Pads worn thin from the rough scorching sand finally mutinied and demanded a break. Quess, her pure white fur being battered by the buffering sand. In this hellish landscape, it was difficult to remember why she had set foot here in the first place. The lupine had (Probably unreasonably) opted to brave the desert storms just so she could be by herself for a while. She had ben feeling hungry lately, so very hungry. And bread and cheese did so little to appease that hunger...So very hungry...

And to ah, prevent any chance of a repitition in history and killing some poor beast, Quess had extricated herself to the desert until the feeling passed. What's the worst that could happen, she'd maul a cactus? Quess lowered herself down to the sandy ground, giving a sigh before taking a carefully measured sip of water. Why? That was the one question that stuck to her mind like a tumor. It was all so unfair that...That her whole life had turned out like this. Quess would have gone on lamenting about her miserable life but suddenly she noticed what she'd been blind to for the last minute...The sand around and under her was...Trickling. What...

"ANTLION!" Quess screamed in suprise as she began to slip into what was becomign a gaping pit. For a second, dark humor laughed at the irony of the predator being the prey. Then survival instinct took over and she scrambled for safety. Grabbed for firm ground. Slipped lower...

Azirel, after departing his room in Estolad, had voyaged far North-West to the Anfauglir, in search allies, to join him in his quest of resurrecting the glory of the Ashen Territories. He had left his armor behind, and was wearing no more than a pair of pants and some sturdy leather boots. His travel pack was strapped to his back, which contained a map, his broken mirror, which had become a symbol of Rahsmiir's defeat, and his tunic. In his right hand, being used a walking stick, was his scythe, the blade wrapped in a soft leather cover. He had been walking for hours, and his muscles were exhausted and his bones aching... By now, he had mostly given up his search for Angband and was looking for any signs life that could help him. He gave his aching muscles a rest as he plopped onto the sand, lying on his back. He closed his eyes, trying to rest himself, but afraid to fall asleep.

Several minutes later, after he had cleared his mind and sences, he sat up, taking in his surroundings. He must have been fairly deep into the desert, because in each direction, he saw nothing but sand, rocks and cacti for miles. He brushed the sand from his hair and off of himself as he prepared to stand. He briefly stopped, sensing something. He removed his gauntlets, pressing his hand against the white-hot sand, wincing as the heat radiating from it hit his skin. He perked up as he felt distant vibrations in the sand, and jumped to his feet, his heart racing. It could be horses, or monsters. Friend or foe. He spun as he heard a distant cry behind him, and ran awkwardly towards the sound as his feet sank deep into the sand with each step.

He finally found the source of the scream and rumbling. A silvery lupine, who appeared female was attempting to scramble away from a gaping void that was opening in the desert sand before him, a bestial laughter echoed from the hole and he recognized a look of frantic terror on her face. Unsure if the lupine was friendly or not, Azirel approached the hole, making sure the ground before him was stable before taking his steps. He instinctively held his scythe out to her, urging her to grab hold of it.

Luckily for Quess, the panic seemed to numb her to the pain of scrabbling at the searing sand. All she knew, as she reverted back into her primal self, drawing upon her racial instincts. When she saw the extended scythe, she grabbed it with startling speed. She slipped back for one terrifying moment, as the force of her pull had unbalanced the man for a moment. But in the next moment, the wolf warrior heaved herself up with all her might.

"Thank you"

That was all the lupine was able to pant out, without even a chance to observe her rescuer, before her momentum sent her smack into a sand worm. How the hell did that monster get there? With a yelp, she leaped by (Careful of the pit now) and did a three-sixty. The place was swarming with monsters...What had she stumbled into? What was this place? How could a herd of such differant monsters exist?

Now she looked at the man who had rescued her. He looked, to put it simply, pure evil. One really couldn't be picky with one's saviors, but Quess' suspicion immediately acted up.

"Who are you? Are these your familiars?"

Even as the wolf warrior spoke, she glanced warily at the antlion, withdrawing her dagger.

"My name is Azirel, and no, these beasts are not mine," Azirel said, pulling the leather cover off his blade. Although his muscles were screaming for a rest, the adrenaline prevented him from feeling it. He realised that they were standing above what seemed to be an underground breeding nest for these putrid desert creatures.

He watched as the worm extended, at least fifteen feet into the air, two rows of tiny limbs flailing. The worm fixed its tiny eyes on its prey and prepared an attack. Azirel had seen a monster like this once before, when Rahsmiir still lived inside him. Azirel jumped back, pulling the Lupine woman with him as the worm flung itself towards them, attempting to crush them beneath its immense weight.

Azirel watched in horror as more of the sand beneath them began to swirl and open, as more instect-like creatures began crawling out of the sand. The sand colored creatures things stood hunched over, standing about three feet tall. They had six to eight limbs, ending in tiny, fingerless hands and feet. Some of them hand sharp, curved, rust-coloured blades on the ends of their top set of arms. Some had wings, some did not. Their faces resembled that of an ant, with antenae and sharp mandibles. They had two pairs of eyes, deep and pure black. The creatures emitted high-pitched, buzzing noises as the climbed out of the pits appearing in the sand around them.

Azirel steadied himself and prepared for an extremely difficult battle. He swung his scythe, aiming at a creature's neck. The attack hit, knocking the creature's head off. Azirel shouted in horror as he noticed the headless creature continued to approach him, swing its sharply bladed arms as it stepped. Azirel swung again as his blade hit the solid blade of the monster. He realised he was in for more than he had expected, and it didn't make it easier that the sand worm was still looming over the tiny creatures, roaring as his rows of razer-sharp teeth gleemed in the burning sunlight.

