((Note for me, others ignore: cry. Rain. Vicious natives. Sacrifice. Red flowers. Lost, poisonous/not-poisonous? Music. Serpent. Enterprise. feet. animal noises. humidity. hope. brown. green.))

Tarn Va Thaeindor's tears mingled with raindrops as they splashed down his face. It had been a terrible idea, coming to the rainforest. It had sounded like such a fine one, when he heard the name. What could be better than a forest where it rained all the time, after all? With a quiet sob Tarn Va Thaeindor stumbled over a buried branch that might have been an animal...but he didn't know or care.

His feet felt as if weights were tied to them. After several days - weeks, months? - of travel and walking around in this endless forest, it was no wonder they felt so terrible. They feel how I feel. That is, not so well at all. Tarn Va Thaeindor was lost, though he hated to admit it. He had never been lost in his life, yet in this different world it hadn't taken him but a few days to get himself mired in some jungle. He had been so ready, so filled with enterprise and bold audacity, that he had forgotten to question anyone about what the rainforest was like.

It wouldn't even be half so bad if he had had something to eat. But no, no, he did not know which plants were edible, which would cause sickness or pain or death. So he could not eat. And as he had no way of communicating with these animals he despised the thought of hunting them, though they were beginning to look rather too good to ignore. Every time he saw an animal, no matter how small and insignificant, his mouth began to water. Even the tiny green frogs he saw everywhere looked appetizing.

But he could not bring himself to set a trap, nor swat at any of the million flies swarming around through the humid air. His face and arms and other places too uncomfortable to mention were covered in bites, and he was beginning to feel dizzy and sick from lack of food. However, he would live for a long time in this place. All he had to do was open his mouth at any given time and gulp water from the air. It seemed as if it never stopped raining.

With a shout Tarn Va Thaeindor fell to the ground. His hands automatically went to his leg, where the short spear had sunk deep. He pulled his hands away and there was a red, sticky substance all over them. His own blood. Trying to fight back the bile he felt rising in his throat, he looked around for any sign of the person who had thrown the spear. He heard quiet, high-pitched laughter in the treetops above him. He looked up, squinting to see through the rain, and could barely make out the silhouette of a short person. With a grimace Tarn Va Thaeindor looked down at his leg again, wishing he had the power to heal as he once had.

He heard talking to his right, in a language so odd that it almost made Tarn Va Thaeindor want to laugh, despite the pain in his leg. He felt himself being prodded, and heard small voices muttering, but it all seemed far away. He felt rough rope cut across his body, and then he was gone to oblivion as the poison began its work.

This was all the demonhunter needed- to be lost in a rain forest. The warm rain slapped against the man's black wide-brimmed hat and slid down his water-proof cape. Even with his clothing blocking the constant drizzle, he was still soaked from head to toe from the dense humidity of the place. A crimson scarf was pulled tight across his face and neck to keep the hordes of insects from biting his face, but he would soon need to remove it; the dampness of this place was making it hard for the demonhunter to breathe through his soaked scarf. He stopped and leaned back against a moss-covered tree, covered in vines and colorful flowers. There was a pool of fresh water next to the tree with a few multicolored frogs glistening on its banks.

“That damned man.” Sartana growled to himself, thinking back on the native that had been leading him through the dense rain forest. After an hour's march, the man had simply disappeared. Sartana had turned his back for a moment, hearing a dislodged branch fall from a treetop, and when he had turned around his guide was gone. That was several hours ago. The sky was covered in bulbous clouds, so there was no way for him to track his progress by them. There would be no use trying to find his way out of here until he had a marker to determine his position. He would be wandering around in circles for days if he were to just set out, and he didn't have enough food for that. Sartana checked the pouches at his side, containing some dried meats and fruits, not to mention a canteen of water and a thin metallic container of potent alcohol. He removed this and took a sip, enjoying the quick buzz that shot through his system. This was powerful stuff.

A noise from ahead brought the demonhunter to his feet. It sounded like a shout. Sartana replaced his alcohol at his side and stalked off towards the noise, his sword drawn and held low at his side. He made his way through the underbrush and came across a dire situation: a blond man lay on the ground with a large gash in his leg. A creature, perhaps human, stood over him giggling with incessant high-pitched laughter, holding a bloodied spear. The man seemed to be unconscious. The demonhunter looked at the crude speartip that glistened with blood and a darker, green liquid. It must have been poisoned.

Sartana fought the urge to rush to the man's aid. Laughter could be heard from the treetops surrounding him, and it sounded like there were at least another dozen of the creatures. It was too risky to expose himself. He waited, and watched.

((Hope it's okay if I join))

Shiro walked through the rainforest in a foul mood, pausing at random intervals to pull his foot out of a pit of mud. He frowned, glancing around him. Everything in this forest looked exactly the same. How was he supposed to find his way out now?

He frowned, wiping rainwater out of his eyes. Why did he always have to get lost in forests? And why was it that every forest he had to get lost in had to be dark, damp, and extremely uncomfortable?

He swatted a mosquito away with one hand. The young wanderer began moving his hands around in a rather comical fashion, trying to drive away several mosquitoes which were beginning to think that he seemed a rather tasty choice for dinner. As he was doing so, however, the human warrior tripped over a tree root, landing face first into the mud.

“Great…just great…” muttered Shiro, picking himself up off the floor and wiping the mud off his face. “Of all the…”

His tirade was cut short, however, by a scream that rang through the forest. Shiro picked himself up, following the direction of the scream.

He ran silently through the trees, eventually reaching the place where the scream had come from. A man was already there. Shiro could not see his face, but he appeared to have dark brown hair.

The young wanderer peered around a tree, watching as what looked like an elf lay bleeding on the ground, a barbaric looking native standing over him. Laughter rang out through the clearing.

Shiro drew his katana, and in one swift move, dispatched the native standing over the elf. He realized then that he had not made a smart move. He had caught one of them by surprise, but now almost a dozen of them were climbing down from the treetops, shouting things in a strange language.

Shiro cursed softly under his breath, holding his katana in a fighting stance as the natives walked closer.

Sartana watched the injured man, and thought back on his entrance to the jungle Had the native that ditched him in this place hoped that he would share the same fate? That maybe this was how these people got their weekly serving of human flesh- if that was what they were looking for in this man, at least. The guides would promise people safe passage through the forest, lead them a few miles in and take off, stranding the poor soul, who would eventually succumb to fatigue- like this man- and be picked off by the vicious cannibal hunters. Sartana shook his head- this was supposed to be an easy day.

The demonhunter was here on business: he had a demon to slay. The creature lived in this jungle, residing in a cliff-face cave just north of a festering swamp. The creature was a class B demon, just over ten feet tall, covered in hair and riddled with poison-spewing pores. Sartana brought a supply of antidotes just in case he came in contact with the poison, but over all the demon wasn't anything the demonhunter couldn't handle if he took his time, and remained smart. Just like in this situation, he needed to wait and see what would happen- even if it cost that man his life. Sartana wanted nothing more than to save him, but would not throw his own life away if there wasn't a chance to save another. He shook his head and grimaced. “Don't worry.” He said as much to himself as to the dieing man. “With a little thought, you're going to be as good as-”

He caught a flash form the corner of his eye and watched as a black-haired man struck down the creature with his curved blade. The demonhunter gawked at the man. Did he realize that there are dozens of the creatures readied for an attack from the treetops? The expression on the man's face gave him away, and his stance brought the demonhunter to his feet. Did he really plan to fight them all by himself? There was little time to lose.

Sartana leapt from his hiding spot in the underbrush and slashed a native making his way down a large tree. The creature let out a dying scream and fell to the mossy jungle floor with a thud. Sartana made his way to the katana-wielding man's side, his sword low and to the right, aimed for defense.

“Smart move. Did you even think about what you were going to do after you chopped that thing in half?” He asked the man with a somewhat hostile tone. The demonhunter was impressed by the bravery of the young man, however, and smiled, glancing at him from the corner of his eye. “We need to get this elf out of here. He's too large for me to carry.” He said, looking at the tall elf prone beneath him. A javelin burst through the leaves of a treetop above, aimed for the demonhunter. With a flick of his blade, the thrown weapon was snapped in half and on the ground. Sartana immediately replaced his sword to its former position, low to his side. “Oh, and these are poison-tipped.” He said offhandedly. He waited for the man's response.

Nafalen stood on a thick branch high above the forest floor with a vine in his hand. He had heard of a demon in these parts and wanted to test his might against one not of this world.

He leaped from the branch and used the vine to swing across the forest. As he neared the length of the vine he grasped another that was connected to a nearby tree. Nafalen wrapped his ankles around the vine, using it to hold himself up. He let go and swung upside down, hanging almost bat-like. He scanned the forest for some form of cave or lair that the demon might use as a home. He saw nothing but his keen ears caught the sound of shouting.

