Trent and Damir's Adventure

Trent awoke. He was looking up at the Sun overhead. He slowly sat up, feeling sluggish. Damir was standing nearby. The elf looked ashen and weak. He shivered, turning to see the werewolf awakening.

Both felt cold, despite the sunlight. Cold like the hand of death was upon them. They seemed to be alone in the clearing.

Trent felt very weak. Trent stayed down and let the sun's rays beat down him for a while. After a while Trent stood up and looked at Damir absentmindedly. "Well, how do you feel? It looks like we are in this together. Whatever 'this' is..."

Damir's muddled mind barely comprehended what Trent was saying to him. Funny. I thought it was joining up with you that got me INTO this. The elf rolled over so that he didn't swallow his own tongue and sat panting on the ground for awhile. He finally spoke. "I feel as though my very being has been ripped from my body. As if my soul has been torn to shreds and scattered to the winds. As if my flesh has been picked clean off my bones. As if...." The thief ran out of energy and fell silent again. He looked up at the wolfman with tired eyes. He must be dead. There was no other explanation. His life force had been drained by that demon wolf and now he was sitting in the fabled Xua-Pthi, land of the Qiduissh dead. But if that was true, why did this filthy mongrel follow him? Xua-Pthi's gates opened only for Mother's chosen. "Am I dead?"

Trent laughed in a tired, hollow voice. "I hope not. Because if you are it means either I'm dead, or I see ghosts. Neither of which I want right now." Trent lay back down with an exhausted sigh. "I guess you must have a lot of questions right now. Unfortunately, I don't have many answers for you."

Damir slowly rose to a sitting position and shrugged as best he could. "The only important questions I think I already have the answers to; except one. Where are we?"

"[I would give lot to know...]" Trent muttered under his breath. "Well, we won't find out through sitting here. I take it you trust me enough to join me?" Trent looked at Damir expectantly. "Niehl's treacherous acts surprised me just as much as you, probably moreso." Trent stood up and gazed around him.

The clearing seemed unchanged from the previous day. However, as Trent looked around, his eyes landed on something laying on the ground. It was his spear, the one that Niehl had taken.

Damir growled deep in his throat. "Don't be so sure. I trusted you once, and though it was not you who turned, you are still guilty by former association. What exactly is your connection to that Niehl creature? I'm not taking a further step in your company until I know for sure that you are not some hell-spawned beast as well."

Trent went over and retrieved his spear, happy to have a trustworthy weapon again. "Fair enough." Where to start? Trent mused. "My name is Trent Aekdin, which you may have gathered. My city was destroyed by the werewolf Bernuka, he's the one that appeared last night. Every single person in the city except me was killed. I had been injured in the destruction when I met up with Niehl. I trusted him because I thought he would get me to Bernuka so I could kill him. That's why I am not in league with them. My goal is to kill Bernuka." Trent looked away toward where his village had been standing only weeks ago. Is that all it's been? A few days? It feels like years... Trent turned back to Damir. "I know you probably have many doubts, but there really isn't any way I can prove myself to you. However, because it is partially my fault that this happened to you, I want to make it up to you. Unfortunately, I don't know anything about you either, so I'm not too inclined to help you unless I know more about you. All I know is you were in Bernuka's prison, which means you can't be all bad." Trent finished with a smirk. He unconsciously put his old spear away, leaving Gasder's spear as his favored weapon.

Damir hmphed. "You're right, you don't know anything about me other than my name. And you'll have to continue that way. I can't tell you about myself, to do so would be to betray a sacred trust. You have no reason to trust me, but I suppose we'll have to find a way, hm?" The elf thought for a moment. "Let's just agree to kill this Bernuka for the time being. I think we can both trust each other long enough for that." Trent regarded Damir for a minute while he made up his mind. oO Kill Bernuka? I... guess that's my goal. But how to go about it?Oo Trent nodded to show his assent. "Alright. So I guess we are allied against a common enemy. I still can't understand why he left us alive. It doesn't make any sense." Trent looked away in the direction of his city. "I know these areas fairly well; enough to get around at least. I was thinking of going to my city. I haven't seen it since it was attacked. You can follow me if you want, I'll probably go after Bernuka after I figure out a way to do it. If that's your goal as well I recommend we work together." Trent finished with a semi-grunt. "Better odds." Trent turned to the Shrine. "Before we go, I want to try to enter the Shrine once more." Trent walked over to the Shrine and once again tried to enter, hoping the result would be different from last night.