The white warrior didn't believe that the creatures were not this evil man's, until he took one of their heads off with a swing. Born into pack mentality, Quess could not comprehend anyone, no matter how evil, attacknig his own pack. And so Quess accepted the demon as her ally. Before she could think, three of these insect-like beings were upon her, grabbing her at once with their vile arms. For a second, Quess was confused, not seeing any obvious weapon, but they she howled with pain as two of them sank their fangs into her right arm. Before the third had a chance to connect, the lupine hurled it away, praying these creatures carried no lethal venom. Raising her dagger with her free arm, Quess slammed the blade into the first monster's skull, burying it down to the hilt.

It didn't let go... "What ARE these things"

Frantically, Quess stabbed the bugs chomping into her arm, inflicting half a dozen wounds that should have been fatal, to no effect. Giving up with the blade, the Lupine simply ripped the insects out of her arm, despite the pain.

“They – they won’t die!” Quess called out, pointing out the obvious, while kicking out at another creature. By blind luck, it flew into the sand pit of the antlion. Watching, jaw agape, the helpless creature slipped into the mouth of the waiting antlion. What the – the antlion just ate one of his own! Or…were they aligned? They couldn’t possibly all be gathered here by coincidence. Something bigger and more sinister had to be going on…

[color=green] “Kick ‘em into the pit! The antlion will eat them! It –“ [/color[

The last words died away in her mouth as she ducked the tail of the hungry sandworm and rolled out of the way.

Azirel watched in horror as more and more of the hideous insectoid creatures rose from the sand. Soon he was swarmed, literally wading, waist deep in the clawing, biting creaures, ripping them off and tossing them aside, one by one. He had already dropped his scythe, and watched helplessly as the tiny beasts carried it away. He was beginning to give up hope when he watched the Lupine warrior kick one of the creatures into the snarling jaws of the antlion.
He heard her call out. “Kick ‘em into the pit! The antlion will eat them! It –“ she yelled before jumping out of the way of the sand worm's flailing tail.

Azirel began tearing the creatures off of him and tossing them into the pit, as the hungry antlion chomped them down. Soon, he could not feel the pain of the monsters attacks anymore, because he had become so numb with pain and fatigue. He looked down, and noticed the skin on his legs was turning blue and his blood was spilling all over the sand beneath his feet, he shouted out and began furiously ripping the beasts from his legs and tossing them away.
"THE CREATURES! THEY HAVE SOME SORT OF NUMBING POISON IN THEIR BITE!" He shouted, gesturing to his bruised, torn up and bleeding legs. He watched as a group of insect-creatures prepared to take his scythe back beneath the sand with them. He quickly stumbled foward, ripping his scythe free, and relentlessly wailing on the beasts that had taken it, throwing their severed body parts into the pit of the antlion.

Azirel fell to his knees, fighting to keep himself from submitting to the wave of fatigue and nausea that was coming over him. He had lost so much blood, and was tiring quickly, and still, their were so many of the creatures as well as the antlion and sand worm. He fought himself into a standing position, and limped towards the scrambling creatures, kicking them furiously to the gaping jaws of the antlion.

The demon gave his warning, barely audible over the screeching beasts, just as the venom was starting to take effect. As a now useless arm dropped to her side, Quess grimly came to the conclusion that this demon ally of hers didn’t have any spectacular abilities to get them out of this mess. Grimacing with pain, the warrior ripped the throat out of a nearby bug and kicked another one away.

“This is no good! We need a plan! At this rate we’ll be torn to pieces in minutes! We need to fight our way over to each other, so we can help each other. And think of a plan!”

That was what Quess screamed at the demon, though her speech was riddled with panting and pained grunts. Wading through the swarming bugs, having now given up on killing them blindly, Quess began making her way over to the demon. Without warning, one of these bug-like monsters jumped up above the others and chomped down hard on her hand, down to the bone. Crying out, the young warrior dropped her trusty dagger. Determined on retrieving it, Quess didn’t notice the giant claw until it was almost too late.

Just as a shadow appeared over her, Quess leaped backwards a second before the sand worm’s claw slammed down, where her dagger had been an instant ago. And right then, right there, Quess knew where the safe spot was. Their only chance of survival lay on top of that sandworm!

“Demon! We need the high ground! We need to get to the top of the sand worm! We’ll be safe there, at least for a while, I think.”

By now the mound of bugs, nipping, slicing, was growing higher and higher. It didn’t make any sense. Where were they all coming from?

Mathideton strode lazily throught the dunes, his cape's fraying edge tracing gentle lines throught the sands. He had lost track of time here, only knowing he was running low on water. And fast. His infravision was useless here, what with the overcoming heat from the tiny sand crystals. The sun pounded on him from above, using the sandy floor as a mirror to reflect it's wretched light from below. He had come to help his eyesight adjust to the light, to little effect.

"Drow aren't supposed to be out in the sun, much less in the deserts of the aboveground." he grumbled to himself. Every day, the great, wretched ball of fire engulfed him. Anybody who saw him out here would pass him off as a mirage, an illusin caused by the temporary insanity of the blasted heat. Any resident beast of the dunes would view him as lunch.

He stopped in his tracks in front of a rather large dune. He could feel shudders in the earth, could hear the faint yells of other people. Curiously, he scaled the sand hill and peered over. Two figures scurried about, seemingly avoiding a rather large sandstone pillar. However, in mathideton's experiences, sandstone didn't wiggle about in an attempt to murder you.

Not noticing the bugs, he began to walk down the hill, hand at the ready on the blueish hilt of his trusty blade. The cloth wrapped around the hilt was quite worn from use. He stopped as he saw the bug creatures. He took a tentative step towards the other two, bug nearly stepped on one of the buried insect-beings. He drew his katana in time to parry a claw, switch hands, and bash it on the head with the hilt. Backing off, he made his way towards the other two, keeping a distance between himself and the Worm.