Grasping the vine with his hands Nafalen unlinked his feet and slid to the forest floor. He sprinted off in the direction of the shouts; his agile feet swiftly carrying him to his target. He stopped once tit came into view and slowly made his way to the edge of the clearing. When he looked out Nafalen smiled. He made sure to learn all about the forest before he entered and was aware of the resident pygmy population. Stupid humans. he thought. Then something odd caught his eyes. Poking out of the body's hair was a pointy ear. An elf.

Nafalen had no love for most mortal beings and hated magic creatures, but he respected the surface elves with all his being. He didn't necessarily like them, but he respected them immensely. So he made up his mind to save the elf.

Hurriedly looking around Nafalen saw a pygmy lowering himself towards the attackers on a makeshift ladder of around four vines. Rushing up to it Nafalen scaled the ladder, wrestling the pygmy from it and tossing it to its doom. Scrambling up the ladder Nafalen perched himself on a large branch that overlooked the clearing and three victims.

Staying in the shadows Nafalen drew his Masterwork Shortbow from his back and an arrow from his quiver. Notching the arrow Nafalen aimed at a pygmy climbing down a tree. Loosing the arrow Nafalen watched his target fall into the clearing, dead. Drawing and notching another arrow Nafalen picked his next mark, a pygmy advancing towards the elf from the shadows, and let loose. He drew another arrow and began systematically picking off the attackers.

Lying prone on the floor of a rainforest was not where Tarn Va Thaeindor would normally like to be. In fact, it was one of the last places that he wanted to be. It was uncomfortable, and sticky, and there were hundreds of insects already crawling over him, thinking he was a natural part of the forest floor (although he did smell quite a lot better than what the insects were normally used to). As Tarn Va Thaeindor lie on the ground, unconscious because of the poison, around him his captors were being attacked. For some strange reason, two humans and a drow had decided to defend him. It was a very odd situation, no doubt about it. But Tarn Va Thaeindor was deaf to the fight and the world, and lost in his nothingness...a terrifying second of it, until his he blinked, and his eyes began to regain focus.

The first thing he saw upon awaking was something red. His eyes were still slightly blurred, but he managed to make out the shape of a flower before a foot crushed it mercilessly into the ground. Tarn Va Thaeindor made a choking noise as he began to feel the pain in his leg once again. One of the natives deigned to notice him. He spoke in the jibberish language of before, and several other natives, unwounded, came running to help pick up the Aerin Ishtheh. He groaned as they jarred his leg, and one of the natives shouted at the others.

Suddenly Tarn Va Thaeindor became aware that there were sounds of battle coming from all around him. There was a shriek that was cut off with a loud crunch that almost made Tarn Va Thaeindor want to sick up, and the sound of swords filled the air, though all the natives carried were spears, poison darts, and the occasional bow or two. Tarn Va Thaeindor craned his head backward to see who was fighting for him. The little group of natives who were carrying him were moving very quickly, and the others were all closing around the two humans. But there were also arrows raining down from above him, slaying several of the little humans and maiming others. With an exhausted sigh his head flopped back down to stare at the ground as he was carried off into the rainforest.

From behind he heard a triumphant shout, too low to be one of the little natives. With a surge of hope, Tarn Va Thaeindor thrashed at his bonds, causing many of the natives that held him to drop him and move away. The leader, as it were, yelled out something to one of the men and Tarn Va Thaeindor saw the man pick up a small tube and blow through it. A speeding needle came and hit him in the arm, and immediately the poison began to make its way through his body.

"No...no...help!" Tarn Va Thaeindor cried out, but his voice was quiet, and he knew that the humans had not heard. But perhaps they would realize, and come to save him. All he could do was hope, hope, and try not to die in the process.

((Note to all: I would appreciate it if this was a topic with at least one reply per person per day. I stated that in my RP Request topic "I Need an Active RP", but forgot to mention it in my first post. If you joined without prior knowledge of this and cannot uphold the post-per-day rule, that's fine. Stay as long as you want, just try to post as often as you can. :) Thanks.))

Nafalen's arrows rained down, killing pygmy after pygmy. Then he saw them lift up the elf and begin to carry him away. He also saw the majority of the attackers surround the two humans. He let loose one more arrow before replacing his bow in it's tube.

Grasping the vine-ladder, Nafalen slid to the forest floor. Drawing his scimitar Nafalen dashed off after the elf, leaving the humans to defend themselves. They were, after all, just humans. He quickly reached the elf and his captors a little from the clearing. Without missing a step Nafalen charged them and beheaded the one giving the orders.

Spinning his blade, Nafalen impaled another. Then the shock of the surprise attack wore off and they fought back. There were only seven or so left but that was still a lot when it comes to pygmies defending their prey. Nafalen spun around just in time to block a spear that was headed toward him. Knocking it aside, Nafalen kicked the wielder in the face, sending him spiraling into the mud. While his foot was extended, a dart flew at him. It grazed his leg, not enough to inject the poison, but enough to cut pretty deeply.

Turning to his right, Nafalen leaped over the elf that had been dropped to the ground and charge at the shooter. The pygmy had dropped his blowgun and picked up a spear. With one powerful stroke the pygmy's arm and spear fell to the ground, the next took his head.

Nafalen turned around quickly and spun his blade, preparing to take one the next attacker. He was only quick enough to see them turn heel and run off into the forest.

Sheathing his sword, Nafalen went over to the fallen elf. Tearing a strip of cloth from his cloak Nafalen bandaged the elf's wounds and propped him up against a tree.

Sartana watched as arrows pierced the pygmy warriors around him. He also saw the elf being dragged away by the little bastards, but was too busy dodging spears and arrows to move to the elf's safety. Whoever was dispatching the foes around him with a volley of arrows didn't care if he hit the cannibals or the demonhunter and the katana-wielding man. An arrow flew past Sartana's chest as he bent backwards, dodging a poison dart in the process. This was getting dangerous, but then again, all combat was dangerous. Nothing was going to hit the demonhunter, though; these warriors were unskilled in combat and hardly even organized. He watched as a javelin flew past him and impaled another of the natives, killing it instantly.

Sartana tapped away a pygmy spear as the creature stabbed at him. A kick to the face and low-thrusted repose to dropped the creature, spilling its bowels out onto the thick moss underfoot. The arrows had stopped coming down, and a darkly-dressed man dashed by them, just at the edge of the clearing, heading in the direction of the elf. That must have been the archer, thought the demonhunter. He would have to pay him back for his carelessness.

Three warriors flanked the demonhunter, wielding short spears and blowgun sidearms. One dropped its left hand towards its ranged weapon- but never grabbed it. Instead, it got a handful of moss as its severed form slid off the creature's shoulder and fell to the ground. Sartana stopped its screeching with a lunge through the throat, twisting its body around and getting himself behind the creature- which was quickly impaled by its allies' poorly aimed spears. The demonhunter kicked its corpse at them and spun to the right- his black cape flaring in the wind- blade held wide and horizontal, parrying a spear and breaking a fistful of rotten teeth from the pygmy's mouth. It fell to the ground and its friend, a pudgy little thing, dropped its spear with a howl and sprinted off into the woods. The demonhunter shuffled his feet on the ground, holding his blade low, his multicolored eyes scanning the fight with primal enjoyment.

Sartana held up his black cape and let a handful of poison darts hit it and fall off harmlessly. He stuck his sword into the ground and removed a red vial from his pocket, draining the liquid in one gulp. It was bitter and disgusting, but it would protect him from the poison. He picked up his sword again and looked around him. There were only a few brave pygmys left.

Shiro turned to the other man as he joined the battle. The wanderer listened as the man began to speak.

“Smart move. Did you even think about what you were going to do after you chopped that thing in half?”

Shiro turned to the man, grinning sheepishly, “Uh, actually, no, not really,” he said.

“We need to get this elf out of here. He's too large for me to carry,” said the man.

Shiro nodded. He bent down, about to help the elf, when a poison tipped dart whizzed through the air at him. Shiro moved his head sharply to the side as the dart whizzed past his ear. He heard the man mention that these weapons had poison on them.

“Great…Just great…” muttered Shiro, dodging poisoned darts, javelins, and arrows that seemed to be firing at the natives, however, the archer didn’t seem to care who he hit.

He ran forward, slashing through one of the pygmies. The others swarmed around him, howling in their strange language. He slashed through their wooden javelins, finishing them off with a few quick strikes. However, there was just too many of them.

As he watched, a group of pygmies picked up the elf, hauling him off. Shiro frowned. He couldn’t come to the elf’s aid now. He was surrounded. As Shiro watched, a man, presumably the archer, dropped down from the tree, aiding the elf. Since that was taken care of, Shiro moved closer to the other man.

“How many more of these things are there?” he asked, looking around him. It wasn’t that they were hard opponents. There were just…well…many of them.

“Uh, actually, no, not really,” he said. The demonhunter grinned at his response. “You've got some guts, kid.” He said. Not to mention some skills- he watched as the katana-wielder fought, showing excellent skill with his blade. At least he knew what he was doing.

