Pandemonium Elf Ears Aren't Long Enough

[Ah'Har]

Cla'Tria watched from the upper level of the hillside building as the old elf wasted no time falling back into the relative safety of the inn. Beneath moonlight, the reptilian girl who had been watching the scene with curiosity and apprehension could finally see a dense fog rolling in, but not quite right at all. It was an unsettling red, as if fresh death had caught itself in the air and was moving through the world, and wherever there was something like that, the logical conclusion was that there would be a killer heralded by the mess.

Perhaps the bad taste was not the chili after all.

Cla'Tria slowly and quietly put her chili down on the bed before closing the window and making her way to the door of the room, all too used to dangerous situations and how best to avoid them. Try as Ah'Har might, it was something she could not avoid learning over her so far short life, but it was something that gave her a good sense of levelheadedness when things got bad. She could tell how much time she had before whatever was out there might grace this place with its or their presence.

By the time she was halfway down the stairs, Lord Dorinthellar was shouting to the innkeeping family to stay safe behind a line that would be held by elves far more prepared for things to go horribly awry.

Ah'Har had just been beginning to entertain the idea of maybe relaxing, quite a shame too, because it had some pleasant company to delay his turning to bed for a while. He silently cursed the hand he had drawn on the carriage earlier, but simultaneously began to wonder the fate of those caught out on the road after sundown, who might have decided to camp for a night they might otherwise have believed perfectly peaceful.

Yet, with the unknown and the danger, the dark-skinned elf felt uncomfortably comfortable, as if the life he was trying to leave behind was giving him a final farewell of bloodshed. How he hoped on the surface of his minds that this panic was all false and empty for that reason, but he knew better than to hope for such fortune.

His gold-flecked eyes turned to the stairs going up, and halfway down them he met with Cla'Tria's gaze. She knew it all too well, too. They need not say anything, they knew their roles, and they both knew she might be as safe as could be afforded staying behind with the family, and perhaps she might even prove helpful if something got through with her own small collection of blades that her big brother insisted she keep.

Ah'Har stood with a sigh as he put his hood down, casually cutting and shuffling the deck as he followed the other two elves towards the front door and to greet what seemed a decidedly unnatural and thick red mist. While the others took ready positions for battle, he simply leaned against beside the doorframe, watching the obscuring phenomenon for anything charging in the dark, a few key cards palmed for good measure.

"Am I to assume red mist isn't normal around here?" It was like somebody had just pierced an artery on a giant that just refused to clot or run out of blood. He turned to face the door behind them, pulling four cards of the locks suits and using them to erect a glowing blue barrier over the door, "Though, perhaps I'm thinking a much smaller example. Any idea what's out here?"

 

[Dorinthellar Anda'Fallar]

Dorinthellar shrugged his shoulders at the woman's gesture of mockery, his hair flowing in the wind as the breeze picked up, pushing the red mist forward at faster speed.

"Fame in the elven courts are certain extravagances, the scandalous variety of higher notion towards most in power than that of actual virtue, my lady. It doesn't surprise me that you've heard of my house's name before, as I believe I've heard of yours as well."

From inside the sounds of wood scraping on stone could be heard, window shutters slamming shut as the halflings followed the Lord's order. Dorinthellar waved his white steed to stand near the entrance, near Ah'Har's position, turning back as he did so.

Dorinthellar watched the elf pull out a deck of cards with an upturned brow. He didn't ask the obvious assuming that the elf had tricks up his sleeve regarding the strange choice of weaponry, seeing that he didn't have much else besides the sword. When Ah'Har began placing wards across the door, his suspicions of magic were confirmed.

"Are you channeling mana through the cards, as conduits? Or is there some runic spell you've placed on them already allowing them such a power?" Dorinthellar became singularly intrigued by the hooded elf who he regarded with certain contempt, his uptight demeanor and rude manners dissuaded in the face of exercising his power. When Ah'Har asked of the assumption, Dorinthellar shook his head and pointed towards the tree, its bark beginning to rot where the mist coalesced. "Look, where this mist touches, the fauna dies. This is some sort of necrotic power, the Falwoods don't hold the same harshness for life the Black Bay does, friend." The grass around them was decaying, the mud clinging to their boots in extra force, as if little hands were trying to pull them deep below, subtly. Dorinthellar's nerves began to ring in his head as he thought of the few times he'd seen such a force, and not quite like this. This was new to him, unknown, thicker, a heavier cloak of death reeking conjuration which pulled the life from nature's whim, his mind rattling. "This is strange to me, however, for necrotic powers would most certainly affect us as well, I don't believe it is so on further glance, actually I'm sure of it. I don't understand why it is the herbs die, yet we are unscathed... I have not seen the likes of this before."