"Need a hand?" he yelled simply over the rush of battle.

Azirel, barely keeping himself up, felt his energy and consiousness left him faster than the blood pouring from his wounds. They needed a plan, once again, he was being swarmed, and it wouldn't be long before he passed out from blood loss or was mauled beyond recognition. He watched the Lupine make her way towards him.
“Demon! We need the high ground! We need to get to the top of the sand worm! We’ll be safe there, at least for a while, I think.” She shouted.
"Sounds like a plan!" He replied in an uneasy voice as he made his way towards the tallest sand dune in sight.

He was only metres away from the hill as he felt himself slipping into sleep. He perked up as he heard a distant sounding voice.
"Need a hand?" rang out the voice of a distant figure. Surely there couldn't be another person here? It must be a dream, or maybe delirium was finally setting in? Everything seemed dream-like, moving at slow-motion. The world swirled around him, he no longer felt the searing heat, or the pain of the clawing, biting insects. He tried to cry out as he fell, but the shout was soundless. Clawing at the sand, wasting every ounce of his remaining energy, he dragged himself further towards the sand dune.

He reached the sand dune, and propped himself into a sitting position, by now he was unsure if he was awake or asleep, alive or dead.
"Help!" he attempted to shout, but the timeless space around him seemed to slur his words into a helpless mesh of sounds. He watched helplessly as the beasts crawled towards him further, preparing to carry his carcas back beneath the sand into the desert tomb that awaited him.

“No! No! ” Cried the tall lupine as she clambered onto the mound of bugs in front of her, slightly squashing it. Then, totally disregarding the new arrival – if he was an ally, great. An enemy, then she’d deal with him later, if she survived. If it was just a mirage…Then who the hell cared? – Quess leapt off the pile of nipping, writhing insects, heading in the direction of the fallen demon.

Rather than fight a lost battle against the rising tide of teeth and claws, the tiring warrior simply unceremoniously grabbed the demon by the neck and hauled him onto her shoulder. She knew she didn’t have much time – she had taken in as much venom as this demon, if not more, but her more resilient immune system was keeping the effects at bay…For now. But not for much longer. Ramming through the crowd, her ability to slice and dice halved by her burden, Quess was headed for the sand worm.

A flash of red. A clang of claws. No! The leaping ones were upon her! Thinking fast, the lupine pulled her arm back and flung the demon. He flung, straight as an arrow, crashing neatly onto the sand worm’s head. He might have cracked a rib or two, but the important thing was that he was safe. For now. Maybe the impact would even jar him awake. But that was the last thing Quess saw before she disappeared under the flurry of crimson bugs, feeling so many pincers, so many claws, so many fangs all at once. But she would not stop fighting. Never.

With a roar, knowing that she’d be dead within the minute unless she went vertical, the bleeding beast began to stagger back to the her feet. They would not have her without a fight.

Azirel felt himself lift from the ground, gripped by a pair of strong arms. He was being carried upwards, before soaring through the air. He saw nothing, felt nothing, smelt nothing, tastes nothing, he only sensed the movement around him and heard the shouts of battle around him. He felt himself hit something, and heard a roar of pain, or fury. He shot back into consiousness, and noticed he was lying on the head of an infuriated sand worm. He had dropped his scythe somewhere, but he would kill the ugly beast without it.

He looked down, watching the flailing Lupine, swarmed by the red insects. He then shifted his attention back to the sand worm, who was attempting to shake him off of its head. He got down onto his stomach, reaching as far as he could without falling off of the worm's head. He grabbed onto a chuck of flesh and pulled, he felt whatever he was holding burst, and he lifted his hand to find it covered in puss. The chunk of flesh he had popped was the worm's eye, and the creature shrieked in pain as in reared up as high into the air as it could, flailing its head and tail to shake Azirel off. He heald tight onto the creature's scaly head until its rage had subsided.

He figured the creature thought that it had flung him somewhere, because the worm looked around, searching out its prey to deliver a "final" blow. He carefully got onto all fours, creeping towards the edge of the beast's head, and let himself slip slightly off the edge. He held on tightly with one arm as he lowered himself so that his left shoulder was even with the worm's bleeding eye socket. Thrusting his left arm quickly into the creature's empty eye, he began ripping out anything he could get his hands on, in an attempt to cause as much crippling pain to the beast as possible. The creature unleashed a bloodcurdling shriek of agony as Azirel leaped from its face, landing at the foot of a tall sand dune.

The enraged sand worm began to flail blindly in a self-destructive rampage. It crashed itself, head first into the sand dune that Azirel was standing on, in an attempt to crush him. He ran into a croud of the insects, and leaped onto the creatures tail as is slammed onto the ground, knocking the entire company of insect-creatures flying in different directions, and crushing some of the monsters that were directly underneath the tail. Azirel jumped agian as the worm lifted his tail into the air, slamming it into the ground near him, killing more of the small insects and knocking him into the air in a cloud of dust.

He wanted to try to help the lupine, but was afraid that if he got close, the worm would smash its tail down upon her, so he retreated to a sand dune that stood taller than the worm's reach and waited, watching the battle beneath him.

The seemingly infinite torrent of bugs began to pile up upon Quess, even higher than before now that they were robbed of their other meal. Kicking, punching, slicing, the lupine with white-stained-red fur flailed wildly against the insects, having lost track of the antlion’s trap. Right now, Quess’ whole world was nothing but wriggling squirming bugs, struggling against the little bugs of every imaginable color. This was no good. It would not be long before the wolf warrior would succumb to the overwhelming odds, her left arm and right leg already numb and not responding to her commands.