Trent approached the entrance to the cave with a sense of dread. As he drew near, the Spear of Gasder started to quiver. He realized that he had drawn it and held it out before him. As he reached out with the weapon, he felt definite resistance at the entrance to the Shrine. He reached out with his other hand, encountering the barrier. He was still barred.

The Hunt

Damir's ears fell. "Killing Bernuka was never a goal of mine. In fact, I'd never even heard of him until he was standing right before me. But, I am an elf. We live very long lives and we neither forgive nor forget slights against us. He stands as an obstacle to my greater quest, and therefore must be dealt with. I'll follow you to your town, but I'll not wait long until my vengeance must be released." The Qiduinn stood back and watched the wolfman fail again at entering the cave. What is it that he finds so interesting in there? The thief felt a hint of curiousity, but more important matters lay before him and he turned to leave. He silently hoped that speaking in such a barbaric tongue would not be necessary for long.

Trent gave up trying to get into the Shrine with a sigh and turned back to Damir. "It shouldn't take long when I reach my city. If you're ready, let's go." As Trent started walking toward his city, he couldn't help but wonder why he couldn't enter the Shrine. This doesn't make any sense... Am I not worthy enough to enter? Did Bernuka bar it? Whatever the reason is, I can't bother about it now. I'll have to worry about it later, after I kill Bernuka.

In their weakened states, Trent and Damir needed more than a full day to reach Falkonis. The forest seemed quiet and subdued, as if mindful of the tragedy that had occurred there. They arrived at the middle of the second day.

The trees shrouded the city, giving it the appearance of ancient, overgrown ruins. Entering the outer border, they were met with scorched and damaged buildings interspersed with untouched ones. There was no sound, except the muted footfalls that desecrated the sepulchre.

Trent felt tears well up in his eyes at the sight of his destroyed city. Walking through the city as if in a dream, Trent felt a vague emotional numbness come over him. After he had walked through the city for a while Trent could not take anymore. Trent fell to his knees and cried in great ragged sobs amidst the ruins that held so much meaning to him.

Damir could only watch Trent's emotion, feeling nothing but indifference. As he watched Trent break down, he too felt a peculiar numbness. It had been a foreign feeling two days prior, but he recognized it now for what it was. His senses were warning him that the creature was nearby.

Damir looked around Falkonis with a raised eyebrow. "So this is your home, eh? It's very.....um, destroyed." The elf saw that Trent was ignoring him and busied himself by stalking around the perimeter of a scorched building, sniffing around for any interesting scents. He muttered to himself. [....[expletive deleted] blasted wolves.....almost get me killed for a bunch of scorched rubble....see if I ever listen to YOU again.....] Trent's emotional turmoil went largely unnoted by the elf. This was obviously something he had to handle on his own. Besides, Damir didn't know the first thing about consoling someone. If it were him, he'd be hunting down the party responsible to exact the price in blood. In fact, that was what he was doing now! Why was he wasting his time with this? There weren't any humans anywhere near here! The thief's large ears suddenly perked up as a familiar tingling sensation rose up his spine before quickly turning into a sort of numbness. In his mind he saw an image of Nox swiftly flash. "Trent! Snap out of it, you cursed flea-bag! Your demon friend is coming and I'm NOT about to have my soul ripped out again because of you! Come on!" Damir took hold of Trent's arm and attempted to pull him to his feet. The elf's eyes scanned the area carefully for signs of movement: magical or otherwise.

Trent didn't respond for a second to Damir's warning. After Trent was able to control himself he looked up at Damir. "Demon-friend? You mean Nox?" Trent got up with a groan. "I think we should hide then. We couldn't hurt Nox before, so how could we now?" Trent looked around for any undestroyed buildings.

Damir grimaced. "Agreed. And I'm in no condition to fight at the moment anyhow. But I don't think hiding is going to stop him for very long. Did you see the way he used his dark magic to turn into air? We couldn't hide anywhere around here that he wouldn't find us easily. I say we.....run!" The elf stealthily crawled back for a moment, still sensing around for Nox's exact direction, before going into a full sprint away from the blackened town.

Damir ran away, hopefully escaping from the creature causing this sensation. He was unsure if Trent followed or not. He stopped short, half a minute later, realizing that he was still being watched. He turned all around, not seeing anything. The trees rustled around him, and he thought he sensed a movement to his left.

"Wait! Hold on!" Trent sighed as his cries went unheeded. After a second Trent ran after Damir, figuring they had a better chance of survival if they stayed together. As Trent ran he pulled out the Spear even though he hoped he wouldn't have to use it.

At Trent's arrival, the rustle to the left stopped. Damir's sensation that the creature was following intensified, however.

