Sartana dipped his head back behind his shoulders, cracking his neck in several places and letting out a deep groan. There was nothing like a week off. Seven days of relaxation and oversleeping everyday, not to mention spending a load of hard-earned gold on meals at the tavern. He sat back up in his chair and looked at the empty bowls on the table, lined with crusted potatoes or slimy stew, some scattered with well-picked bones and pieces of fat. He was full. Well, kind of. The demonhunter pulled his black cloak closer to his form, and scanned the tavern with his eyes, one blue, one green, both aware and eager for adventure. There was a black, wide-brimmed hat on his head, hiding his colorful eyes. He sighed. Would today be another sleep-fest, or what?

Nafalen walked through the streets of Lómëdor, looking for something to do. As he passed by the Wilwarin Inn he shrugged and decided to go inside for a drink. He opened the door and went inside, letting the wood slam shut behind him. Nafalen glanced around, there wasn't much activity in the tavern today.

Nafalen walked up to the bar and threw down a few gold pieces and ordering a flagon of ale. When the foaming drink arrived Nafalen leaned on the bar and picked it up. He sipped it slowly, savoring the taste. It had been quite some time since he had drunk any thing of substance. Smiling, Nafalen wiped the foam from his mouth. He downed the mug and slammed it down, calling for another. He picked up his replenished drink and turned around; leaning backwards against the bar. He rested his left elbow on the bar and drank his ale slower then the last.

Looking around Nafalen studied the few patrons. He noticed a mage, a few peasants, a fighter, and a pirate way past his expiration date. Then he noticed a shadowy form behind a table full of dirty dishes and bowls. Looking under the hat brim, Nafalen could see two eyes; both different colors. His eyebrows raised when he saw them. It was an odd occurrence to have two different colored eyes, but not so odd as to have been Nafalen's first sighting of them.

Nafalen lifted his flagon to the cloaked figure and took another sip. Nafalen finished his drink and placed the mug back on the bar. Turning back around Nafalen took a chair and sat down. He called over the waitress and ordered the roast boar. He leaned back and put his legs up on the table, linking his fingers behind his head.

The demonhunter, always calculating and aware of his surroundings, watched from the corner of his eye as the man entered the establishment. He was obviously a warrior of sorts, having the build of a powerful man; perhaps a mercenary? And he was a Drow. Sartana frowned a bit as the man walked past him to the bar. The demonhunter turned slightly, his side facing the man, and his right hand moving in dexterous and intricate positions at his side, emanating a light purple mist. After a moment he stopped and the mist dissipated. This man was evil; the magic in Satana's hand told him so.

And yet, Sartana was surprised when the dark elf lifted his flagon in greeting. Was this man all that bad? Yes- the demonhunter's hand didn't lie. The man had a dark heart; as dark as his skin. Sartana turned back to the table and removed a toothpick from his side, sticking it in his mouth and moving it around slightly as he thought. The bounty he had come here for- it was for a demon. Yet, ever since Sartana had traveled through the planar gate to this realm, he had been weaker. His moves were fast, but not as much as they had been in Eia, and his weapons.. had disappeared. All he carried now was a longsword. Could he truly hope to dispatch an A-class demon on his own? And if he were to receive help, would he have the aid of an evil drow?

He removed a scroll from his pocket. It was torn at the sides and faded, but the headline was still bold and easy to read: WANTED – Hunters and mercenaries to slay evil beasty held up in the old missionary's keep, north of Estolad. Cash reward paid on return. The demonhunter didn't care about the money, he just wanted to kill the bastard creature. And he would need help. This man looked to be a strong fighter; he would do.

Sartana wasn't used to asking for help. In truth, he usually kept to himself; he disliked people. But he disliked demons more, and rose from his seat, walking to the man's table. He tipped his hat to him in courtesy. “Mind if I sit? I think I've got an offer you may find interesting.” He asked, his voice deep and unoffensive.

When the waiter brought over his food he payed her and dug in. He savored every bite, but still managed to finish his lunch fairly quickly. When he finished he pushed the plate into the middle of the table and wiped off his face. When the waiter returned to take his plate he ordered another mug of ale, just to quench his thirst.

Nafalen watched out of the corner of his eye as the cloaked figure rose from his chair and walked towards him. He smiled to himself. Was a drow in there parts all that strange? What did he want an autograph?

Nafalen dropped his legs to the floor and sat up when the man stopped at his table. He folded his hands in front of him on the table and nodded towards the empty chair. He could probably kill this man if it came down to it so he wasn't afraid.

When the man sat down Nafalen leaned forward and looked into the man's eyes; studying him. He say good in his eyes, but also a desire. A desire to kill, to rid the world of something.

Nafalen knew what the man wanted. Or at least thought he did. leaning forward in a very business-like manner Nafalen spoke in whispered tones.

"Who do you want killed and how much you paying?"

Sartana lifted an eyebrow at the man's words. He was indeed a mercenary or assassin, as the demonhunter had predicted, but to be so open about it and talk in such a way. He was a cocky bastard. Sartana kept from laughing, studying the man with a silent expression. The cocky ones were the easiest to kill, as he had found from experience. If this man turned on him, the demonhunter would win. But he hoped it wouldn't come down to that. He just wanted to rid the world of this demon, the powerful creature holed up in that fetid keep doing something awful. Or maybe it was just relaxing. Either way, it would soon be dead.

He nodded with a grin. “Right to the point.” He placed the open parchment on the table so the man could read the words clearly. He wondered if he could even read, but stopped. The man seemed intelligent, and by the way he spoke and acted, to underestimate him would be a deadly mistake. The demonhunter left nothing to chance. “There would be no splitting of the reward, however much it may be.” He said, removing a silver flask from his side and unscrewing the cap. “I don't want the money. Just the satisfaction of killing the demon.” He took glug of the liquid inside, and replaced it at his side, waiting for the man's response.

Nafalen's gaze never left the man's face as he spoke. Not even when he looked down to remove the parchment. Nafalen's expression remained blank, emotionless. Some people thought him to be cocky, but he didn't mind. With his skill, being cocky every once in a while was alright.

Nafalen only looked down to read the Wanted Ad. The demon didn't sound all that tough, but then again some of the posters that he had read about himself had vastly underrated him. Some even went so far as to call him a coward, and weakling. He smiled as the man mentioned that Nafalen could take the entire reward.

"I assume that you are a demon hunter. Your mannerisms, and acute choice of aid shows as much. But as long as you can hold your own and more I'll help you. Now normally this is where I say we do things my way or not at all, but I can see that telling you that wouldn't do much. So I get the reward, you get the killing blow."

Nafalen held out his hand to seal the deal. All the time he kept his hand on the hilt of his sword, never letting his guard down. Nafalen could kill this one, of that he was sure, but he wasn't one to take lightly tricks and surprises. He would keep an eye on his back at all times, even if they were working together. The man hadn't earned his trust yet, not even close, just his aid.

"So where's this nasty little beastie everyone's so worried about?" Nafalen said with a sly grin.

The hunt was about to begin and Nafalen's blood was boiling. It was time for a fight, one that was tilted in their favor, but a fight nonetheless.

Sartana watched the man’s eyes as he regarded the wanted ad. His face never seemed to change or show emotion, and the demonhunter began to wonder just who this man was, and what had made him so apathetic. He figured that years of training would do that. To become one with your sword, you had to drop your emotions, focusing your very soul into the blade you wielded. This helped when you finally killed another; you felt no pain as they left this world.

He sat back in his chair, picking his teeth with the toothpick in his left hand, and lightly holding his longsword with his right. He didn’t trust this man, and for good reason. Yet, he was being forced to work with him to achieve his goal, and so the demonhunter listened to his words. Sartana grinned- he could most certainly hold his own. And as per the agreement of giving him the killing blow, the demonhunter was more than pleased. He leaned forward and shook the man’s hand firmly, then sat back in his seat.

“So where’s this nasty little Beastie everyone’s so worried about?” Sartana liked where this man’s thoughts were at: he was right to point. He had a feeling that they wouldn’t be working together for very long, but it was bound to be interesting. He smirked. “The ad says he’s held up in some keep north of here. From what I’ve gathered from the locals, the demon has kidnapped three daughters from local farmers.” He cracked his stiff neck. “Only one townsperson has seen the beast. She said it was, ‘Big and scary, with spiky shoulders and two great horns on its head’. From what I’ve dealt with in the past, we can expect it to have minor magical abilities, but superior brute strength. Together, we’ll be able to take it down.” He stopped and eyed the man. “Rescuing the daughters, if they’re alive, is our number one concern. Killing the beast comes second.” He said, thinking of the distraught families he had talked to.

“I’m sorry- what’s your name?” He asked, wondering if he had heard of the man or not.

Nafalen leaned back in his chair and listened intently. He took in everything the man was saying. His brow furrowed and he thought as the demon hunter mentioned the keep. Nafalen had heard something about an abandoned keep a while back. It might be the same one. Other then that it sounded like a typical demon.

"You must mean Tymeg Keep. It's north of here on the coast. It used to be one of the most dangerous pirate enemies around. A huge protector of the waters and shore around here. It's been ruined and abandoned for decades. No one really knows for sure what happened, so that's probably the place to start," here Nafalen smiled wickedly. "Big, scary, spikes, horns, crappy magic, really strong, and really big. Sounds like a night out with a gorgeous woman."

Nafalen rolled his eyes when the demon hunter mentioned the women that had been kidnapped. Why was it always woman, and why was it always necessary to rescue them? Couldn't you just kill the demon and be done with it?

"You take care of the girls and I'll keep big and nasty busy until you come to satisfy your need to kill a demon. I honestly don't care what happens to them so if you want to save them, you go right ahead, but I'm just in it for the kill and the reward."

Nafalen gulped down his ale and put the flagon on the table. He wiped his mouth and stifled a belch.

"My name is Nafalen Sintelnor. I am the former Weapon's Master of the Sintelnor House. Glad to be in business. Is anything else you know that might be useful? I don't like to go into a fight without knowing all my possible options."

Sartana was glad the man was familiar with the area; the demonhunter had only been in this realm for a few months, and had only recently traveled to this town in his exploring. He smirked at the man's joke, but didn't really find it funny. In truth, as interesting as the man was, Sartana didn't like him. He worked with people he could trust, and he didn't trust this dark elf.

