They lifted their warbling chants and hands to the winds, calling secret hopes to the gods. They prayed that divinity watched their children while they slept and that their supply of goat’s milk would not turn from the harsh lean of the sun. Women showed their bellies and the men painted their eyes with sticks of khol and when they danced, their sweat streaked their faces like sooty tears. They were the gypsies and their caravan would not move from the guarded plains until their supply of brandy ran out.

Theirs was an experience of family; the youth, for as bold and indifferent as they were, took pride in the lessons of tradition and longed for the day when they could partake in the dreaming. Elders borne from hard ashes and the swipe of steel offered their legacy through the stories they told and showed the patina of forgotten lore in the fine lines at their eyes and mouths. Taiaka had been invited to the celebrations of the new season because he and their soothsayer occasionally met over a spicy brew of sweet kivas. He spoke long into the night with the old man about the positions of the Stars, smoking herbs found on the road, rolling chicken bones from leather pouches. They debated the meaning of dreams, deciphered the cue of natural omens and animal totems and Taiaka let them cut pieces of his hair to use in mystical wards and binding rituals. The soothsayer had vouched for the shape shifter and spoke on his behalf to the families, promising that their daughters and wives were safe.

Taiaka brought with him gifts of salt, and tied wind chimes made from the bones of elk and the claws of bears to the yokes of their asses and mules. He became a friendly specter, a dark skinned man that amused the children with games of intuition and slept in the dog pens as one of them. He celebrated the gifts of Spring by dancing on the balls of his feet and eating the leaves of the cocoa plant until he felt his body drawn to the frenzy of rebirth. For a fleeting moment in Taiaka’s history, he forgot the names of his sons and chose not to see the anguished faces of his mates over the swelter of fire pits and smiled easily.

The children, curious of the outsider, would run by and tug at his dreadlocks or give him strange gifts of their affection. He wore a bleached rat skull the soothsayer’s granddaughter had meekly handed to him one night after Taiaka showed her the constellation that would have been at the cusp of its greatness the night she was born. The women, for the shape shifter had tried to remain humbly androgynous or at least feigned indifference, would present him platters of marinated venison and sweet red fruit that had no name, and they would laugh hardily when he grew fat and drunk on precious sugarcane rum. He participated in the hunt with the other men and was given a barbed pike wrapped in doeskin to launch against wild boar; they laughed at his poor aim and Taiaka would blame a sudden gust of wind or a sore shoulder. He showed them his speed instead and was met by a wave of cheers when he felled a white Ithilhuin hound that had strayed too far from her pack. They skinned the beast for him and made him a hat which he was required to wear for a fortnight, until the Stars of the Hunter’s age bloomed upon the southern hemisphere at dawn.

They called him Tyicka, a playful pun on his name that literally translated into ‘son of the Stars’. Taiaka often mused if he should give up his petty wondering and his guilty heart, take the opportunity lovingly given to him, and start a new life, a new family. By the end of the third month, the shape shifter knew they would have no qualms accepting him, given the asset he would be to their familiar clan.

But his hopes were shattered one night by the bark and yelp of the gypsies’ ill-bred dogs. Taiaka slept under a heap of mangy wolf furs in the soothsayer’s camp, dead to the world all but for the dog calls that entered his terrible dreams. He woke with a start but lay still under his skins, chilled from the icy fingers of predawn zephyrs, unwilling to shirk sleep. The soothsayer snored rhythmically and unperturbed with a bony hand stretched across his wrinkled forehead. Taiaka yawned and his eyes formed feline slits of shine from the blazing fire.

The dogs kept barking and soon Taiaka could hear the whoops and hollers of strong voices over their chorus. They were screaming for help.

He darted from the warmth of his furs, his body stiff and the unforgiving throb of alcohol burned in his brain. The men of the clan were in a state of panic; clutching their spears and bows in their callused hands they watched with wide eyes as their brothers and fathers were struck down by the arc of invisible talons. Impish smiles of gore appeared on their bodies and they fell into palsy stricken lumps of twisted bone and entrails. They stabbed at the air with their weapons while their shaman chanted weak cantrips and the women screeched.

But Taiaka saw. He saw through the glamour of illusion and watched the translucent shades cackle and preen as they tore apart the gypsy warriors. He felt the sickening shroud of malicious intent settle upon them and was overcome by a sense of hopelessness and feral rage. It took Taiaka too long to wake the notorious soothsayer from his deep slumber; a pain in his arm and a jolt to the senses, ears ringing tinny and his world melted into a comfortable darkness.