"Fan dantam kwe!" Damir spun around quickly, leaping away from the bushes to his left while noticing Trent's fast approach. The thief reached into a hidden pouch on the inside of his vest and pulled forth his blowgun. It was now evident that running would do no good. Loading a small dart into his weapon, Damir turned an eye to the wolfman. "Prepare yourself. The demon is almost upon us." As much as he didn't want to fight the monster, the elf couldn't think of any way they could escape it. Failure was certain, but at least he would die battling the forces of evil.

Damir and Trent sat and waited for Nox's arrival. Nothing happened. Trent looked around them, not really sure why Damir was so certain they'd been followed. He himself had an uncanny sense of when threats loomed, and he felt nothing. But the elf stood at alert, muscles tensed.

Damir smelled nothing, saw nothing, heard nothing. Still, he knew this cold meant something. Time passed, but the sensation did not lessen. He could almost see the thing through his mind's eye. Its refusal to attack began to wear on his nerves.

Trent began to get impatient. "Damir? Are you sure we were being chased? I can sense when I'm threatened as well, but I didn't feel a thing. Maybe it's just because we have been traveling and aren't in the best of health." Trent made himself look around for Nox yet again. "If we aren't going to be attacked, I suggest we go into the city. I know the city very well and I doubt it would be easy for Nox to find us in it. Plus, we will get some shelter." Trent took in a deep breath of the forest air he knew so well. "If you still think we are in danger however, than I'll trust you. My senses haven't been very trustworthy lately." Trent scowled, his thoughts turning to Niehl/Nox.

Damir's large ears stood straight up and strained to hear any slightest noise around him. After awhile he concluded that Nox had not yet found them. The thief nodded to Trent. "My danger sense is a bit more....special than yours, I'd imagine. I see things before they happen, not during. I get premonitions of things to come in the immediate future. THEREFORE, we can probably expect the demon to show up any time soon. If he hurry, we might still be able to take advantage of your home turf knowledge. Lead on." Damir stood ready to follow the wolfman, his weapon held at the ready.

They turned back towards Falkonis. Damir's sensation of being chased by Nox lessened after they had concluded their talk, but it began to strengthen once more as they drew nearer to Trent's abandoned city. The ground at the entrance to the city looked like it had been turned up after they left.

Trent cautiously approached the disturbed area. Scratched in the dirt were the words: "Leave Goranthor", in the human tongue. Damir had the feeling that the entity was in close proximity once again.

Trent stared at the words on the ground for a few minutes. Trent was starting to get scared. Wonderful. Nox is patrolling the city and wants us to leave. Why? Bemused by Nox's supposed behavior but not able to think of any theories Trent paused thinking about it until a later date. "So what now Damir? Do you still feel he is close by?"

Damir scanned the area yet again, knowing full well he wouldn't be able to find a visual trace of the creature, but feeling safer for the effort. He turned back to Trent and shrugged. "He's definitely here...somewhere. But I don't think he's interested in attacking us at the moment. That doesn't mean he won't, but he's giving us a choice first." The elf looked down at the message, thought for a moment, then shook his head. "To Mother with this! I came here to kill humans, not werewolves! I say we do what he says and leave. What good will it do to fight that thing? You can always return later if you like, but..." Damir looked around at the burned city. "I don't see why you would want to. What do you think? We might not have that much time left."

Trent gazed longingly at his city. He had really wished to be able to spend time in it, but now it looked like that wouldn't be possible. At least the damage to the city isn't as bad as I had previously thought... It looks like I'll have to give up the hunt for Bernuka for a while any way. Trent looked back to Damir. "Yeah. I think you're right. Neither of us can face Nox right now. I had wanted to go after Bernuka but it looks like that will have to wait. Since most of what happened to you here is my fault, I will help you as long as what you are doing is for a good cause. Plus there are a few people I need to look for outside of Goranther." Trent paused to think of Isianu and the others. Isianu would definately want to here some of the things I've found out. Trent started to walk back into the forest. "So, where do you want to go? I can show you the way in any direction for a while at least before my geographical knowledge ends."

Damir nodded his thanks. "Your help will be appreciated. Do you know where I may find the humans who pilot the large metal birds? I have some business with them."

Trent thought for a second. "Large metal birds? I don't know what those are..." Trent glanced at Damir quizzically for a second before continuing. "However, all of the humans live south of here on the main part of the continent. If we go south we will definately run into humans. I don't know if they will be the ones your looking for but..." Trent shrugged.