With a guttural cry, the tall lanky warrior lost her balance as the sand beneath her feet, and Quess rolled down a slope, bring a dozen leechlike grubs with her. The burning sand now scorched every inch of the overheating canine’s fur, instead of her poor feet-pads. Luckily, the impromptu tumble managed to dislodge the bugs, taking out chunks of her fur out. The realization kicked in only a moment later, as Quess finally remembered the antlion’s trap, far too late. With another cry, Quess hit the bottom of the conical sand pit with a sickening crunch.

With a yelp, the bloodied lupine hopped to her feet, panicking at the idea of being eaten alive by the gigantic antlion. But she forced herself to calm down, tongue lolling ever-so-slightly, realizing that had she fallen to the sand beast, she’d be dead by now. The ensuing conclusion was nothing short of a miracle; the sand lion’s mouth was jammed full of scores of the bugs! The dying bugs had saved her life, ironically, meaning that Quess was safe for the moment, clambering onto the elephant-sized antlion’s head, calling for help, despite the pain that it brought her parched throat.

“Demon! Help! I’m on the antlion!”

Azirel heard the white Lupine warrior's cry for help and slip down the hill, trying to locate his scythe in the croud of swarming insects. He saw it and threw himself towards it, ignoring everything else. He snatched it up from the hot sand and turned his attention back to the still enraged sand worm. Running towards it, he awaited an opening to deliver some quick finsihing blows. He swung his scythe with all his might, making contact with the vonerable throat of the beast. The sythe buried its blade deep into the creatures neck, and a flurry of crimson blood sprayed from the wound, sizzling as it hit the burning sands. The creature made one last flailing attempt at destroying Azirel before falling to the ground in a pool of deep red blood, legs twitching maddly.

He turned his attention again to the Lupine, who had fallen into the antlion's trap again, hoping he could save her. He realised the feeling in his legs had returned, and the wounds had slowed bleeding immensly. He was incredibly appalled by the fact, before remembering that he was no longer human, he had been a demon for almost a week. He now charged towards the lupine, swinging his scythe to knock the insects out of his way. Then he paused, noticing a sound behind him that he hadn't heard before and turned around, noticing a band of six or seven, human-sized people running through the desert, and two others, riding horses alongside them. Azirel's spirits raised, because whether these people were here to help or not, they would surely be attacked by the insects and forced to fight back.

Now he tore towards the antlion's pit, a new hope running through his blood. He reached the pit and tried to figure out a way to reach her before the insects did. He turned back to the approaching figures and realised that they were dark-skinned men, three of them wearing silk vests, the other ones topless. They were wearing the kind of clothes that Azirel wished he had thought to bring to the desert, and each wielded a shining scimitar, some of them two, with a quiver of arrows and a bowcase at their hips.
The first one reached them, hacking through the bugs. "We are the Telchaziir Hunters!" He called in a deep accent that most of the inhabitants of Angband spoke with. "We are slayers of the creatures that live in this desert and protecters of their prey!" He shouted as he made his way towards the antlion pit, his companions not to far behind.

Sweltering in the harsh and unrelenting heat, Quess swayed on her blistered feet, nudging one of the squirming bugs with her toe. She gave an inhuman shriek and drew back though, almost toppling off the head of the antlion, and to her death, when the wolf saw the grub-like bug turn around, wearing the face of a black-furred lupine. It leapt at her, its body now completely covered in jet-black fur, followed by dozens more identical bugs. They were all over her, everywhere, biting, scratching, hissing at her, screaming for her death.

“NO! NO! Get off! I – I left the forest. Please!” Wailed the wolf woman, trying to swipe the bugs off, to no effect. In terror, the lupine’s usually-reasonable mind jumped farther and farther from logic. Were these a rare breed of lupine bugs? No, maybe…Maybe her former pack had used magic – or struck a deal with a demon – and taken these forms to kill her! Or…

Without warning the furry insects disappeared, as only mirages could. Blinking in confusion, Quess, disorientated by a potent combination of blood loss, poison, and heat, stumbled about, scrabbling at her waist for her water canteen. But where was it? It wasn’t there! Or was this another mirage? Confused, the white wolf suddenly found a rope in front of her eyes. Powered by despair, Quess gave a tremendous leap and pulled herself up the remaining distance in two seconds flat, causing the dark-skinned man who had saved her to stumble back.

Her eyes unfocused, she swept a confused eye over the bugs, the men, the demon.

“You! Villians!” , croaked Quess at the dark-skinned men, sure in her deluded mind that they were the masterminds before the attack, that they had caused her this much pain. In her mind’s eyes, they were armed and dangerous criminals, trying to kill her all of a sudden. With a savage howl, the wolf grabbed at the man who had saved her life, causing him to abrupt his bow in fear. Angrily she threw him down the sandlion pit, tossing him to his inevitable death. Now, her remaining saliva frothing at the edges of her mouth, before streaming into her bloodied white fur, Quess turned on the others.

“I’ll…I’ll kill you are!”

Azirel watched in amazement as the Lupine flew into a fit of rage and threw one of the men into the pit.
"Wh-She's delirius!" Azirel cried as he clutched his scythe tighter now. The men who called themselves the Telchaziir Hunters prepared themselves for a battle against the ravaging lupine, holding their scimitars at their sides as they stared down their opponent. "I need one of you to help me fight her, but don't kill her! The other three, hold off the insects and kill the antlion!" Azirel barked the commands at the slayers, they nodded and surprisingly obeyed his commands, two of them rushed into the crowd of insects, and one of them aimed his bow towards the antlion. One man, who had previously been riding a horse remained, standing to his left, he growled as he sized up the Lupine warrior. The man standing beside Azirel was a younger looking warrior. He was tall but slenderly built, he bounced about slightly as he waited. His skin was lighter than that of the others, and his face looked almost elf-like. He had dark brown stubble around his mouth and his ears were peirced with small golden rings. He did not wear a shirt, and a long white scar ran down his chest, reaching from his left shoulder to about two inches to the right of his belly button. He wore the large, puffy pants that many of the inhabitants of Angband wore, and sandals on his feet.

