Chapter 7

The torches came further and further apart from one another as the four snuck down the path. Soon, a brighter, reddish light illuminated the end of the trail ahead. Three humanoid figures silhouetted the light -- Malar worshippers in silent observation. Faelar's hand flicked deftly three times, and a few seconds later, the men fell to the ground with barely a gurgle, small and narrow throwing daggers embedded in the back of their necks, near the base of their skulls.

Saeola had to admit, that was pretty good. He may have been an idiot, but Faelar had the skills to make up for it. Not like she'd ever tell him that, of course. She took an arrow from the quiver on her back and placed it on her bow, just in case.

Serosa'ruth carefully inspected the bodies, "All dead." He confirmed. Faelar grinned and saluted the group leader before leaning his head over the ledge to view the ceremony below. Saeola crept up to stand near Faelar, also peering down at the ceremony below. Of course she understood nothing of what was going on, but she knew it wasn't good.

Standing in the front of the room below was a rather tall and intimidating, dark-skinned man. His head was shaved and red tattoos covered his face and arms, representing the spraying of blood after a kill. Behind him stood a panther, bear, and wolf of Malar, their fur covered in similar red markings. Before them stood some fifty or so Malar worshippers, most of them human, though Serosa'ruth took note of a few half-elves here and there.

The high priest shouted and preached passionately, rambling on about the thrill of the hunt and when their next "celebration" would be. Faelar snorted in disgust, the first emotion other than humor he'd yet shown.

"From whot I know abou' dese blokes, deir 'celebration' means a 'unt... An' dat means releasing an innocent, defenseless, sentient being into da wild or a maze, and takin' da joy in either 'unting down da hapless bloke demselves, or sicking der damned monsters afta 'em." His black, thick eyebrows narrowed in loathing, "Damned abomination ta nature, iffun ya ask me." Apparently, it wasn't just his love of mischief he'd inherited from his elven blood, but a love of nature as well, to a certain degree.

Saeola shared the same disgust, narrowing her eyes at the sickening sight below. "Sick... Who could possibly enjoy something like that?" She muttered, more to herself than to anyone else.

The elves shrugged in unison, their eyes too glaring in hatred as the newest "prey" was dragged to the front for all to see. The four adventurers narrowed theirs eyes to inspect the unfortunate victim. A middle-aged human, probably a woodcutter by the looks of him, stumbled as the Malar clerics tugged on his bindings and brought him upon the makeshift stage.

"Infidel," the high priest began, sneering at the man, "you have been given the honor of being the prey for our next High Hunt. If you survive one full day and night on this festival, you shall earn your freedom and life." The captive snorted, knowing the unlikely chances of such a possibility.

"We need a distraction for a minute or two before the rest of us move in," Serosa'ruth growled, his painted eyebrows furrowing in anger. Faelar jumped onto the ledge, crouching down on his legs.

"Already done, boss. I can give you up to three minutes if needed." With that, the rogue sprung himself from the ledge, launching himself at a large statue of Malar's catlike beast form. He landed on its head silently, recovered his balance, then stood upright atop of the giant carving.

"OI!" He shouted above the chanting and the huntmaster's speech. A hush fell over the room as the Malarites and their prisoner looked up at him in surprise. Faelar crossed his arms, smirking, "And ya call yerselves 'unters. Whotcha need a simple woodsman fer? Aren't skilled enough to kill some real prey? I'm sure Malar's laughing at you blokes as we speak... assuming dis nutter even exists."

The huntmaster snarled ferally, pointing sharply at the young half-elf, "Kill him for his blasphemy!"

Saeola blinked rapidly at what had just happened. She quickly took an arrow and notched it, standing up from her crouched position. Is he crazy! She aimed the arrow at the high cleric, who had his head turned. She got a clear shot of the back of his head, muttering a small spell. She may not be skilled at magic, but she knew a few easy spells. Whatever could help her kill this guy, right? She released the arrow.

The huntmaster screeched in pain as the arrow literally exploded upon impact with his shoulder blade. His clergy turned back to him in fear. "Nevermind me! Get the damn half-elf! GET HIM!" He screamed, spitting blood.

Faelar laughed in what seemed to be genuine mirth as he easily dodged the rapid volley of arrows and bolts flying at him. He backflipped, pushing off his hand to put himself upright to evade an electric jolt spell. The spell left a small burn in the stone statue.