He took note of his uncaring response when he had mentioned the girls in danger. There were families that had lost members to this creature. The demonhunter wanted nothing more than to bring the hostages back to their homes- even killing the demon came second. He sat back in his chair and broke the toothpick between his teeth, placing it on the table. His hand was still at his side, on his sword, and the eyed the man carefully from underneath his wide-brimmed hat. What he said about not caring about what happened to the captives- it made the demonhunter's blood boil. Such an inconsiderate man, putting himself above those weaker than him. He looked into the elve's red eyes. He had seen this man before.. but where?

He nodded. So his name was Nafalen. The information about his position as weapon master of some house did nothing for Sartana- he hardly knew the names of the cities in this land. He wasn't about to know some prestigious house.

Sartana tilted his head a bit, looking at the man. That's where he knew him from: the wanted posters. He took a drink from the silver container in his hand. He responded to the man's question of if there was anything else he should know that would be 'useful'. “Since we'll be fighting together, it would probably help to know my name. You know, so that when you're lying on the ground bleeding to death, you'll know who to cry out to for aid.” This wasn't a slip of tongue. Nafalen had angered Sartana with his uncaring attitude towards the missing girls. “Other than that, I'd say we get this done as soon as possible.” He finished, staring into the man's eyes.

It was getting dark out, but the demonhunter wanted to leave now.

Nafalen laughed at the man's sly remark about Nafalen crying out for help.

"You must be confusing me with yourself, for you will be the one calling for aid. And remember to play nice, because I might not give that aid if you're not careful." Nafalen stoop and pulled a gold coin out of his purse. Flipping it onto the table Nafalen pushed his chair into the table.

Walking to the door Nafalen pulled it open. He was pushed back by the abnormally powerful winds, but soon regained his footing. Without waiting for his new companion, Nafalen left the Wilwarin Inn and Pub. He stopped as he stepped out side. Turning Nafalen looked through the posters and ads on the bulletin board. He saw one that caught his eye. It was a wanted poster.

Pulling the wanted poster down Nafalen saw his portrait and smiled. He read the text and smiled. He was wanted dead or alive for murder, theft, and three other felonies. The reward wasn't all that large though. A measly 1,000 gold pieces. Nafalen had seen posters of himself worth up to 100,000 gold coins.

Sighing, Nafalen folded the poster up and tucked it away with the others that he had collected over the years. Nafalen walked backwards and leaned on the wooden railing to wait for Sartana-kun.

((OOC: Sorry for crappy post))

The demonhunter watched the man with a slightly unpleasant expression, waiting for a response. The man spoke up a moment later. "You must be confusing me with yourself, for you will be the one calling for aid. And remember to play nice, because I might not give that aid if you're not careful.” The man then placed his coins on the table, and walked out. Sartana was smirking. He didn't like the fact that this 'Nafalen' character was so uncaring in the face of hostages and young innocents, but he did sense a strong sou in him. Even if it was black. He sat for a moment, thinking about what he said about 'playing nice'. The demonhunter hoped it wouldn't come down to a fight between them, but then again, as he fought against all that was evil, Sartana would eventually cross blades with this man

He stood and took another drink from his container, then placing it at his side and walked over to his table and places a few gold coins on it. He tipped his black hat to the barkeep and walked outside. It was windy out, and it looked like there was a storm brewing in the distance, to the north. Where they were headed. The demonhunter's black cloak flared in the wind, twisting and turning as currents of air forced their way past.

He already knew Nafalen was to the left of him. The little power he still controlled in his left hand told him where evil was at nearly all times. All he had to do was perform a seal and for about an hour he could sense all creatures of malevolent intent within about 100 meters of him. This was useful, and he was glad to have it. The killer he was working with wouldn't be sneaking up on him anytime soon. He saw that the poster with the image of this man had been removed from the side of the tavern. He wondered if it was the wind that did it.

He crossed his arms and walked to where the man was, cracking his neck and looking at the sky. “You're ready?” He asked, still watching the bulbous gray clouds overhead. “Perfect weather for an epic battle..” He muttered to himself, then looked back down at the killer. “You're more familiar with this landscape than me, Nafalen. Care to lead the way?” He asked.

(That was crappy? Nah. There just wasn't much to say.)

Nafalen watched as Sartana-kun, his new companion, for the time being, exited the tavern. The man glanced at the bullitan board and Nafalen knew what he had noticed. Smiling, Nafalen stood up straight, coming off the railing into the middle of the porch.

“Perfect weather for an epic battle.” Yes it was, thought Nafalen as he glanced at the sky. Nafalen loved the rain. Rain, fog, snow, anything that made him less noticeable was fine with him. Turning, Nafalen walked down the steps to the road below. To his right a bit down the road Nafalen saw three horses teathered up next to a trough. They were all alone and looked like a better choice then walking to the ruins. Looking behind him, Nafalen remembered he was with one of the good people. If he wasn't he would have taken the horses without a thought. Sartana-kun would have a fit if he did though. Shrugging, Nafalen continued past the horses.

“You're more familiar with this landscape than me, Nafalen. Care to lead the way?” his new companion had asked. Nafalen smiled to himself. It was a perfect chance to take a shot at Sartana-kun's dependance, but Nafalen refrained.

"Sure. I'll lead the way. It's pretty much a straight run once we get out of the city, but there are a few dangers along the road that lay before us," Nafalen said without looking back. He just spoke a bit louder. "You don't have any horses do you? It would make our traveling much more simple. Plus we'd get there faster."

Nafalen turned off the main road and traveled down a path heading north. He didn't really wait for an answer as he knew the answer was probally no. He was nearing the edge of town and wanted to make the outskirts of the ruins before sundown.

Sartana eyed the man cautiously as he walked, and thought about how long it would take for them to get to the keep on foot. He noticed the horses as the two walked by. Now, the demon hunter wasn't an incredibly lazy person, but when given an opportunity to do something more efficiently and with less effort, he would do it. Only if it didn't hurt anyone in the process, though. He stopped and eyed the horses when the killer spoke up. "Sure. I'll lead the way. It's pretty much a straight run once we get out of the city, but there are a few dangers along the road that lay before us,” he said without looking back. Sartana was glad- he knew nothing about this landscape, let alone where the keep sat. Still, he didn't like the fact that he would be relying on this man. Just as he was thinking this, Nafalen looked over his shoulder. "You don't have any horses do you? It would make our traveling much more simple. Plus we'd get there faster." Well, duh. The demon hunter thought to himself. He knew the man was asking the questions rhetorically, though. Nafalen knew Sartana wouldn't take the horses, not when doing so could strand someone at the tavern for the night, or end up inconveniencing someone. The demon hunter walked at the killer's side now, having caught up. “No, I don't. I did see an adventurer riding a dragon earlier, though. It would be nice to have one of those.” He said offhandedly, thinking about how expensive such a beast would be. Not to mention hard to train.

At this rate we'll make it there just before sundown, unless we're impeded by bandits, or trolls, or orcs, or some other malevolent forces... The demon hunter thought to himself with a smirk. This land had a variety of creatures that seemed to just love attacking random humans traveling through their land. It was somewhat strange. Where was the king, or whoever protected this land? But I must check out that bandit camp first- this is a must for the safety of those girls. He looked around, first at the silent Nafalen to his side, and then to the buildings on the side of the road, which had become far apart. They exited the city through a pair of wide, sturdy gates, and stepped onto a dirt road leading into the wilderness. Sartana opened a map from his side, and studied it carefully.

“I'd like to head here, first.” Sartana said. He held the map closer to the killer at his side, so that he could see. “Bandits have been spotted in this area, and I'd like to make sure none of the missing girls are there first. We're already likely to arrive at the keep after sundown, so a quick stop to take care of some thieves shouldn't be a problem.” He said, folding up the map and placing it in his cloak. He didn't care if Nafalen wanted to go or not, really. Sartana was going there first, whether the killer liked it or not. He figured the man wouldn't object, though. Not with the promise of a fight, and possible treasure, anyway.

Nafalen walked through the streets and alleyways, hurrying along. He passed by another tavern and a blacksmith shop. they were nearing the city outskirts. “No, I don't. I did see an adventurer riding a dragon earlier, though. It would be nice to have one of those.” Sartana had said. nafalen didn't reply but only smirked and rolled his eyes. He knew that unless you had the egg and dragon from before birth, the possibility that you could capture and train a dragon in the wild was next to impossible.

Nafalen turned the cornor down the last street and made it out of the gates. he stepped on the dirt road and began the trek to the keep ruins where the demon lay. Nafalen looked down and steadied his weight. His agility allowed him to quickly shift his weight and balence himself so that he barely disturbed much of the dust and dirt.

His companion help out a map. Looking up Nafalen saw that it was of Lómëdor and the surrounding area. He watched at the man pointed to the area where the bandit camp lay. It wasn't to far off their path; only about a half-hour or so. They could still make the ruins just after sunset, if everything went well that is.

Nafalen sighed heavily at the man's request. He stopped and looked at the demon hunter's eyes. "I will go in and look for your precious girls, but I will not kill one of the thieves. I won't stop you if you attempt to, but unless I get attacked, my blades will not touch a thief," Nafalen said without leaving room for arguement.

He turned and looked in the direction of the bandit camp. He decided to leave the dirt road and make a straight shot to the camp. "Even assassins have ethics," he said and took off. Nafalen ran down the path and veered off the road. He ran onto the grass and ran up a hill, disappearing from view as he decended it. The foot of the hill ended at a large, flat plain. This plain led all the way to the bandit camp and then the demon's ruined keep beyond that.

The demon hunter waited for the man’s answer as he followed him off the road, obviously heading to the bandit camp first. Nafalen’s answer surprised Sartana. "I will go in and look for your precious girls, but I will not kill one of the thieves. I won't stop you if you attempt to, but unless I get attacked, my blades will not touch a thief." Sartana knew the man didn’t care about the girls; he was too selfish, not as altruistic as the demon hunter, or maybe just uninterested in helping others. But what he said about not attacking the bandits unless being attacked first hit him as strange. He would murder others, this despicable man. He would kill innocent people, but not a thief? Ah, well, their kind must stick together. Kind of like a pack of filthy rats.

Again, Nafalen’s words hit him. “Even assassins have ethics.” He said. Sartana watched him as he sprinted off, disappearing over a hill. “Hmph.” He grunted, trying to figure out what the man meant. “You’re delusional.” He said to himself, bursting into a sprint. Ethics? Yes, I would like to see what this man’s moral compass looks like, the malevolent, twisted thing that it is. I would hardly call what an assassin has in his head guiding his morals as a ‘conscience’ or ‘ethics’. Won’t kill a thief? ..Maybe I should take care of him along with the thieves. The demon hunter thought to himself grimly.

