He stood on a hill south of Briargate, overlooking the very tiny settlement. A place for hunters and fur traders to gather, nothing more. A place situated so far from civilization was fit for only the hardiest of people, people strong of will and arm.

There was no moon or stars this night, they kept hidden behind the thick blanket of cloud cover. There was no light other those lanterns in Briargate. There was only darkness.

The city had gotten it's name because of the odd black colored thorns that covered its low wooden walls, thorns that carried a poisonous tip, a toxin that could paralyze full grown bear.

Slowly his head swiveled to the left, then the right. Several hundred feet from the towns perimeter, outside of a humans vision in the darkness this night, stood wicked looking creatures. They resembled man in only that they walked on two legs, there skin was the color of blood, skin that looked more like hard plate mail then actual skin.

Like the cloaked figure on the hill they could see in the darkness like a human saw in the sun. But unlike him their mouths hung open with long snake like tongues hanging out to the side which made them appear rather unintelligent. However, their tactics would proved otherwise.

They stood as seven groups with three in each group, spread out evenly on the south side of Briargates walls, each of them waiting for the figure on the hill to give the signal.

The cloaked figure stood at an even five and a half feet tall, wore a fine looking black cloak that carried deep purple embroidery around the edges and matching gloves. He waited, waiting until he could see the guards begin to get bored and let their vigilance relax.

The town itself hadn't suffered any attacks from anything over the past month, the men were finding prey closer and closer to their small settlement. A blessing to the gods they called it for their good fortune. The cloaked man cracked a smile at the thought of being called a god..

"Not yet." He whispered, and with the slightest twitch of both hands the demonic looking beasts began their slow and stealthy approach forward.

Wings of the most vibrant light allowed a particular street of Briargate to appear almost cozy, as a large, behemoth of a woman took an evening stroll; her body was almost completely covered in white, the only exception being the occasional streak of obsidian or gold, and the amber pools that were her eyes. She had not been in the city long, having only arrived a few days ago, but she had been offered a temporary place to live, after it had become apparent that her profession, if not her obsession, was to heal the mortal races of Utopia. Indeed, she was almost too happy to accept the task and the chance to do some good. And good she did, as the majority of the plague victims were already well on their way to recovery.

Within a few days, after everyone has recovered, the large woman, standing almost 6’3”, would depart from the city, leaving them a handful of awe inspiring stories, and maybe a few legends. Likewise, they would be no poorer than when she had arrived, as she would accept no rewards for her deeds. This was how she operated and this was what she got the most joy out of life from, it was why she chose to leave her homeland, in spite of her people’s suffocating laws and traditions. There was folly in remaining amongst a group of immortals, learning to be a healer, but having no one to heal. If they could not see that, then they were blind, as far as she was concerned.

The woman sighed as the wind picked up, her white robes billowing in the wind slightly, as the wings of light, which seemed to statically form around her shoulders, wavered, dimming just a bit, and then picking back up.

“Feels weird,” the woman said as she looked out towards the night sky. “Tonight.”

She had picked up common pretty easily, there was only a slight hint of accent in her words, but there weren’t many around to actually hear her speak. In fact, there weren’t many who’d find themselves in her company, ever. She was an imposing woman, standing much taller than the normal races of Utopia, and she had an obvious Elvish look about her. However similar to the Elves she was, there were also some key differences. Her ears were much longer, pointed, though they may be, they extended a good few inches outwards, pierced with several loops, and had a faded purple as a skin-tone. In fact, most of her body was a tone of purple, her hair, however; was a flawless white.

The woman lazily propped herself up, using a large staff, her eyes locking upon the emerald that forever floated within the triangular design of the staff’s top.

Something felt weird about tonight, she thought as her free hand pulled her robe's hood over her head, and then lifted an obsidian fabric from her neck. The fabric would be pulled up towards the bridge of her nose, keeping her face hidden. It would be at this point that she resumed her stroll.

He travelled nearly three thousand miles and had more than a few stories to tell. Istvan Baramescr now stood in the empty streets of the town alone, staring blankly at the wall. No one could tell what exactly he was thinking or doing for that matter. It wasn't long before what sounded like liquid hitting the side of a building seemed to echo around him. The drunken gypsy turned around, holding a half-full bottle of some sort of alcohol. The aroma in the air was not the smell of urine, but the smell of spilt alcohol.