"Couldn't 'it da broad side of a red dragon, could ya?" He taunted in a singsong voice, elaborately leaping aside to avoid more projectiles, "I'm sure Malar's loving 'is faithful destroying 'is little kitten statue." The thief grinned, flinging his hand out in mid-leap. Three Malarites crumbled, daggers embedded in their eyes. "Hm... whaddya know, you guys are as dumb as you look."

Saeola wasn't sure if he was a secret genius or dumb as a rock. Either way, she hurriedly drew more arrows, aiming two at once now and muttering the same spell to both of them before she let them fly into the mob below.

Half a dozen Malarites fell to the ground seconds later, spewing blood. Those that remained snarled and began to transform, their clothing ripping as they grew snouts, claws, and tails as they took on their humanoid lycanthrope forms, most of them werewolves, and a few others wererats. Some began scaling the Malar statue to reach Faelar, while the others searched for the source of the enemy arrow volley.

"Hmph. They want lycanthropes, they'll get them." Ky'itae snorted, springing off the rock balcony, quickly shapeshifting in midair. By the time the elven woman had landed, she now held the form of a rather large brown wolf. Teeth bared and snarling, the lythari charged into the fray, clawing and tearing. Serosa'ruth followed soon after, his longswords swinging dangerously the moment his feet hit the ground.

Saeola remained on her perch, however, and continued to attack with her spell-casted arrows, drawing them and releasing them with great speed.

The huntmaster had long since yanked the arrow remains from his back and healed the wound with a quick spell. Glowering at the chaos, he grabbed the prisoner and retreated into the relative safety of the shadows.

Faelar, still atop the statue, chuckled at the climbing were-creatures. "Now, dat ain't very smart, is it?" He asked them, leaning over to look. "I mean, just one li'l push..." He clapped his hands together loudly and pushed them wide apart, a strong burst of sonic energy blasted from his hands, knocking down the Malarites and sending them plummeting towards the ground, "...an' down ya go." Those close enough to the Sound Burst spell, but not on the statue, howled in pain as the loud burst stung their ears, causing temporarily deafness.

Saeola noticed this and quickly drew arrows, casting her spell on them and firing them quickly at the stunned creatures. Unfortunately, she forgot about the ones climbing up to reach her until she felt claws dig into her ankle. "Damn!" She yelped in surprise, jabbing an arrow point into the creature's eye before kicking it hard in the face, throwing it back down. She backed away from the ledge with a half limp and drew more arrows, firing them and never missing a beat in her fighting.

The statue threat put to rest, Faelar flicked a few daggers at those climbing up towards Saeola before jumping down, bouncing off of the statue's nose, then arm, then leg before landing on the ground, his dagger and shortsword withdrawn. Gracefully dodging a swipe from a wererat, the half-elf sliced across the Malarite's arm with his sword. The creature scampered away in magically-induced fear, to which the thief grinned.

"Now ye see why I named dis guy 'Glorykiller.' Keep running like da scared rat dat ya are!" Kicking a werewolf in the snout, the rogue scanned the room. "Speaking of rats, best find da 'ead 'oncho." Slitting a nearby Malarite's throat, Faelar disappeared into the shadows, in pursuit of the huntmaster.

Serosa'ruth took brief notice of the thief's departure, carefully avoided the contagious bites of his enemy lycanthropes. The last thing he wanted was to become one of these monsters. Swinging his glowing blades, the druid decapitated a wererat and slit the throat of a werewolf in one stroke. He fought his way towards Ky'itae, helping her pick off the remaining Malarites.

Saeola fired a few more arrows to help Serosa'ruth and Ky'itae finish the remaining Malarites before she descended from her perch. She had lost sight of Faelar, but wasn't concerned. Given his skill, he could probably take the high priest on all by himself. She hurried over to where her other two companions were, drawing her sword just in case as the last few Malarites fell. "I think we got them all," She said, although it was completely unnecessary.

Serosa'ruth yanked his white blade from the last werewolf, swishing it to remove the blood before sheathing it. He nodded in acknowledgement to her statement while Ky'itae shifted back to her elven form.

- - -

Cursing, the huntmaster wove through the passageway, irritated at the lack of light in this lesser-used path. "I hate the dark." He grumbled.

"Fear not the dark, bloke," a heavily accented voice hissed behind him just before a sharp pain erupted in the evil human's skull, his limited vision blurring. His grip on the captive relaxed as he slumped to the floor. Faelar stepped out of the shadows, glaring at the dead Malarite, his dagger, Quickdeath, dripping crimson. "...But dat which lurks within it." He twirled his dagger and turned to the woodcutter.

