Sleeping Beauty, Waking Nightmare

"Where in the bare dwarf ass did this come from?"

In the blink of an eye, rain and darkness had taken over his line of vision. He looked upon the sight as if it had been caught snooping. It worried him. Sudden darkness and precipitation was not a good sign. Perhaps, this was not an church-funded fool's errand. Nothing about this was natural. Whether he wanted to or not, Julius needed some answers. Whispering quietly, he lit up a rather large lantern. It was the size of a bucket and was crafted from mahogany. The light was more than enough for him to see around the immediate area. Soaked, he repeatedly squished his staff into some newly-formed mud. It was time to actually get somewhere.

Rain beat down creating a constant drum roll. Julius angled his head down just enough to keep the rain blinding him. He tried his best to listen but the sound of dropping water was a worthy opponent. There was a faint sound that he caught. It sounded like...fighting. Yes. Screams and weapon usage sounded from the north. Julius had to find out what was going on. He began to move with a bit of emergency. Moving past some trees, his mind made one was last whisper to the blackened sky.

"God, you are my leader and I am your follower."

The sounds of skirmishing slipped closer and closer. His light barreled through the dark. Aid was coming, even if no one knew it yet.

"Grant me the power to vanquish all foes, and allow me to do so in your name."

It was reckless how Julius moved. If there was any foe, he wasn't going to notice them until his feet stopped.

"Amen."

Bursting past brush, he stepped into the clearing wear they lay. His lips pressed against each other. This was going to be interesting. It looked like they needed help. Julius was happy to oblige.

"My people! What has happ--Dark faes?"

Wide-eyed, he slipped off his non combative equipment. He was ready to fight. Dark magic was here, and Julius had found it. Good.

"I shall create a new arsehole in your forehead!" He cried
 

Laila wandered through the forest, flanked by a small owl, hooting angrily from high up in the trees. She had used a dried frog's leg in that cauldron trick, and now that Brittlewort had seen it, he wanted one too. The little bugger loved those frog legs, but she was trying to keep moving, and searching through all of her ingredients would make a big enough pause that she just didn't care for-
HOOT!

Britlewort called out in his own way of throwing a temper tantrum.

"No- no, I need to put you on a diet, you don't fly enough to eat so much! You don't even catch your own food, I HAVE TO!" Laila cried out in defense.

HOOT! The owl screeched again.

"No, I'm not going to give in, you're mean, and all you do is laugh at me when my spells fail!" She yelled out.

HOOOOOOOOOT! The owl cried out, its little voice becoming louder and angrier with each time.

She paused for a moment to take out her trusty wand and try for her best spell, Brittlewort was how she had practiced- when he hooted at her like this, especially on journeys, she had needed a way to keep him quiet- she aimed carefully to where he would fly to try and evade her, spoke the incantation and gestured her wand and out came a sparkling purple beam, but Birttlewort had evaded just by a few degrees- it had missed!

Now he was truly in a mood.

HOOT! HOOT HOOT! HOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOT! His little body puffed up with feathers, his orange eyes glowing from the tree as he jumped up and down on the branch, flapping his wings and screeching. He was moving around so much that she couldn't possibly try the spell again, so she finally relented, looking through her small chest before she found the jar, uncorked the top and threw Brittlewort a frog's leg- he caught it and munched on it in such sweet silence. The intimidated crickets soon began to chirp again.

"Now... which way to go..." She murmured to herself after straightening herself out and walking forward again, heaving her chest and cauldron after her.

The little owl had flown on ahead and was sudden back, in her face, hooting worriedly. "No... That way looks promising, Brittlewort, I'm sure you're just scared of some little stray kitten, or a fox kit with its mother- we're going that way.

The owl set about hooting and screeching again, hitting at her face with his wings, puffing itself up and headbutting her.

"Ok, ok! We won't go that way!" She spoke as she fended off the tiny owl with her arms, then finally caught him by a leg, and thrust him into a cage nearby and attached it to her wand, carrying it now. "Sorry, but I REALLY want to see what's got you so worked up!" She explained. Brittlewort sighed and perched on the swing in the cage.