Azirel nodded as he faced his opponent, trying to come up with a plan to calm her down, he had no magic, besides his infravision, which had already proven useless here anyways, and he doubted the others had magic either. They would have to fight until either she came to her sences, or until one of them collapsed from exhaustion. He stood, facing the Lupine warrior in a defensive stance, awaiting an attack.

“You…Too…Demon? I knew I couldn’t trust you…Evil…Poison…Bugs…Glshh”

The accusation-turned-incoherent-rumble was low, parched throat stinging. She fell into a brief coughing pit, and then wiped her dry mouth, mind only on the demon who had betrayed her. She had been wrong; it was probably this wicked beast who had ordered the bug strike! And she had wasted time helping him! In anger she stomped a stray insect flat. The mirage having wrapped itself fully around Quess’ dehydrated brain, she totally disregarded the Telchaziir Hunters fighting the bugs. It was like a dream – even when things blatantly make no sense, your mind cannot really focus on these plot holes.

Wasting no time at all, the white warrior called upon her last reserves of energy, determined to take out her enemies in one blitz attack, before she succumbed to the soothing realm of unconsciousness. Focusing on the human first, she rushed him, covering the distance as quickly as she had scaled her savior’s rope. With yet another guttural cry, Quess plunged her good arm forwards, her own claw far too quick for the man’s heavy scimitar. The disorientated warrior missed the man’s vitals, jabbing her arm straight into his stomach, the claws imbedded into the poor Hunter’s stomach. The pain immediately caused the man to drop the scimitar.

Withdrawing her blood-soaked arm, Quess prepared for a second plunge, aiming for a kill now. But a that moment, the adrenaline that had been fueling Quess burned out, and she simply crumpled to the floor, exhausted, thirsty, in pain, and under the influence of venom. Oh dear.

(Sorry. That post kinda sucked.)

((OOC: Dammit, I was almost done the post when my internet crashed and I had to rewrite the whole thing...))

Azirel gasped as the Lupine thrusted her arm into the human's stomach, who reacted just a little bit to slow. Azirel jumed forward to try and break them apart, just before both of them collapsed into the sand. He dropped onto his knees, the Lupine had collapsed do to fatigue, poison, pain and probably blood loss. He turned to the human, who was lying on the ground, in agony as he died slowly.
The man sat up with a jolt and gripped Azirel tightly on the shoulder. Pointing to his left, he mouthed a word, but only a slight whisper escaped his mouth, "O-A-Sis..." he managed to moan before collapsing onto the sand, blood gushing from his wound, his guts literally spilling into the sand. The man was dead, there was nothing anyone could do for him anymore...
Azirel passed his hand over the mans face, brushing his eyes closed and erasing the look of terrifying agony off of his face.

Azirel stood up, shifting his attention back to the others, dropping his scythe into the sand and unsheathing his own scimitar. He watched as one of the men killed the antlion by sinking one of many arrows into the beast's face. He then charged to aid his friends in holding back the insect creatures, Azirel following behind him. Together, the four of them were making short work of the now scattering bugs. The creatures, scattering in panic, retreating back below the surface of the sands.

"What are they doing?" Azirel asked, slightly confused.
"They are afraid, the worm and antlion have been killed, and they are being beaten," one of the men explained.
"Your companion... He is dead," Azirel said, staring at his feet is guilt and dismay, emotion that he was surprised by.
"Sileraen... Yes, he was our leader..." A different man answered.
"Seliraen? That sounds elf," Azirel said, trying to stray from the subject of his death.
"Half, named by his elven mother," replied the same man who had spoke before.
"He said something about an Oasis before he died, do you know of it?" Azirel asked them.
"Yes, it lies in the north, only a twenty minute or so walk from here, but we must hurry, as much as I hope those monsters won't return, we must expect anything in the desert," one of them said.
Azirel returned to the bodies of Seliraen and the still unnamed Lupin. He watched one of the men take a pendant from Seliraen's body, the name "Seliraen Telchaziir" was inscribed into it in neat print. He buried in the sand and stood up, wiping welling tears from the corners of his eyes. Azirel kneeled down and hoisted the Lupine's tall, limp body over his shoulder, carrying her over to the place where the others had left their two horses.
"Can you ride?" One of the men asked.
"Yes," Azirel simply replied.
"You may ride Wisp," the man said, "he is my horse, but I doubt Valour will let you ride her, she was Seliraen's horse."
Azirel simply nodded as he hoisted the Lupine onto Wisp, a large white horse, before clambering up onto her himself. The other humans walked, one of them leading Valour, a small but proud brown horse, through the desert. Azirel had many question to ask the humans, but he heald his tongue until they reached the Oasis, and although it wasn't that long of a walk, it seemed to take forever.

They finally made there way to the Oasis, and Azirel hopped off of Wisp, waiting for the others before lifting the Lupine off. They gathered a small pond, the unconcious Lupine leaning against a tall palm tree, the two horses drinking from the pond. Azirel himself scooped handfulls of the sweet water into his mouth, gasping for air between gulps. They decided to wait for the Lupine to awake before talking at all, they eyed her nervously, hoping she wouldn't still be in the fit of dilerium she was in before killing two of the humans and passing out.

((OOC: Sorry for the big post))

(That's gotta suck. I HATE rewriting posts)

It was quite a while before the resilient wolf’s body began the slow process of healing itself though it certainly was no beginner at such matters; Quess seemed to constantly throw herself into these near-death states. Had her body been able to speak, it’d have huffed like a maid and given Quess a good long lecture. When she first began to blink her way back into consciousness, the wolf woman’s body immediately fell to her knees, vomiting the worst of the venom from her body. The red-purple fluid stained into the scorching sand, splashing down with a disgusting squelch.