The thief paced back and forth for a moment, weighing his options and keeping a wary eye, and ear, out for Nox, before finally coming to a stop before Trent. His ears lay flat against his head. "Any human will do, I guess, for now. They breed like vermin, infesting Mother with their stinking presence! Where I find one, I'll likely find many others. Sooner or later, I'm bound to find the ones I'm looking for." Damir thought he heard a noise approaching from the left and quickly turned in that direction. When nothing emerged to greet him, the elf fingered his weapon and called to Trent. "Let's go."

Trent and Damir made their way slowly southward... unknowingly retracing Brand's path as he carried the sorely wounded Trent away from Falkonis just one week before. The sensation of Nox's presence never left Damir, and he began to grow accustomed to it. They reached the edge of the forest and Trent decided they should stay within the shelter of the trees... they would have to cross open terrain to continue and he deemed it unwise to continue and have to camp in the open.

They took turns on watch. The night was peaceful. Damir had the second watch, mindful that he could not really hear or see the creature in the night. As he stood watch, he found a himself grabbed and lifted without warning. A hand covered his mouth, preventing him from saying anything. A raspy voice sounded in his ear. "Keep the warlock away from me. I will do the rest, but you must stop the warlock. Do not tell the wolf." Trent stirred and Damir felt the presence retreat. He whirled, thinking he saw something meld into the shadows.

Trent sat up, panting... he'd had a nightmare. He rubbed his face with his paws. It seemed so real... Like always. Except this one was different. It had started out the same: the city was on fire, Trent was trying to escape, he saw everybody die, one by one. Now there was one more image. Trent saw Bernuka, standing in the midst of it all and laughing. Trent was trying to reach him but couldn't move. The last thing Trent remembered before he woke up was himself screaming 'why?'. How long will this last? I can't even sleep anymore... Trent stood up and went to Damir. "You might as well get some sleep. I can't sleep myself. I'll finish the watch for you."

Damir slowly turned from the shadows to look at Trent. Careful not to betray even the slightest hint that something was amiss, the elf nodded slightly and moved away. Whoever or whatever the speaker had been, he doubted it meant them harm. Otherwise, he wouldn't have had much time to think before being attacked from behind and Trent would possibly have woken up with a slit throat. No, it had said something about saving it from the warlock. The only warlock he knew of was Bernuka, so he had to assume the speaker was a friend, or at least in the same boat as them. Regardless, no more good would come from telling Trent about it until the time was right. The Qiduinn padded away from the wolfman. He found a soft patch of grass and, after circling the spot three times, lay down. Sleep was the furthest thing from the thief's mind, but somehow it managed to find him.

With the earliest light, Damir and Trent set off. Both of them felt a newfound sense of urgency. They needed to put as much distance between Goranthor and themselves as possible. They hastily crossed the open expanse, constantly feeling as though they were being chased. With relief, Trent saw the forest in the distance.

Inside the forest canopy, they stopped to rest for a moment. No sooner had they stopped then a howl echoed through the trees. Sensing danger, both came to full alert.

Trent perked up his furry ears as he heard a howl. Fearing the worst, Trent quickly scanned the forest and the area behind them. "Did you feel that Damir?" Trent continued to look for a second before he thought of something. He walked a few steps away from Damir and closed his eyes. Concentrate... on Nox... Trent brought forth Nox's image from the depths of his mind and focused all his willpower onto that image. He then whispered some Lupine. "[Falkonis.... bring me news of this being... show me where this traitor hides himself...]"

The werewolf image of Nox swam before Trent's eyes. For a moment, he felt dizzy and confused. He fell to his knees, his mind unable to focus. Then, in an instant, he saw the werewolf again and sensed its presence... very, very close. Even as he recovered, the large werewolf emerged from the forest.

"[We meet again,]" growled the werewolf. "[This time there's no door for you to cower behind.]" He drew his large broadsword. "[Now you're mine.]" From all around them came the sounds of movement between the trees.

Damir growled and his ears stood straight out behind his head. So the demon had finally made his move! Seeing that Nox was concentrating on Trent, the thief began to step back. He whispered encouraging words as he retreated. "Go on, Trent. Send him back to Mother! I'll be right behind you." WAY behind you! The elf suddenly heard the trees call out a warning of others on the way. The Qiduinn thanked the sentries and moved out into the forest to sneak up around Nox's back-up.

Leaving Trent behind, Damir attempted to flank their assailants. The maneuver was futile, though, as the ambush was already set. Just out of sight, an attacker was waiting. The waiting werewolf with a spear slapped him to the ground and raised the weapon for a killing blow. Then he stopped. The spear fell from his hand and a second later the wolf slumped to the ground as a black rift materialized. It shifted and shook, slowly dissolving, leaving a lean, tanned elf in its place. Damir was looking up at a perfect duplicate of himself. "Find the warlock," said the new Qiduinn, immediately disappearing back into the forest.