A commotion was certainly in motion as she happened upon quite a scene as she watched. The owl was now back to fluttering around in the cage in distress. "Hush, Brittlewort." She muttered before seeking a hiding spot in the bushes to watch. There was a man, murmuring of god under his breath and yet- he spoke so foul- surely the church could afford someone with a softer tongue- not that it was her business- but it seemed rather... contradictory.

And there was a woman, who seemed injured, and someone who seemed to be an attacker, and another defending and then she had to look away due to her owl causing a ruckus again, she smacked the side of the cage. "SHHHH!" she urged as she looked back again to watch the fight unfold.

The owl gave one more little call, then ruffled his feathers and quieted down.
 

The stance that Vhan had taken on, that of a protector standing over the girl, was ill-suited to him. He hated being out in the open and visible, he detested putting his life on the line for someone he didn't know one whit, and he was more than a little testy about the others acting as if this were just a matter of course. They were not stepping in to take the responsibility of the foolish girl from him and they were allowing him to stand over her, dagger in hand, looking imposing only to those who did not know what his slender frame was not secretly bursting with muscle.

Still, all of the real facts on the situation aside (and he was certain that the irony of him defending the slip of a girl from dark fae would certainly not be lost on Capharas but also not appreciated), Vhan was focused on the issue at hand. He was not well-versed in the healing of wounds and his touch was more likely to poison than heal, so he did not even make an attempt to assuage the injury on the girl, instead stepping toward Capharas with a grim expression pulled tight over his lips. The other fae bore an expression that Vhan was not able to read much into, but the eyes bespoke surprise for being on opposite sides of one another.

"Back off and you will be spared" Dolovhan hissed silkily, his knees bent and the dagger still clutched tightly in his hand. An imposing figure in the dark of the night, it was the lighting that gave him so much confidence. At a distinct disadvantage in hand-to-hand combat, he was still a force to be reckoned with should there be shadows to cloak him in their embrace. Besides that, there were others who had joined the fray now and the odds were not in favor of the attacking fae now. Retreat would be the wiser option, especially as he did not know that Dolovhan had little wish to end his life.
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A tree branch gave a sudden creak as, with a pop of displaced air, what had once been a bird was a young woman. She dropped from branch to ground like a feather floating downward, hand moving swiftly to the knives she wore across her chest. A flick of motion, a guiding bit of wind at just the right time, and a knife became buried in the back of the fae moving toward Pyra and Dolovhan. Each motion she made was quick, graceful, utterly birdlike. The dark fae crumpled to the ground atop Pyra, sickening gurgling sounds issuing from his gasping final breaths.

The newly lit clearing was a scene of carnage and what should have been a simple assassination had gone terribly wrong. Capharas snarled. Not only was Dolovhan there, protecting the girl, but her woodsman was there as well, still alive, and now there was a bird girl, a priest, and that blasted witch whose cauldron he'd borrowed earlier. Dolovhan alone might not have been a threat, but the gathering forces, especially with magic on their side, could end Capharas if he persisted.

Without a word, the dark fae melted into the shadows, retreating with his one remaining soldier. There would be other times. Other tools. In fact, he knew of one that might be of use. Grinning, he flicked his hand, pulling a chain of soft spell light around himself and sidestepping back into the faerie realm. Yes. He knew the perfect tool, he just had to convince her wielder.

***

In the clearing, the rain was slacking. Sonia stood there, soaked, watching the others move. The girl she was tasked for protecting didn't look so good, and was bleeding quite a bit. Sonia moved to try and pull the body from atop her charge, struggling. Everything was going wrong and she'd been too frozen in fear to help. But now, now she could. Fae blood stained her clothes as she managed to drag the corpse from atop Pyra. Her hands went to the arrows but paused there. She was no healer. Desperately, she looked at the others.

"She needs help! She's dying!" She glanced from one to another, eyes pleading. Pyra's blood ran along the ground, mingled with the rainwater and flowing away far too fast, taking her life with it. And, not too far away, a similar scene played out with the young salesman who'd been shot in the back. Sonia trembled. There was so little she could do to help them. "Please! Someone of you must be able to help!"