Still acting on survival instinct, the lupine practically fell over herself (nearly tumbling into her own vomit) to plunge her muzzle greedily into a pool of the most delicious water she’d ever had in her life, never pausing for breath until she’d slurped down water for a solid minute. Now far past overfill, Quess fell backwards contently, sighing. It then took two minutes before she remembered the others. Embarrassed, Quess sat up, casting a wary eye over the dark-skinned men, and the only one she recognized – the demon. Who were these other men? And what had happened to the bugs, the sand worm, and the antlion? So many questions buzzed through the confused lupine’s mind at once, leaving her at a loss for where to start.

“Who – who are you?” Asked the warrior softly, red-faced at behaving so atrociously for the last few minutes. In a hollow attempt to seem less pathetic, Quess attempted to stand up, but that totally backfired – legs numb with venom and disuse refused to support her weight, sending her toppling over again. Giving a weary and embarrassed sigh, she averted her eyes, refusing to see the amusement on the men’s faces. Instead, she simply looked around the oasis, thanking the gods it had been here. If not…She’d be dead.

Azirel watched, as the Lupine jolted awake, unaware of his and the three human's presence. She drank from the pond for a very long thing, before becoming aware of the others and making a fool of herself.
“Who – who are you?” She asked, trying to stand up but failing.
"We've already met," Azirel replied, with a small sigh. "and the others, they are our saviors,"
"We are the Telchaziir Hunters," one of them said, staring into the sand.
"You killed two of us, in a bloodthirsty ramage..." Another said, it was the something none of the others wanted to say, but someone had to let her know it. "The monsters fled, after the Worm and the Antlion fell."
Azirel picked up his weapons and dipped the bloodstained blades of his scimitar and scythe into the water, wiping off the blood. Then he did the same with his bloody legs. Then he looked back at the three humans, who were sitting passively, leaning back agaist their packs.

"But what of yourself? A lone Lupine, wandering the desert alone..." Azirel asked, sure it was strange for a demon to be wandering through the desert alone, but don't Lupine usually travel in packs? She didn't look evil, so he doubted that she slayed her tribe or something. He yawned, still exhausted from the battle, as he awaited her response.

[EDIT:] ((OOC: Sorry for the shortness and the mistakes, I didn't catch them the first time, even though a few parts made no sence...))

NO! Came the scream, from somewhere within Quess’ brain, trying to blot out the words of the Telchaziir Hunters, though there was no denying the truth of his words, the sorrowful expression written across the man’s dark face. It was so ironic, so, so , painfully ironic that she had came to the desert – isolating herself for the sole reason of not butchering anyone for want of food – and yet even in this desolate land, she’d failed. Unable to support her own weight, her guilt weakening the warrior far more than the venom did, she fell back against a tree, angrily squeezing a handful of sand. It burned to grip the scalding sand so, but Quess didn’t care. She wanted to feel the burn, the pain, as a way of punishing herself. There was no sidestepping what needed to be said.

“Telchaziir Hunters. You will not believe me – I wouldn’t myself, if the circumstances were different,” Sighed Quess heavily, “But I am in fact, very sorry. I – I cannot control myself sometimes. I –“

Quess got no further, interrupted by one of the stoic men.

“You need not say more, lupine. We shall miss our fallen comrades greatly, but this is our way of life. We all knew when we took the oath, what we were up against. It is not your fault, but that of the Izaari.”

Confused by this strange new term, Quess listened intently.

“Those tiny insects you faced – they were mastermind. They function as one, even getting larger creatures to join them, as you have seen. It is our sworn duty to eradicate these beasts…But I fear the end is near; never before has an attack occurred, so near the outskirts. The Izaari are many – what you saw was only the tip of the iceberg, so to speak – and we are few. These recent losses only further weaken us.”

“But there’s hope,” Piped up a second man, whislt drinking his fill of the water, “We have learned that there is one entity controlling these usually mindless beasts. We take it down, we take the whole horde down…”

Knowing what she had to do, Quess nodded thoughtfully.

“I will aid you, to the death. It is the least I can do…” Quess said, without hesitating. She cat a questioning glance a the demon.

((OOC: Awww, nice post!))

Azirel listened intently as the humans explained the origin of those insect creatures, now revealed to be called the Izaari. He was interested to know what they were, and why he had not seen them the last time he ventured through the deserts.
“I will aid you, to the death. It is the least I can do…” The Lupine said, before staring at him expectantly.
He almost groaned out loud, but stop himself not wanting to be rude to the men who had saved him. "You have my blade," Azirel said, looking at the men and nodding slightly. He did owe them after all, and there numbers had been almost cut in half from saving them, so the Lupine and him would have to act as replacements for now.

Azirel sat still for a while, trying to recall his first trip to the desert, he was trying to put his finger on something in his mind, but it was slightly out of reach. Suddenly he realised. "It was you!" He yelled aloud. "On my first trip to the desert, about half a year ago, I came to this desert, I was human then, and I was under the influence of a terrible curse, and I was attacked by a Sand Worm, and lost control to a demon called Rahsmiir... You and a group of twenty or so guards killed the worm and imprisonned me in Angband," he exlpained his outburst, all of his visit to the desert was pouring back into his memory, he could even remember the things that he had done under the influence of Rahsmiir.

He suddenly realised how stupid he was being, what he had said was pretty personal, and it had little to do with the topic they were currenly discussing, so he quickly changed the subject.
"So what is your story?" Azirel asked, adressing the Lupine warrior.

(OOC: Thanks!)