Istvan stumbled once, then he regained his composure. Each stumble brought forth a riot of jingling bells, the bells and coins he wore at his waist jingled noisily as he found out that he wasn't the only one out this night.

Istvan was sorely disappointed. He had no idea what was being orchestrated outside of the town. He didn't seem to care too much, not yet anyway. He saw the figure of a tall..thing. Istvan seemed to waste no time in letting himself be known, not that the bells didn't give him away already.

"Good evenings.." He greeted the woman..elf..not elf..thing. "Welcomes to this town.." Istvan's grasp on the common language wasn't great at all.

The gypsy wore a heavy fur cloak which concealed most of his body with the exception of his youthful face and mass of curly dark brown hair.

"Wait..." He held up a finger, then took another swig of his alcohol. "Why does you come out in the dark?"

The streets of Briarthorn were all but empty, save for the few individuals walking home from the 'Flying Bard', the only tavern in the small settlement. Istvan was much like the other men of the village, drunk, though the majority of them preferred to be drunk inside surrounded by song and a seemingly unlimited supply of alcohol.

Just as Istvan held up a single finger, as if on cue, a blood curdling scream ripped through the night air, soon followed by another and then another. The poisoned thorns, the towns natural defense, had no effect on the demonic creatures. A man landed in a bloody heap between Istvan and Eriu , his throat torn out, and already quite dead.

Similar scenes played across the southern end of the town. Roughly ten feet above Istvan, and an equal distance to his left was one of the fourteen evenly placed guard tower, which were little more then shacks the guards could sit comfortably in. In that tower, where the corpse had come from, stood the demonic creatures that had been so stealthy before, three of them, and each leveled it's red glowing eyes on the next victim, the closest victim, Istvan.

---

As drunk as they were the screams that echoed through the town and likely the forest beyond it were enough to sober anyone up. To their credit the townspeople were fairly quick to respond, some coming out of the 'Flying Bard' weapons already drawn, some out of their houses and many more, the towns women and children, began their run towards the tavern which was easily the largest and sturdiest building in the vicinity.

It wouldn't take long for the other demonic creatures to begin their course through the town, each staying in it's group of three as they moved with a tactical grace towards their predetermined destination, the tavern.

The woman stopped walking as someone seemed to approach her, someone with the stench of alcohol, and apparently the stupor to match. She sighed, shaking her head. She would never be able to understand why the mortal races were so quick to poison their minds and bodies, with little to no regard, but it wasn’t her place to correct them. Still, with her face hidden, her expression twisted to disgust from behind the cloth as she looked towards the man.

“Are you talking to me, human?”

Amber eyes locked onto Istvan for only a second, as a scream erupted through the night, cutting her off entirely and pushing her into full alarm.

Stepping back, the woman noticed the falling body just as it hit the ground, and her eyes instinctively moved towards it, her brow furrowing, and her legs giving way to movement. In fact, she was almost a blur as she closed the distance between her and the corpse, hell; she ignored Istvan for a few moments--who was still living and quite possibly in trouble.

Laying her staff to the side, the woman firmly placed her hands atop the bloody corpse of what may have once been a guard, and she prayed.. Not many healers could undo the damage that was done to this man, not many healers would have even tried, or even think of touching the mess. But she did. That was who she was and her faith could very well pay off, as a potent energy begin to move from her body, along her arms, and rest atop the bloody mess of the human.

The very second the woman had placed her hand atop the guard, both of them would be wrapped in a shroud of light, it wasn’t too bright, but it was strong. Muscles would be repaired, as bone and flesh were re-knitted, and the body itself was purified. She called to the man’s soul, which, if she were lucky, had not yet departed towards purgatory, heaven, or hell. If it hadn’t, he could be resurrected, easily. If this was not possible, well; then he would simply look presentable for his funeral. It was a win either way, as far as she was concerned.

Still kneeling in front of the fallen human, the woman would turn her attention towards Istvan, catching sight of what was heading his way, but she couldn’t quite voice it … It wasn’t weakness on her part, she was just too late, the thing would already be closing in by the time she finished trying to resurrect the fallen guard.