Damir leapt to his feet, muttering a Qidiish charm against evil spirits, and watched as his double disappeared into the forest. His soul had been stolen! The elf quickly moved his hands over his face to make sure he still had his own features and was only slightly relieved to find them intact. Oh Mother, what will I do now? A demon sorcerer has taken my skin for his own! Am I powerless to stop him, lest I slay myself? Gentle Nurturer, what should I do? When his goddess offered no answer to his prayers, the Qiduinn decided to take matters into his own hands. The thing had said 'find the warlock', and was exactly what he was going to do. It was merely choosing the greater of two evils to combat. He would come back later and take his soul back by force, if need be! Picking up the wolfman's dropped spear, Damir began crawling through the forest in search of Bernuka.

Following his instincts, Damir isolated the location of wolves by their stamping and howling. For being creatures of the night, they certainly announced their presence. He listened intently, moving slowly, leaving no sign or stir. Shouts of alarm and the noise of battle came to him from over his shoulder. His thoughts went to Trent. But he snapped back to his own predicament when more wolves came stumbling toward him from deeper in the forest. One wearing robes suddenly popped up in front of him. It gasped in surprise and stood frozen.

...

Trent stood, spear drawn, before the great werewolf he had met in Bernuka's Palace. To either side, he was flanked by more of Bernuka's brutes. "[Stand back,]" growled the lead to his fellows. "[There is no escape,]" he said to Trent. "[Prepare yourself.]"

Suddenly Damir leapt from the forest, striking at the back of one of the flanking wolves, felling him. The rest turned, surprised.

Trent glanced around at the werewolves surrounding him. Growling, Trent turned to charge the large wolf who he had fought before before he was brought down but stopped when he saw Damir's savage attack on one of the guards. Trent bared his teeth in a smile. "[Me escaping is the least of your worries, scum!]" Calling forth his magical energy, Trent brought his hand up and pointed toward the wolf. "[Let's see how well you fight this off.]"

The sword swinging werewolf charged as the others dealt with Damir. His blade swept wide.

Trent summoned a windstorm, but the effect was much weaker than he had hoped due to his previous drain. The wolf laughed as the winds whipped around him. Trent groaned when he saw the weakness of his magic. He then took out the Spear and slowly backed away from the wolf, holding the Spear up in a defensive position.

The Massive werewolf struck first. His mighty swing nearly felled Trent before he could even react.

Trent summoned forth what magical energies he could, healing himself.

Trent's foe struck again, slashing the dragoon across the breast plate and succeeding in digging a small wound across his side.

Staggering, weak, Trent valiantly attempted a counter attack, but his spear found only air.

Laughing, the wolf struck in a wild, powerful maneuver, clearly intending to split Trent in two. The attack just grazed the lighter wolf's head but did not find its home.

Trent drove the Spear of Gasder into his enemies' now exposed side, ramming it deep. The werewolf gasped with shock, pulling himself off the shaft and clutching the wound. Magically, Trents own wounds began to knit themselves.

The werewolf recoiled from Trent. "Orion!" he shouted. "Orion!" He backed away, sword held at the defensive.

Emboldened, Trent advanced, slashing his spear downward to finish the job he had begun. The only partly distracted werewolf parried the jab.

The mighty swordmaster screamed "Orion" and retreated back into the woods.

Trent panted. That odd feeling since he'd been attacked by Nox notwithstanding, he'd never felt so invigorated. Damir had easily finished the rest of the werewolves. "Well, Trent, let's not let them get away... We should kill Captain Bale while we have the chance."

Trent gazed at the Spear in wonder, then at Damir. He didn't know what kind of power the Spear possessed, but he had never felt better. "Yes, you're right. Let's go." With that Trent dashed off after the fleeing wolf. As he ran, something struck Trent as odd. How did he know that the wolf's name was Captain Bale? I didn't even know it... And how did he fell the other wolves? He is only a small elf with no discernable weapons... Something's not right. Trent made no outward sign of his thoughts while he ran except to keep his eye on Damir.

...

Seeing the werewolf clade in robes appear before him, Damir knew that he had found this warparty's warlock without much effort. Were they that sure that he and Trent would go down so easily? They'd soon learn of their grievous mistake. Crying out a Qiddish warcry, Damir lept in the air towards the figure in front of him, spear aimed directly at the creature's unprotected throat.

Damir thrust his spear at the surprised warlock but missed. The warlock ducked back, growling in surprise. Damir raised the spear for another attack. As he rushed forward, the wolf he knew as Nox ran right past him. He turned, surprised. Now he had two targets... they seemed to be going in the same direction. As he reoriented himself to deal with this new information, Trent burst out of the woods, hotly pursuing.