He reached the top of the hill and was hit by the beauty of the dark green fields spread out before him, waving back and forth as wind blew through it. The expanse looked like a green sea. Sartana caught up with Nafalen, and jogged beside him as they made their way towards the bandit camp, which was located northeast, only a short way off where they were headed. He didn’t look at Nafalen, but did speak. “What is it that would stop you from killing a thief?” He asked in his dark, raspy voice. “You mentioned ethics. Is it that you would only kill someone if there was a hit on their head, or that you just like knaves?” He asked solemnly, still running.

He waited for the man’s response, but it wasn’t long before Sartana reached the edges of the field, where the forest loomed, and entered, stepping over a stone well that separated the two. The demon hunter immediately spotted the bandit camp, though it was well hidden under brush and trees. He also spotted a look-out perched above the camp on a tree. He was asleep. Sartana crept closer as quietly as he could, weapon still sheathed at his side, and glanced from behind a tree at the camp. There was a camp fire with several huts around it, some slaughtered pigs hanging to dry from stakes in the trees near the fire, and one roasting on the fire already. There were two men sitting around the fire, a skinny man and a burly one, talking and laughing about something Sartana could care less about. The girls were nowhere in sight.

“Nafalen.” He said, keeping his voice down. “You can’t see or hear anything that would indicate the hostages are here, can you?”

Nafalen ran across the grassy plains towards the bandit camp. His keen Drowish eyesight allowing him to spot it before any human could. He changed his course in accordance and made a straight line towards the bandit's encampment. Sartana-kun, Nafalen's companion by events, caught up with him about halfway across the plain. “What is it that would stop you from killing a thief? You mentioned ethics. Is it that you would only kill someone if there was a hit on their head, or that you just like knaves?” the Demon Hunter asked as they neared the camp. Nafalen gave a slight smirk as the man spoke.

"I see no need for me to explain myself to you, but I'll let you know anyway," he said as he ran. "I may seem heartless to you. And you may question my 'ethics and conscience.' And question all you wish, you won't get all the answers you seek. But as for why I won't kill a thief, it has no bearing on the fact that they are thieves. I refused to kill them, but nor would I welcome them with open arms. I do not kill without cause. That cause may be money, revenge, pleasure, to rescue one of my few friends, or because I am threatened. Just because they may have kidnapped a few girls is not enough reason for me to kill them. Now shush, we are close to the camp."

With that, Nafalen sped off. They were very near to the bandit camp. Leaping over a stone wall, Nafalen never missed a stride. He turned and entered a small copse of trees off to the side of the camp. Crouching in dusk's lengthening shadows, Nafalen surveyed the encampment. He saw a lookout in a tree above him and two sitting around the fire laughing. Quickly scaling the many branches of the tree, Nafalen jammed his knuckle into the lookout's temple, silently knocking him unconscious. Nafalen guided the man's body into a safe resting place before dropping back to the ground beside the recently arrived Sartana-kun.

“You can’t see or hear anything that would indicate the hostages are here, can you?” he was asked. Quickly scanning the area Nafalen shook his head. "Wait here and don't do anything stupid," he whispered before rising and slipping back into the surrounding forest.

Nafalen worked his way around the camp through the forest. I wasn't large so he quickly made his way to the other side of the camp. He saw two more bandits toss something that looked like a body into a heap off the side of the encampment. They were watched over by another bandit that appeared to be the leader.

Taking a step forward, Nafalen was barely able to see through the campfire smoke and twilight, but what he saw didn't make him happy. It was the body of a drow. Crouching, Nafalen quickly made his way to the pile of bodies that had recently been abandoned by the bandits. He saw a pendant around the Drow's neck. The pendant that held the symbol of the Sintelnor House.

Nafalen's eyes went wide with rage, fire coursing through his veins. He stood slowly, powerfully. He kicked over a tent's support beam that was in front of him, causing it to collapse to the dirt below. He strode with power and determination into the camp, revenge on his every breath. As the bandits came into view they quickly noticed him and scrambled to attack him. On had his sword ready and immediately charged Nafalen. With agility that only a trained Drow Weapon's Master could possess, his hands drew his scimitars; his blades seemingly appearing in his hands. Twirling to his left, Nafalen parried the bandit's lunge and thrust the blade away from him. Nafalen drove his sword into the side of the bandit, deeply puncturing him. He spun around as the man fell to the ground, screaming in bloodcurdling agony.

As he spun away from his first victim, two bandits charged him. He parried the spear of the first and moved around to the side of the other. The second bandit had a broadsword and was in a clumsy mid-swing when Nafalen moved to his side. He was unable to stop his blade in time and it cut through his companion, instantly killing him and lodging itself in the fallen bandit's armor. As the broadsword wielding bandit struggled to wrest free his blade, Nafalen walked up and quickly slit his trout, allowing him a final resting place on top of his blade.

While he had been fighting the two recently deceased thieves, the bandit's captain had been ordering his men remaining men around and armed them with short bows. Then the captain ran off into a nearby tent.

The two men loosed arrows in Nafalen's direction, one piercing his shoulder and another lodging itself in his left hip. They fires one more volley of arrows before abandoning their bows altogether. One arrow went astray, but another was aimed right for Nafalen's chest. He was barely able to get his sword up in time to deflect the arrow that would have pierced his heart. Nafalen shrugged off the pain and charged the two archers who were now struggling in haste to draw their swords.

One forgot his sword as Nafalen drew near and pulled out a dagger, his face filled with fear. Nafalen easily knocked the puny blade aside, and cut the man's hand off with another swipe. One more thrust was all it took to take down the fourth man.

Meanwhile the other bandit managed to draw his sword and attacked Nafalen. Nafalen swung his blade upwards, sending the bandit's sword high. This bandit was more skilled then the others and quickly adjusted, spinning away from Nafalen's thrust. What he didn't expect was for Nafalen to drop his blade and alter its course at the last second, hamstringing him. Nafalen used the opportunity of his opponents pain to rip through the man's gut, opening a hole big enough for his innards to pour onto the dirt below.

While he had been fighting, Nafalen's wounds had begun to take their toll and he started to slow down. He ripped the arrow out of his hip just as the captain emerged from the tent with a sleepy wizard in tow. Sighing painfully, Nafalen broke off the shaft of the arrow lodged in his shoulder and wielded his blades once more. The captain drew two long swords and Nafalen prepared to meet him as the mage began to cast a spell. Nafalen could only hope that Sartana-kun had seen the comotion and could kill the chanting wizard in time.

Nafalen's answers were as the demon hunter assumed they would be: irrational. The reasons he listed for not killing a thief were ones anyone would choose when deciding to kill a creature or human. Of course you needed a reason to kill something- that's what separated men from animals. Honestly, even animals killed because they had to. Either way, the drow would not kill a thief that hurt someone else- that's all there was to it. He wouldn't help someone he didn't know that was in trouble, and this troubled the demon hunter. To think there were people in this world so wrapped up in their illogical morals that they would let innocent people die, or be held against their will, and do nothing about it merely because they didn't know the person. He watched as the drow ran, and jumped, and made other flamboyant moves that were honestly unneeded.

When they finally got to the camp, the first thing the Drow did was knock the sleeping watchman unconscious. Sartana lifted an eyebrow as he did this. What happened to not touching one of the thieves? Ah, I see- a love tap amongst two brothers of the same profession. Damn hypocrite. Sartana shook his head, and turned to Nafalen, asking his question. Nafalen spoke up in the fashion that he always did: cocky, and tactlessly. "Wait here and don't do anything stupid.” He said, slithering back into the dirty jungle he was obviously so at home in. Sartana shook his head as he left. Superfluities in movement and character riddle this man. What is he trying to prove, and to who? Drow or not, respect goes a long way, and its absence can get you killed. Not that he seems to care. He mused to himself, slipping back into a patch of blueberry bushes and sitting still, preferring to scout out the situation before lunging head on into it. Doing so had allowed him survive this long. He watched the encampment in the twilight, and caught a sound from behind him, near what looked like a path used by the bandits to get into the camp. A group of men, two with torches, and all of them armed, made their way towards the encampment. Sartana watched them. There were six in all.

Just then it happened. A crash echoed through the bandit camp, catching the attention of both the bandits and Sartana, who had already spotted movement form the corner of his eye. A tent collapsed, and Nafalen strode boldly into the center of the camp, engaging the bandits. Sartana could only shake his head in amazement. “Don't do anything stupid? ..The idiot.” He whispered. The group of bandits spotted the assassin and unsheathed their weapons. Sartana watched as two of them notched arrows and prepared to shoot at the drow. They never pulled their strings back. Both toppled over instead, gleaming pieces of metal sticking out of their bodies, protruding from their necks and heads. The other four bandits jumped back and shouted, disoriented and outraged at their dead comrades, stuck with throwing knives. Sartana didn't give up his vantage point.

Thinking quickly, the demon hunter picked up a rock from the ground off his feet and tossed it to his right, alerting the bandits, who jumped on the area with their weapons, ready to slay whoever lurked within. Sartana's hand disappeared into a fold in his shirt, and reappeared with three throwing daggers between his knuckles. He leaped from his hiding spot and spun the daggers at the bandit closest to him, while the others searched in vain for an enemy that they though they heard. The bandit dropped, four knives lining his throat and chest. The other three bandits heard the dieing cries from their comrade, and spun around, swords and axes ready. The demon hunter eyed them with his longsword in hand, held low and to the side. He had a devilish grin spread over his face.