When he woke, he was welcomed by the smell of rot thick in the heat of a balmy afternoon. The back of his head was sticky with his own blood and a broken bone in his wrist as caused his fingers to swell out of proportion. Taiaka took no notice of his own ails but wavered in pure shock at the grizzly sight of the massacred gypsy caravan.

"Ah, another beautiful day," Mana sighed, gazing upwards.
She looked down at the small half elf still snoozing on the bare earth and completely ignoring her.
"Hey, pin-nose! Wake up," the fairy cried, flying down to yell in Kogata's ear.
The half elf stirred but showed no other signs of life. She remained curled up on the ground with her small fly dragon, Kyte held tight to her in the same way a small child might clutch a stuffed toy. Since receiving the over-energetic fairy at the spring festival, Kogata had been coaxed out of the city by the miniature creature and now found herself all the way out here, which was surprisingly warmer than the city, not to mention less crowded.

They'd been traveling for nearly a week now and Kogata did nothing but complain about how tired she was or how hungry she was or how bored she was, and all the fly dragon ever did was fly about and look concerned. Mana sighed and fluttered around in circles for a few minutes, trying to work out what she should do with the girl. She flew down in front of Kogata's face and gave her tiny nose a sharp kick. Kogata didn't react, walking miles at a time with little rest usually left a person completely exhausted and this was no exception. With a sigh, Mana flew down and sat on Kogata's shoulder, staring down at the girl tangled up in her own limbs and pigtails. The tattered red cloak that served as more of a scarf than anything lay in a trail behind her and was only gathering dirt.

"For heaven's sake, wake up!" Mana tried again.
Kogata stirred again and finally her ocean colored eyes cracked open before she realized what was going on. The desert-born elf sat up and rubbed her eyes, only succeeding in making her face slightly grubbier than before. She stared around for a few moments and noticed the bright green fairy fluttering in the air about her.
"Oh, good morning, Mana," she murmured, still half asleep.
"Morning?" Mana replied in mock amazement "Do you know how long you've been asleep for?"
Kogata blinked and looked up at the sky, screwing her eyes up till they were almost closed and noticing where the sun was, more or less.
"Which way's North?" She asked, rubbing her eyes again.
"That way," Mana sighed, pointing.
"Oh," Was all Kogata could reply with.

The fairy's irritated tone appeared to have woken up Kogata's fly dragon, Kyte, as well. The small bronze lizard looked up and flew to Kogata's side as she got to her feet, propping herself up with an old and worn looking staff. Still half asleep, the half-elf just resigned herself to following the small green fairy ahead of her, and didn't really pay attention to where they were going. In truth, Mana didn't know where they were going either, she was just following her intuition without a care in the world and was more than likely to get the three of them lost in the middle of the plains. Well, for Kogata's sake at least there weren't many people about.

About half an hour later Kyte suddenly looked up and began fluttering around madly. Kogata stopped and looked up at her companion as he flew in circles.
"What's wrong?" Kogata asked, even if she couldn't understand Kyte.
The fly dragon stopped and turned about, pointing himself towards whatever had set him off. Kogata and Mana followed his gaze and saw something in the distance. The half elf blinked and turned towards it.
"Whoa, hold up there munchkin!" Mana yelled "Do you have any idea what that is?"
"No," Kogata admitted "But I don't think Kyte would point me at trouble on purpose."
"You mean point us towards trouble," Mana interjected "I'm here as well you know, hey!"

The pair seemed to be leaving the fairy behind so she sped up to catch them. Upon arriving Kogata looked about warily.
"Looks like some sort of camp," she commented.
"Yeah, a dead camp," Mana interrupted.
Kogata ignored her and took a step forwards. As soon as her foot impacted the earth she heard a strange crunch, she looked down and saw an arm beneath her boot, an arm not connected to a body. Kogata let out a scream and took several fast steps backwards.
"I told you we shouldn't have come here," Mana sighed.
"W-w-what happened here?" Kogata asked the air.

The pirate sighed deeply, his calico, sea-worn shirt wavering about, a few rips in crucial areas, blood dripping about the place. His face was painted with muck, he appeared as though he had fallen in it, and his jacket wanted to leap off him. Probably for a bath.

'Rrrr!' He shouted between deep breaths, and pulled his two-handed claymore out of the fellow he had just been facing. Looking at him, he was far less bloodied than Jack, accept for a mortal wound that rather ended his mortality. He looked so restful, and Rackham almost faced him with a look of jealousy. Not quite, however!

He stuck his sword into the ground, and leant on it, resting. He would have sat down, but the grass was looking quite moist, and he didn't wish to find out if looks were decieving or not. However, his work was not done.