The old man was sobering up quickly now as apprehension of danger rose and his pulse quickened. He looked about waiting for signs of movement, his green gaze piercing into the red darkness, the scene giving off an enraged outlook as whatever it was that was bringing forth this mist was looking to fill the air with more.

"I wouldn't breath it in if I were you, just in case," Dorinthellar said as he began to strip off his sleeves from his riding tunic, the chain-mail underneath becoming apparent. He wrapped the bits of cloth around his nose and mouth, tying them behind his head. He looked back at Mistalee, motioning for her to stay near the horse. "Ah'Har, is your magic good enough to be used in the front, or will you need covering?" he asked as he turned back to face the incoming threat.

 

[Mistalee]

The only acknowledgment she gave Dorinthellar about him hinting at knowing who she truly was, was a sidelong look and a small smirk. It did not surprise her at all that he would be able to figure out who she was, not that she was really hiding it. Her heritage was just something she preferred not to publicly announce.

Ah'Har used what at first seemed like mundane deck of cards to cast a few magical wards. She had heard of such items before but this was her first time seeing one in action. Hopefully the dark skinned elf would be willing to tell her more about it later and that she could see what other tricks this interesting man had up his sleeves.

Mistalee eased the tension on her bow just long enough to pull a part of her jerkin over her mouth an nose heeding the advice to not breath in the mists. Though instead of stepping behind the older elf she took a few paces forward, but careful to still not enter the red foreboding mist just yet.

"As much as a loathe to do so," she said softly. "Whatever is causing this mist will likely be deeper within. We might have to venture forth. Have to say when I woke up this morning, walking in a blood red mist of doom was not something I had planned on."

 

[Raigryn Vayd]

As the mists roll in strange sounds echo around the party. When night falls many creatures add their voice to a chorus that can chill the hearts of men. Yet this is different. The noises start to recede. Still there, yet it almost seems as if words are whispered through the shrieks and moans. Leaves are falling from the trees. They shouldn't be. Not at this time of year.

It is almost impossible to discern where the sounds come from. At least it was until the irregular steps started to follow the group deeper into the mists. Something followed them, just beyond sight.

 

[Ah'Har]

Necromancy was widely considered bad for business back in Cerak, at least by the circles that Ah'Har frequented. Turning people into mindless drones killed the working morale of slaves that they might earn their freedom back copper-by-copper, and often provided a certain lack of finesse that was provided by the living. Yet, it was because it was spoken of with a sneer that he could recognize the name of necromancy when spoken, and now learn a good example of its effects on the surrounding world.

It was also by way of merchants of beasts and his frequency of dealing with alchemists for Cla'Tria's medicine that he could pick up and discern a bit of jargon.

"Flora is plants, fauna is animals." Ah'Har said simply as he pulled a sky blue scarf around his face with a single hand and an easy motion, "And I do my best work unseen and when I can get close."

The deck of cards, Ah'Har need not even speak or correct on. They were what they were, and he knew how to use them quite effectively, a nice "gift", so to speak, from a smuggler who had slighted him once upon a time, retribution only avoided by rumor of the man's death some weeks later.

As far as the free elf from Cerak knew, all proper elves of the mainland must have belonged to some house or another. He hardly had in-depth conversations port-side with elves about their heritage, names, and backstories, so he thought nothing of Dorinthellar's comment about Mistalee's house. Though, perhaps if it were proper, maybe Ah'Har should consider claiming his own house and family just to give Cla'Tria a bit more of a proper upbringing in what little years there were before she could be considered of proper age to take the world on her own? Something to consider without a threatening large bloody mist.

Mistalee was suggesting venturing deeper, and though Ah'Har was loathe to consider leaving his little sister, and by extension the nice short hosts that were with her, perhaps they could cut whatever this was off at the source. He was especially uncomfortable with the unnatural noises coming from the trees, like the distant agonies of tortured people, something he knew best to stay away from lest he join them, but certainly they could not be from actual people.

Could they?

He still knew so little about the mainland deeper in, but it seemed unlikely that the middle of a forest with proper elves would hold such things.

"My cards do more." Ah'Har said, procuring a few cards from the Coin suit, a Sailor for himself, a Captain for Mistalee, and an Admiral for the lord. Maybe they might not do well for trying to see anything, but for listening they could prove invaluable, "Secure these somewhere near an ear and we can communicate through them if we get separated."