***

Even rainsoaked and disheveled, he sought her, was granted admittance. Capharas smiled, finding himself led into the chambers of the Lady Ciana. There she was, lovely and deadly looking as ever. The guard captain bowed low, straightening only when he knew she would not kill him where he stood for doing so.

"Captain Capharas. What brings you here this evening? I do so hope you aren't going to bore me with more of your tales of conquest." She drew a long, fine dagger, playing with it, the point running over the skin of her hands and leaving them without mar.

"I will be plain with you, Lady Ciana. I come seeking return for a favor I granted you long ago. I've need for the use of something you possess."

"Then your attack upon the princess didn't go well, or have you already been reassigned?"

"There was a minor setback. She seems to have accumulated quite the defensive force. I could not have predicted it, but for the moment, I wish to have someone there, someone who can be scryed through and someone who will let us know when she is weak, when is best to strike."

There was a long pause, and suddenly the knife was embedded in the door frame next to Capharas's neck. He did his best not to flinch.

"Do you honestly think I would allow her to serve someone like you, Capharas? Do you think that I would give you that much power over me? You want someone to spy on the whelp, do it yourself. I'm not at your beck and call and the favor you did me was negligible compared to what you ask. Go. Get out of here! Or the next dagger will find your spine and become intimate with it!"

For the second time that night, Capharas retreated.

***

Ciana sat for a long while, considering. So he wanted use of the girl? And yet he had no idea what her little pet really looked like, for Ciana had been sure to keep her out of his site, a prudent decision, she was realizing. She had long known of Capharas's appetite for mortals and witches in particular, and that had lead to her choice, but now... now it served an even better purpose.

Smiling, she waved a hand, beckoning forth a serving girl. "Go to Nyx. Tell her I have a new job for her. No, don't bring her back, just tell her she is to find the group of travelers who have gathered around a girl of beauty, wit, grace, dance, song, and musical talent. I will watch through her. Tell her to try to integrate naturally, to find a reason to have them want her along. But not to give up too much. And to keep away from Capharas if at all possible."

***
Time. A different thing in the fae realms, one that travels slower or faster depending on how the fae wish it. Since Capharas had gone to Ciana, little time at all had passed, a few seconds in the human world. The servant who stepped from behind the trees of the forest before Nyx was a familiar one. The relayed words were quick, to the point.

"Her ladyship wishes you to find the child of the old Realm. Find her, the girl of beauty, wit, grace, dance, and song. You will know her for she shall gather friends and defenders. And you shall know her for Dolovhan will be there. She is in the forest, somewhere. Do not waste time. Find her!" With that, the servant was gone.

***
The clouds that had threatened rain to the south, that made the scent of it and promised slick ground ahead, parted and revealed the moon to the weary traveler. The merchant found herself seemingly alone in the forest. It was a bad place to be, and honestly, she knew better. But circumstance is hardly kind and the people she'd been meant to stay with on her journey were ill and contagious and she had no choice but to keep going.

Hidden in the bushes, trying to keep a cloak of shimmering white from reflecting the pale light of the moon and revealing his presence, a beast lurked, purple skin and indigo hair shrouded in the shadow of cowl and hood. In the past year, protecting others had become important, but without their knowledge for the most part. Occasionally, people left out food or drink for the "guardian", and he always accepted when everyone slept, but he never revealed himself. This traveler was no different. The beast would follow her. He would protect her. There was blood on the wind, and he would see to it that this one would be safe this night.

 
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THE FOREST WAS UNUSUALLY STILL for a shining bright day. The sky she glimpsed between the soft green foliage was so bare and so blue it hurt eyes used to shadow and solitude. Nyxanne trod with cautious softness on the mossy, leaf-ridden forest floor and was worried. It was an honor to receive such a critical mission … and also troubling. Was Ciana finally trying to get rid of her? Nyxanne had seen it happen often now, after all these decades of servitude. A powerful witch's servants became too gifted, or worse, too wise, and they were sent alone on quests they would never return from.