Sartana kicked out the foot of an engaged native and struck it with a powerful blow to the throat, leaving the creature to choke on its blood, scrambling on the ground. The demonhunter laughed. This was easier than he thought it would be, though he was lucky to have the aid of this boy, and somewhat lucky for the archer's help. He would still take care of him in soon time, though.

The black-haired ally of the demonhunter turned to him. “How many more of these things are there?” He asked rhetorically. Sartana laughed. There were quite a few of them; he wondered if an entire village of the creatures had attacked them. There were at least twenty bodies strewn about the clearing, which was now painted with splatters of blood. There were few living combatants left, and several of them were escaping to the treetops, where they disappeared. Sartana dispatched another of the creatures trying to make its escape, and looked at the empty clearing. “Looks like we won.” He said, grinning.

He turned to the newcomer that had so daringly charged to the elf's side earlier. He laughed. “Nice work. What's you name, anyway?” he asked, still aware of his surroundings and ready for a javelin or dart to be launched at him at any moment.

A loud, high-pitch cackle sounded from somewhere nearby the drow and Tarn Va Thaeindor. While the natives that had previously carried Tarn Va Thaeindor were dead or running, there were twenty or more coming toward the unconscious Aerin Ishtheh and his rescuer. With hardly a sound, twenty poison darts left their cases and streamed toward the drow and Tarn Va Thaeindor, embedding themselves deep into the skin of the Aerin Ishtheh and causing his already deep unconsciousness to grow ever deeper.

The drow had also been hit, though he had put up a kind of fight, trying to dodge the poison darts, but there had been too many. It was inevitable that at least one would hit him. And so it did. With a grunt the drow collapsed. The twenty natives roared in their child-like voices and swarmed over the two of them, quickly trussing them up and scurrying off with them, toward their leader and the sacrificial fires of their people.

They took care to remove all of the poison darts from the Aerin Ishtheh and a few from the drow so they did not die before it was time to sacrifice them to their gods. They proceeded to a large clearing (odd for a rainforest, almost certainly man-made) and set down the prisoners. A great cry went up from a crowd of the little humans all around. They were shouting one word over and over again, which could only mean "death".

Fires were built, posts erected, and the sacrifices were awakened.


Tarn Va Thaeindor's first coherent thought was I smell smoke. When he opened his eyes, he knew that the fires were not natural. They had been lit by human hands...but for what purpose, he was unsure. It was hot enough without lighting fires. One of the small people that had captured him ran in front of him, momentarily obscuring his view. With a start Tarn Va Thaeindor tried to run, tried to move, but he was bound tightly by ropes, and his arms and feet, and even his mind felt strangely leaden.

With a groan Tarn Va Thaeindor rolled over to see what was on the other side of him, and came face to face with a man with such dark skin that Tarn Va Thaeindor thought at first that it was some shadow-being come to life. He took a closer look at the man, and finally decided it must be some kind of elf...but not the normal kind. This one looked different.

"I...I am Tarn...Va...Thaeindor..." his voice was slow and drawling, nothing at all like what he was used to. Tarn Va Thaeindor decided to ignore that for the present, and instead just focused on the man in front of him. He was tied up as well, and looked a bit the worse for wear, as if he had been wounded. Tarn Va Thaeindor tried to judge the man fairly, but his eyes returned to the pointed ears of the man over and over. Elf, his mind was telling him, Elf.

((I have asked Nafalen about this and he says it's fine...he will confirm once he replies. :)))

((OOC: Yea, I said the last post was ok. I don't mind.))

Nafalen heard the snapping of twigs and looked up. He cursed himself out loud for being so careless. Approaching him were thirty or so pygmies. Why wouldn't they just give up?

Standing, Nafalen flourished his scimitar and easily cut in half a sloppily tossed spear. He stood over the fallen elf protectively and decapitated the first pygmy that strayed to close. Two more rushed at him. Twisting, Nafalen sliced one from the shoulder into his gut. He kicked back, connecting with the second pygmy's face, sending him flying into a nearby tree.

Nafalen began to turn to engage the next advancing pygmy when something stuck him in his shoulder. His arm quickly went numb as he realized what was happening. He saw the remaining pygmies lift blowguns to their mouths and fire. Nafalen spun around, using his cloak and blade to deflect most of the darts. He couldn't deflect them all however; three got through his defenses. He was struck in the leg, back, and neck. As his vision began to blur and Nafalen lost all feeling in his body he sheathed his scimitar so as to not lose it. Falling to his knees he scooped up a rock and flung it at his attackers in a last futile attempt of defiance. Nafalen's eyes rolled into the back of his head and he fell over on top of the elf he had been protecting.

A while later, neatly a half-hour, Nafalen shook his head and opened his eyes. All that he could see was dirt. He tried to bring his arms up so he could push himself up, but found that they were tied. Nafalen hated to be tied up and his captors being pygmies made it worse. He smelled smoke in the air and could guess what was going to happen.

Rolling onto his side Nafalen was that the elf he had tried to protect was simarily tied up right next to him. Nafalen saw that the man had regained consciousness. He listened as the man spoke and steadied himself for a reply.

"Tarn...Va...Thaeindor...you are an...an...elf. I... am...Na...Nafalen....Sintelnor," Nafalen could hardly speak. Disgusted, he spit into the dirt and worked his jaw until he could feel again. "How...how...is your leg? I tried to bandage it, but...but didn't...didn't have enough time. Those damn pygmies came back to soon."

“Looks like we won,” said the man beside him.

Shiro looked up, surveying the scene around him. The pygmies that weren’t already dead were fleeing, retreating into the forest.

“Yeah, looks like,” said Shiro, not sheathing his blade. Nothing was certain yet.

“Nice work. What's you name, anyway?” asked the man, turning to him.

“My name?” asked Shiro, “It’s Shiro. What’s yours?”

Shiro turned around, noticing that the elf and the drow were still propped up against the tree. He turned, ready to walk towards them and offer his aid. He had just taken a step when about twenty poison darts whizzed towards them, aiming for the two elves.

The pygmies weren’t much fighters, but they had good aim. Both the elf and the drow were soon unconscious. Shiro ran forward, about to attack, but the drow and the elf were too far away from where both humans were standing. The pygmies tied them up, disappearing into the rainforest.

“We should follow them,” said Shiro, to the other man.

Without waiting for an answer, Shiro disappeared into the woods.

Sartana looked over his shoulder. The two elves were gone. He wondered if the dark elf archer had gone to save the other. He held his sword at his side, still alert. “Sartana.” He said tersely, answering the boy's question. He nodded at Shiro's suggestion of following the warriors and their captives, and watched as he ran off into the woods. “Aren't you just a ball of energy.” He remarked as his ally disappeared into the woods.

The demonhunter should have been paying attention- what happened to the two elves? He walked over to where the blond elf had been lying, stepping over dead bodies and weapons scattered about the ground. He knelt where the grass was pressed, and took note of the many darts lying next to the torn grass . Two bodies had fallen here. He looked at the first impression, noticing blood near one end of it. This was where the injured elf had fallen, and... Someone had fallen on top of him. The demonhunter picked up a dart and stood. Both elves had been captured. The archer had likely been poisoned, as there was no blood from his body, and he had collapsed.

Sartana held the dart close to his face, looking at the liquid smudged on it. He couldn't tell if it was just a knock-out blend or deadly, but he was certain the antidote he brought would neutralize it at least long enough to get real medical attention. He stalked off into the woods, following the clearly-made trail of broken branches and torn ground the pygmy's had created. He soon caught up with Shiro, who was also following the trail.

He lowered his crimson scarf from off his mouth and chin. “Planning on jumping the bastards by yourself again?” he asked, smirking.

Suddenly recognition glinted in Tarn Va Thaeindor's eyes. He knew this drow had been the one to come to his aid. He had seen him, a dark shape, right before he had gone unconscious for the second time. The archer. Tarn Va Thaeindor frowned as he noticed the bow's absence. It would have been helpful in their escape (if escape there would be), but perhaps the natives had burned the bow and arrows in the fires that were up now. That would make sense, yes...

"Tarn Va Thaeindor, you are an elf. I am Nafalen Sintelnor." Tarn Va Thaeindor opened his mouth to tell Nafalen Sintelnor that he was most certainly not an elf, but Nafalen Sintelnor began to speak before the words would come. "How is your leg? I tried to bandage it, but didn't have enough time. Those damn pygmies came back too soon." The dark man's voice was as slow as his own had been. With a frown Tarn Va Thaeindor considered his leg, wincing at the pain he felt whenever the rope rubbed against it.

"It is not so well, Nafalen...Sintelnor. It hurts as I move. I...thank you for...for helping me. I...I was wondering...what...what exactly are your race called?" He had to know if this man who had tried to help him was truly an elf or not. Tarn Va Thaeindor could guess that he was a kind of subspecies, but he had never seen one of his color before, and so he and his kind had not been amongst those who had attacked Tarn Va Thaeindor's home.

Before Nafalen Sintelnor could reply, a native came and stepped between the two of them. Two went to either side and grabbed hold, and several more came running. A loud chant was taken up amongst the natives. It is time, the chant was saying. Time for death. Time for gods. It is time!