An arrow, screaming with force and speed, soared right past him, cutting his ear vaugly, but on enough to make him shout 'Ow!'. which he did. He looked at the arrow, just in time to watch it shatter as it hit the tree. However fired at him had one excellent bow.

'Why does everyone want to kill me?' He shouted, in rage, pulling his sword out of the ground forcibly, causing some inches of earth to raise into the air. In his rage, he actually threw the sword in the direction where he believed the arrow to have come from.

However, his extremely tired state forbode him from throwing it very far, and it simply clattered on a vauge dirt path that seperated him from a clump of trees the archer was in. The archer looked on and laughed, however, his gaze met the Pirate Warriors, and fear filled his own. He ducked behind the tree, hoping he could be hidden by it.

With rage, for such an emotion permits one to do incredible things, the warrior man darted across the path, skidded along the grass, some of the green wisps soaring some inches high, and drifting down calmly and joyously, and faced the crouched man with the bow fearcely. Obviously, this was the last of the bandits in this part of the grassland, and Arches weren't much on their own if they were faced by someone who was not an archer, and ready to give them a kicking.

With an exausted warcry, a steel-capped boot cracked against the poor archers nose, and he screamed. The pirate went to haul him up by his hands, however, he hadn't the energy to do so, and just ended up falling on him. Though, he managed to do so gracefully and, in a way, sat on him, which hurt the archer greatly. He screamed, full of pain and in a way terror.

'Alright, alright, I 'ent that 'eavy!' The warrior grunted.

He managed to get himself up, and leave the archer sprawled on the ground. On-and-off-again Pirate, Calico Jack Rackham, named after another pirate who died of, well, death, hovvelled onto the path. He was extremely tired now, he had been fighting all day, without a chance to sit down or rest, or even drink his - ahh, yes!

He fished into his messenger style bag, and pulled out an attractive orangey-brown coloured glass bottle. He tore off the cork and discarded to the wind, where it because airborn, and drank deeply. Brandy it was, and beautiful spirit too! Kept cold, somehow, and extremely fresh, the drinking veteran gulped one, two, three times, and looked at the bottle dissapointedly. He discarded it - empty already!

This could possibl have killed another, younger drinker, however, this was no ordinary man! Middle-aged, though he looked and felt twenty-five, the glory of fighting for exercise, and for the feeling twenty five, the glory of ale, he was a hardened drinker, forged in the heat of the brewery!

He picked up his sword, and downed another bottle. A few bottles later, he arrived at the camp, pissed out of his mind! However, no singing could be done.
'Holy...' He muttered, looking at the carnaged. Spotting the lass with the fairy and the dragon, he made his way over.

'Hello.' He said, sitting himself down - it wasn't wet after all! He looked out across the field. 'What happened here?'

Anika sat solemnly in the dead of night. The cool grass cushioned her, the serene darkness enveloped her, and ancient trees grew all around her in this circular clearing. Stars came out to show their beauty to the world and accompany the radiant moon, who bathed the clearing in her silver light.

Anika felt safe and secure under the moon's loving embrace. Her eyes were closed to be like the dark. She let the breath inside her escape out slowly and silently to join the almost nonexistent breeze before letting more inside of her. She was clearing her mind of everything and opening it up to the world around her. Waiting quietly for the cosmos to whisper their secrets in her ears.

After her successful meditation she opened her eyes, sitting up on her knees in front of a large rock. Her hands worked nimbly and without thought from countless years of practice, delving into the bag that lie stuffed on the plush ground next to her. As she dug for what she needed, clanks and clatters of glass and metal filled the clearing as she pulled out the tools she needed.

When all was said and done the rock had been fashioned into an alter. In the center was an empty bowl. On each corner of the rock were plates or bowls of burning herbs, filling the forest with a strong mix of bitter and sweet smells, clashing in the air for dominance. A white candle burned in the space superior to the bowl. On the left of the bowl was a dagger, and on the right a container of purified water. There was literally no more space left on the makeshift alter.

Anika closed her eyes once more and took a deep breath, absorbing the scents from the herbs and taking in the candle smoke that once danced beautiful pirouettes. She then went for the water, letting it fill the empty bowl. As the water worked its way down it was pierced by the silver moonlight, making it glisten. Anika peered into the waters that reflected the stars in the sky. It was as if she had filled a bowl with a piece of the heavens.

Anika then picked up the dagger and pressed it to her soft skin. She gripped the blade until the crimson blood was free from its fleshy vessel. She let a few drops of the warm blood spill from her hand and into the once clear pool, staining it ever so slightly with a hue of red.