The man with the axe attacked first, stepping forward with his axe and swinging horizontally. Sartana didn't bother blocking- he jumped back and stuck his left hand into a pouch on his belt, producing another fist full of knives, now armed in each hand. As he jumped back, another of the bandits had shuffled to his right, trying to flank him. He stabbed at Sartana. Already in his defensive stance, Sartana lifted his sword not to parry, but to disarm his opponent. He caught the bandit's blade in the space cut through the demon hunter's custom sword, and spun his wrist, twisting the sword out of the man's hand and sending it flying to the side, distracting the axe-weilder, who shuffled to get out of the way. As the demon hunter moved, he brought his left hand back and released the knives, missing with two, as he was spinning so quickly, but landing the other two directly in the man's chest. This didn't kill him, but a sword slash across his neck did. There were two bandits left. Sartana noticed now that one of them carried no weapons, but rather was whispering under his breathe and moving his hands. The demon hunter growled and parried a swing from the axeman, kicking him in the gut and reposing with his longsword, piercing the man's stomach. He fell quickly, and Sartana turned to the wizard. A ball of fire had appeared in his hands, and he frowned, launching a molten ball of enchanted fire at the demon hunter. He jumped- but not quick enough. The fireball scorched Sartana's arm as he leapt to the side, and fell on the ground. Sartana turned his head and watched as the fireball flew into the camp, straight for Nafalan, and what looked like two bandits. One was a wizard- but soon was a molten pile of flaming flesh, as the fireball knocked him off his feet and sent him into another tent, catching it one fire. Sartana turned to the wizard at his side, who was frantically trying to cast another spell. Sartana got on his feet, walked over to the man, and knocked him unconscious with a quick hit in the head from the bottom of his sword. He turned to Nafalen, wondering how he was doing. A large man stood in front of him wielding two swords. Sartana sat down and watched, hoping the two would finish each other off. Nafalen looked injured.

Nafalen was breathing heavily as his wounds took their toll, but he wouldn't give them much thought. The bandit captain would die by his hands. Nafalen was momentarily distracted as a ball of fire flew from where Sartana-kun had previously been hiding. He ducked as the flaming magic flew over him, burning the other wizard alive. Nafalen watched in disgust as the man's flesh was scorched and burned off the bone. Looking back he could see Sartana-kun knock out the wizard who had cast the fireball. Then the demon hunter stood watching Nafalen and the captain with an interest the disturbed Nafalen.

The captain took Nafalen's momentary distraction and seized the advantage. Spinning his blades in circles, the Captain began to move towards Nafalen. As the assassin stepped back, he furiously worked he Drow scimitars to block the captain's spinning blades. Nafalen shuffled his heet, stepping over the fire pit and using it to step away from the captain as regain the neutral ground. Nafalen spun the blades in his hands to rebalance them as the captain leaped through the smoke, over the fire, towards Nafalen.

Nafalen lunged at him as the captain landed heavily. The captain moved to block the blow, but at the last second Nafalen diverted his right blade, cutting a deep gash on the captian's shoulder. With a snarl, the captain shrugged off the pain that was now trobbing though him and began to work his blades around again. He executed a series of thrusts and slashes that Nafalen parried. The attacks were not meant to hit, however, the captain was working Nafalen's blades so that they were high above his head and then as he attacked high with the left blade, pulled his right bown and stabbed for Nafalen's legs. Fortunatly, Nafalen had been trained to use this method of attack and knew the only parry avaliable for it. Nafalen leaped back and crossed his blades, executing a perfect cross-down parry. He landed nimbly on his left foot and used his momentum to drive his right foot foward. He kicked out above the blades and his foot crushed the into captain's face, breaking his nose.

The captain roared in pain and staggered back. He wasn't used to blows such as that and wasn't prepared fot it. He stumbled back and foolishly dropped his swords so that he could clutch his mutilated face. With grim determination, Nafalen strode up to him. With a quick spin the captain's astonished, pain twisted face fell to the ground and his body crumpled beside it. Kneeling down, Nafalen wiped his blades free of blood on the captain's shirt.

Standing, Nafalen sheathed his blades and locked eyes with Sartana-kun, his face grim. Turning he strode back to the body pile and the deceased Drow. Nafalen picked him up with much effort and after a short struggle. Nafalen carried the body as far away from the camp as his wounds would allow. Laying the Drow down, Nafalen pulled a torch from the camp and walked back to the dead. Sticking the torch in the ground, Nafalen gathered up twigs, sticks, and grasses and made a small, makeshift funeral pire. Drawing the Drow's twin swords, he lay them across his body in Drow fashion. the pendant flared as the fire inside extinguished. The final ritual was completed. Nafalen dropped the torch into the funeral pire and stepped back.

"Rest well. My brother," Nafalen whispered as he watched the body burn. Nafalen had lost a lot of blood from his wounds and he collapsed on the ground in agony. Nafalen began to mutter the words that would heal him, but as he did his eyes rolled into the back of his head and he passed out.

( These are some damn long posts. Seems like the story’s coming along, though. You don’t happen to be a Drizzt fan, do you? ^_^ )

Sartana caught only the beginning of the battle, turning his head after a moment as the pain in his arm finally caught his attention. He turned to his arm. The sleeve that had once covered it was completely burnt off, and tattered at the top, where it had once connected to his shoulder. There were burns up and down his arm, and they hurt like Hell, but he didn’t waste time worrying about them. He took a flask from his side and poured some water up and down his arms, then tearing a long piece of black cloth from his cape, he wrapped it around his arm. This way the burnt area would heal properly, and not become contaminated from germs in the air. He turned to Nafalen as he heard a roar of pain, and saw the captain staggering back from a blow he had received to the face, dropping his weapons. That’s the end of him. Nafalen may be foolish, but he is an excellent fighter. Sartana thought to himself, watching.

He didn’t wait for the Drow’s finishing blow. Instead, he approached the unconscious mage and removed a rope from his side, tying the young man’s arms and legs together quickly and very tightly. The mage began to stir, and Sartana lifted him onto his feet, tossing him over his shoulder. He turned his head and locked eyes with Nafalen, whose face was grim. Sartana walked into the encampment, taking notice of the slain bodies and destruction that Nafalen had wrought through it. “Hmph.” He counted the bodies, leaving out the wizard that had been burned to death by the other wizard’s stray fireball. Looks like we each killed five. And at no serious injury to either of us- what luck we have. He looked around him. Where was the drow?

Smoke billowing from a fire a little ways away from the camp caught the demon hunter’s attention, and he walked carefully over, taking care to not disturb the dead bodies surrounding him on the ground. He reached the fire, which he found to be a pyre of some sort, and put the now-awake wizard down, off of his shoulder, propping him against a tree. He took a step forward, but noticed something on the ground. “..Nafalen?” he asked, looking at the prone drow body in the ground. It was indeed him. Sartana knelt and flipped his body over, taking note of the arrow wounds in his shoulder and hip. “Damn fool.” He whispered, shaking his head. He checked the Drow’s pulse- he was still breathing, and apparently just unconscious. Sartana sighed. Truthfully, he didn’t really like the dark elf, but what he had done today had been good. Sartana looked at the pyre before him, making out a body of what looked like a drow. Were they related? He wondered to himself, looking at the body. Perhaps they were of the same house. What did that drow tell me that I met briefly so long ago? Houses, weapons masters..? What was that underground land called? Menzobarranzan? Something like that. He looked at Nafalen, and began to carefully pull out a stub of an arrow shaft that still lay lodged in his hip. I didn’t think Drow were so loyal. Perhaps this land is different. He pulled the arrow out and threw it into the fire, tending Nafalen’s wounds as best he could, not being a terribly skilled healer. He wondered if the Drow knew any healing spells.

A shuffle at his side reminded the demon hunter of the elf. He turned, and looked into the eyes of the young wizard, who was watching him with wide-terror filled eyes. The demon hunter was a sight to behold, his dark expression and clothing, the way his long arms fell at his sides and his body swayed as he stood. The mage squeaked in terror, but Sartana took no pity- he grabbed him by the collar of his shirt and lifted him off his feet, up against an old oak tree.

“I’ll ask you once: did any of your bandit friends kidnap girls from the village?” The mage looked at him with a face contorted with fear, and then spoke up, though only after the demon hunter shook him a bit. “N-no! We had nothing to do with that!” he said, his voice weak with sobs. Sartana turned his head to the pyre, and to Nafalen. What were these bandits doing with dead drow? Did they kill them themselves? He turned back to the wizard with a thought in his mind. “Did another house pay you to ambush these Drow, or dispose of the ones they had already killed?” The wizard looked at Sartana with eyes wider than he had ever seen before. The mage’s jaw dropped. He said nothing, though, just watching Sartana. The demon hunter lifted an eyebrow, a frown on his face, and dropped the wizard roughly on the ground, bounding his mouth with a piece of cloth from his cape. He walked over to Nafalen and propped his head up, as to keep him from suffocating on his blood if an arrow punctured his lung, and leaned him against a tree.

Sartana turned to the wizard. “You had your chance to talk, thief.” He said, lowering his head back on a rock and tipping hit wide-brimmed hat over his eyes. “I doubt my Drow companion will be as gentle when he asks the same questions.” The demon hunter nodded off into a light sleep, waiting for Nafalen to wake up. It didn’t matter if they were a little late killing the demon- they needed their wounds to heal a bit before they set off to confront such a powerful creature.

((Me...fan of Drizzt? No more like me...worship Drizzt, Bruenor, Wulfgar, Regis, Cattie-Brie, Gwen, Artemis Entreri, Jarlaxle, Salvatore. Yea. You know he's coming out with another Drizzt book (in the fall I think). It's called The Orc King))

Nafalen woke in a hot sweat after less then half an hour. He immediately noticed the waning sunlight and the intense throbbing pain that shot through his wounded body. Next he noticed he was propped up, and there was no longer an arrow shaft in his shoulder. Finally he noticed that he had been sloppily bandaged, there was a terrified mage nearby, and Sartana-kun was asleep to his left.

As Nafalen slowly woke fully from his pained sleep, he realized that the amount of blood he had loss was substantial and he needed to heal his wounds. Closing his eyes, Nafalen visualized the words of his much needed healing spell. As the spell raced through his memory he pieced together the correct phrases and uttered the spell. His backed arched as his wounds began to close and heal. His shoulder and hip clised, the skin knitting itself back together. Nafalen knew that it would be a while before his muscled and tissue was truly healed, but at least he had stopped bleeding and could begin to heal.

Grasping a nearby branch with his uninjured arm, Nafalen pulled himself up and removed the bandages from his arm. Nafalen stretched, allowing his remaining blood to rush through his body and making his heart pump faster to start the process of restoring the lost blood.

Nafalen stumbled over to Sartana-kun and nudged him lightly, so as to wake him. Wiping the sleep from his eyes, Nafalen nodded to Sartana. "Thank you for not leaving me," Nafalen said before turning and walking away.

Nafalen made his way to the funeral pyre. Falling to his knees next to it Nafalen took the Drow's swords and the pendant of the Sintelnor House. Rising, Nafalen buried them in the ground next to the pyre. Then he covered the remains of the Drow with stones.