Nafalen began to move his fingers and feet as the elf spoke, slowly regaining feeling in them. He was about to reply and tell Tarn Va Thaeindor that he was a Drow, a dark elf. Unfortunately the pygmies came back to soon and pick the two of them up. Nafalen grunted as they jerked him around.

Looking up Nafalen saw that they were moving towards the cooking fires. They had been fed and were now roaring. Both elves would be killed quickly if they were put in the fires. That didn't suit Nafalen at all. Being captured was one thing, but also being cooked was the last straw.

Reaching down, Nafalen worked his bone hilted dagger out of its sheath. Grasping it firmly he began to cut away at the thick ropes that bound him. After a few moments most of the ropes had been cut and Nafalen dropped heavily to the floor. He japed out, deeply slicing a pygmy’s leg, causing it to fall in pain. Nafalen hurried to his feet. A spear was flying at him. It was poorly thrown and spinning around Nafalen was able to grab it out of the air and hurl it back at his attacker.

Nafalen tossed his dagger into his left hand, and drew his curved scimitar with his right hand. Nafalen turned and swung downwards; shattering Tarn Va Thaeindor’s bindings and dropping him to the ground. Knowing that the elf was in no condition to fight, Nafalen did the only thing he could. Slicing through the chest of an approaching pygmy, Nafalen threw his dagger back into its sheath.

Reaching down, Nafalen grabbed the back of Tarn Va Thaeindor’s shirt. Nafalen began to run from the pygmy camp back into the woods. He dragged the elf behind him and once he had reached the wood he carried him a little further. Propping Tarn Va Thaeindor against a tree Nafalen knelt down.

“Stay here and get feeling back in your body. I’m going to find my bow.”

With that Nafalen stood and charged back towards the clearing.

Shiro grinned at Sartana as he mentioned something about charging them by himself.

“Care to join me?” asked Shiro, “Just kidding. Not this time. But we should hurry. Who knows what those things are going to do with those two.”

That said, Shiro ran into the woods. He ran as fast as he could, trying to avoid tripping over tree roots or slipping in the mud. Once or twice, Shiro had to duck to avoid a low-hanging branch. The young human frowned. He was liking this forest less and less with every passing minute.

Great…bugs, rain, mud, evil natives…what’s next? thought Shiro.

His thoughts were answered as they neared the natives’ village. Smoke from cooking fires rose high into the air as the natives prepared to sacrifice the elf and the drow. As Shiro watched, the drow began to attack, dragging the elf into the woods before charging back into the clearing, heading towards his bow, which was propped against a tree, guarded by two natives with spears.

Shiro frowned. Now here was a choice. Should he go and help the elf, or should he help the drow? If he left the elf alone, chances were that one of the natives would get to him, but the drow was currently charging into a group of natives with no weapon at all. He decided that the drow needed more help right now.

Shiro drew his katana, running forward. He slashed down both pygmies guarding the bow. The other pygmies turned to him, screeching in their strange language. Shiro picked up the bow and quiver.

“Hey, archer!” he called, “Over here!”

Shiro ran towards the archer, passing him the bow and quiver.

Nafalen drew his scimitar as he charged back into the pygmy camp. he spotted his bow and quiver out of the cornor of his eye. They were leaning up against a nearby tree, guarded by two pygmies. Nafalen leaped int the air, his momentium carring him over a pygmy's head. Swinging down in midair, Nafalen felt his blade split the pygmy's skull.

He veered to the side and slashed another pygmy across the chest. As he charged towards his bow and quiver Nafalen watched as a man stepped out of the woods and cut down the two guards. Picking up Nafalen's bow the man charged towards him.

“Hey, archer! Over here!” the man called. Reaching out woth his free hand, Nafalen grabbed his bow and quiver. Sliding the bow into it's tube, Nafalen threw the quiver strap around his shoulder and pulled the strap, securing it in place.

"Get to Tarn Va Thaeindor! Help the elf!" Nafalen shouted to the approaching human.

Spinning back towards the woods, Nafalen saw his path blocked by three pygmies armed with spears. One had a blowgun which he raised to his lips. Pulling his scimitar up in front of him, Nafalen tensed as the pygmy's neck tightened from the rapidly released air. Nafalen's wrist twiched and the dart fell to the ground, his amazing agility allowing him to use his blade as a shield.

One of the pygmies threw its spear at him. Ducking, nafalen ran towards his attackers and cut down one. Quickly extending his leg, Nafalen crushed another pygmy's ribs, causing its lungs to collapse. As its companions fell the ramaining pygmy dropped its spear and fled in terror.

Turning back to the woods, Nafalen ran back to the elf and with one swift motion sheathed his scimitar. Pulling out his bow, Nafalen notched an arrow and unleashed it into the group of approaching pygmies.

"Get him out of here! Take Tarn Va Thaeindor and run!" Nafalen called to the human. "I'll catch up later, just get out of here!" Nafalen took a step foward and found the perfect encampment for his defense of the elf and human. He positioned himself in front of two trees that were covered anf flanked by thick thorn bushes. No one could get to Nafalen from the front without getting torn to ribbons.

Drawing another arrow, Nafalen braced himself and let fly. He pulled arrow after arrow, unleashing a torrent of hell onto the approaching group of relentless pygmies. He quickly glanced back to make sure that the human had gotten the elf to safety before returning to his attack. The human needed to hurry, Nafalen was almost out of arrows.

Shiro let go of the bow as the drow grabbed it, throwing the quiver around his shoulder. All around him, he could hear the enraged cries of the pygmies as they grabbed their spears, prepared to do battle. Shiro frowned. This wasn’t good. It appeared that they had just walked in on the entire population of natives, and they weren’t too happy with that.

"Get to Tarn Va Thaeindor! Help the elf!" said the drow.

“Right, the elf,” said Shiro, nodding. He raised his katana, bringing it down on one of the pygmies as they approached him, trying to surround him. He turned his head back towards the direction where he had left the elf. Several of the pygmies were heading that way, apparently intent on making the elf their sacrifice.

Shiro slashed one of the pygmies in his way. The young wanderer stepped over the fallen body, running into the woods. He had to get to the elf before the pygmies did. He was pretty sure that the elf didn’t have enough strength to fight. A poisoned dart whizzed past his ear, nearly hitting him as he ran.

Shiro ran as fast as he could, reaching the elf just short of the pygmies. He turned to the elf.

“Sorry about this,” said Shiro, grabbing the elf by his clothes and hoisting him up. He slung the elf’s arm over his shoulder. “We need to get out of here quickly.”

Shiro ran into the forest, trying to put as much distance between him and the pygmies as possible. He disliked the idea of running away, but he couldn’t leave the elf behind. From behind him, he could hear them chanting their strange war cry.

Nafalen loosed his last arrow and saw that the elf and human were no where to be seen. Good, he thought as he quickly unstrung his bow and put it in it's tube. Nafalen had killed most of the pygmies, but there were still over twenty advancing; faster now that the rain of arrows had ceased.

Rushing over to where the elf had lay, Nafalen hurridly scanned that area. He saw a set of heavy foot prints that led away from the camp. They were the human's. Quickly picking out their general direction, Nafalen rushed off. He didn't pay close wnough attention to his way; more intent on getting to the elf as soon a possible. Because of this, Nafalen recieved a large cut across his cheek from a low hanging branch. Nafalen spun around in a circle as the stick hit him and his hand flew to his face. Without slowing, Nafalen continued on his hell run.

Nafalen could hear the pygmies cries fading as he noticed the elf being carried by the human up ahead. Perhaps the pygmies had given up. Shouting to get the human's attantion, Nafalen pushed himself harder and quickly caught up with the human.

"Put him down. Against the tree," Nafalen commanded as he caught his breath. Nafalen went to the elf and looked over his wounds. There was still a dart protruding from his shoulder, which Nafalen promptly removed. Looking over him again, Nafalen removed the cloth fro mhis ankle and rebandaged the wound.

"He'll be fine. he just need to rest, although an antidote would be useful," Nafalen said to the human as he slumped against a tree opposite the elf. He was exhaused and could use some rest himself, but refused to sleep until the elf woke. So he just rested on the ground against the tree.

((Yes, time for me to wake up! Lol))

Tarn Va Thaeindor was only vaguely aware of being carried off somewhere. As soon as Nafalen Sintelnor had dragged Tarn Va Thaeindor three steps, he had been out again. He had woken - but only once, and only long enough to hear Nafalen Sintelnor order him to stay where he was. As if he could move if he had wanted to. The poison was extremely potent on him, he guessed, because he was not of this world and perhaps did not have the correct immunities that these others did. But sleep and unconsciousness was not something terrible. He needed sleep, as he hadn't dared to for the past few days lost in the rainforest.

When finally he did wake up, his vision was bleary, and he was aware of normal rainforest noises around him. The shouts of the natives could no longer be heard. He was leaning against a tree. The bark was wet, but he was already soaked through so it didn't matter much. Tarn Va Thaeindor blinked several times, trying to clear his vision. When he finally succeeded, he saw a human he had not met and the elf - if elf he truly was - sitting nearby.