And so it was settled. Though Quess was quite averse to the idea of ever seeing, another foot soldier of the Izaari, much less storm their stronghold. Speaking of which, before she responded to the over-curious demon, having completely ignored his little story – it was irrelevant and far from important, as far as she was concerned – Quess voiced her questions.

“I assume you know where this base of theirs is?” Asked the tired lupine, direct and to the point.

“Yes,” Answered the first man immediately, “We came upon it by accident. We were performing a regular patrol, when we were ambushed by a small squadron of the Izaari. It was an easy victory – too easy.” Clearly upset, the stone-faced man finally lost his composure and slammed a fist into the ground angrily, bitter tears streaming down his tears. “I should have known! I should have smelled the trap! Foolishly, we whooped with joy and followed the retreating creatures. Then – suddenly – they were everywhere at once, more than we’ve ever seen. Many lives were lost on that sad day…But all of us who survived, we had seen the entrance to a cave…It has to be there that they’ve grouped at.”

The warrior knew that after all these warriors had done for her, saved her life and forgiven her for the most heinous of crimes, she should show some sympathy for the grieving man. But she couldn’t; it was not her way, and it was time for war, not talk. So she merely pressed on.

“When do we leave?”

“As soon as we’ve rested up.”

Suspiciously, Quess glanced at the others – they were perfectly fit for battle! Grimacing, the exhausted warrior knew they were merely waiting for her, and her alone.

“No.” She said, drunkenly stumbling to her feet. “I’ll be fine. We can’t waste any time.”

She could say no more before she fell back against the tree, trembling with fatigue.

“No. You rest. We shall leave tomorrow at dawn.”

Resigning, Quess decided she should stop ignoring the man who’d saved her life – it seemed she was owing her life to everyone, these days - Quess told the man what he needed to know, and nothing else, and then only because there was no other way to pass the time.

“I hail from the misty forest. I was exiled…For my weakness. I do not wish to speak of it.”

Azirel felt left out of the conversation, as the Lupine warrior pressed questions onto the hunters who had saved them. Finally the Lupine answered the question that Azirel had asked twice already. She answered shortly, with a hint of irritation in her voice.
"Eh, it's fine if you don't want to speak of it... But I was kind of looking for names, since I have nothing to address any of you," Azirel said, also slightly irritated by his invisible seperation from the group.
"Oh, I am sorry," one of the men answered, the one who appeared to be somewhat of a leader behind Seliraen, "I am Naj'uul, and this is Heizad and Visson," he said, pointing to his companions. Heizad sat to his left, and Visson to his right. Visson was short and relatively fat, wearing a silk vest, and the same pants as the rest. Heizad was tall, and strongly built, with darker skin than the rest. He was bald and wore no shirt, also wearing the puffy pants and neat sandals that the rest of them had.

"I appologize for trying to trail the conversation off, but although I may not look the part, I prefer small talk over jumping to action randomly," he said, hoping that the others wouldn't just ignore him and continue with their talk of the Izaari. "And besides, we're going to be travelling together for a while, so we might as well get to know each other," he said with a sigh, dropping his pack into the sand and lying back against it. His head was killing him, but he hadn't noticed it before. He groaned slightly, trying to stifle it but failing.

Suddenly he started hacking uncontrollably, he sat up, blood trailing from the corners of his mouth. He wasn't sure what was happening, perhaps it was the poison, trying to leave his body, but he doubted it, because if it was, he wouldn't be coughing blood. He looked down at his arms, and noticed black veins trailing up his arms, and quickly spreading throughout his entire body. All of the sudden he felt incredibly cold, his teeth chattered and he fell to the sand, in a cold sweat. Then again, maybe it was the poison, coming back for another round... After all, he was pretty sure the poison hadn't even left his body yet, and the Lupine was probably more immune to toxins than he was.

((OOC: Sorry, just trying to complicate things :p, Also, what color are you using for the hunters?))

(I’m alternating between beige and antiquewhite, though it doesn’t make much of a differance which you use )

“I am Quess” Answered the lupine matter-of-factly. For a single moment, things seemed to have settled down.

But then, when demon-boy (ironic that he had not given his name) started to convulse, Quess only confirmed for the hundredth time that her life was never dull. She began to haul herself to offer what little aid that she could, but was spared the effort when Heizad instead got up and went to investigate the cause of the demon’s pain.

He kneeled beside Azirel, inspecting him, apparently an expert on the Izaari toxins. He lifted an arm, felt it, and prodded open the Prince of Demons’ mouth to examine his gums (Quess wondered why medics always seemed to do that. What could one read in someone’s gums?) Finally, he gave a neutral grunt, though the other two seemed to be able to understand him. This was confirmed when Naj’uul informed Azirel what Heizad had determined.

“You have sustained quite a bit of their venom. It will burn horribly, but you’ll live. To help ease the effect, I will go forage for you a bitter herb, growing naturally near the outskirts of the desert. It will allow you to forcibly expel the poisons from your body. I was going to go anyways. Heizad – with me. I need your assistance with…the bodies…Granted the Izaari scum have not devoured them completely.”

Morbidly, the two men stood up, having already mutually agreed to try and retrieve their fallen comrades’ corpses. The one tossed to the antlion – Quess bit her lip in shame – would be hard to reach, but they hoped to find at least their fallen leader. Meanwhile, it appeared that Visson was staying with them to bodyguard them. Jovially, he produced from his sack three carefully proportioned hunks of cheese. He seemed more easygoing than the rest, despite his most serious of jobs.
“Eat well, my friends. We’ve got quite a busy day in front of us tomorrow, and you’ll want to be at your best. Of course, my friend you’ll be hurling this up, but it feels good to eat, no?”