“L-look--”--

The moment he held up his finger, the timing was impecible. He was surprised by a body seeming to fall from the sky with his throat ripped out. Not only that, but the man was screaming, a true testiment to his spirit, Istvan guessed.

"Lady, I'm not humans." He moved his hair so that a pair of horns became apparent, then moved his hair once more so that his smaller pointed ears could be seen. His speech was slurred making his accent incomprehensible. He stumbled forward, looking up at the guard tower. "Uh ohs.."

He looked like dinner to them. Istvan didn't like that as he stumbled, then disappeared. Calling him human? She wouldn't make that mistake again..

One of the three demons leaped out towards Istvan, it's razor claws the size of daggers, it reached out a lone sinewy arm to hit....air. It landed right where the man had been, confused and showing it's intelligence the thing looked between it's legs then inhaled a large portion of air through its nose.

The other two dropped from the tower, landing with a cat like grace on two feet. Both of them leveled their eyes on the women, who at this time would have just finished working on the human, then at one another. Both opened their mouths impossibly wide, letting out an ear deafening scream, a sonic attack that could deafen and make ears bleed.

Along with the deafening sound they produced each shot forth a tiny black dart from their mouths. If it hit Eriu would find that each dart was tipped with poison, non-lethal, but an individual dart would be strong to easily put a full grown man into a deep sleep.

-------

The town proved to be in no better situation, the inhabitants stayed near the 'Flying Bard' though they showed no fear. No...a strange noise echoed from the confines of the building, strange for the current situation at least.

A child looking figure, no larger then three feet came walking out the front door of the tavern. He carried a stringed wooden instrument in both hands, plucking at its strings very calming yet bolstering music rolled out across the town, anyone capable to hear it would find themselves, if they allowed it, filled with a courage and a calmness that only seasoned warrior could find in the heat of battle.

The small 'child' was actually the owner of the 'Flying Bard' and a gnome of some reputation in a distant land. He played his instrument and began to bark out orders to the men around him, trying to get some semblance of order among the chaos.

“You, you coward.”

The woman’s voice seemed absent of surprise, she had never intended to rely on Istvan, the vanishing man, and indeed; she immediately shielded herself with a barrier the moment the beast’s sonic scream hit her. She had faced many monsters before, a seasoned adventurer eventually learned, if he or she survived long enough, to defend themselves, rather than give into disorienting effects. Although the sonic scream had hit her, her prioritizing the barrier was enough to deflect the oncoming darts upon impact, and her bleeding ears were taken care with but a gesture.

“My,” she pursed her lips for a moment. “You are some odd creatures, aren’t you?”

The woman was calm and although curiosity was displayed, she did not care for the things that were attacking her, and quite possibly killing townsfolk. Still, she did not let her feelings towards the situation get the better of her; she did not go into a rage, sacrificing her ability to heal, for the ability to kill. But that did not mean she could not attack, not in the least, actually; she stood from her kneeling position and clasped her hands together.

These creatures had bitten off more than they could chew when they picked Eriu as their next target, she was a healer first, her skill set was specifically designed to allow her to mitigate damage, and to outlast her opponent. Despite that, she also had access to offensive spells, they weren’t all that great, not yet, anyways, but they could be … If she were in the right mood for it.

The woman smiled from underneath the fabric that obscured her face from sight, a glow forming between her hands, as they were separated with great effort, pushed back together, and separated again. Over and over, would she repeat this, without saying so much as a word, in fact; this was all she did, nothing else would accompany this pattern. She was obviously casting some sort of spell, which was the only explanation for her actions.

Istvan returned only a few moments later, missing the whole ambush on him narrowly. He reappeared behind the elf chick holding a shield, a sword and a wish that he was deaf, which didn't seem to matter at this point. He was drunken almost to the point of being numb. He counted six of them, though he was also seeing double and occasionally triple.

"If yous haves some spellsh..I can makes dem better." But he was behind the woman, who was behind the barrier. His own blood ran down the sides of his head and he found himself pausing to put the shield down to smack at himself like he was being swarmed by flies. "Or I can trow you, but you'd probably lose your skin.." Istvan would be yelling, as he couldn't control to volume of the voice without himself being able to hear himself speaking.