Trent glanced at Damir, then turned to look to his side, his eyes widening. He was sure Damir had just been following to his right, and now the elf was standing with a spear at the ready to his left. The two just looked at each other.

Trent gave Damir a confused look, glancing over his shoulder to look where Damir had just been. How did he...? What is going on? Before Trent could ask Damir any questions however, Damir gave chase to the werewolf he had been following. Trent ran after him.

Damir waved a greeting to Trent before turning back to his prey. Taking aim at the fleeing warlock, the thief threw the spear foward in an attempt to impale him from behind. Immediately after the throw, Damir took out his blowgun and began firing at the robed wolf. There was no way he was going to let the shaman get away.

The spear flew through the air, going wide as the werewolf disappeared into the trees. Damir and Trent gave chase, leaping past tangling vines and suddenly finding themselves looking at an assembly of robed werewolves. A tall one, in black robes and wearing a metal band at his brow, was flanked by two in white robes. One of them was panting and Damir took him for the one he had almost speared. Clutching a bleeding wound, the immense armored werewolf stood away and behind them.

"[Or-Orion,]" gasped the large lupine. "[Trent is Nox... he drained me.]"

The lead warlock sneered... "[We'll see about that.]" He held a white rod before him and before Trent or Damir could react, he advanced, tapping Trent soundly with it. Trent felt strength return as his wounds knit further. The warlock growled, rolling his eyes. "[Not him, fool. You were just bested by the better wolf.]" He winked at Trent. "Now, how about your pointy-eared little friend?"

Trent stopped, only lightly panting from his renewed energy and took in the sight before him. As the group made no immediate attack on him, Trent held Gasder's Spear loosely, with the butt on the ground. Trent listened to their conversation with interest. Who is this Orion? He must be of some importance... Trent heard Bale's remark about himself. Is that what I did? Drain him? Trent scrutinized his new weapon again, surprised at the strange side effects it had.

Confused by this whole mess even though some things were getting clearer, Trent said, "[Of course I'm not Nox. Neither is he.]" Trent pointed at Damir. "[Now what is going on here? Are you fighting me or Nox?]" Trent shifted his eyes from Orion to Bale and kept his paw on Gasder's Spear just in case they did decide to attack him.

Seeing their obvious confusion, Orion smirked. Then he lunged at Damir, striking him with the rod. Some of the elf's weakness passed. The warlock growled...

Trent growled at Orion. "[Now that you have had your fun, would you mind telling us whose side you are on, if any?]"

Orion turned his back on Trent, walking away slowly. "[Well, Bale, you were to deliver these two, I believe. My quarry is near, but he is intelligent enough to stay away from me.]" He summoned the other two warlocks and started to leave.

"[Y-you're leaving me,]" gasped Bale, his side still oozing crimson. He turned, casting his fierce gaze upon Trent. "[Orion, he really is a demon... You have to help me.]"

"[I'm sure he is... Happy hunting, Bale.]" The warlock and his allies slowly walked into the forest, leaving Bale, Trent, and Damir watching their retreating backs.

Damir cursed. He had been tricked yet again! The demon that had stolen his soul and instructed him to kill the warlock had been none other than Nox! And to think he had almost done exactly as the beast had wanted! The thief turned to Trent and the armored wolfman. "Have you seen...er, me somewhere around here? That demon Nox has stolen my image. I must recover my soul before it is forever tainted by that thing's evil!"

Trent kept Gasder's Spear trained on Bale in case he decided to try anything. "Yes, in fact. I recall you leaping out of the forest and brutally attacking some wolves. I thought it strange considering how strong they must have been for you to so easily beat them. Also, you used Bale's name when before you thought he was Nox." Here Trent pointed at Bale. "It will be hard for those warlocks to find Nox since he can change into any form he wants... I think we should deal with this one first."

Trent motioned for Damir to circle around Bale and then put his gaze back onto Bale. "[What are you going to do now, Bale? It is not my practice to kill my enemies when it is not needed, but if you wish to continue this, I can make an exception.]" Trent slowly walked over to within a few feet and leveled Gasder's Spear toward him. "[You caught me by surprise back in the palace, and truth be told you are very skilled with a sword, but you can't win now. So what will it be?]"

Bale glowered, but his ears drooped. He backed away hastily as Trent came closer. He spoke in crude human, "I'm not afraid of you, but I can smell the demon-stink. Bernuka would not have me die fighting a demon and its ilk. Not when I can always take my revenge another day. Your demon won't be around forever..." He growled at Damir and hurriedly turned to run into the forest.

