people she'd kidnapped been a vitalmancer? Yes, but she'd limited his abilities, and wouldn't be able to undo the incantation without some time.

"No, no no!"

"Well aren't you a pretty one?" said a voice she wasn't familiar with.

She looked up, and was instantly struck by the aura. The man radiated with a dark force so severe that she could barely make out his features. He was impaled through the heart by a purpled spike, and appeared to be severely wounded, yet still lived. Furthermore, he looked utterly unperturbed by his precarious situation.

"You!" she shouted, slumping back, too grief-stricken to be enraged, "You did this?"

"I did. Name's Sank, by the way."

Her voice began to break, "Why? Why would you do this?"

The demon made a shrugging gesture with his eyebrows, "I was hungry."

Bianca opened her mouth, but did not know how to answer. She cupped her father's face, as if trying to warm him back to life. The tears began to fall. Despairing, she decided she would try her best to heal him. She knew that there was a good chance he would die, but it seemed inevitable otherwise.

Drawing in a quavering breath, Bianca placed a hand on her father's stab-wound, and closed her eyes.

"I've been trying to tell these guys," Sank said, "if you make him drink my blood, he'll fuckin' heal."

Bianca's head shot up. She looked at the man with wet eyes. She only knew of two creatures with blood that had healing properties, and Sank certainly didn't look like any dragon she'd ever seen.

"Y-you're a diver?"

"I was. Don't quite know what I am now. My blood could be poison for all I know."

"How-" Bianca began to ask, but then she remembered her father. She looked down at him for several moments.

In an instant she was up, pulling a knife from her boot as she rose. She practically dove at the impaled man, plunging the knife into his neck. Sank grinned as this was done to him, blood spurting from a severed artery. Bianca sank the knife deep, coating it in warm, purple blood. Rage returning with hope, she twisted the knife in a cruel act of vengeance.

"You know," Sank complained as Bianca withdrew the knife, "you could have used the blood on this here, ah, spike. It's still warm."

Rising again, Bianca dashed back to her father and held the knife above his mouth, which she opened with a finger. She allowed several drops to fall to the back of his throat while angling his chin to make him swallow.

"There's another one, you know," Sank laughed from behind.

Bianca looked up, and immediately saw the elf, who looked more or less dead. "Good lord!" she shouted, quickly returning to Sank, who she gave another stab, this time in the eye.

Coming to a skidding stop by the elf, Bianca was amazed to find that he was somehow slightly alive, despite having been ridiculously maimed. She repeated the same process, forcing him to drink several drops of blood from the blade of her knife.

"What the fuck? This isn't Hell."

Turning around, Bianca saw her father, sitting up in a daze. He was looking down at his wound, which had already closed, forming a small scar.

"Who ruined my shirt?!" he demanded, grasping the torn, tattered remnants.

Bianca proceeded to tackle her father, squeeling and hugging his un-torn neck while still holding her bloody knife. This frightened Cassuner to no end.

"So!" Sank said, after a few heart-warming moments passed, "No hard feelings, eh?"