"It is what I may give him. If not right, nor entirely proper, I hope you accept him into your kingdom, where he may once again become a warrior in your service," Nafalen whispered into the last of the remaining smoke.

Turning from the pyre, Nafalen saw the mage, an elven mage, huddling against a tree in terror. Elf or not, Nafalen was going to get some answers. Nafalen calmly strode over to the elf and hoisted the cowering male to his feet. Pressing him against the tree Nafalen calmly asked about the dead Drow. Then mage refused to answer so Nafalen asked again.

"Who killed the Drow? And how? Do you see my face? My skin color. I am a Drow as well, and if you know anything at all, you will know what I can do to you."

The man still refused to give up any knowledge about the Drow's death, claiming ignorance of the fact. This infuriated Nafalen and his eyes burned with rage, causing his wounds to pain him. Reaching down, Nafalen swiftly grabbed his bone hilted dagger from its sheath and plunged the blade into the left side of the man's back, eliciting a blood chilling scream from the man's lips.

"Now your life is forfeit. Mine as well tell me, or else I'll just prolong your suffering," Nafalen said, twisting his dagger a full turn to prove his point. To Nafalen's dismay, the elven mage still claimed ignorance. With a roar of hatred Nafalen spun around, ripping the dagger from the man, causing excruciating pain that was only stopped when Nafalen completed the turn, deeply slicing into the man's neck. Nafalen's dagger stuck into the tree, pinning the mage in place. Grasping the hilt, Nafalen ripped the blade free with one great tug, sending the corpse into a twisted heap at the trunk of the bloody tree.

After wiping his dagger free of blood and putting it back in its sheath Nafalen began to walk off.

"Let's go. The beastie is next!" Nafalen roared behind him to Sartana-kun. There was no room for argument in his rage-filled voice. Nafalen would get vengeance on the Drow's killers. The Drow who was now dead, the one that Nafalen had known so very well.

(Ha, I like the Dark Elf Trilogy too. Haven't read a book from the series in over a year, though.)


The demon hunter had trained himself to sleep lightly when he must, and so the soft thuds of the drow's feet woke Sartana easily, and Nafalen's nudge brought his hand to his hat, tipping it up slightly so see if it was indeed his companion awakening him. “Thank you for not leaving me," he said, before making his way towards the funeral pyre. Sartana watched him, glad that he had recovered so quickly, obviously due to some magical ability he had. Also, he was somewhat surprised that the drow had thanked him for not leaving. Nafalen didn't seem like the type of person that would go around thanking people, unless the situation had been damn dire. Of course, it had been somewhat so, and Sartana smirked at his companion, wondering if the magic in his arm had been wrong. It hadn't though.

The man was evil. Yet, having found someone that he could now somewhat trust with his life, he had obviously changed his opinion of Sartana- if only a little bit. The demon hunter rose to his feet just as Nafalen turned and picked up the mage. As Sartana had thought, the drow was much harsher than himself, and soon a scream echoed through the clearing. Sartana peered over Nafalen's shoulder. He had stabbed the man in his rage. Not but a moment later the mage was lying on the ground, dead, with a bloody slash across his neck. Nafalen sheathed his knife and walked off into the woods.

"Let's go. The beastie is next!" He yelled behind him, not looking back. Sartana shrugged. He wanted nothing more than to kill the beast.

Not but an hour later they emerged from the forest, now dark and still. It seemed that the closer they came to the keep, the less the animals of the forest were apt to make noises, or move at all, until there was not a sound accept for the soft treading of their feet. Sartana gazed up at the dark castle. A crumbling gray stone wall surrounded it, about fifty feet high. There was a hole knocked in one side of it, though, exposing an overgrown courtyard riddled with statues, and an ivy-covered fountain in the center. There was no water in it. The castle itself consisted of what looked like a decrepit stable attached to a small tower, leading to a much larger square tower behind it. The front gate of the main building was ripped off its hinges, and it was pitch black inside the building.

The demonhunter unsheathed his sword and clicked his wrist, allowing a foot-long dagger to shoot from the bottom of his hand, now straight and gleaming in the moonlight.

“He could be in the top level, or the bottom, near the dungeon. I don't suggest we split up, but it's up to you.” He said, stepping forward towards the castle.

((The Dark Elf Trilogy was my favorite, but the Hunter's Blade trilogy is a close second. Then of course there is the Sellswords. Hey, let's continue this convo in PMs so it doesn't take away from the flow of the RP.))

Nafalen heard Sartana-kun rise and follow him into the woods. When Nafalen heard this he took off running, knowing that Sartana-kun would eventually catch up. Leaping over a fallen log, Nafalen exited the small wooded area and reentered the plains. In the distance he could see the decrepid castle in all its glory.

Continuing his run, Nafalen made it across the field to the castle's edge in less time then he would have thought necessary. Kneeling at the edge of the dried up moat, Nafalen could see the bleached bones of long dead fish and unfortunatly drowned humans. Looking up, Nafalen saw an overgrown, dried up fountain inside the courtyard through a hole in the stone wall. Behind that was another larger, square tower.

Sartana-kun came up behind Nafalen and drew his sword, he also activated some device in his wrist and a blade popped out under his wrist. Looking at the blade Nafalen was impressed. Such a weapon could come in handy while on assination missions.

“He could be in the top level, or the bottom, near the dungeon. I don't suggest we split up, but it's up to you,” Sartana-kun told Nafalen.

Looking back towards the castle, Nafalen ose to full height and carefully made his way across rotting drawbridge. Lookin around Nafalen turned back to his companion.

"He's in the basement of the back tower. Time to become the hunters," Nafalen said grimly before turning and making his way way through the rusted gate and into the center courtyard.

"He's in the basement of the back tower. Time to become the hunters," the Drow said grimly, entering the courtyard. The demon hunter followed, and they soon stood near the broken, ivy-ridden fountain. The castle looked like it had been attacked many years ago, pillaged, and then left to rot in the forest. There was rubble and parts of the outer wall littered about the courtyard, and a well stood untouched near the side of the fountain. Sartana peered over the edge of it, and shook his head. It was clogged with bleached skeletons and rusted weapons. He walked back to Nafalen's side. "Time for the fun part."

The demon hunter entered the darkness of the castle, moving as silently as he could, the soft soles of his feet leaving faint echoes in the dark. As dark as the entrance had appeared outside, inside of the actual building it was somewhat light, due to the holes in the walls, from where moonight peered in. The walls were dank and mold-covered, the floors dirty and strewn with debris. There was no furniture or items of pleasure; it had all obviously been taken when the castle was raided. The hallway lead to a larger room. There were vines hanging from the ceiling, and two staircases leading up to the second floor connected on either side of the walls. There was also a door to either side of the entrance they had come in, on the far sides of the walls. One door was torn off, and stairs could be glimpsed leading down. Sartana turned and made his way towards the staircase. He peered over the side of the door, and saw nothing but black beneath him. Moving his left hand, he enacted his ability to detect evil, and recieved a strange feeling. It was a fleeting sense of evil. He knew the feeling.

Slowly, he walked down the stairs and came to the bottom. The floor was dirt, surprisingly enough, and recent tracks tore through it. Sartana could not see very well in the dark, being human, but the magic in his arm allowed him to sense if there were any evil creatures nearby. Stalking forward, there came a clattering noise from ahead, and the demon hunter raised his weapons. "As I thought- skeletons." He said, stepping back a few feet so as to gain the advantage of being able to see at least a little bit. The tip of a spear shot from the darkness at Sartana's gut. He tapped the sharp metal head away with his dagger and grabbed the end of the spear with the same hand, pulling it forward and the creature along with it. He struck vertically down and broke through half of the exposed bone creature with his falchion, watching it crumble to the ground. More clattering could be heard from ahead, and the demon hunter readied his blades.

Nafalen slowly walked through the castle's courtyard. He did not make much note of where he stepped, crussing plant and bone alike. He bent down and pulled an arrow from a long seak skeleton, thinking that it might have some use left, but the shaft crumbled as soon as any force was put upon it. Sighing, Nafalen turned in time to see Sartana-kun disappear down a semi-hidden staircase. Walking towards the stairs, Nafalen followed the Demon Hunter down.

Yes, Nafalen thought. The very fun part. With an evil grin, Nafalen drew his duel Curved Drow Scimitars as his eyes adjusted to the darkness. Then he heard a clanking down the tunnel. With another grin, Nafalen was glad to have something other then just the demon to kill. At least he could entertain himself until he found his brother's killers.

As the spear pierced the darkness, Nafalen was glad that Sartana was able to block it. When he saw the being that had thrust the spear, Nafalen's eyes burned with the fury of battle.

"Oh good. Skeletons. Back from the dead," Nafalen said with a touch of sarcasm as the next skeleton advanced.

The hallway was just large enough for Nafalen and Sartana-kun to fight side-by-side and Nafalen took every advantage of that. There were only two of them and who knows how many skeletons. That just meant that the skeletons couldn't use their numbers to their advantage.

With a twirl of his blade Nafalen lopped off the skull of the nearest skeleton warrior.

"Shall we dance?" Nafalen roared as he charged towards the approaching throng enemies, his blades spinning.

Nafalen was met with two open skeletons and many anxious others. The skeleton warriors were not to strong, being just bone, and Nafalen used that to his advantage. Knocking his first victim's blade aside, Nafalen kicked out at the bones, shattering them into dust. Spinning he engaged the next warrior, a spear weilding skeleton. This one was even easier then the last, its rotted spear splintering with just a touch from Nafalen's well-kept scimitars.

With the two standing beside each other, the skeletons would be unable to flank them. Not only that, in such a narrow hallway, their numbers meant little; one or two at a time would come, and Sartana or the Drow were more than a match for such small numbers. The problem was that if there were skeletons in the back with bows, the two companions would be hard-pressed. But there's no chance of that.. The demon hunter thought to himself, grinning and moving forward. The creature's weapons look to be several decades old; bows- especially their strings- cannot last that long without maintenance.

It was quite dark, but with his ability to sense evil, he could roughly make out where the skeletons were lurking, and their numbers. There were about thirty in the corridor- a large many- but the rest were lined up and waiting for their turn to catch some action. Sartana kicked a rusty cutlass from the skeleton in front of him and slashed with both his blades, crumbling the boney creature into a bile of marrow and dust. “Too easy.” He muttered. These were likely the demon's standing guards, just in case adventurers happened upon the castle. And with this much noise, his main guard would likely be arriving any time now. With that thought, the end of the hallway lit up in green light, exposing the several dozen hunched skeletons in the corridor. The light was caused by a robed being.