"'Ow're you, mate? 'E didun 'urt you, did 'e?" The rogue asked, a slight tone of mirth sprinkling his concern. The bearded man slowly shook his head.

"No... I'm fine..."

"Good!" Faelar smiled, clapping his hands before swiping Quickdeath through the rope bindings, "There, tha's better, izzinit? C'mon, let's get ya to me companions. I'm sure they're finished by now. We kin get you home safely, my friend."

"Many thanks..." the man mumbled, still dazed from the day's insane ordeals. Faelar clapped a hand on the man's back and led him back to the others.

Saeola glanced around at the mess, not really looking for anything. Her eyes stopped when she noticed Faelar and the captured woodsman emerge. She turned around to face them and met them halfway, sword hung loosely at her side. "Well, now that he's safe what do you say we amscray?"

"Not until we get something fer dat ankle, dove." Faelar retorted, pointing at her still-bleeding ankle. "I sure 'ope those are from claws, not teeth. Otherwise we'd betta find a belldonna fast."

Saeola glanced at her ankle, crimson crisscrossing down her heel from the deep gashes. She shrugged. "Don't worry, they were just claws. I'll be fine."

"Still, yer limping. A dove wit a mangled wing cannot fly well, if at all." Faelar nodded sagely, turning his head to Serosa'ruth, "So, boss... know any decent 'ealing spells?" The druid approached Saeola, inspecting the ranger's ankle. He stroked his chin and furrowed his eyebrows.

"None good enough to fully heal it, but..." He extended his gloved hand towards her bleeding ankle and began muttering in Druidic. The blood flow slowed, and the gashes shrank considerably until they were barely an inch long each. "That should still help. How's it feel, Saeola?"

Saeola smiled against the soothing feeling of the healing magic and worked her ankle a bit. Her cheeks were slightly flushed from Faelar's comment and she didn't understand why. "Yes, much better! Thanks. Sorry I was careless. I hope you didn't have to use too much energy."

Serosa'ruth smiled, though with his cloth mask it was hard to see. He shook his head, "No, that's probably only the second or third spell I've used today. Minor healing spells don't take much out of me. We'll get it properly wrapped once we're out of here. First, let's get... um..." He turned to the human woodcutter.

"Cemai." The dirty-blonde human answered.

"--Cemai, home." Serosa'ruth finished. "That is, assuming the Malarites didn't whisk you hundreds of miles away?"

"If we're still in the southern Nether Mountains, then we shouldn't be more than a few day's journey from my home." Cemai nodded, "Though, judging for the amount of time I felt like I was blindfolded and carried off, it's probably only a few hours away."

"Well, that's good." Ky'itae chuckled, "We are in the lower parts of the Nether Mountains. Perhaps you can guide us once we get outside, so... let's go, huh?" The moon elf motioned for Serosa'ruth to lead, to which the druid complied with a nod, Cemai and Faelar close behind him. Ky'itae waited until Saeola walked out, then fell into step with the ranger, close enough to talk in hushed tones.

"So..." the fighter elf glanced ahead, smirking slightly, "What's the status of Faelar in your eyes? Not bad in a fight, is he?"

Saeola gave Ky'itae a flat look at the question as she walked, occasionally limping to relieve the pressure from her injured ankle. "Sure he can fight, but that doesn't make up for how annoying he is," She muttered.

"Still, you have to admit, it's not boring with him here." The moon elf grinned.

"It's not worth it." Although honestly, that wasn't true at all for her. She wouldn't admit it, but it was nice to have another half-elf around. It made her feel less out of place.

Ky'itae paused a few moments as if deciding whether or not to vocalize what she wanted to say next. Finally, she decided to hells with it and whispered lowly with a snicker, "So, when's the wedding?"

Saeola choked on nothing and coughed, nearly tripping over her own feet. Luckily she managed to keep upright and she shot Ky'itae a steely glare. "That wasn't funny," She growled. Of all the people in the world to get stuck with... I get stuck with the Three Stooges of the universe.

Ky'itae smiled in elven playfulness, "I thought it was."

Saeola chose to say nothing in reply and took to glaring ahead of her, eyes focusing on no one or nothing in particular. ...And I've become the butt of their jokes, too.

Serosa'ruth led the small party in retracing their steps before finally reaching the opening he'd made many hours ago. Faelar and Cemai smiled widely at the glowing sunset.

"Good to be out in the open air again." Cemai sighed happily, Faelar nodding in agreement.

"Well, it's a few hours to the bottom if we walk, and there's really no good place to camp, so...got any flying or somesuch spells left, Faelar?"