 

[Dorinthellar Anda'Fallar]

Tension was tighter than a bowstring as the forest animals deafened and quieted, in response as a wave on the beach, first loud and then receding, Dorinthellar walking forth a bit however reluctant to leave the hobbit burrow behind, thinking it may be better to have them wall it off as a line of defense. He hoped that they'd have a backdoor of some sorts where they could find safe passage away from the area if need be, as this mist didn't seem to be of any benevolent force, quite the opposite.

Dorinthellar looked after the woman who dared to openly defy things of unknown power and origin with objection.

"Maybe it would be best for you to stay behind us? Not to say you aren't capable of handling yourself, however a bow might be of more advantage to the party when out of reach, no?"

He stared after her and took note of the glorious craftsmanship of the weapon, of which he almost envied as at the moment the one he carried on his back was an average run of the mill recurve, however heirlooms of particular houses usually made others feel as such, as he assumed this is where it came from. As Ah'Har passed the cards out he nodded in affection towards the particular card he was given as the elf seemed to be a joker, given their previous conversation.

"I enjoy that you'd give me the admiral, friend. You never answered my question on how, although I admit maybe it isn't the best time to speak on such things in detail, lest we become distracted."

For Dorinthellar's ears twitched and danced as footsteps were heard behind them, seemingly as if it were a play on his mind as the mist wrapped around them. They weren't as heavy as he imagined a fleshly being's to be, therefore assumed it as such, although he kept glancing backwards every now and then as they ventured forth, his sword firmly grasped in his hand.

 

[Eren'thiel Xyrdithas]

The forests of Falwood had only ever been marvelous to his eyes, especially under the cool blanket of night. It was at these times he felt most serene. Perched amid the branches along the fringes of a peaceful glade he rested, allowing himself and himself a brief reprieve; his journey was long yet, and the forests of the night could have grievance with even his ilk. Though the forests had yet to abandon him to their bowels, and its creatures yet to best him – even the most pious can be the victim of pride – so his confidence allowed him the peace. Even as life in the forest vibrated around him, he could feel an ever-present calm, even as the wolf hunts the deer, or the bear defends her cubs, all things resonated as they always should – in order. After a time, and an exasperated sigh, the elf gracefully leapt from branch to branch back down to the forest floor. There at the foundation of the tree he thought for a moment as he listened to the sounds of the wild around him.

It had been some time since he had journeyed through this part of Falwood - he and those of “The Order” generally kept a great distance from Fal’Addas. He carried a deep burden of longing for his people’s ancestral home, as would many of his brethren share in this admiration, but the consequences of his forebears forbade him to go in onus. However, if his memory served him, the road was not long before a small hideaway nestled alongside the route. Perhaps there he could replenish some supplies before the night grew to thick, and their heads be laid to rest. Perhaps.

Just then as he moved back toward the path, a sudden change in the air caught his attention. He stopped and gazed about, his sharpened eyes peering from beneath the shadow of a heavy hood. A cool wind blew through, carrying with it an unfamiliar and vile scent. Hints of it seemed to jar his memory for a moment, but any speculation of this invisible emanation were quickly brought to a halt as he bore witness something, he had not in all his years seen anything quite like; and as the breeze seemed to whirl around him and the color of blood stained the very air itself he decided it time to take his leave.

Dashing from between the trees, with a flash he leapt through the greenery and found his feet again along the path. All around this fog, this mist, had begun to settle in and hover. He watched in terror as the very forest itself began to curl, leaves and flower pedals shrivelling even as they still fell from above, grass ground into dust beneath his feet. What evil is this, he thought in disbelief. As a man of faith and a watchman of The Order, his thoughts could draw only a few conclusions, but nothing was for certain and he would reserve his judgment. However, one thing was clear, and that was this mist was not his friend. As it permeated around him, he could feel a tightness envelope him and once again he decided to move. It was not common for him to sprint down the main road, but he had no desire to stay out in the open like this. Perhaps there was indeed a shelter ahead, and hopefully not farther than his memory would have him believe.