“Goddamn mages!” Sartana said, parrying a skeleton's blow with his dagger. The demon hunter pondered attacking the wizard with his throwing knives, but there was no chance; the distance was too far. “Nafalen- he's all yours!” Sartana called stepping forward further into the fray to distract the skeletons. He knew Nafalen carried a bow with him.

Nafalen ducked as a skeleton swung over his head. Unable to pull the rusty blade back in time, due to its lack of strength and substance, Nafalen was left with a clear opening. He took it. Bashing out with the hilt of his Drowish scimitar, Nafalen shattered the jawbone of the attacking skeleton.

Down the hallway Nafalen saw a dull green light, along with an increasing number of large skeleton warriors. So, Nafalen thought. There’s a mage here to. Not surprising. Just one more to fall before the demon. Then he heard Sartana-kun’s shout next to him.

“Nafalen- he's all yours!” Sartana-kun told him. Nafalen could tell what he was thing without it even being audible.

"All right, Give me a second! Just hold them off!" Nafalen shouted over the clang of steel striking steel. Nafalen parried a thrust from a nearby skeleton and punched out with his Curved Drow Scimitar. The skeleton's bones shattered from the force of the blow giving Nafalen and Sartana-kun the time they needed. Nafalen thrust his duel scimitars into their sheathes and stepped back from the battle. Ripping open the tube that held his short bow, Nafalen caught it as it slid out. When he brought it in front of him, he realized that it was still unstrung from travel.

"Damn! I need a minute Sartana!" Nafalen hurriedly called to his companion. Kneeling down, Nafalen pressed the strung end of the bow against the toe of his worn leather traveling boot. Grasping the bow string, Nafalen bent the bow just enough to allow him to loop the string's free end over the hook. Once it was strung, Nafalen stood back up and pulled an arrow from his quiver. He drew his bow and aimed down the shaft of the arrow. As he sighted the mage, Nafalen saw a skeleton that had made his way through the throngs of advancing skeletons to Sartana-kun's back. Quickly changing his aim Nafalen loosed the arrow, shattering the skeleton. Unfortunately there was a bit to much force and the arrow went straight through the skeleton without stopping it was headed straight towards Sartana.

"Sartana! Duck!" Nafalen called as he quickly drew another arrow and sighted the mage again. Loosing the arrow Nafalen was dismayed when a skeleton warrior moved into its flight path, intercepting the arrow, only to be shattered. Pulling out a third arrow, Nafalen sighted one last time and fired at the mage, he drew two more arrows and fired them down the hallway in succession without really taking the time to aim to much.

Throwing his bow back into it's tube, Nafalen drew his duel Drowish scimitars just as the mage was felled by two arrows that had pierced his chest. Nafalen charged forward into the battle to help Sartana-kun, but as he reached his companion the skeleton warriors lost all signs of lift and collapsed into heaps. Nafalen cocked his head and looked at Sartana-kun questioningly.

The demon hunter stepped forward, drawing his wolfs-bane short sword in one hand and his falchion in the other. Nafalen understood Sartana's earlier shout, and yelled back that he needed some time. “You'll have all the time you need!” He growled. Now that it was only him holding off the skeletons, three could attack him at a time, hitting him from three sides. But this didn't bother him. Three stepped forward, others following close behind, ready to strike. The three skeletons that stepped forward were all wielding rusty swords, and two carried a dirty buckler in their other hand. The right one struck first, stabbing at Sartana. His sword was knocked away with a quick slash, but at the same time the left skeleton brought his sword high and swung down at Sartana. Not waiting for the third one to attack too, the demon hunter retreated a step backwards, dodging the downward strike. Punching the swinging skeleton's shield with his left hand, he triggered his dagger, which broke through the rusty metal penetrating the creature's arm. Sartana twisted his wrist and tore the shield and arm from the skeleton, flinging it at the creature in front of him. It shattered it and sent a splash of bones across the hallway. He brought his shortsword down a moment later, splitting the skeleton in half. One remained, stalking closer, and the rest of the hallway shifted, advancing.

"Damn! I need a minute Sartana!" The Drow shouted from behind him. The demon hunter grunted. “Take your time!” he yelled, blocking a slash from the remaining skeleton. Something shot out of the skeleton's stomach, and struck Sartana in the side. He gasped, and pulled back, unimpaling himself. Another skeleton had shoved its spear through the rib cage of the creature engaged with the demon hunter. The attack had succeeded. Sartana cut the spear and half and jump kicked the skeleton with his foot, sending it backwards and smashing into the spear-wielding skeleton.

"Sartana! Duck!" Nafalen called. Sartana didn't argue. He dropped to the ground and watched as an arrow flew over his head, piercing a rotten skeleton shield and ribbing the creature in half, having severed its spine. The demon hunter jumped to his feet again, now staring down three new opponents that had stepped forward. He grunted, and readied his weapons, when two arrows flew past him, connecting with the mage in the back of the room. At that moment, the Drow returned to Sartana's side, and the attacking skeletons crumbled. Nafalen looked at him questioningly.

Sartana sighed, and checked the wound in his side. It wasn't that bad. “Perhaps our mage friend here was a necromancer working for the demon.” He said, pulling pieces of rust from the slash in his side. “But we shouldn't be wasting time here. The demon knows he's got company, and the more time we dawdle, the more time he has to prepare.” With this, Sartana cocked the knife back into his wrist and walked forward, entering the second room.

Nafalen had to agree with his companion's, Sartana-kun's, logic. “Perhaps our mage friend here was a necromancer working for the demon," were his words. That was probably true since the reanimated skeletons were destroyed as soon as Nafalen had killed the mage with his arrows. Nafalen shrugged, it didn't matter much to him, he had gotten in a few kills and they still had the pretty little demon to kill.

Nafalen sheathed his duel Drow Curved Scimitars and followed Sartana-kun into the next room. As soon as they entered through the curved archway the first thing that Nafalen noticed was the stench. It smelled horribly, like poisonous gas that had been excreted from some creature that had spent to much time sitting on its back. As soon as he had cleared his head and gotten over the stench Nafalen saw a green glow coming from a large pit in the center of the room. There were stairs that ran along the edge of the circular pit leading down to where the demon presumably was resting.

Nafalen heard a scream that sounded like it came from inside the left hand wall. Upon closer inspection Nafalen saw a small locked doorway. Reaching in his pack Nafalen quickly located the items he was looking for. He pulled out a thin metal wire and a flat pick, quickly picking the lock, Nafalen swung the door open, revealing a dark hallway.

Nafalen walked back to Sartana-kun.

"You go get the girls. Do the whole hero thing. I'll keep beastie busy here with me till you get back. But hurry," Nafalen said, is eyes never leaving the glowing pit. Drawing his Razor Bow out again, Nafalen notched an arrow and walked to the edge of the pit. He stayed in the shadows and peered into the gloom. Looking to Sartana-kun Nafalen motioned towards the opened door with his head, then knelt on one knee and returned his gaze to the demon's lair.

Sartana took the lead, entering the second room, and immediately being hit by a powerful stench that clung heavily to the air. He pulled his dark red scarf across his mouth and nose to help block out the disgusting odor, but it didn't really help. The stench was just too strong. With a few quick moves from his hand, the demon hunter determined that there was something evil- terribly evil- resting in the center of the room, where the pit lay. He unsheathed his falchion and shortsword, ready to charge into the pit and kill whatever lay inside, but was halted by a scream from his side. He turned and saw that Nafalen was already picking the lock to a door from where the scream emitted. It was soon open, and Sartana stood behind the Drow, looking into a dark hallway. The girls were in there, and one was obviously in trouble, from the sound of her scream. Though the scream did sound somewhat strange... But Sartana couldn't put his finger on why that was.

"You go get the girls. Do the whole hero thing. I'll keep beastie busy here with me till you get back. But hurry," the drow said, drawing his fancy bow and staring at the glowing pit. The demon hunter smirked. Yes, the hero thing indeed. He thought to himself, turning his back to Nafalen. “Save some for me, please.” He said in a deep voice, rimmed with a joking air. “And be careful not to touch its body.” Sartana said seriously, turning his head to the drow. “From the stench, and what I know about demons like this one, it's likely that its body is riddled with pours that ooze a potent poison.” He turned his head around and walked into the darkness of the corridor.

Sartana rounded a corner and found were torches lining the walls every few meters now lighting the hall, and helping his progress. Their flames were blue, and obviously produced by some magical effect. At his side there were many doors, nearly as many as there were torches. Each had a peak hole in them near the top, at eye level. The demon hunter glanced in one wearily, but it was too dark inside to see anything. A scream echoed from down the hallway, pulling the demon hunter's attention away from the door. He stalked forward, hoping to find the girls.

“And be careful not to touch its body. From the stench, and what I know about demons like this one, it's likely that its body is riddled with pours that ooze a potent poison,” Sartana-kun told Nafalen in a serious tone.

“I’ll keep that in mind,” the assassin Drow muttered as he steadied his bow, sighting down into the murky pit. The stench-ridden dust cleared for a moment and Nafalen saw his target. Well the basic outline of the demon could be seen through the still heavy fog. The massive monster was pacing around at the bottom of the pit, seemingly disturbed.

“Time for dinner,” Nafalen said under his breath as he let go of the powerfully drawn string. His Razor Bow flung the arrow forward with a loud twang. The power and force of Nafalen's Razor Bow allowed the arrow to fly with unerring speed and accuracy. The demon roared as the arrow pierced his soft, porous flank, driving in all the way to the fletching. Drawing another arrow Nafalen sighted again and fired into the beast twice more in succession, both times eliciting loud rroars of painful protest.

Then the mist thickened again, blocking Nafalen's view of the monster. "Damn," Nafalen uttered to himself. He drew another arrow anyway and fired into the pit, near where he had last seen the creature. Nafalen heard the arrow strike the stone floor, harmlessly falling still. He drew another arrow and fired again, also missing. Nafalen notched one more arrow and drew the string back slightly, but not firing the bow. Standing, Nafalen crossed his legs, walking sideways around the edge of the pit, looking for the monster. Then he saw it, climbing up the circular stairway with intense speed. Nafalen fired one last shot off before having to rapidly back pedal from the fast advancing demon. Nafalen drew another arrow and prepared to shoot fast and move faster.