Strangely, Istvan was a more efficient fighter when he was drunk. But he trusted in the fact that the elf woman wouldn't know. He caught himself once more from falling and turned around to check behind him. Istvan was still even acting like he could hear.

The demonic creatures, all three at this point , the third finally smelling its target on the other side of Eriu, leveled their gaze on the two of them. The things really didn't register what was going on, they had their orders and right now the orders weren't being completed. This was a problem.

The three dashed forward at the same time, of course the middle one ran smack dab into the shield. A blow that would cause it to reel backwards and take a moment to gain it's bearings.

The other two however would dash around and reach out with there wicked looking, equally poisoned claws, and attempt to render the women out cold. They paid no mind to Istvan, seeing as the women was th closer target they also paid no mind to the gentlemen Airu had healed moments ago. It seemed the healing had paid off, the man slowly opened his eyes and he looked to the creatures around him. He didn't give anyother indication he was alrighter other then that and that he tightened the grip on his sword, ready to act when the right opportunity presented itself.

“Tsk.”

As the second attack occurred, the creatures would again meet with the woman’s barrier, their attacks deflecting, but the barrier collapsing upon itself. Her barrier was strong and a formidable defense, but it had its own flaws--it could only take a limited amount of damage and lasted only about a minute, a thirty second delay after the initial cast prevented her from casting it again, so if the barrier was used up, she’d have to wait out the remaining time.

“Diel,” she said, separating her hands from one another one last time, the glow remaining strong, potent, and her arms spreading as far and wide as possible before her back arched, her body dropping in a blur, and her hands being slammed against the ground with a sickening snap. “Al thus.”

Her words echoed, vibrated, twisting with an audible distortion and following her words would be a dome of light, growing in size quickly, and around her body. Upon contact with the creatures, this dome would deal them a considerable amount of pain, pain infused with righteous fury, but Istvan and the somewhat dazed soldier would feel a different sensation, they would perhaps feel better than they had in years, it had a healing effect on those who did not wish the woman any real harm.

But the woman did not stop with this dome, despite the potency in the attack, after being charged, she would commit herself to renewing the barrier, the shield that had faded after the second attack. Immediately after the barrier had been re-cast upon herself, she gestured towards the guard who had fallen to the ground, and Istvan; a shield would be placed on them, as well. Finally, the woman scanned the area, seeing if any creatures had survived, or attempted to dodge the holy nova that she had sought to slay them with--if they did, then she would deal with them in a more direct manner. Regardless, she would find a moment to comment on Istvan’s remark, earlier.

“Throw me? … If you touch me,” she said, keeping her voice as kind as possible. “I’ll put you through a world of pain. Now, are you going to help me, or are you going to stand there like our lives aren’t in danger?”

Shrugging, the woman touched a small trinket hanging from her belt, a surge of energy flowing through her body almost immediately after her hand left the thing, and following that she would gesture towards the ground at random, but at the location she pointed; shadows would converge and mass together, a growling hiss being issued occasionally. Despite this hiss, however; only a few splotches of red could really be seen from within the malformed entity that moved to its master side, still looking to be shrouded in darkness. It didn’t do much at this point and it wasn’t really a spell that the woman had cast nor had the trinket she touched called the thing, it served a purpose though, just not yet.

"Human," she said to the man on the ground. "I hope you can walk, we're going, now, and we're going fast. Where do the people gather during emergencies? We need to get there, we need to be there five minutes ago. Drunkard," she looked to Istvan, "can you fight? There'll be more, I'm willing to bet, and I can't keep up this pace by myself."

"Maybe you should talks in my good ear because alls I hear is ringings." He gestured to his right ear, which was bleeding. Then he gestured to his left ear, also bleeding. "Or yous can speak louder. Or uses sign language."

Istvan damn well knew what she was saying, as he could sort of read her lips and put two and two together. "Lady, if I trow you, you won't be in any conditions to put anyones into a world of pains."

He gestured as he was asked if he could fight. "I'm fine." He said, not really answering the question, seeming to have mistaken what she said for something else. With one hand on the shield, the other was bathed in a fast moving red aura, causing his hand to appear as though it were flickering.