She pressed her lips together in a stern line and tried to imagine what the Lady La'Comte wanted with this child. Nyx knew Ciana well enough by now for these thoughts to go beyond senseless speculation. What good would this girl be as a slave, if she was also a servant of light, and protected by its powerful blessings? How did you turn into an enemy and hunt someone so gifted? It was not like the Lady. She preferred her prey helpless.

An order to spy … Nyx grinned as she realized what her Mistress was up to. Nyxanne's information would make the special girl become helpless. An object is only as strong as its weakest point, and Nyx would become that weak point.

You shall know, for Dolovhan will be there. Nyx narrowed her eyes. Dolovhan worked for the Unseelie Court, but perhaps not exclusively. Nyx harbored a quiet, resentful distaste for Dolovhan Ahnsim that might have contained touches of envy. His meteoric rise was a constant topic of gossip and she had heard not too few of Ciana's friends profess that there was some sort of magnetism about his eyes.

On a visit to the Unseelie Court, Nyx and a fellow servant of Ciana's, Allbria, had been arriving at a grand court dinner when Allbria pointed and excitedly began whispering. He was only visible for a moment, but Nyx caught sight of his eyes, and in that moment she hadn't liked them. Not at all. They were like painted on. Ciana had a similar tool, but far less powerful. Nyxanne knew that man only as Rolan. He was quite old now, with graying hair, a forgetful face, average features, but his black eyes, hard as flint, had that same frightening quality to them. On more than one occasion, Nyx had delivered suspicious civilians to him to be "interrogated". Ciana herself never hesitated to remind Nyx that such work was necessary for the big picture, but Nyxanne hated the mangled corpses that were the products of "such work".

Still, wasn't it recognition of her status that had compelled Ciana to order her to participate in a mission that involved the infamous Dolovhan? But … if Dolovhan was already with the girl, couldn't he report their location? Nyx was missing parts of this picture, but there was only one way to retrieve them. She continued making her way south, wondering what about this one girl was so special it had compelled Ciana La'Comte to make such a sudden change of plans.

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The fight was now over, for the time being, from the looks of it. It was more likely the force of numbers which had forced Caphras to retreat, as distasteful as the thought was to Dolovhan. He could not argue his power, though, to delude himself would be weakness. He himself was a snake, one whose venom could take even the most powerful of men to his knees, a black mamba waiting to strike from the shadows. When in hiding, Vhan was a force to be feared, an assassin with no equal known to him. However, he was not foolish enough to think that Caphras would worry of his presence once he'd been revealed, flushed from his hiding place. Standing bold in the moonlight, Vhan was little more than cornered. With this in mind, it was fortunate that Caphras chose to retreat.

Now, though, there was a din of sound, crying and yelling with little intelligible though between it all. One of the voices speaking words called for someone to help the woman who had been wounded. She was there, bleeding at his feet and had one seen the ice to his eyes, they would have known that he hardly cared. However, the dark shroud of night kept his eyes from being viewed and for that, he was glad. Still, his touch was not that of a healer and he did not know if he could even attempt to stymie the flow of blood without the temptation to kill her himself.

"Strong man, carry her inside. Someone will have to attend to her wound but it will not due to have her laying on the cold and dirty ground. I don't really care what the rest of you do."
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Laila and Brittlewort watched the scene play out before she looked at the small owl, puzzled. "Should I help them, little one?" She asked quietly, as the bird puffed up and rotated its head around before straightening itself out.

He hooted softly, then cocked his head to the side.

"Well, maybe I have a spell in my book somewhere on how to heal.... or... should I not? I mean, it's not what I was trained for, but I bet there's a spell in here..." She spoke, uncertain. "Come on, Brittlewort, help me out here, should I try?" She pleaded with the bird, who fluffed up and then shook himself before preening his wings. "Useless bird." She muttered before looking through one of her books, then another, before something that could apply to the situation.

Britlewort hooted at her before sitting on her cart of belongings.

"Ok, I'm going. I'm going to try and.... do something nice..." She muttered, taking a deep breath before setting off to the house that they seemed to be heading to. Brittlewort gave a worried hoooot and flew after her before settling onto her shoulder- minding his talons as he clung to her. "Ok... I can do this.... I... I can help...." She spoke to herself, trying to be encouraging before walking up to the group.