“Aaaaaiiiiieeee!” Came a high-pitched scream from down the well-lit hallway. Sartana grimaced, and continued walking forward. There was a rusted iron door at the end of the hallway, from which the screams were coming from. But they didn't sound like a little girl's screams, not a woman's or even a human's. The demon hunter stopped as scratching could be heard from the other side of the door. He sheathed his short sword and pulled a fistful of throwing knives from his pocket, wishing then that he had some arrows for his razor bow. No matter. He thought to himself with a sigh. He took a step forward, and the door suddenly creaked open, slowly. Another scream came from the darkness behind it, and a long, sickly white hand, clawed and tight to the bone, gripped the side of the door and pushed it open. The demon hunter gasped as the figure appeared from the other side of the door. It was at least seven feet tall, thin and naked, almost human in shape, but with a face twisted and abhorrently contorted and agony. It opened it's twisted mouth again, letting out a shriek.

“Damn.. undead.. beasts.” Sartana said, struggling to move his feet. The creature began moving forward, its black eyes regarding the demon hunter. Sartana growled. I can't.. move my legs. Damned magical.. effects. He shook his head and lifted his left hand; he could still move his arms. With a flick of his wrist, three daggers were sent spinning towards the fetid, ghastly creature. Two of them missed, the creature moving its thin body to dodge them. The other one hit, though, and the creature cried out in pain, holding the side of its stomach.

Sartana unsheathed his shortsword again and lifted one foot unwittingly to take a stance. I can move again! He thought to himself with a grin. Rushing forward, the demon hunter came within two meters of the creature and dove, sliding on his knees while it reached a long arm out to grapple his neck. Sartana brought his sword up and cut the beast's underbelly as he slid, jumping up at the other side of him. He turned around and grinned as the creature held itself. Something screamed behind him, however, and he felt a tug on his shoulder.

Nafalen dove fast to the right, coming up from his roll and firing off another arrow. The beast was covered with wooden shafts sticking all over it. And Nafalen's quiver was almost empty. The assassin had managed to dodge all the demon's attacks thus far and hadn't come in contact with the hideous green, porous, poisonous skin. But the beast didn't show signs of slowing its relentless assault any time soon.

Nafalen turned and ran, putting the bulk of the large pit between the two combatants. He quickly drew another arrow and fired, piercing one of the beasts eyes, temporarily blinding it.

"Lucky shot," Nafalen muttered as he fired off two more arrows, both making their way deep into the soft skin of the large demon. Nafalen reached behind him, grasping and notching his last arrow. He drew and pulled just as the monstrous beast stopped it's agonized thrashing. The beast leaped towards Nafalen, soaring over the pit. Nafalen released his final arrow, his proximity to his target and the force of his Razor Bow halting the demon's leap. It fell, plummeting into the hazy abyss, only to be quickly stopped by the stone floor at the bottom.

You had better get moving Sartana-kun. I don't know how much longer I can keep this thing busy without killing it, Nafalen thought as he watched the beast thrash and roar in agony. Nafalen's reprieve from the relentless assault was not long lived, however, as the demon quickly rose and stormed up the stairs back towards its prey.

Thinking fast, Nafalen began to twist his hands and chant, visualizing and remembering the necessary words. Out of the air nearly two gallons of water materialized over the beast, only to fall from the sky, drenching the demon and the stairs. To Nafalen's surprise, and joy, the poisonous, soft skin of the demon began to bubble and congeal. The water worked as an antidote to the poison, and a powerful attack on the demon itself. Falling back Nafalen began to quickly formulate a new plan that focused on the demons recently discovered weakness.

The beast tore through Sartana's shoulder and sent him flying to the ground in the process. The demon hunter rolled to the side as the gaunt creature's foot struck the floor with incredible force, cracking the stone. Sartana leaped to his feet and lunged forward with his shortsword, tearing open the beast's stomach and following up with his falchion, chopping the creature's arm off with a mighty blow. It fell back and tried to shriek, but found a foot in its mouth. Sartana stomped its head into the ground, producing a mess of gooey, rotten flesh. He turned just as the other beast fell on him, clawing with its long, white arms. The demon hunter lifted his left sword and parried the first blow, cutting the beast's arm in the process, but was his across the face with the second strike, leaving a deep scar across the bridge of his nose and the sides of his cheek.

Thinking him stunned, the creature quickly leaned forward, opening its maw in order to bite the man's face off. It found a fist in its mouth, however, and heard a click. Sartana's dagger shot through the back of the monster's mouth, catching fire as it did, bursting through the thing's head and killing it instantly. It fell to the floor in a heap of flesh. He turned and ran into the next room. I've got to hurry! Nafalen may be strong, but he can't hold off such a strong demon for long. I hope to God he hasn't used any water-based attacks on it. Doing so would cause the thing to reproduce, sending squirming larvae from its back! He stopped for a moment. I should have told him that... No matter! He leaped into the next room, finding a cage and a large fire pit near the center, with other corridors leading off of the room. In the cage lay three girls, dirty and unconscious.

The demon hunter shook his head. “They'll be fine now.” He said, turning his back to them. He had to help the drow before it was too late. Sartana couldnt face the beast by himself if Nafalen fell.

Nafalen’s jaw dropped and his eyes went wide. He dropped back into the shadows of a nearby corner. As he watched his face twisted in utter revulsion and disgust. What is this thing? he thought.

The demon had made its way to the top of the staircase and back onto the main floor, only to stop and start convulsing on the spot. As Nafalen watched the demon’s back began to bubble and pop, each pore growing and shuddering with the tremors that rocked the beast. Nafalen probably should have killed the demon as it convulsed, but he could only stare. Nafalen had only seen such a demon once before, in the Underdark, and he had hated it then as well. Unfortunately for him, he had not used any water on the creature and did not know what the effects would be.

As he watched small spore like pods seemed to drop out of the pores on the demon’s body. There was nearly a dozen in total, each shaking as the demon did. After a few moments the shaking subsided and the spores began to grow. They enlarged at an alarming rate, each ceasing its growth when they had reached the size of a large melon. Then they cracked.

Nafalen exhaled heavily when he saw what emerged from the spore-eggs. From each crawled a miniature version of the demon; each equally as disgusting. One quickly scurried in Nafalen’s direction, only to be sent down the giant pit by a blow from the assassin’s heel.

Nafalen spun and ran to the other side of the pit, cutting down another hatchling as he did. Two of the mini-demons ran after the Drow, only to meet the sharp end of his powerful blades. The large, original demon stood up and charged towards Nafalen, leaping over the pit. Nafalen roared and leaped over the pit, blade tips leading.

“To the depths of the Abyss with you!” he roared as he and his blades slammed into the demon. The two combatants fell downwards, into the fog of the pit. Nafalen could feel the poison that oozed from the demon working its way into his body. But the demon would die first; Sartana-kun could have the hatchlings. Nafalen shouted a battle cry of power as he drove his blades into the demon over and over until the beast slammed into the ground, Nafalen on top of him, being thrown from the force of the impact.

Nafalen shook his head and summoned a globe of water to drench him, cleaning off as much of the poison that was on him as possible. Then he saw the demon slowly begin to move as the poison took its toll on Nafalen. Then his vision blurred.

The demonhunter sprinted out of the chamber where the girls were being held, and leaped over the bodies of the slain undead creatures. His black cape flared as he ran, and his two swords were drawn, with his wrist dagger sticking from his hand, complimenting the short sword that already sat firm in his grip. The was no time to dawdle. His eyes burned, and a deadly grimace lay on his face. He needed to help the Drow, but also he needed to kill the demon. He absolutely had to. The chamber gateway came into view ahead, where the pit lie and Nafalen was fighting. He heard scraping across the ground and heavy foot steps that seemed to shake the entire dungeon. Sartana burst from the hallway into the chamber and gasped. He caught glimpse and Nafalen and the demon for only a moment- and then they were gone, spiraling into the depths of the misty pit.

Something caught hold of the demonhunter's leg, and he pulled back, removing his foot from the grip of a fetid, slimy creature that squirmed towards him. Sartana knew the creature was fresh spawn of the larger beast, and took pleasure in stomping his heavy boot into the thing's flesh, splattering it over the slime-covered floors. More of them were coming form all corners of the chamber, however, and the demonhunter backed himself to the corridor he had just emerged from. The little creature's were poisoness, and to allow himself to be flanked by them was foolish- backing into the corridor would force the slimy things to attack from only one front. And they did.

Maturing at a rapid rate, the demon spawn soon sprouted stronger back legs. The used these to push off the ground and launch themselves at the demonhunter, opening their mucus-filled mouths to bite him and rip him to pieces. Sartana had been fighting demons all his life, however, and knew exactly what maneuvers to use to kill the creatures and block their attacks. These were his favored enemies, after all.

He kicked away the first launched creature, letting its body splatter against the wall. As he did this, he brought he left hand close to his side and whispered something. His left hand glow bright orange, and then blurred. This spread to his entire body, distorting his image and turning his figure into a blurred, black mess. Three more leaped up at once, as the ones still on the ground crawled forward to bite with their mandibles. The first flying one missed entirely, having aimed itself for the demonhunter's blurred form and missed. The second was skewered by his short sword, and the last flying one found itself split in two by his falchion. Wasting no time, the demonhunter stepped on a creature below and launched himself over the mass of them, landing lightly on the floor behind them and turning quickly, bringing his left hand high over his head and making three quick, deft hand gestures, ending in a fist that he brought roughly down in front of him. Suddenly, the air around the creatures became tense and heated. What followed was an series of small explosions from the ceiling of the chamber, creating molten debris that rained down on the creatures. They shrieked and pulled themselves away from the demonhunter in their confusion. It wasn't enough to kill any of them, but it at least distracted them.

Sartana now stood at the side of the pit's entrance. He couldn't see through the fog at the bottom. “Nafalen!” He called, hoping to get a response.

Nafalen groaned and rolled onto his side, coughing. He could feel the poison working its way intohis bodily systems, attacking and damaging his well-being. The poreous, bulging demon made its way towards Nafalen as the Drow Weapons Master struggled to breathe. The demon moved to kick Nafalen, its large powerful leg flying through the air towards him. Summoning his strength, Nafalen thrust out with his Curved Drow Scimitar. The blade's sharp edge cut through the soft skin of the green demon, severing it off. The demon squeeled and began flailing about, roaring in agony. Liquid poison poured from its stump, drenching the stone floor.