The guard, terrified by what was going on, merely pointed in the direction of 'The Flying Bard'. He had yet to actually get up from his prone position, fear kept him down and unable to even complete a sentance. He had been dead after all, he could remember the things claws tearing into this throat.. he could remember being tossed from tower and now all of a sudden he was back. Fear and shock held him in place.

As the llight emitted by the barrier faded the demons could no longer be seen, there wasn't a corpse or so much as ash left on the ground. If Istvan or Airu knew anything of demons then it would be obvious the creatures had been banished back to their native plane, and weren't actually killed.

'The Flying Bard' was in rough shape, the men and those women brave enough to fight had taken up strategious positions around the building, all while being bolstered by the music still being played.

However, the demons had already dragged off a decent portion of the defenders. The tactic, as it would be simple to see, wasn't one to kill but to render the people helpless and then drag them off into the cover of night.

The woman rubbed her temples in thought, if this had been any other situation, she’d have left Istvan to fend for himself, but she had others to worry about. She was curious as to why he couldn’t hear, his ears should have been healed during her last spell, which meant he was either too drunk to notice, or he really did mean her harm. He did not want that, she didn’t care what he said, or how much stronger he thought he was. Regardless, now was not the time to fight amongst themselves, now was the time to help the people in need, specifically the people of this city, who were being attacked by demons, and Death knows what else.

“The flying bard,” she said, speaking to the guard, as she knelt down beside him, placing her hands on him once again, and whispering to herself. The man would feel a bit better, as though not only had he been healed, brought back from the brink of death, but also improved. It was a simple spell, one that strengthened a person and helped them regain their bearings, the effect would last about thirty minutes; before wearing off.

Finally, standing, the priest would offer the guard her hand, to help him on his feet, and get him going. He’d still feel a little wobbly, after all; he had just been resurrected and he didn’t seem all that experienced, either. Those she normally grouped with could stand right after the resurrection and fight, this man couldn’t, but she wouldn’t hold it against him.

“We’re going to the Flying Bard,” she instructed. “On your feet, man. You were trained for this,” her eyes darted to Istvan, she still wasn’t sure what to make of him, she didn’t trust him, that was for sure, but she was sure he could prove useful. Perhaps there was more behind the man than at first glance, she didn’t want to condemn him right away. “If you’re going to accompany us, make yourself useful and take point, I’ll guard the rear with,” she pointed towards the abomination she had summoned a few minutes ago, it had grown a few feet since then, however; and it scurried a bit closer to its master. “That.”

She didn't care if Istvan could only understand a portion of what she spoke or none of it at all, if he was smart, he may get at least his role right, if he wasn't ... She'd try to direct him to point and get him in the right direction, otherwise ... She'd have to restructure. It didn't matter, though--so long as they got to where they needed to be--it was all good.

The guard, after standing, would be positioned in the middle, since he was the most likely to hold them back, she didn’t want him in the front, or in the back. This allowed her to keep an eye on him and help him along the way, the man was incredibly lucky to even be alive.

“Whenever you’re ready, we’re taking off, there’s no reason to go slow, just try and stay together; the bard can’t be that far away, I hope.”

She spoke as though she were a natural leader, often enough she had lead parties of individuals in very similar situations, where hope seemed fleeting at best, and victory a long way off; she had conquered it all before and she would do so again.

"Let's go."

Istvan's eyes travelled towards the buildings lined the way to The Flying Bard. Immediately, his brain started working in the drunken haze. There could be a straight path, very illegal, but a very straight path that will take them there quickly. He was fairly sure that Eriu wouldn't want to go along with it, being a prude and all.

"I knows of a straight path that will take us there quickly. But..you's have to trust me enough. Hopefully, it will make it slightly more difficults for thems to follow us. I'll lead the way...oh..ands yous has to grab my hand." He added as though it were a second thought.

"Eithers that or you runs in the streets in the open?" Istvan gestured towards the houses. He was already moving towards one, holding his shield in front of him.

"Little shits..makings me wastes my alcohol." He muttered under his breath, as he began moving through the streets, not even bothering to see if Eriu had ever agreed to his plan.