"Where are the...the little men?" He croaked. The sound of his own voice horrified him. The poison must have done something to it. It hadn't sounded quite so terrible the last time he had spoken...but then again...

Tarn Va Thaeindor grimaced as he pulled one of the darts out of his back. Apparently when he had been being carried the natives have given him a few more shots. Tarn Va Thaeindor struggled to stand up, but then gave up on the third attempt. It was useless. He wouldn't be able to stand until the poison was well out of his system.

"Who...who are you?" he asked the human. "Oh, and what is your race called?" Tarn Va Thaeindor questioned Nafalen Sintelnor. He seemed to be full of questions. "Wasn't there another one of you?" This question was directed at both of the people, though he wasn't sure they would know that.

((Bad post, but I have writer's block.))

Shiro panted slightly as he ran through the forest, brushing aside branches and several strange looking insects as he continued to run. They had gotten quite far from the encampment, and the elf was starting to feel heavy. The seemingly never-ending rain beat down on him as he ran, and by now, the young human was thoroughly drenched.

Shouts rang out from behind him, but they were not the shouts of the pygmies. They were different and sounded more, well, more civilized than the pygmies strange chanting. Shiro stopped, turning around to see the drow running towards him, a large gash on his cheek.

"Put him down. Against the tree," commanded the drow.

Shiro nodded, propping the elf up against the tree. Now free of the elf’s weight, the human leaned against another tree, catching his breath. He calmed down slightly, noticing that they were now free from the pygmies and were no longer in danger of being sacrificed any time soon. He watched as the drow began to inspect the elf, pulling out a poisoned dart from his shoulder. The drow got up, slumping down against a nearby tree. He looked exhausted, and Shiro couldn’t blame him.

"He'll be fine. he just need to rest, although an antidote would be useful," said the drow.

“That’s good to know,” said Shiro, relieved. He glanced at the still unconscious elf. Was it his imagination, or did the elf’s eyelids move slightly. No, it wasn’t his imagination. The elf was waking up.

Shiro watched as the elf opened his eyes, blinking several times to clear his vision.

"Where are the...the little men?" croaked the elf.

Shiro frowned. He didn’t much like how the elf’s voice sounded, but he guessed that it was an aftereffect of the poison. He wondered how much poison was now traveling through the elf’s body.

“They’re gone,” said Shiro, “We lost them a while back. They probably gave up.”

"Who...who are you?" asked the elf, turning to Shiro.

“Shiro Skye,” said Shiro, “And you are?”

Nafalen woke from his shallow sleep as soon as Tarn Va Thaeindor stirred. He opened his eyes slightly, but did not move. He saw Tarn Va Thaeindor move a bit and he tried to speak, but when he did it came out ragged and hoarse. Nafalen had to struggle to refrain from laughing. Tarn Va Thaeindor sounded like a dying frog.

As the elf asked about the little men, Nafalen listened to the human's answer. Rolling his eyes, Nafalen stood when the elf asked his next question, about Nafalen's race. Nafalen grabbed his quiver and bow that had been resting against the tree beside him and placed them back over his shoulder, tightening the strap for travel.

Cracking his neck, Nafalen walked towards the elf, scrutinizing him. As he walked past the human he looked at him and rolled his eyes again. Then he spoke to the elf. "The pygmy natives were driven off by my bow a while back. We are fairly safe here, but should get moving as soon as possible. And yes, there was another human, Sartana-kun by name, that also needed saving back there. We lost him a while back though and I haven't seen him since. Honestly I hope we don't see him again either," by this time Nafalen was standing over Tarn Va Thaeindor. "As I told you before you were poisoned again, my name is Nafalen Sintelnor, former Weapon's Master of the Sintelnor house. I am a Drow, a Dark Elf, as the surface elves call my race. Yet we are brothers in the Quendi."

Nafalen stood then and walked to the edge of where the three were resting. He looked out through the woods and brush back towards the pygmy camp. Breathing heavily Nafalen turned back.

"We had best be moving soon, I saw we have less then an hour before they regroup and come after us again. And they know these woods much better then we ever could hope to so they can travel much faster then us."

Nafalen Sintelnor peered closely at Tarn Va Thaeindor until he began to feel extremely uncomfortable. He tried to avert his eyes but his pride would not let him shy away from this man. The human answered his questions first, and Nafalen replied almost straight away afterward. It made Tarn Va Thaeindor want to laugh for some reason, but of course he didn't.

“They’re gone,” said the human, “We lost them a while back. They probably gave up.” He looked proud as he said that. He obviously believed what he was saying, but Tarn Va Thaeindor doubted it. They had seemed so determined to capture him...why would they just give up? Before Tarn Va Thaeindor could get much farther on that line of thought, the human spoke his name, "Shiro Skye. And you are?"

Tarn Va Thaeindor frowned and was about to reply when Nafalen Sintelnor spoke.

"And yes, there was another human, Sartana-kun by name, that also needed saving back there. We lost him a while back though and I haven't seen him since. Honestly I hope we don't see him again either." Tarn Va Thaeindor looked closely at Nafalen Sintelnor, trying to understand why he did not want to meet this other human. Did he dislike humans, as Tarn Va Thaeindor disliked elves?

"As I told you before you were poisoned again, my name is Nafalen Sintelnor, former Weapon's Master of the Sintelnor house. I am a Drow, a Dark Elf, as the surface elves call my race. Yet we are brothers in the Quendi." Tarn Va Thaeindor blinked. What did Quendi mean? And what did he mean by "brother"? They hardly knew each other, and could not call each other brothers until they were much closer. Drow. What a strange word. It sounded foreign in his mind, as many of the words from this language did. Nafalen Sintelnor said 'surface-dwellers'...does that mean that Drow lived underground? What an odd concept! Underground!

"We had best be moving soon, I say we have less then an hour before they regroup and come after us again. And they know these woods much better then we ever could hope to so they can travel much faster then us." Tarn Va Thaeindor heartily agreed, yet in his present state he was not sure how fast he could move on his legs, or if he could move at all. Poison...he called it poison. What terrible stuff. Tarn Va Thaeindor struggled to rise and managed to lift himself up using the tree he was leaning against. His legs felt extremely weak, as did his arms. Even his head felt abnormally heavy.

"I...I might need help," Tarn Va Thaeindor croaked. The sound of his voice surprised him again. His thoughts sounded normal.

"I'm...Tarn Va Thaeindor. Aerin Ishtheh." He smiled weakly, tired of speaking. His last words had been directed at the human, Shiro Skye, for he had not forgotten about him.

((Probably an even worse post than the last...I need inspiration! Or maybe ice cream...))

Shiro listened to Nafalen’s words. It made sense. The pygmies did know the jungle better than any of them did, and if they were going to have any hope of escaping them, they had to move fast. He listened to the elf as the elf said that he might need help.

Shiro sighed, walking over to the elf. He was the only one out of the three of them that had not been poisoned, and because of this, he should be the one to volunteer to help the elf. Shiro turned to him as he introduced himself as Tarn Va Thaeindor, Aerin Ishtheh. He frowned at this. What was an Aerin Ishtheh? Now was not the time to ask such questions, however.

“Nice to meet you, Tarn,” said Shiro, smiling slightly. He extended a hand towards Tarn. “I’ll help you.”

He turned his eyes back to the jungle behind them. So far, all was quiet, but now that he thought about it, since those pygmies knew the jungle so well, they might be good at sneaking up on people. They were probably also skilled at tracking, which made it even more urgent that the three of them get moving. He was in no hurry to get sacrificed.

Rainwater continued to fall, thoroughly drenching the young human. Water ran down his clothes and hair. He didn’t mind the rain anymore. He was already soaked through, so it wasn’t like a little bit more water could hurt. He listened carefully to his surroundings, trying to see if he could pick up any sound that was out of the ordinary. Shiro frowned. So far, all he could hear were a bunch of bugs, buzzing around as they looked for someone to bite.

Nafalen watched as the human, Shiro Skye by name, helped the elf up so that they could get moving. Walking over to where they were standing Nafalen handed a small wine skin to Tarn Va Thaeindor.

“It’s strong. Take a small sip, you too Shiro. It will help restore your energy.” Nafalen was glad his wine skin hadn’t been destroyed or taken by the pygmies. It was a special brew of ale that Nafalen has ‘rescued’ from a fat, lazy, undeserving, brewery.

Nafalen turned and drew his Curved Drow Scimitar and cut down a large vine that was in their path. Sheathing his blade again, Nafalen withdrew his bone hilted dagger and cut a sturdy branch from a nearby tree. As he walked in the opposite direction of the pygmy camp, Nafalen began to whittle at the stick, forming it into a make-shift arrow. Grabbing a few feathers that were scattered around, Nafalen tied the fletching to the shaft with a thin piece of bark. Finding another suitable branch, Nafalen made another arrow, slowly refilling his quiver with make-shift arrows. They weren’t the best, but would suit him if they were attacked again.