Nafalen rolled away from th flailing powrful beast, banging into the wall to his right. Looking up Nafalen tried to peer through the dense smog to the top of the pit, but was unable. He heard someone call his name from above. It was Sartana-kun. Calling upon his innate Drow abilities, Nafalen reached inside him and shouted, "Tiu!' His body lifted off the floor, supported by the power of his Drow abilities. Nafalen flew up, away from the thrashing demon and through the green, gaseous smog. The demon hunter Sartana-kun came into view as Nafalen cleared the smog and the edge of the pit. As he did, Nafalen angled himself to move over the stone floor next to the demon hunter.

As he made his way over the floor his energy gave out. Nafalen fell to the ground and let out a groan as the poison took its toll on him. Nafalen's breaths became no more then shallow wheezing and his bodies rocked with spasms every so often.

"Looks like you get the killing blos after all," Nafalen whispered to Sartana-kun. Pushing off the floor, Nafalen rolled away from the pit, over his fallen blades. As he did, Nafalen's hand recieved a gash, but Nafalen did not feel the blood running from his body as he went numb.

The demonhunter watched the foggy depths of the pit anxiously, but twirled around as a scraping sound caught his attention. It was the demon spawn again, unfazed from the fire attack that rained down on them moments before. One, now boasting two sets of fully developed legs and a mighty jaw filled with jagged teeth, jumped towards the demonhunter. Sartana had been injured earlier by one of the beasts, and took this chance to heal himself. He stuck out his hand as the creature leaped forward, and made three quick finger motions, grabbing it by the neck as he did. His hand immediately turned red, and swirled around the creature. It gurgled and squirmed as the life was siphoned from it straight into the demonhunter's body, healing him. The monster dropped on the ground, lifeless, and Sartana stood straight up, fully healed. He watched as the seven or so other creatures approached, ready to strike. Yet, one by one, their legs stopped growing, and bodies bubbled and fizzled. Each slowly melted into a pile of acid and poison. Sartana eyed the piles thoughtfully. Born prematurely. Died the same way. He turned just as Nafalen floated up to him, using his innate Drow abilities. He landed on the floor next to the demonhunter, wheezing and in pain. Sartana gasped and knelt at his side.

"Looks like you get the killing blows after all," he said through gasps, reeling in pain. He rolled back away from the pit, cutting himself in the process, but oblivious to the pain. The demonhunter crawled closer to him, rolling him onto his stomach and placing his blades to the side of him. There were patches of oozing venom on his arms, and a small blotch on his chest. The demonhunter worked quickly. He removed two of his belts from around his waist, and tightened them around both of Nafalen's arms, just above the elbows, in order to stop the poisoned limbs from effecting the rest of his body as quickly. He then ripped a piece of cloth off of his cape, and began wiping the poison off from his arms. Removing the vile liquid would keep more from entering his system.

Banging from the pit below stopped Sartana, and he turned his head just as the creature reared its head from the staircase on the other end of the pit, searching for the two invaders. Putting the rag in Nafalen's hand, he slapped the Drow's face in order to keep him awake. “Nafalen.” He said desperately, holding the dark elf's hand and rag up to his face. “You need to wipe the poison off. Do you hear me? Hey!” He yelled, shaking him a bit. The demon growled, and Sartana spun around. It had spotted them.

Without the paralyzing ability of his hand, this was going to be a tough fight, but the demonhunter was confident. Sartana ran around the pit to meet the creature, and it stumbled forward, spewing blood from a severed foot and nearly a dozen arrow holes littering its body. The demonhunter smirked as he tumbled to the side of a downward thrust. Looks like the Drow did some damage after all! It can't be less than halfway to death already! He thought, springing up and piercing the creature's side with his falchion. The monster didn't flinch. It swung its head to bite the demonhunter- as he had predicted. Twisting back as the demon's maw opened and shut in front of him, Sartana stuck his extended wrist dagger, now flaming in the presence of the evil creature, into one of the demon's eyes. It roared in outrage and backed up, as Sartana brought his stance about again and watched as the monster suffered and stumbled around in its blind agony. Oh yes, suffer. Feel my pain, demon. He grinned.

Nafalen rolled over and coughed loudly, flem flying from his mouth. He felt the demon-hunter, Sartana-kun, wiping off the poisen from him with a rag, but couldn't do much to help, or stop him either. Then the demon-hunter began yelling something about wiping the poisen. Nafalen felt something like a cloth or rag being pressed into his hand, then the demon-hunter leaving. Nafalen could barly move, but gathered his fast-waning strength and pulled his hand up. Nafalen dropped the rag onto his head and let his arm fall down, pulling the rag along him and wiping away some of the poison. He pulled his arm up again and wiped off his neck. He continued to wipe his body of the poison, coughing and wheezing all the time. Nafalen could feel the effects off the poison wearing down but he was still nowhere near fully healed.

Nafalen continued to wipe off his body, removing the deadly green poison from his body. Every so often Nafalen was rocked with coughing spasms and curled into a ball, spitting up flem and mucus, his body feeling worse every time. Eventually Nafalen had wiped most of the poison from his flesh. He could still hear the sounds of battle to his left, Sartana-kun's deadly cries and the demon's dying screams. Not wanting to get into the way, Nafalen reached down with his left hand. Pushing off the floor Nafalen rolled over to the right, he rolled away from the melee-engaged demon and demon-hunter. Then he couldn't move any more. His body had been drained and Nafalen was begining to lose consiousness. His eyes rolled and body rocked with another spasm. With a wheeze, Nafalen left the world of reality, blanking out and going into his mind.

The demon stumbled dangerously close to the pit's edge, but the demonhunter could care less if it fell or not. It had already fallen once, and was unfazed from it. Something caught Sartana's attention and he glanced down to his left hand. It had a familiar burning feeling to it, and the demonhunter gasped. “Could it be?” He whispered, clenching his find. The hand began to glow a faint white, and he smiled, feeling the power in his hand once again. But his grin was soon replaced with a contort of pain, as he was swiped off his feet and thrown roughly against one of the high stone walls of the chamber. He slid to the ground below, and landed awkwardly on hi side, watching as his falchion slid across the floor to his side. He lifted himself to his knees and reached forward to grab the sword, but stopped as thumping was heard from his side. He turned, and frowned as the massive demon who had thrown him against the wall ran towards him on all fours, pouring blood and puss from allover its massive body. It was now or never.

Sartana stood up, wincing at the pain in his leg, and clenched his left fist. It felt like he had the power again, but there was no telling if it would work. He brought his hands together and made twelve intricate hand signs with blinding speed, his hand glowing a brighter white with each successive position. “Maria!” He shouted. The demon was on him. Bringing his left hand up, he clasped the demon's maw as it opened and tried to bite his head off. A white flash echoed across the creature's body, emanating from the demonhunter's hand. The beast stopped moving entirely and croaked. It disappeared in a blinding flash of white light, exploding in a cloud of white dust. The particles fell to the ground glimmering, and disappeared. The demonhunter fell back against the wall breathing heavily. He had gained the power to disintegrate demons and undead creatures with his hand once again, as he was able to do in his home world. This was a great day indeed. But what of the dark elf? Him, and the girls?

Sartana stumbled forward, ignoring the pain in his leg. He was soon to Nafalen's side. The elf was unconscious, and the demonhunter wished he knew a spell to help heal the drow's wounds, but he did not. All he could do was help get rid of the poison, and hope that his friend's immune system could do the rest. He finished wiping some of the poison off him, tightened the rags on his arms, and picked him up, throwing him over his shoulder. The drow was quite heavy, but Sartana had a wiry strength that outweighed his smaller size. He made his way to the chamber with the girls, and found that they were awake. He put Nafalen down by the cage, and went to one side of it, kicking the lock and sending the door flying open. The three girls looked tired and hungry, and the demonhunter was glad that he had saved them. If Nafalen were conscious, Sartana was sure he would have been glad, too. Sartana looked at the doorways in the chamber. There was still much to be discovered in these ruins, and he would have to return and explore them. But not right now. There were urgent matters at hand. He stooped over the drow and heaved him over his shoulder, leading the girls out of the dungeon.

It was late night now, and Sartana had set up a camp fire in the woods, letting the girls rest and eat some game that he had hunted. They were now asleep, curled up in the grass around the fire. Nafalen was propped against a large rock that was near the fire, and Sartana sat staring into the fire, holding his hand out in front of him, opening and closing it. It glew a slight white. He would need to train it so that he could use its power more than once a day, like he used to be able to.

“Them…demon…they…..why…..fight….death….” Nafalen mumbled as his body fought to rid itself of the paralyzing poisons that had so seriously affected the Weapon’s Master. Suddenly the Drow warrior shot upright, his back stiff and perfectly straight as he shouted, “Daemon!”
Then he collapsed back against the rock that had supported him during his struggle. He was breathing heavily and shallow, but the Weapon’s Master was finally conscience. His vision was very blurred, he could barely even see the calloused hand that he held in font of his eyes. Nafalen blinked a few times to try and regain some semblance of vision, but was unable to.

Knowing that he needed to heal himself and fast he closed his eyes. Nafalen visualized the words of his much needed healing spell. As the spell raced through his memory he pieced together the correct phrases. Words flashed before his mind, and soon he had the entire spell that he needed. Nafalen uttered the incantation and his wounds began to heal almost immediately. His stomach lurched as his wounds began to close and heal. The gashes and boils on his legs and arms began to close up and heal as the skin knitted itself together. Much of his vision returned as well, but was no where near perfect. The Weapon’s Master felt extremely weak, the fatigue finally setting in. He knew that although his wounds had healed on the surface, if would take much time for him to fully recover.

Looking up, Nafalen saw Sartana-kun kneeling over the fire, seemingly massaging his hand. Nafalen grunted as he used the rock to brace himself when he pulled his body up, standing erect. Nafalen nodded to the demon hunter and walked over to the fire on the opposite side of the man. Sitting down he took the simmering pot off the fire and poured himself a bowl of the stew.

“What in the nine levels of the Abyss is this gruel?” he muttered as he began to eat slowly. He could feel the warm, revitalizing energy of the meal flowing down his throat into his stomach. When he finished, Nafalen put his bowl off to the side and leaned back against the ground.

“So I see you got your girls out after all. And the demon?” Nafalen said, seemingly to the sky, but directed at the demon hunter. “I assume you got that killing blow you desired so much.”