All around him the sounds of horror began to rise in chorus around him, filled his ears with tainted words and horrible screams. To an untrained mind it might seem maddening, and indeed it made him feel an uneasiness that he would never admit sent a shiver to the very core of him… In his haste he rounded a corner to find several of his own kind standing before him, swords and otherwise drawn and ready for combat. He slid to a stop, bringing himself to a slight crouch and bringing each of his hands to either side, grasping the hilt of his swords in anticipation that they may not be so friendly, but the mist had not come from this way,

“Vaeli, tia shaeraes,”(peace, my brethren) he hollered in his elven tongue. He felt odd, his association with elves outside The Order was very infrequent, and he knew there was a definite sense of uncertainty toward his kind. But still, the same blood flowed through their veins and the same great tree birthed their ancestor, “I am not foe, but I come in haste for the sake of this mist,” which even as he spoke twirled around him, and from his perspective he could see how its tendrils continued to reach farther and farther into the wood. It grew obvious to him that soon they would be completely surrounded.

“I would seek your companionship,” he said, keeping his distance for the moment. He lowered his hood briefly to reveal that he was indeed one of their kind, but quickly adorned it again to shield himself from if nothing else this blasted mist. After he spoke he grew eerily silent, listening intently to what sounded to him like footsteps coming from somewhere behind him, just within earshot.

"It seems I am not the only one to come this way..."

 

[Dorinthellar Anda'Fallar]

Dorinthellar was taken back as his drunkenness was still wearing off, and he had no idea whether or not to face the stranger who appeared from nowhere before them, or to turn around at the recognition that his senses were not deceiving him. A strange time to be alive, where elves walk from the Black Bay or drop from trees betwixt blood red mist, turning the foliage towards death's embrace in intense fashion.

"Peace indeed, brethren..." Dorinthellar nodded towards the newcomer as he spun around to listen intently on their spy, the footsteps growing louder as it approached. He motioned for the two others to do the same, brandishing his double edged sword in recognition that a fight was imminent. Calling out into the mist, Dorinthellar cried "Show yourself! We wish you no harm, as long as you wish us the same!"

The lord took another step forward into the bowels of the doom-ridden air, his eyes narrowed as the darkness formed contours and shapes around the objects within, his green irises unable to completely penetrate the thick array of swirling clouds and falling leaves, his ears twitching more and more as bells began to ring in his mind. His body tensed in the creature's approach as he realized it to be closer than he thought it was before, as if it were moving with greater speed, his thought that it were an animal of some sorts diminishing as he didn't recognize the footfalls, however the mist may have more than just aesthetic qualities. Drawing the cloth around his nose and mouth tighter, he placed the card handed to him behind his ear, the flimsy material sticking to his skin with ease.

"Can you light a path for us too, mage?" Dorinthellar asked Ah'Har as he tried to see what was coming forth.

Raigryn Vayd

 

[Mistalee]

The younger elf managed to hold her tongue but narrowed her eyes as Dorinthellar spoke to her about where she could be of most use. She was no novice bows woman, and knew exactly where her archery skills would be of the most use. Nothing to say of the fact that she would be equally skilled with her weapon regardless of ranged or melee combat. As much as she would have like to retort to the older man, she neither had the patience for it nor was this the best time. It would be best to just focus on the task at hand and make sure they all got out of this night alive.

When Ah'har handed her the card she looked at it. One eyebrow perked up when she saw that it depicted a Captain. Something told her that the dark skinned elf did not just randomly pick these cards, but there was more of a meaning behind them. Just one more thing for her to ask him about later.

"Good idea. Thank you," she said she secured the card as he instructed.

No sooner than she had done that, she went as tense as her bow string as someone called out to them and ran out of the mists. She stood there with her arrow aimed to strike right between the eyes. As he revealed he elven nature and offered friendship she eased somewhat, but she was still on high alert and did not trust the unnamed new commer. For now she nodded to the newcomer.

"I advise that we keep our voices low, friend. There is no knowing what is in this mists," she warned.

Instead she turned her focus to the one who remained just out of sight and seemed to intent on following them. Dorinthellar, to no surprise to her at all, called out the the unknown figure demanding that it show itself. It was a rare thing indeed for a strange and foreboding figure to actually listen to such a demand, and if it did it was even more rarely a good thing. She just prayed that the man's arrogance would not endanger them.

 

[Raigryn Vayd]

Mistalee Dorinthellar Anda'Fallar Xyrdithas Ah'Har

Sybetha and Nyadri stood at the centre of the macabre wreath of gore. Piece of human and elf were spread out across the forest floor around them. The dead laid out across the dying forest flora. Sybetha bent low, pale white claws sorting through a mound of flesh and bone.

They have not changed

Not in all the time since we last came

They do not change, they do not Ascend. They are incapable.

They can, with the right catalyst. It has been done before. Changing them is the key to changing ourselves. To Ascend again and return to our true home.