"Hello? I... I couldn't help but overhear... and see what happened- or a bit of it- and I think I might have a spell that can help heal that girl...." She started, wand and book in hand and a look of a half-smile on her face, she wasn't exactly the image of encouragement. She was scared of the reaction they might have and prepared herself for a refusal.

"I'm sure this spell can close up the wounds and help the healing." She added, her eyes shifting around as she offered another half smile.
 
"We're several miles away from home. " Ashur was able to stand up again, fighting against fae were not like fighting humans and he didn't like it at all. They were faster, stronger, and they healed. No, Ashur was just a mercenary. He wasn't a hero from Legends. He wasn't a Prince on a white steed either. He managed to rub his eyes as he went to Pyra's side and knelt there to staunch the wound and field dress it as fast he could. He wasn't a medic but by all that was, he wasn't going to let his best friend die on the forest floor where they had played as children.

Once Ashur had the wound bound as tightly as he could he lifted her gently in his arms and set off towards Pyra's parents house. He felt guilt wash over him and his hands tightened around her frail body that was suffering a chill from the cool air after the mysterious and magical rain. Why? How? What? Ran through his head like dogs chasing chickens and chickens chasing dogs. He didn't understand who this stranger was or what he was but he had been there to help and that was all that mattered.

Nothing mattered except to get Pyra to see the dawn's light. As the lights were spotted, so too came a new voice. Ashur craned his neck back and slowed just a smidgen. "A witch? If you can do something, we'll do it in her home with her parents. Where you can have light..." Not that Ashur minded witches, Mercenary's knew that Hedge Witches were useful. Like to like, outsiders all. Mercenaries and Witches both left a bad taste in certain people's mouths...

"That light ahead is her cottage... Someone run ahead and tell them what has happened so they know to make ready for us."
 
Who were all these people that suddenly stepped within his lantern's light? Their frenzy actually had his adrenaline rush in a bit of confusion. The fae just up and left. That dark skank. It seems they were making a trek for this woman's cottage. If they didn't mind, he would probably be following them.

"First thing is first."

The cleric knelt beside the unconscious Clarence and positioned him to his liking. His chest arrow stuck out of him and blood was still seeping onto the ground. It looks a bit unnerving but nothing he couldn't handle. Gently gripping the projectile, Julius closed his eyes and hoped for the best. Pulling quickly, the crunch and squish startled him. However, the arrow was out. Waving his hand very particularly, it started to have a bit of a glow to it. Humming, the cleric then pressed his palm against the wound.

"Gods, please grant me the privilege for giving this man a life again." he whispered

Divine, healing energy began to shoot into the wound. It started to close.

 
There was nothing. She felt and saw nothing for the longest time.

The path to the house was easy enough for one who knew it. For those who did not, it would seem as though roots leapt up to trip them and branches reached out to grip at clothes. Clarence leaned heavily upon the young cleric as the two caught up. Everything still smelled of blood and sweat. The group was bodily weary, mentally tired, and it was unlikely that they trusted one another. To the north, the howls of a pack of wolves on the move sounded.

It was Sonia who ran ahead, shifting and flying in bird form as soon as she could. But the sight awaiting her was a distressing one. No one occupied the house. The door was flung wide, the contents of drawers and cabinets were strewn about, and every candle blazed. Sonia hurried back to alert the others, now all moving together. They ran. When they arrived at the house, there was a moment of shocked silence. To Ashur, everything was out of place, but nothing seemed missing. To the others, it was bizarre, wrong. Still, there was no blood. No sign of someone in danger. And yet Pyra's parents were not there.

Capharas looked on from the shadows. He had planted the needed seed in the mind of the Lady Ciana that there was something to be gained in dealing with this girl. After all, if he wanted it, it must be worth something. All too soon, she'd come, or someone or something serving her would. He would wait. He would plan around her moves. He would use whoever she sent for his own. This group was dangerous. So he'd be smart. And if all else failed, he'd expend as many men as necessary. Surely one unconscious girl and this hodgepodge could not stand up against an entire company of trained fae warriors.

