Last Breath

[Willow]

Kirian woke in a cavern deep in the woods - which one couldn't be known for sure, they'd been traveling for days without pausing at towns. Now, he wished they had. Night had just fallen, and that was what had allowed him to wake. Only when the sun sunk out of sight could Kirian's kind rise to the surface. His companion was where he'd left her, just inside the cavern's mouth. He wished he could have brought her closer, but the damp and the cold could kill her.

Although she might be dead already. Kirian shook off the sleep of the undead and practically flew to her side. He'd stretched her out on both of their cloaks, made a sort of pillow with her pack. She looked pale and as close to dead as Kirian had seen in a long time. Like him. He bit his lip, eyes flashing with a red light and looked out into the new night. Healing wasn't one of his talents, not in life or death. Yet, who would help him? Kirian, the vampire with his face drawn in charcoal and posted everywhere. They'd even seen the flyers along the path through the woods. It labeled him a murderer, a criminal, a damned soul who sought to rip out the throats of the innocents. Lies, most of it. Most.

He could hear her breath come in shallow gasps, the rise and fall of her chest barely noticeable. Kirian put a hand to her forehead. A human felt warm to the dead, but she wasn't just warm, she was hot. The fever had risen. Kirian examined the ground nervously for anything that could hurt her, and then pulled the makeshift bed across the ground, further into the cool air of the cave.

The creature crouching over the young girl didn't look the forbidding, deadly creature he usually was - Kirian looked sick himself, and frankly, scared. Willow was dying, and unless found help who would trust him, she would. It'd be coming for years, they'd both known it, but nothing could be done until they knew what to treat. Bruise-like marks spread along her back and arms, the dark splotches frighteningly different compared to the pale, waxy skin.

After a good feed, Kirian could pass off human. She looked like him at his worst, and then some. With a glance at her, as if to check one more thing, Kirian fled back in to the forest. There had to be someone, there just had to be.

Hold on, Willow. Hold on.

Tormented by shadows and monsters spawned by the fever, Willow twitched in her sleep. Sweat beaded along her brow. She registered a cold, brief touch at her cheek, and then on her shoulders. His words didn't reach her exactly, although she sensed the precense. Willow had felt the illness grow worse the previous night, but had said nothing, walking along as best she could and hiding her pain behind a smile. Nearing dawn, she had fallen. She knew Kirian had carried her, and then nothing.

She hadn't the slightest idea where she was, but knowing the creature she called friend remained close kept her steady. Twice Willow tried to call out through the link they shared, but managed little more than to pass on her pain. Kirian whispered meaningless words to her as he bolted.

I'm getting help.

Kirian ran through the woods, searching with eyes, ears and nose. He could catch brief scents, but most turned out to be nothing. An old camp, abandoned the week before. Then - the crack of something. A sharp, fresh scent. He stopped, face twisting into a desperate mask of terror. "Help! I need help! Anyone!?"

Never in his life had Kirian asked for help, but he shouted his throat raw, searching for the source of that life. There was someone here.

[Gwydion Nefarine]

((I'll join this one if it's ok... if not, delete it or I'll delete it later...))

A young priest trudged along nearby. Normally, he ran, but the many days of being pursued had exhausted him. He only stopped to eat and, when he thought it safe - which wasn't often, sleep. How many days had it been? How long had he been away from his beloved chapel of Zenithar? Was he wrong in fleeing? Would the Nine have kept him safe if he had stayed? More unsettling questions crossed his mind, until he finally realized: the Nine would protect him out here, in the wilderness. They had protected him the last few days. There had not been a sign of his pursuer. But then, something else occurred to him: that was the way that the assassin worked. He never made a sound that wasn't intentional. He never showed himself, if he did not mean to.

As if in answer to his troubling thoughts, a dagger flew right over the priest, only scratching his bald head, and only missing because he had stopped his trot temporarily to try to distinguish the nearby cries of someone... a man, it seemed. He winced, both from the pain and from the realization: he had been found. The dagger had come in at a diagonal angle - his pursuer was in the tree tops.

The priest didn't waste time to think about his plight. He just ran. He ran for his life. He ran, praying to his chosen god, Zenithar, asking for protection. Again, he heard that wild yell. He considered the implications if he decided to run towards the sound... maybe the owner of that cry would be a warrior... though, if that warrior was looking for help, he likely would not find it from this priest. Not now, anyway. The priest was no novice to fighting himself, but the assassin chasing him was in a completely different league... the priest could not hope to fend him off. But maybe, with two... He picked up the speed of his run, making for the direction that the voice had come from.

**********

The assassin jumped out of the tree, at least a 20 foot drop. He rolled to dstribute the force of the impact throughout his body. He stood back up, not shaken in the least. He briskly walked to his dagger, buried in the ground, and retrieved it with a slight tug. He observed a few drops of blood and a small strip of human skin mingled with the soil. Glad that he hadn't completely missed - he never did - he wiped the blade on some shrubbery to clean it, and then sheathed it among the many other hidden daggers he possessed.

Not in any hurry, he trudged along the path of the priest, taking a pace very similar to that of the priest, before he had realized the last moments of his life were upon him. Satisfied at that thought, the assassin kept up his trot, knowing that the priest would soon tire.