"Sure, boss."

"Right, cast it, then. I'll meet you at the bottom." The druid pulled Ky'itae and Cemai close to him and levitated down the mountainside, keeping close to the rock in case his spell suddenly gave out. Faelar turned to Saeola, chuckling.

"I'm beginning to think 'e's doing dis on purpose. Well, time to go down, eh dove?"

Saeola sighed softly when the cool breeze of evening hit her face. She closed her eyes for a few seconds to relish it before her eyes opened in time to see the others float down the mountainside. She caught Faelar's comment. Of course he is. She thought dryly, glaring after the cloaked elf. She turned and took Faelar's arm without a word, shuffling close to him and bracing herself for the descent.

"'Old on tight, dove." With that, Faelar leapt off the mountainside, rocketing towards the ground, passing the trio within seconds and still picking up speed. The rogue laughed at the surge of adrenaline through his body as he and the ranger quickly zoomed in on the ground below, with no signs of slowing down.

Naturally, this caught Saeola completely off guard and she let out a cry of fear, throwing her arms around his neck as if that would somehow help. "What the hells are you doing!" She screamed at him.

The thief turned his head to face the ranger, grinning smugly. When they came within fifty feet of the earth, he simply snapped his fingers, slowing them down immensely, landing them safely and softly on the grassy ground a few moments later.

Saeola stumbled away from him, dazed and clutching her stomach that had done a flip-flop due to the abrupt halt. She then whirled around and swung her hand like she was going to slap him. Of course she knew she'd just miss, so it was a half-hearted attempt. "You trying to give me a bloody heart attack!"

Faelar crossed his arms, scrunching up his face in mock seriousness, "Ya know whot yer problem is, dove? Ya take things too seriously. C'mon, live a little! Life ain't worth living if ya let a stick remain rammed up yer arse all the time." His medium brown eyes twinkled in amusement.

Saeola glowered, hands clenched at her sides. "Shut it. I still have arrows left, you know." That wasn't even the point. It was one thing to 'live a little' and another to take a nose-dive off a cliffside to certain death clinging to an idiot. Well, at least to her.

"No, ya don't." Faelar pointed to her empty quiver, grinning impishly.

Saeola's eye twitched. "Then I have my sword. And even if I didn't, I'm sure I could find a good rock or some other object to cause you bodily harm."

"Wouldn't suggest it, dove. Objects flying at me 'ave a tendency ta bounce back." His dark lips cracked into a wider grin, his light teeth contrasting with his skin.

She crossed her arms over her chest." Very well. I'll kill you in your sleep." It was hard to tell if she was kidding or not.

The thief merely laughed, "Please, do try. I'd love a challange. Ya know, I do pity any poor sap dat tries ta break dis fiery personality of yours."

"Argh! That's it! You, go away, NOW! We're done with this rescue mission, you helped us out a lot, thanks, goodbye!"

"Last time I checked, dove, ya weren't da one in charge." Faelar pointed behind the ranger.

Saeola blinked and turned around to see the other members of their little group. She actually thought of asking Serosa'ruth to make the other half-elf leave before she remembered he, too, was out to get her and it would be a waste of a breath. No god watching out for me today, is there...? She thought dryly to herself. What the hells did I do to deserve this!

"Actually, I was going to offer our little prankster here to stay with us," Serosa'ruth stated simply, to neither half-elf's surprise, "That is, if he wants to. We could use your skills, Faelar." The thief hmmed to himself, tapping his earrings in thought.

"Well... eh, whot da 'ells? 'S not like I have anything important to attend to, an' travelin' in numbers is safer. So, sure, boss!" He grinned, giving the druid a thumbs-up while winking at Saeola.

Saeola muttered dark things under her breath, shooting the other half-elf a deadly glare when he winked at her. If she didn't kill him she would undoubtedly end up killing herself.

Serosa'ruth chuckled, turning to Cemai, "Do you recognize this area?" The human squinted at the quickly darkening area, then nodded slowly.

"We should be close to a path that leads through the woods and to my home. If you guys can give me a light source, I'll gladly show you to my cabin, where you can spend the night. We have a small spare room that can fit two of you, and we can make beds in the common area for the others."

Faelar plucked a rock from the ground, waved his hand around it while twirling his fingers. The rock began to emit a low white glow that expanded in all directions within five feet of it. "Dis work, mate?"

"Oh, yes, very much, thank you." The woodcutter took the rock from Faelar and used it as his guiding light as he ventured off into the forest, the adventurers close behind.