To the north, Margaret paused in the darkness. She kept having the feeling that she was being followed. Such a silly thought. These woods were supposedly haunted, but she'd yet to see any evidence that they were anything but quaint. She could not know that she was crossing Nyx's path. She did not know that she walked in the Forest Guardian's gaze. One thing she was suddenly very aware of, however, was the noise of the wolves. It had been noticed before, but she'd pushed it away. The feeling of being followed had been so much more immediate, after all. But now... now the wolves were closing.

Hastening her steps, she uttered a soft prayer. Hopefully, they were after something else, a spooked deer or stray sheep or goat. She clutched her lantern, knuckles white from holding to it. She restrained herself from running, knowing that if they saw her doing so, they'd give chase for certain.

But the wolves were closing. She, Nyx, and the Guardian were in the path of a hunt. A hunt that would soon sweep them up. The scent of dire wolves carried to the Guardian. Wolves from the north. The dark forest to the east with all of its dangers the deeper they went. The smell of blood and magic to the south. And west, a village. There was a path, though. Southwest. But now he could smell Nyx, as well, and knew he had to get both women to safety before the pack arrived....
 
He would have to reveal himself, Derek knew. The wolves were to powerful for him to divert or defeat, and to take up arms would be a foolish waste that would help no one in the end. The only way she would make it, this merchant, is if she picked up the pace considerably. If he kept himself hooded, it would be easier.

Urging his steed forward through the side-paths he had come to know intimately, Prince Derek ranged out far enough that the merchant would come upon him. Hopefully, the imagery of a white-cloaked figure on a jet-black steed who called out to her would keep her suspicions low and allow him to deliver her from danger. He smelled another beside her, but as he could not pinpoint the source visually, he instead thought to rely on his loudest voice and hope to all the holiest of things that the second person knew enough to flee from danger.

Now he waited, and when she was upon him, he would reach out with shrouded hand, imploring and saying:

"BEWARE! Danger follows thee in the form of wolves most dire. Follow and I, the Guardian of this Forest shall deliver you from danger! Make haste and range out before me lest the wolves pace thee! I shall draw them away should they approach too near!"
 
Ashur had stopped, staring in horror at the wrecked house. He let his eyes roam, picking up details and filing them as quickly as he could to make sense. Any sort of sense. Anything to make this better. At least there wasn't any blood here in the main part of the house but who knew what could be found in the bedrooms or the attic... Ashur shuddered, there was something so terribly wrong about seeing his best friend's house in this sort of disarray.

"Let's sit her down here..." Ashur gently laid Pyra on the table. "You, priest. Do something for her." Ashur was already rummaging around and finding clean cloth that would do for bandages and stoking the fire and putting a pot on to boil. He went mechanically, his expression frozen in a grimace as he worked. At least he knew how to dress a wound. He didn't think she'd die, he'd been fast at staunching the blood. There was worry of infection, of poison, of a thousand little things though.

He didn't want to lose Pyra. Ashur was hurt though, blood dripping through his shirt as he brought the priest, which is what Ashur thought Cleric Julius Abvon was, the clean bandages and boiled water. He had also fetched some needles and sinew. "Have you done this before? If you haven't than get out of my way because I can."

Ashur had sewn up many of his friends and most of them were even still alive.

Or at least they had been when he'd left the Company.
 
He sat Clarence down and gave him the staff for support. The barked orders were barely listened to. All Julius was: Blah Blah Blah, do what I tell you. To which his mental reaction was: Piss off, my child. However, saying such a thing would be rude and inappropriate. It would also be unbecoming of a divine cleric.

"Piss of, my child." he said turning to him.

"Now move your goofy, elven arse, out of MY way, so I can help your friend."

Julius shouldered Ashur a bit to get to Pyra. With wasting time, he waved his hand over her and hummed. After a few seconds, a glow overtook her body. He began to shake slightly as the divine was flowing through just a rough palm. A wince came from him as the glow suddenly stopped. The priest panted slightly and turned to the previous roadblock.

"Now, it is your turn..."
 
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