Unlike almost all who had came before and since, Sybetha and Nyadri had gone through each ascension together. Rather than influenced by those of their domain or the masters they served each transformation had been linked. Their Krynt was almost one. They didn't share one consciousness, but the could always sense one another. They shared the same feelings, held the same insatiable curiosity.

Sybetha avoided touching the metal blade beside the dead elf. This one had been a fighter. They had kept the knowledge of forging weapons from ore, even if they had lost so much more.

The two turned and bowed low before the silhouette of ancient Inexia. Respect was conveyed through formal gestures, phrases and even chemical signals. Not for long; Inexia was only one ascension beyond the twins now.

More! Observe.

Inexia slowly unfurled one arm, pointing lazily into the mists with slender fingers.

We obey. They replied in harmony.

---

The sounds collapsed into one set of thundering footfalls. The vicious snarls of beasts could be heard just moments before the shadows emerged from the mists. Visibility was low, especially compared to the speed at which these creatures covered ground.

The party would have just seconds before three of the creatures were upon them.

 

[Ah'Har]

Before long, it seemed another elf had shown up, and even later than Ah'Har had. The dark-skinned elf from Cerak actually had no real comprehension of the elvish tongue, but he had this vague suspicion that this newest of strangers was greeting them. Perhaps it was Dorinthellar replying to him that gave that away.

Far more suspicious to the elf from the Black Bay was the auspicious timing of this new person's arrival. Amidst the woods right after the red mist had already begun pouring its way through the trees. Perhaps this was simply a person who had been caught in the uneasy air, perhaps he had some ties to the unsettling phenomenon, or perhaps elves simply fell from the trees at random in Falwood.

"Why do the elderly always assume things?" Ah'Har wondered under his breath as he definitely did not provide any magical lighting, for he could not.

He sighed, shuffling what cards he had left. eyes narrowed at the new figure in the dark, but his gaze widened when he heard the oncoming footfalls that seemed in response to the lord's demand that the enemy show itself. There were far too many, far too fast, and a bit too familiar. Dogs were great ways of hunting down wayward slaves, easy to tame, effective at crippling a runner, and without the worry that they would kill a person too fast. Ah'Har had been fortunate enough to not be on the receiving end of such a hunt.

"You know what, welcome to the party! Catch, and secure it at an ear!" Ah'Har hastily said, lazily tossing another Coin card, an Ace because he was feeling a bit whimsical, to the new arrival so that it would be easy to catch. Friend, foe, the sound of some nasty and probably hungry beasts rushing their way left little time to differentiate between threats and fellow survivors. The most important thing now was that this stranger was not immediately trying to kill them upon arrival, and in desperate times that could be good enough, and it was definitely a skill to recognize desperate times before they became the worst versions of themselves.

The creatures were like some sort of bastardized hound, mixed with something that no dog should ever mix with. No eyes or fur, all massive spiked teeth. Normally Ah'Har might want to throw some Keys at the beasts eyes to blind and hinder them, but without the creatures seeming to have eyes he felt both at a loss and an unwillingness to either get near or let them get close.

"Please tell me these things are native to Falwood!" Ah'Har let his facade of emotional neutrality drop in an instant, finding survival and self-preservation far better as he moved near Mistalee, keeping his deck firmly in one hand while he drew his red-bladed combat knife with the other into a reverse grip ideal for stabbing a beast in the head if it got too close to the archer. He was hoping she could drop any of these hideous beasts before they got too close, though.

 

[Eren'thiel Xyrdithas]

Time: the most illusive and constant force to ever be observed, an entity of seemingly no conscious, no form, but seemingly absolute authority. Not even the most powerful of magics seem effective at achieving anything. It is impenetrable. Not only this but it is steady, unwavering, and above all – in perfect order. All things must ultimately answer to time’s order. A tool set in place with the very foundation of all creation, a tool of the gods. A tool to be observed, and in a perhaps miniscule way, used. As a young child, training in the way of his forefathers, he somehow found its use for himself. In a way that as a young boy seemed to be for comfort, became honed and sharpened into a sense of order. A simple melody, a gentle “swaying” in his mind, quietly looping in the darkest recesses when needed. It focused him, and most importantly, kept his time.

* * *​

This was strange indeed, not a one of these individuals appeared tied to another in almost any way, in fact they seemed at odds. And while this turn events certainly seemed unlikely to him, even less likely was the howling mists that now engulfed them. Relieved that despite their apparent hesitation, they welcomed him into their ranks with friendly heed from Mistalee. As he began toward them, he lamented the even worsening condition of their surroundings. The ground beneath his feet, once grinding to dust now smacked with sop, already grabbing at the soles of his boots.