Damir did as Trent motioned and got behind the wolf befor it could limp away. He swooped down to pick up the thrown spear while he was passing. He didn't know what the lupines were saying to each other, but he knew that the warlock's stick had healed most of his wounds. That made taking sides quite a bit easier. The elf growled back at being called a demon. [I'm not the demon here, you are! And I'll not have you crawling back to your dark master, beast!] The thief lunged at the wounded wolfman with his spear.

Damir proved to be just faster than the retreating Bale... but the spear thrust missed as the wolf expertly dodged the clumsy manuever.

"I thought as much," he growled at Damir, drawing his blade and slashing the elf cleanly across the exposed chest.

Trent sighed as Bale turned and ran. Another lupine completely devoted to Bernuka. What a waste. How many others follow Bernuka blindly? Am I the only one that opposes him? Trent was surprised when Damir went to attack Bale. I hadn't figured the elf was this determined... interesting. Trent figured it didn't really matter if Bale reached Bernuka or not. He knew Bernuka would figure out the outcome of the skirmish easily enough without Bale informing him. He couldn't blame Damir though, since Bale had tried to kill them. Trent cursed as he saw Damir get hit. "Damir! Stay back!" Trent drew his spear and got into a guard position. "[I was going to let you go, but now I guess I must finish this, for better or worse. Falkonis, I beseech you to give me strength to end this now.]"

Damir grunted as the blade drew blood. He snarled in return, dropping the spear in favor of the more familiar blowgun. The thief jumped away from the combat-ready wolf and fired a dart, hoping to catch him in an unarmored part.

Bale swung his sword in a shower of blue sparks, taking the advancing Trent and the retreating Damir both in a sudden flash of spinning steel.

Damir dodged back, wounded again... he fired a dart from his blowgun, but it bounced off of Bale's armor harmlessly.

Trent summoned the forces of wind and sent them shrieking over Bale. The forces of magic within him surged, and the slicing winds went wild, engulfing everyone.

Bale eyed Trent's weaving spear, then charged the retreating Damir, successfully maneuvering to keep either of them from flanking him. The thrust blade bit deep, drawing another gory wound in Damir's chest. As Damir's strength flagged, the werewolf kicked his feet out from under him and sent the elf to the dirt. "[This is between you and me,"] he growled at Trent, turning his back on the fallen elf.

Damir wheezed, struggling to breathe. He could barely lift his head, but he knew he had to get up.

Trent whipped his spear forward, nicking Bale's arm.

After his previous feint, Trent tried another thrust... he only succeeded in nicking Bale's other arm.

Bale lifted his blade high, and leapt upon Trent, the blade trailing blue sparks. The attack staggered the Dragoon, but he recovered, preparing for the next attack.

Damir stood shakily and fired three darts at Bale, aiming for the neck and using his last reserves of strength.

Bale laughed as he hewed Trent again, the sword gouging deep and drawing a gasp from him. The events of the fight at the palace replayed themselves before Trent's eyes as he reached down to his side and felt blood pour into his hand.

Trent braced Gasder's Spear and charged Bale, intent on going down fighting. The Spear moaned like it was alive as white tendrils unexpectedly emerged from it. Bale opened his mouth silently as the Spear punched through his chest plate, his chest, and out his back, the momentum carrying him with Trent until all three encountered a tree. The giant wolf twitched, dangling from the tree where the Spear held him fast. As the tendrils floated down the shaft to Trent's hand, the Spear began to change, taking on the color and texture of bone. Trent was powerless to remove his hand as the unholy mist engulfed him. It flowed painfully into his eyes, then his nose and throat, then it was gone. He staggered away from the hanging corpse of Bale. Bringing himself to look again, he saw that the spear was gone, leaving the late captain in a heap on the ground. He thought he had dropped the spear, but found it still at his side.

Trent gasped and fell to the ground, taking in deep breaths of good, clean forest air. The mist that came from Gasder's Spear had felt very... unclean. Even though Trent's grevious wounds were rapidly healing due to his last attack, Trent thought he could still feel himself losing blood. Taking a look at his side, Trent saw that the gash was fast healing, even though the wound quite possibly could have killed him.

Standing up slowly, Trent cautiously picked up Gasder's Spear and studied it, not sure what it was. It felt different now, almost grainy like, and it was now a whitish gray as well. Not sure what the change portended, Trent carefully stowed the Spear away.