Once he was done fashioning arrows and refilling his quiver, Nafalen turned to speakl with the elf some more. When he turned, however, he realized that he had been moving far to fast for the burdened human to have any hope of keeping up. Rushing back the way he came, Nafalen almost barreled over Shiro Skye and Tarn Va Thaeindor.

Shaking his head Nafalen continued their exodus, only this time he made sure to keep them in sight.

Shiro looked up as Nafalen handed a wineskin to him, claiming that it would restore his energy. He took a tentative sip. He needed his energy restored, since he was already tired.

The young human coughed slightly as the burning liquid trickled down his throat. He looked up, wiping away a few tears that had sprung to his eyes.

"You weren't kidding," he said, "That stuff is strong."

He hadn't expected it to be that strong. Shiro wasn't really one to take alcohol, and something like that was quite new to him. However, it did do its part. He felt strength restored to his body.

The young human walked, following Nafalen out of the forest. He fought to keep up, since the drow was walking at a faster pace than they were. It wasn't long until Nafalen was far ahead, leaving Shiro and Tarn behind. Shiro staggered on through the forest. The elf's weight was getting hard to bear.

"Nafalen! Wait!" called Shiro, attempting to stop the drow before he got too far ahead. He doubted that it would be easy to find Nafalen if the drow got lost in the forest.

The drow came rushing back, and Shiro took a step back to stop being knocked over. The young human stumbled a bit, and he held onto a tree, making sure he kept his balance. He didn't want to knock both himself and Tarn into the mud.

"Watch it," said Shiro, turrning to Nafalen as they began walking again.

Nafalen rolled his eyes when the human told him to watch out. This human, Shiro Skye, had just had his life saved by Nafalen twice in a period of less then an hour. Shiro Skye was in no position to be ordering Nafalen around. Nafalen moved through the increasingly dense forest, turning around every few minutes to make sure that Shiro Skye and the wounded Tarn Va Thaeindor were still behind him.

After about a mile of walking through the heavy rain and dense trees of the Taurerosa Rain forest, Nafalen heard a loud snap, followed by a semi-muffled shout. The Drow assassin froze. He looked around, senses alert, and caught a glimpse of a small figure darting between the trees behind them.

Nafalen quickly drew his bow and notched one f his makeshift arrows. Pushing Shiro Skye and Tarn Va Thaeindor in front of him, Nafalen turned his back to them and fired at the first pygmy that showed itself. The arrow flew forward, but skimmed a tree, sending the arrow flying harmlessly off to the side.

"Run, get out of here!" Nafalen commanded Shiro Skye and the still semi-poisoned elf. "The forest edge is about half a mile ahead! Get out and get across the stream. Make a defensive position!"

Nafalen pushed them forward, herding them onward, before drawing another arrow. Marking his next target, Nafalen let fly, his arrow passing through the nearest pygmy to stick in the tree behind it. The pygmy looked down at the hole in its chest before his eyes glazed over and he collapsed in a heap. As he walked backwards, Nafalen followed Shiro Skye and Tarn Va Thaeindor on their exodus from the cursed rain forest. Nafalen moved slower then his companions though, marking targets and dropping as many of the attackers as possible.

By now the pygmies had formed a sort of semi-circle around the Human, Elf, and Drow assassin. It was a pretty sophisticated attack procedure for such primitive creatures. Then again, they were predators, but so was Nafalen. As soon as his quiver ran dry Nafalen quickly secured his bow in its tube and tightened the straps on his quiver to prepare for combat. Reaching down Nafalen drew his Curved Drow Scimitars and turned. He ran off through the forest, quickly catching up with the burdened human and wounded elf.

"Run on! Run on! We are almost out! Hurry!" Nafalen yelled as he spurred Shiro Skye and Tarn Va Thaeindor onwards.

Tarn Va Thaeindor stared curiously at the wine skin that was offered to him, and when he did not take it immediately, Shiro Skye grabbed it and took a swallow. Tarn Va Thaeindor watched as his eyes widened and he coughed. Then Shiro Skye handed the skin to him, and he took it in clumsy hands, eying it warily. With a burst of courage, Tarn Va Thaeindor took a tiny gulp, planning to let it rest on his tongue before he attempted to swallow. However, as soon as it touched his tongue he spat it out. With disgust Tarn Va Thaeindor returned the skin to Nafalen Sintelnor. He had no wish to ever again taste such a despicable drink.

Nafalen Sintelnor began to walk, and with the help of Shiro Skye so did Tarn Va Thaeindor. He shuffled clumsily along, but as he moved he became better at walking. Their pace was much slower than Nafalen Sintelnor's, however, and the drow didn't seem to notice. They lagged farther and farther behind, until Nafalen Sintelnor was completely out of sight. Shiro Skye called loudly, but before the words hardly even left his mouth, the drow was back. He almost ran into the two of them, causing Shiro to stumble, which in turn caused Tarn Va Thaeindor to lose his balance. He would have fallen if not for Shiro Skye pulling him against a tree.

Once Nafalen Sintelnor acknowledged that they were able to move on, he began to walk at a slower pace. By his face Tarn Va Thaeindor could tell he was angry about something, but he did not want to ask and so he would not know. They trudged on through the forest for a while longer, enough for Tarn Va Thaeindor to try and shuffle on his own, when a loud snap came from behind the trees around them. There was a muffled shout, and Tarn Va Thaeindor knew immediately that the pygmies were back. With a curse, Tarn Va Thaeindor returned to Shiro Skye. He despised being carried, but if that was what it would take to get away, he would do it.

"Run, get out of here!" Nafalen Sintelnor shouted. "The forest edge is about half a mile ahead! Get out and get across the stream. Make a defensive position!" Tarn Va Thaeindor resisted the urge to laugh. Defensive position, indeed. Would that include collapsing on the ground? Nafalen Sintelnor did not seem to consider this, however. He ran behind them, shooting arrows at the unfortunate pygmies. Not every arrow hit its mark, but Tarn Va Thaeindor knew that was only because the arrows were not properly crafted. Nafalen Sintelnor fell behind as he shot, and Shiro Skye half-dragged, half-carried Tarn Va Thaeindor through the rainforest.

"Run on! Run on! We are almost out! Hurry!" Tarn Va Thaeindor heard Nafalen Sintelnor before he saw him. Instead of his bow Nafalen was carrying his curved sword. Tarn Va Thaeindor struggled to move on his own, but he found himself depending more and more on Shiro Skye. He could tell that he was quite a burden for the human, but Tarn Va Thaeindor could do nothing for it. It was the human's own fault for helping him in the first place. But he was grateful. He would have a debt to these two. Already it was building up by the second. He could hear many little feet dodging trees nearby, and he heard a little whisk as a dart passed by his face. The pygmies were coming on faster than before, realizing that their prey was slowing down. The wild yells echoing from the trees around him scared him more than he would like to admit. If he hadn't been so tired from his days without food, or if he didn't have poison coursing through his body he would not have felt so afraid. But as it was, he was helpless, and utterly at the mercy of these pygmies. If it weren't for Nafalen Sintelnor and his sword, and the human Shiro Skye and his back and hands, Tarn Va Thaeindor would most likely be dead by now.

Shiro continued to walk through the forest, following just behind Nafalen. He frowned. The drow seemed…well…angry. Perhaps Shiro’s words had offended him somehow. It wasn’t in the human’s intention to offend the drow. He had merely been startled by the sudden move. He made a mental note to apologize once they were out of the rainforest. For now, he had to concentrate on walking. Tarn was beginning to get heavy, and he was tired from the previous battles. Shiro was sorely tempted to sit down and rest, but he knew that the sooner they left the forest, the better.

The weight was lifted off his shoulders, however, as Tarn began to try to shuffle along on his own. Shiro walked beside Tarn, ready to help in case he fell over. He wasn’t sure if Tarn was strong enough yet to be walking.

A muffled shout rang through the rainforest, and Tarn returned to Shiro. The latter frowned, glancing behind him. His eyes widened as he realized that the pygmies were back. Grabbing hold of Tarn, Shiro pulled him forward, ahead of Nafalen Sintelnor.

"Run, get out of here!" shouted Nafalen. "The forest edge is about half a mile ahead! Get out and get across the stream. Make a defensive position!"

Shiro collected the last of his energy, running forward. He heard the twang of a bowstring as Nafalen began shooting at the pygmies behind him. He wondered briefly how long it would take before the pygmies began using their poisoned darts again.

Shiro heard Nafalen shout, but didn’t waste the energy to look behind him. They were almost out of the rainforest, and he hoped the pygmies wouldn’t go past their borders. He continued to run, panting heavily as he tried to support Tarn’s weight. He brushed away vines and low hanging branches with one hand, making his way through the forest.

A poisoned dart whizzed past them, striking the tree next to them. Shiro was suddenly aware of several pygmies in the trees surrounding them. He continued to run, his eyes turning to an opening in front of him. The rain had begun to thin, and he could see light just beyond that opening through the vines. They were almost out.