Just then… beyond the mindless howls and maddening sounds around them, a distant pattern that at first quiet and nearly inaudible amid the horror, was quickly bearing down on them. This was no trickery, or at least he had been convinced. “You know what, welcome to the party!” His eyes shot toward Ah’Har, and quickly his left hand abandoned its place and snatched his newfound companion’s gift. He was moving as hastily as was allowed given the state of the path, but he managed a hurried pace. Even as he had yet to witness the beasts with his own eyes, he thought it best not to dally; his comrade’s proclamation was testimony enough.

Not only this, but as he closed the gap in between he and his newfound companions, the creatures closed in far faster. They were not directly behind him, but still had him at a dire disadvantage like this. There, still several meters ahead of them he was left little choice. Card still in left, he drew with his right to reveal a marvellously elegant sword, which seemed to be forged from metals and glimmering blue gem, woven together to create brilliant patterns; and the pommel - a jagged gemstone of like colour, seemingly cast into the heart of its hilt. As the blade escaped its’ scabbard, the sword seemed to crackle with energy, and if one could deviate their gaze, once green eyes now glowed blue from beneath his hood in tandem with the sword. He whirled himself around to face their foe and unleash his attack with a forceful swing.

The sword helped him channel and amplify his energy at seemingly minimal cost. But, the gemstones only acted as a buffer. They held a store of energy on their own, which could quite possibly be limitless, but it was impossible to truly tap – or so he believed. It only offered him aid, to unleash perhaps more than the maximum of his own stored energy, but at ultimately the cost of his life. To ask more of the stone than of yourself is to break the confines of magic itself, and it cannot be done. The stone would bleed him dry, until it had either satiated his draw or killed him. Another unfortunate drawback as that while he may not exert much energy in the initial act, the slow and constant draw of the stone could prove catastrophic quite quickly, if not accounted for.

However, to his dismay, his plan would prove to be for naught. While he sought to unleash an onslaught of power toward their foes, in the likeness of lighting from the sky, the mist sought to hinder him. As quickly as he’d attacked, the mist around him seemed to react, as if with intent, and coalesced with itself into a dense matter and magnetized itself to the sword in the form of a viscous, almost firm substance. What energy he did exert flowed from him in a somewhat pitiful display that would serve as little more than an annoyance, or mild hinderance perhaps. It was an embarrassment, but he had not time to dwell on the ineffectiveness of his attack. In stead, in a somewhat scrambled fashion, he managed to tuck the card securely in his belt while he reached for his second blade – a shorter one that while sharing the shapely design, lacked the embellishments of its cousin - and drew it in an attempt to gain a defensive posture.

 

[Dorinthellar Anda'Fallar]

Dorinthellar followed the lead of the newcomer as the animal approached. He saw how his brethren's attack had been thwarted and immediately drew next to him as the three doglike creatures pounced upon the party. As he barred his sword at one which charged him, he deftly rolled to the side of it as the creature came into his space and quickly thrust his blade to the side so that the charger would cleave itself through. The thick hide was unaccounted for, as although he created a gaping wound in the animal, it didn't stop its attack, actually enraging it as it barreled past towards whoever was behind. Dorinthellar was immediately hit by the third, trampled as claws beat upon his body, a snout of jagged teeth biting into his shoulder. A yelp leaped from his mouth as the pain registered automatically, and he too drew a hunting dagger from his shin to stab into the neck of the perpetrator, the ground's magnetic nature making it harder for his muscles to retaliate against the demonic dog. He kept stabbing into the hide, his face grimaced as it tugged at his tendons, the arm the bitten shoulder was attached to going limp.

 

[Mistalee]

Vile creatures emerged from the woods and bared down upon them. Their tough hide looked like it would be difficult for her arrows to pierce, and she did not see and clear eyes or other soft spots for her to take advantage of. Their teeth and spike looked particularly deadly and she knew right away that she did not want to be involved in any sort of melee combat with out of these hound like monsters.

She could not help but let out a small harsh laugh at what Ah'Har said. "No...these things are not native here. If they did I likely would choose a different forest to call my home," she replied.

As the hounds began their attack and two of the men engaged them, Mistalee began to let arrows fly. She hoped that they would strike true and she looked for any sort of weak point in their hides. Either into the mouth as they tried to roar or bite, or into any wound created by the others.