**********

The priest finally caught a glimpse of the man who had yelled. He ran on, urging his body past its limits. When the man was near, he wasted no time in informing him about his pursuer. "I'm being followed," he accented the point by pointing a thumb in the directon behind him and putting his other hand on the hilt of the sheathed claymore on his back. "If you can help me good sir. I'll do what I can for you." Though, looking at the pale man, with hardly any color in his skin, and strange eyes, he wondered if the man was in any position to help him. Worse than that, he wondered if this man was insane, and he had just run into more trouble. He prayed to Zenithar - for what seemed the umpteenth time - that he had not

[Arissa Warrner]

((owo;; i am very intimidated))
Shay Mistwolf was wandering through the trees naturally up to no good, or it was good for her but not the caravan she was targeting. She had experienced a minor set back, okay it was a small one, alright she had to be honest with herself, she had become lost. It wasn't her fault that the huge storm had blew up out of no where and separated her from her raiding group. Hopefully they had enough common sense to go ahead with the raid without her, but you never knew, if this one didn't fall through she would have to dip into her own substantial inheritance to feed the hundred plus refugees and her bandit operation that was now living on her mansion grounds.
She walked along keeping an eye out on the trees for danger or her irrepressible brother and blinked hearing the shouts. She fingered the bone whistle that hung around her neck and trotted toward the noise, not attempting to hide the fact that she was coming.

[Willow]

ooc: Man. Was totally just going to powerplay MAUL that assassin, and then you ruined it. What, so I have to eat the Priest?

bic:

Kirian sensed the others too, but he barely noticed. They weren't important. Not for the moment. He would worry about them shortly, not while his companion lay dying. Unsure what good a priest would do, he glanced in to the woods. The source of the other scent - Assassin. He nodded at the stranger.

"The cave. Just back there." Kirian pointed back. "I'll handle him, easily."

Almost immediately, he'd gone. Trusting a stranger wasn't something the vampire went in big for, but surely . . . come on, come on. He spotted a figure, and stood in front of her. No. Not the assassin. (Shay) He stared at her for a moment. "Not you." Then, he'd taken off again in a bit of a panic, searching.

There.

Kirian stood just a yard away, eyes narrowed, fangs bared. It didn't matter that he looked the part, Kirian could scent the blood he'd spilled at other times. "You either find a way to help me. Or you die right here," Kirian growled, tense. He knew he was faster, so one would kill the other. Or this assassin would be find some way to bribe.

ooc: Fail post.

[Gwydion Nefarine]

((hey Willow, if this isn't an accurate description of... uh... Willow's sickened state, let me know))

The priest nodded greatfully and started to thank his evident savior, but before he could, the pale man was gone. He shrugged and made for the cave. When he got there, he observed the young woman's frail state. She was unconscious and burning with fever. Not to mention the sickly bruises covering a large portion of her body. Trusting that Zenithar was with him, the priest got right to work, half-chanting and half-praying like he had been trained. The fever had soon gone down a bit. Satisfied that the woman would indeed live to see another day, he moved to the strange marks on her body, repeating the earlier process in an attempt to make sure the next day she saw would be without the unnecessary discomfort that the pain would bring her.

**********

The assassin stopped in his tracks, the hood of his back cowl shadowing his eyes. The sight of a vampire set the him back on his heels. He felt an uneasiness that the assassin was not used to... Normally, he faced his target (or targets when the situation demanded it) without fear, though with a necessary amount of caution. He was not a fool, after all. If he had been, he would not have lasted this long and built the empire he had. He had quite alot of power in the cities nearby. There were few that would not tremble when they saw him walk by in the streets. None on the streets would dare oppose him. Unfortunately, out here, in the wild, no amount of political power could protect him from a vampire.

He also had doubts about his own abilities. How long had this vampire lived? How long had he been fighting against humans with equal prowess (maybe even greater) to that of this assassin? While these question swirled in his mind, he also thought over the vampire's words. Help? What help could a vampire need? Other than the inevitable consumption of human blood, which the assassin really wasn't eager to help with, unless it was the consumption of someone else's blood of course...? An idea began to form in the mist of the assassin's mind...

"I believe you have seen my target: a priest, soon to become a dead man. If it is a meal you seek, I'm sure his blood will suffice. If not, I am indeed puzzled, but I would be glad to assist you in any way I can." Intimidated though the assassin was, he worked hard to keep the panic out of his voice and brushed aside his cloak enough to reveal the two scimitars belted at his waist to caution the vampire and to attempt to gain a little control over the situation. Had he underestimated this priest? Did he perhaps have greater connection than the assassin believed. The assassin had never been very religious himself, but he silently prayed to whatever god that might be listening that he had not underestimated his prey and this vampire was a mere coincidence, one that one soon be past him.

[Arissa Warrner]

Shay walked to where the voice had been looked at the tracks and then thought about who to follow. looking around she spotted a rock that looked oddly familar and then laughed aloud, she now knew exactly where she was. After breif thought she decided to follow the tracks that lead to the glade, where someone else had seen whoever had shouted. She dashed off her stride lenghtening to a quick run that was suprising for her height listing ahead for voices.