Smiling slightly in relief as he felt the rays of sunshine on his face, Shiro ran through the opening in the trees, still carrying Tarn. In front of him, he could see running water. That must have been the stream Nafalen was talking about.

Shiro stepped into the water. Thankfully, it was not deep—not even reaching his knees. He tried not to slip in any of the loose stones as he carried Tarn across the stream.

((OOC: Sorry it took so long to get to this. I've been busy this week.))

Nafalen pushed Shiro Skye and Tarn Va Thaeindor onwards. He could see the light ahead, penetrating the darkness of the forest. It had stopped raining, allowing the three companions to run faster; but that just meant so could the pygmies.. They broke through the forest edge, into the blinding sunlight. The warmth washed over Nafalen, momentarily reminding him of the warmth of the Underdark. Then he heard the splash of the elf and the human's feet in the stream ahead.

Nafalen ran on, coming to the shore of the shallow stream. Without stopping his momentum Nafalen leaped forward, clearing the majority of the stream and passing Tarn Va Thaeindor, as well as Shiro Skye.

Landing in a run nearly all the way across the rushing water, Nafalen quickly made it through the shallow water and onto the opposite shore. Spinning around Nafalen saw a few pygmies break through the forest boundaries. They were very tentative at first, most having never left their homes before. But as soon as they saw their prey their vigor was renewed and they quickly charged onwards; straight towards the Drow, Elf, and Human. The pygmy archers had not yet emerged from the woods and for that Nafalen was thankful; it meant that they could pick off the approaching savages from a distance.

Nafalen cursed loudly, remembering that he had used all his arrows and spent the ones he had created. Then he looked down. Nafalen quickly threw his Curved Drow Scimitars back into their sheaths and crooked his left arm. Reaching to his wrist, Nafalen’s hand grasped the hilt of one of his perfectly balanced throwing knives. He thrust his hand outwards, towards an approaching pygmy. It gasped and fell into the rushing water, dead. Nafalen grinned wickedly and cocked his arm again, launching knife after knife through the air. Soon the set of throwing knives attached to his left bracers were all spent; so he quickly turned his body and cocked his left arm, launching another stream of daggers.

Before long he had spent all his throwing knives, but he had felled a nearly equal amount of enemies. Yet they came on. Nafalen was out of projectiles, but that did not bother him at all. He had always been more at home with a powerful blade in his hands anyways.

“They are persistent little bastards,” Nafalen muttered under his breath. The continuous fighting was beginning to take its toll as Nafalen’s adrenaline began to wear off. He hadn’t been in such an elongated fight since his last in-house war with the Sintelnor House.

Tarn Va Thaeindor tried to run, but he couldn't, and so Shiro Skye carried him while he ran. If Tarn Va Thaeindor had been one to curse, he would have been doing so. Instead, he contented himself with lying limp as a rag doll on Shiro Skye's back. He could hear the soft hiss of flying arrows, and every now and then a scream or grunt as a pygmy fell. Tarn Va Thaeindor tried not to think about that, though. As much as he disliked these creatures, they did not deserve to be killed. No one did, really. Except elves.

Tarn Va Thaeindor jerked and bumped around on Shiro Skye's back as they ran. He was entirely focused on not falling off Shiro's back, so he did not notice the water until he felt it touch his legs. With a startled exclamation at the temperature, Tarn Va Thaeindor dropped off Shiro Skye's back and with a splash landed in the shallow water. He could hear the pygmies rushing out to meet them, but Tarn Va Thaeindor could do nothing but look up at the sky and the sun and the dark clouds. How wonderful it was to be free of that forest...

With a dreamy look in his eyes, Tarn Va Thaeindor moved slowly across the water, feeling a bit more strength coming to his legs with every step he took. Oh, but it hurt! It hurt his legs so much to move through this stream. The water was rushing happily around his feet, oblivious to the problems it was causing him and the blessing it gave him. Suddenly, Tarn Va Thaeindor felt something on his back, and turned around to see what it was. He yelled and backed away as the native approached. It had poked him with the butt of its spear. The rest of the natives were much farther behind, but this one was motivated. Perhaps there was a prize for whoever got to him first.

"Ah. Hello there," Tarn Va Thaeindor said stupidly, unable to move, unable to call to Shiro Skye and Nafalen Sintelnor for help. The native laughed in its strange way and pulled out a dart. With a sudden panic, Tarn Va Thaeindor remembered his helplessness.

"No, no, wait..." he implored the native. The native paused and looked at him curiously. Chances were he was not often spoken to in a different language. It garbled a few words and turned around to look back at his comrades. Without making a sound, Tarn Va Thaeindor began to move slowly toward the opposite bank, which was only a few feet away. Tarn Va Thaeindor prayed to whatever god lived in Arda that the pygmy would not turn around before he could make a dash for it. No such luck.

The native cried out and threw the dart at Tarn Va Thaeindor, but he moved out of the way, albeit clumsily, and it missed him by a scant centimeter.

"Oi! Oi oi oi!" the little man shouted. Other pygmies were getting into the water now. "Oi!" they called back. "Oi oi oi!" Tarn Va Thaeindor couldn't guess what this meant, or indeed if it meant anything at all. He just ran for it. Running through water was certainly difficult, and when he finally did get out he realized that there was no way he could run anymore. All he could do was hope that Shiro would come to his rescue. Or that Nafalen Sintelnor would kill a few pygmies for him. He was helpless.

Nafalen spun around, dipping his fine blade down and slicing a sloppily thrown spear in two. He rose his right foot into the air and sent an advancing pygmy flying backwards through the air. Looking down the stream a bit Nafalen saw Tarn Va Thaeindor barely dodge a thrown dart. Cursing, he cut down another pygmy before running down the bank of the stream. Nafalen threw his left scimitar into its sheath and reached behind him as he ran. He drew out his ice dirk and hurled it through the air, it sliced through the face of the pygmy attacking Tarn Va Thaeindor, barely. The blade of Nafalen's ice dirk fell off the hilt and melted on the ground, the water mixing with the blood of the now dead pygmy.

Nafalen reached down and grabbed up the hilt of his dirk, running it through the water of the stream as he did. While it was submerged, the ice blade quickly reformed, allowing Nafalen to return his blade to its sheath on the back of his weapons belt. Nafalen sheathed his remaining Curved Drow Scimitar and reached down. He grasped Tarn Va Thaeindor by the underarm and hoisted him to his feet.

Nafalen linked his arms around Tarn Va Thaeindor and reached inside himself. Calling upon his innate Drow abilities Nafalen dropped a globe of impenetrable darkness right in front of Shiro Skye, hopefully confusing th pygmies long enough for the human to run. Calling upon his abilities again Nafalen muttered one word, "Tiu," then the two elves, dark and surface, rose into the air. Nafalen couldn't go to high because of the added weight, but he did make pretty decent time. They sped through the air away from the battlefield and stream.

Before long Nafalen had to set Tarn Va Thaeindor down as he couldn't carry the elf anymore. The assassin found a copse of trees and set Tarn Va Thaeindor down.

"Wait here, and rest," Nafalen ordered. He turned and took to the sky again, racing back to the human Shiro Skye, and the furious pygmies. He could travel much faster now, as his burden was much lighter and his conjured globe soon came into sight.

Shiro looked up as Nafalen passed them, crossing the stream quickly. The young human continued to push on through the stream, gritting his teeth. His back and shoulders were beginning to ache from Tarn’s weight, and he didn’t know how much longer he could continue to carry the elf. From the shouts, he could tell that the pygmies were behind him, but in his current position, Shiro could do no more than cross the stream faster, making sure that Tarn didn’t slip.

Shiro cursed softly under his breath as Tarn moved suddenly. Tarn slipped from his grasp, landing face up in the stream. He bent down, about to snatch him up again, when Tarn began to make his way across the stream on his own. Shiro followed close behind, keeping a close eye on the pygmies and watching out for Tarn at the same time. He knew that Tarn would probably not be able to fight because of the amount of poison now flowing through his bloodstream.

Shiro turned around in alarm as he saw a pygmy move closer to Tarn. The pygmy threw a dart, which Tarn managed to dodge, rather clumsily however. As Tarn ran to the other side of the stream, Shiro drew his katana, facing the approaching pygmies. He took a few steps back, trying to cross the stream but not wanting to turn his back on them.

As several pygmies reached him, Shiro swung out his katana, slashing through one of the pygmies that tried to stab him with a wooden spear. Shiro blocked another attack with his sword, slicing through the spear with his katana before stabbing the pygmy holding the spear.

A globe of darkness dropped down in front of Shiro, confusing the pygmies. He guessed that they were beginning to panic, having never really seen much magic before. Shiro took the chance to run all the way across the stream, meeting Nafalen on the bank as the drow ran back towards them.

“Thanks,” said Shiro, panting slightly as he met up with Nafalen.