Trent went to search Bale's body for anything useful when he suddenly remembered Damir. Leaving Bale for now Trent went over to Damir as quickly as he could. Trent took one look at Damir's many wounds and wondered if he would be able to save him. "Stay still Damir." Trent offered a silent prayer to Falkonis, then put his paws up and willed the energy of healing to come forth. Trent reached down to touch Damir, preparing to heal him, when he felt the elf's weak life force pulse. He had the urge to allow it to flow into him, but pulled his hand back. He almost thought he could see the mist flowing from the elf and hear hideous laughter, but it passed. He completed the words of the magic, showering Damir with the light of healing.

Trent fell back from Damir and sat down some feet from him. What is happening to me? How could I even think of draining Damir's life? His ears drooping, Trent fervently prayed to Falkonis to help him remain sane. "[I serve you Falkonis and as such I guard holiness and fight evil. But I feel... strange. I feel like I'm changing into something or someone else...]" Trent's paws were shaking slightly as he got up and went over to Bale, taking only the shield and half of the gp. Trent walked back over to Damir, not trusting himself to touch him. "How are you feeling?"

Damir unsteadily rose to a sitting position, his hand covering the bloody wound where Bale had struck him down. [By Mother I've got to learn how to dodge a blade!] The thief looked at his companion and gave a nod of thanks. "Ugh...Would feel better if I wasn't bleeding all over Mother." The elf raised his hand and snuck a peek at the hole. He quickly replaced it after an ill look. "Well, it was a difficult battle, but the demon is dead. Congratulations on your victory. Sorry to have...er, gotten you into that mess. But I couldn't very well let him go!" The thief groaned again as a stab of pain hit from his stomach. "Give me a few more minutes, then I'll be ready to travel." Damir searched his brain for memories of the lessons his Shaman Elders had taught him about the ways of healing. Every Qiduinn was versed in the ways of mending wounds, it was a part of their tribal heritage, but Damir had never been what you would call an attentive pupil. Still, it was worth a shot. Couldn't hurt to attempt it, could it?

Damir rose shakily to his feet and glanced around. His keen thief's eye caught the glint of gold against the dead wolfman's body. Walking slowly over, the elf turned and raised his eyebrows at Trent. "Hey, mind if I......?" Without waiting for an answer, the Qiduinn reached down and swiftly pocketed 100 gp as well as a soiled bandana. The bandana he tied and used as a bandage against his wound. He tended his injury and bandaged it well enough. The wound was very deep and he was unfamiliar with any remedies or local plants that might have helped. He simply hoped that his weakness would pass and the wound would heal naturally. After he was done, Damir approached Trent and smiled. "Ok, I think I'm ready to go now. Where ARE we going?"

Trent watched Damir without commentating as he took what he wanted from Bale's body. Putting his face in his paws, Trent pulled himself together. "South. That's where all the humans are. I had planned on taking you there and then coming back to Goranther, but now I think it's better if I leave for a while. It is apparent that there is a lot of strange things going on here, besides Bernuka... Don't worry about it. I would have had to face him sooner or later." Trent let his gaze wander through the forest surrounding them as he contemplated the recent events.

"Well, let's go."

Damir nodded. "It's hard leaving home, even if you know you must. Before we travel to human lands, do you know of any places we may stop halfway? I'm still not in the condition I wish to be when I first lay eyes upon a human."

Trent thought for a moment. "Well, even if we do head straight south, we probably won't meet many humans if any at all for at least a day or two. I don't know of any 'places' to stop, but I'm sure there will be areas where we can rest on the way." Trent sighed softly, and made himself say it, knowing he had to. "If you need it, I can heal you some more magically." Trent didn't know if he would be tempted to drain Damir's life again, but he wouldn't let that stop him from helping Damir if he needed it. Trent cracked a smile. "I mean, what's the use of having the power to heal people if I don't use it?"

The two set out once again, hoping to escape any further reprisal, especially after having killed an entire party of Bernuka's soldiers. After all, there were still warlocks in the area. And worse.

They stayed within the confines of the forest, moving as slowly as they dared to allow for Damir's weakened state while hoping to escape unmolested. The night passed and they continued through the day. Even Trent began to flag by the end of the day. They had come to the end of this expanse of forest. Further south was the great plain of Tulisia. East and West from there led to human lands, and south was uninhabited territory.

The stablemaster grunted dismissively, but Asper was already walking away.

The pen contained six chocobos, the white one was surely Asper's mount. She even recognized him and came near. Two were gray, the other three were standard yellows. They might very well have been the set Quinn had taken from the moogles. However, he did not see the owner of the feet that he had seen just a split-second before. The chocobo pen appeared to be occupied entirely by chocobos.

Continue Trent and Damir's Adventure