Quess took the proffered food and bit into it without enthusiasm. She was hungry, yes, but guilt and sorrow – not to mention just as much poison as Azirel had – had spoilt her appetite, to say the least.

Azirel managed to laugh a little, vomit still trailing off his chin. He accepted the cheese, thanking Visson, and washed his mouth out, spitting into the sand. He sat up weakly, his arms trembling. He realised he hadn't yet introduced himself.
"I am Azirel, by the way," he said awkwardly, coughing a little, before plopping down into the sand, resting his weary head on his travel pack. He closed his eyes, ignoring his surroundings and trying to get some rest. Although his eyelids were heavy with fatigue, it was hard for his to keep them closed, because the desert sun still beat down mercilessly upon his face. Eventually, he managed to drift into an uneasy sleep...

He found him self next in a familliar appartment, the room where he stored his items in Estolad. Beside him stood Thoril Fletcher, an old friend.
"Your items! What happened? They're gone!" Thoril shouted aloud.
"What do you mean?" Azirel asked surprisedly. His eyes darted around the room and he noticed that his armor was gone, his valued Armor of Bloodshed. Also, fifty gold which he had left in a drawer had been taken as well, the drawer ripped out of the dresser it had previously occupied, parchments and other worthless baubles strewn across the floor. He noticed the window was open as well, and he stuck his head out, the drop was almost fifty feet onto a stone-paved road below, and the building didn't appear to be an easy climb either. How could anyone have come in that way? Unless they had wings...

Azirel spun, to see Thoril lying unconcious and a red-scaled creature with folded, black wings looming above him, his face bearing a sinister smile. The creature held a longsword in his right hand, and Azirel recognized the armor he was wearing as his own. Azirel growled with hate, glaring at the beast.
"You..."

Vesson and Quess had mutually agreed to let the demon man sleep off the pain – though it seemed that even in rest he was uncomfortable, muttering to himself occasionally – and conversed about anything and everything under the sun, as long as it didn’t involve massive armies of evil bugs. The lupine, as with the rest of her race, was not very social by nature, though Vesson was such a chummy man, his words painting vivid pictures, the white lupine found herself loosening up quite easily.

Time passed quickly as the two warriors, united and similar in nothing but their noble cause, though neither of the two could gauge the flow of time by anything but location of the sun. It was approximately four hours later when Naj’uul and Heizad, towing behind them a morbid parade of death – each dragging a leg of their dead leader. It was clear from the ashamed expressions that, had the unrelenting sun allowed it, they’d have showed their former leader much more respect, but they needed to conserve all the energy that they could. Without saying a word – both men were far too parched and somber for needless conversation.

Both desert warriors took long drinks of water, and set off for their own respective tasks. Heizad produced a shovel, and went to dig in the sand, clearly digging a grave for the fallen warrior. Sadly, Quess noticed that a myriad of crudely-made crosses were sticking out of the ground; this oasis, a place of life, also harbored so many of the warrior’s dead. It was clear that these hunters had once had many more members.

Naj’uul walked up to Aziral (still not knowing his name)and, after a moment of consideration, opened the demon’s mouth. Deciding not to wake the demon, he simply jammed a sprig of a herb into his throat, forcing him to swallow it.

“The herb will make him throw up some of the poison” Explained Naj’uul.

Azirel had been fighting with this monster for what seemed like an eternity, exchanging blows and managing to avoid or block most of them. Thoril stilled lay in the corner, in a crumpled heap, and Azirel was unsure if he was even alive.
He blocked another slash from his opponents blade, before attacking again, but also being blocked. There had to be a way to beat the odds and defeat this terrifying adversary and reclaim his stolen armor. He quickly turned his attention back upon the battle, and swept his scimitar back at the creature's unprotected head, once again blocked by a quick movement of his adversary's weapon. He prepared to block his oppenent's blade as it swept towards his chest, and succeeded, knocking both of their blades away.
Dammit, that didn't quite go as planned...
His winged opponent lunged at him, gripping his throat and plunging a hidden knife into his mouth, Azirel tried to scream but all that came out was a splutter of blood... And then he awoke.

Azirel jolted into consiousness almost screaming as he did so. He looked around and saw Naj'uul kneeling beside him. He was confused, seconds ago he was killed by a mysterious winged man, and now he was back in that infernal desert, surrounded by Quess and the desert hunters. He then became aware of a bitter taste in his mouth and screwed his face up a little. He opened his mouth to speak but just as sudden as he had noticed the bitter taste his stomach went sour, and he doubled over, vomitting into the sand. He burried the puddle of vomit and rinsed his mouth out, spitting into the sand.
"Eugh... How long have I been sleeping?" He asked, finally remembering that he had even been sleeping.

“Not long enough,” Grunted Vesson, serious now. “You need your rest, what with the big day tomorrow. We’ll all have a good – well, good by our standerds meal – and then its off to bed. The fiv – three of us – will handle the night watches.”

Nodding, Naj’uul produced from his little backpack, five pouches of dried meat (the other two had originally been for their fallen comrades), along with a giant hulking piece of cheese.

“It’s not much, I know,” Apologized the man, “It’s all we can afford, that will not go bad in the desert’s harsh climate. To us, this is a feast. I’m sorry.”

Withou any further ado, he dished the food out to everyone. Excepting the offered sustanence warmly, with a murmur of thanks, Quess bit hungrily into the dried meat. She preferred it raw, but this would have to do. Thirstily, she drank from the pool. Her hunger had returned, yes, but it was still quite difficult to relax enough to eat, seeing as tomorrow could very well be her last day in this life. Quess hated herself for bringing up the dreaded subject when everyone was contently eating, but she had to know.

“How are we going to do this? We have a plan or are we just going to storm them?”


(Ick, bad post, but I'm in a rush and gotta go to bed. Sorry!)