Tarn Va Thaeindor was surprised and grateful when Nafalen came over and helped him up. He could not muster a smile but he nodded in thanks. He truly was in debt. He owed these men his life. Tarn Va Thaeindor started in surprise when he felt Nafalen's arms circle around him. He didn't know what it was about the drow, but he certainly did not seem like the hugging type.

"Tiu," he muttered. Then, they rose into the air. Just like that, they were flying upward. Tarn Va Thaeindor instinctively reached for something to hold on to and found Nafalen. He gripped him tightly, frightened. Tarn Va Thaeindor looked down at the ground that was slowly shrinking below him and gulped audibly.

"Do you...do you do this often?" Tarn Va Thaeindor asked weakly. The drow did not answer, he probably hadn't heard what Tarn Va Thaeindor had asked. Suddenly they were descending again. Nafalen Sintelnor let go of him as they settled on the ground, and Tarn Va Thaeindor slowly dropped his arms to his side, too stunned to speak. He had just been flying with no wings to hold him up.

"Wait here, and rest," Nafalen ordered. Tarn Va Thaeindor nodded numbly, still gazing about him with a dumbfounded expression. Nafalen took off into the sky again. He looked decidedly odd standing around in the sky.

Tarn Va Thaeindor grinned to himself and leaned against a tree. He was alive. He wouldn't die, after all.

"Thank you, Nafalen Sintelnor; thank you, Shiro Skye," he said quietly to the air. If it weren't for them, he would be at the mercy of those natives right now, perhaps he would even be dead. It was an odd concept. What of the other man who had been there? Whatever had happened to him? Tarn Va Thaeindor hoped the man was all right. It would be awful if the man had died for him.

((REALLY crappy post...sorry, guys.))

((OOC: Sorry this took so long, I've been busy. Oh, and I have permission to do this))

Nafalen touched down a little ways from the bank of the stream. He could still see hs Globe of Darkness and the pygmies that where scrambling to regroup and attack their prey. The human, Shiro Skye, turned from the summoned Globe of Darkness and crossed the stream, moving towards the assassin. As soon as he returned to earth from the sky, Nafalen took off running. As he neared the human he heard Shiro Skye mutter something. It sounded like a thank you, but Nafalen didn't care. He needed to keep the human fighter alive so that they could protect the still wounded Tarn Va Thaeindor, the elf that Nafalen had saved.

As he neared the man Nafalen leaped, wrapping his arms around the human's torso. As he did Nafalen focused his energies. Reaching inside him he called upon his innate Drow abilities and shouted "Tiu!" As he did, Nafalen's powerful heritage powers lifted him off the ground, sending the two soaring into the air. Rising, ast, Nafalen leveled off, hovering over the scattered pygmies.

"Just don't scream," he said. Nafalen let go of Sihro Skye with his right arm, holdingg the man with his left. He could feel the strain, but it was not to bad considering his finely honed and knotted muscles.

With a laugh Nafalen reached out with his right arm. Reaching insie of himself again, Nafalen summoned another Globe of impenitrable darkness. Dropping it right over the group of recently regrouped pygmies, Naflane couldn't help but laugh when he say them scatter, running out of his Globe of Darkness in all directions.

With a nod of his head Nafalen took off. Carrying the human over the ground aways until the copse of trees was in sight. As they set down, Nafalen released Shiro Skye, letting him fall the last ten feet to the ground. Nafalen set down in front of the human and ran ocer to Tarn Va Thaeindor, kneeling down next to the elf.

The drow's sudden movement startled the young human, and Shiro took a step back as Nafalen leaped into the air. He had not been expecting that, nor had he been expecting the drow's arms to wrap around his torso.

Shiro jumped slightly, attempting to pull away out of reflex. Nafalen's arms held fast, and Shiro was reminded of how Nafalen had taken Tarn into the air. Perhaps the drow was planning to do the same with him. As predicted, Nafalen shouted out a single word, and the two of them rose into the sky.

For Shiro, who had never been far in the air, flying was not a pleasant experience. The young human paled sligthly as the ground fell away beneath him. He had never been very good with heights, and he forced himself to ignore the sinking feeling in his stomach as they rose higher. The young human tried to concentrate on something else, and ignore the fact that he was high above the ground.

Nafalen hovered over the pygmies, who were currnetly trying to regroup. Before Shiro could think clearly, Nafalen warned him not to scream before letting go with his right arm, holding onto Shiro with only his left. The human wanderer swayed dangerously at the sudden movement. His stomach lurched, and it took all his willpower to not cry out. His eyes widened as he looked down at the ground below him.

And then, Nafalen flew away from the pygmies, heading towards the clearing where Tarn was. Shiro breathed a sigh of relief at this. That meant that he was soon going to be back on the ground. Nafalen flew closer to the ground, before dropping Shiro about ten feet above the ground.

For the first second, Shiro's mind was blank as he fell towards the ground. He forced his body into action, bending his knees to prepare for impact. He landed on his feet, the impact jarring his body. Shiro took a few breaths of air, getting the unpleasant feeling of fear out of his system before going over to where Nafalen and Tarn were.

"We should get out of here while they're still confused," he said.

Nafalen ran to the recently awakened Tarn Va Thaeindor's side. He knelt down by the still seated elf and looked him over. He had recovered much of the color in his face, but was still very pale and looked extremly weak. Nafalen took off his cloak and rolled it into a bunch. He pulled Tarn Va Thaeindor's head forward and pushed the rolled up cloak behind him, forming a sort of make-shift pillow. Letting go of Tarn Va Thaeindor's head, the Weapon's Master stood.

"We should get out of here while they're still confused," Shiro Skye said to Nafalen. Turning, Nafalen looked at the human wanderer and scowled.

"No. We do not move until Tarn Va Thaeindor can carry his own weight and defend himself. I am not risking my life again because he can't run or fight for himself," Nafalen said definitavly. "Besides, I brought us far enough from the forest edge that we have plenty of time. By the time they regroup and cross the river, which is huge to them, and march all this way, the sun will have fallen behind the horizons. Just rest and do not complain."

Nafalen left no room for arguement when he turned and walked off. He made his way over to a tree that was covered in vines. Grasping a few, Nafalen used them as a form of ladder and scaled the tree. Seating himself on a branch, Nafalen drew his knife and cut down a few of the vines. As they fell he cut off a few branches to replenish his quiver again.

"Make a fire and cook some food. I will take first watch," he called down to the pair below him.

((OOC: Sorry for crappy post, but don't have much time and want to give you something to work with.))

Tarn Va Thaeindor watched the skies for Nafalen Sintelnor and Shiro Skye's return. It seemed odd to do that, but Nafalen Sintelnor had flown...and he had flown with him!

Tarn Va Thaeindor still felt elated at the thought, though he had been too shocked to realize what was happening while he was experiencing it. With a sigh, Tarn Va Thaeindor closed his eyes. Perhaps he would rest until they returned. He was safe from those little people here, he hoped. Safe. Safe. The word resounded in his head as he slipped into the dream world.

"...while they're still confused." Tarn Va Thaeindor heard as he awakened. He opened his eyes and saw Nafalen Sintelnor kneeling next to him, and Shiro Skye was brushing himself off as he spoke. Tarn Va Thaeindor suddenly became conscious that there was something soft beneath his head. He reached up, touched it, and felt cloth. He nodded contentedly and murmured a quiet "thank you."

"No. We do not move until Tarn Va Thaeindor can carry his own weight and defend himself. I am not risking my life again because he can't run or fight for himself." Tarn Va Thaeindor had the grace to feel ashamed. He had put these men in much danger.

"Besides, I brought us far enough from the forest edge that we have plenty of time. By the time they regroup and cross the river, which is huge to them, and march all this way, the sun will have fallen behind the horizons. Just rest and do not complain." Nafalen Sintelnor had an air of command about him that made Tarn Va Thaeindor want to obey him to receive his respect. It was an odd feeling, one that Tarn Va Thaeindor was hardly used to feeling in Arda. Not many could make him feel like a child here.

"I apologize for my present state, I did not intend to get lost in the rainforest, it just happened." Tarn Va Thaeindor's words had no hint of sarcasm in them. They were true and direct and he did not blink as he looked at Nafalen Sintelnor, and beyond him to Shiro Skye. Suddenly Nafalen Sintelnor walked briskly up to a tree and began to climb up the vines. Tarn Va Thaeindor nodded in appreciation of his skill and in acquiescence.

"Make a fire and cook some food. I will take first watch." Tarn Va Thaeindor struggled to stand, thinking that he would help, but was surprised when his body disobeyed him and fell back onto the tree with a thump. He tried once more, struggling to move, and fell back again.

He gulped, afraid that tears would come if he did not control himself. "I am sorry, but," he hesitated slightly, keeping tight reign on the tears that threatened to come, "but I cannot get up. I...I feel so helpless." there. He admitted it. To two strangers. Tarn Va Thaeindor shook his head wearily at himself, then closed his eyes, trying to fall asleep once more, praying to whatever god would hear him that he wanted to be able to move when he woke up.