This was to be her focus, and now she was ready. She placed her hands on each side of the bowl and channeled her gift from herself into the waters. She could feel the unseen power swell from the core of her person and flow through her, seeking an exit. As it traveled it numbed her body, letting her feel sweet nothingness. There was no pain, no worry, guilt, or longing. She was just there, in tune with all that was around her.

Just as fast as the feeling came it was gone, for now the water had stopped churning and created an image that only Anika's eyes could see. She watched as a gruesome battle waged on. The losing side she could tell was a caravan of gypsies like herself, but not her own tribe.

Anika did not want to witness the slaughter, but she could not pull herself away. Her eyes were forced on the image that the water conducted. In seconds Anika was surrounded by battle. She could hear the crushing of bones and the agonizing scream of warriors. She could taste gypsy magic in the air. It was not the sweet addicting taste of dark magic, or the warming sensation of good magic. Gypsy magic left behind an earthy and slightly more bitter taste. She could hear the cries of women who watched their family and loved ones die. The panic and confusion of the little ones. It was all just to much for Anika. warm tears rolled from her all seeing eyes as she felt the horrible rush of emotion.

Anika finally mustered up all the strength she had and tipped the waters over, the image disappearing as the earth absorbed the liquid so greedily. She was left shaken and scared. Her body shook as she forcibly took in air between sobs. The darkness ,that was once made her feel so at home, now left her feeling lone and weak. That had been one of Anika's most intense scrying yet. She never wanted to feel that way again.

Now the gypsy was left to figure out what her vision meant. Was it showing her what happened to her kind long ago, had she been a witness to a battle going on now, or was she suppose to warn this caravan. She was too weak to think now, and too shaky to sit still. She felt compelled to walk, so she blew out the candles, rounded up her belongings, and left once more. She had no idea where she was going, but at the same time she was so sure of the path that her feet picked for her.

After many days of mindless travel Anika found herself at the remnants of a caravan. As far as her mismatched eyes could see there was death and despair. Her kind had been brutally slaughtered. Woman, children, and wise men laid next to the warriors. Who could have the heart to do this to another. She knew of people that hated gypsies. Horrible bigots that said gypsies stole, swindled, and were no good to the earth at all for they had no goals or dreams. Only the need to drink, party, and move. But did people really hate her kind enough to slaughter an entire tribe.

She walked through the wreckage. Her body was too weary from travel to have any restraint. Tears swelled in her eyes and fell to the blood stained ground. The horrid smell of death enveloped her. She wanted nothing more than to close her eyes and wish this all a bad dream. She knew that her eyes had never deceived her though, and that there was a reason for her being here. So she walked on.

It was then she spotted life among the dead. There was a man who's hair was in dreadlocks, standing among the carnage as she was. She ran to him, with her nimble dancing legs she was able to avoid any bodies that littered her path. She stopped a few feet away from him, not knowing if he was a part of this. Her hand instantly shot for her dagger " What happened here!" Her voice was demanding and she tried her best to present herself as such, but her tired body and swollen eyes fought against her. They made her look weak, like a defenseless wayward girl.

Midori had been resting in a tree when he heard screams from the people below. He woke quickly and looked to see people being killed by an invisible force. They were Gypsies and did not seem to be putting up much of a fight against this nothingness. Midori couldn't do anything. He was two inches tall and could do almost nothing in a fight. If these folk couldn't do something he would just get swatted out of the way by ether side, or worse. He feared for his own safety now and didn't dare move for this moment. He wanted to leave and run away as quickly as he could but he was paralized with pure fear of this horrid sight.

After a few moments that felt like hours, Midori snapped out of it and turned his head away. He did not want to take flight incase he would be attacked at all. He just got closer to the tree. He would have to wait how this dreaded hour of night. His hands wear red from gribbing the bark of the branch too hard. His forehead was covered in sweat from fear. His skin burning from being nervous.

Midori had started to look down again and saw the fate of the gypsies fighting for their lives that would be hopeless. It was a hopeless battle. Midori didn't think that anyone down their would survive till morning. Leaning his back against the tree with hi wings flat against his back he could not stay awake much longer. He didn't want to ether. He drifted off to a light sleep filled with nightmares of what he saw.

Midori awoke startled. It was day out now and the fight below had ended. Well, more of a genocide then a fight. He didn't want to stick around so he waited a few minutes so he could completely wake up and took flight. Hovering though the trees he heard voices of two below. Midori looked down to see a elvan girl with a dragon fly and anotehr fairy. They had started to head the way he came. He should tell them what is ahead if they keep going but was too shy to make contact. He decided he would follow them and pretty sure enough. They led him right back to the dead zone. When the girl screamed Midori knew that he should say something at her shock. When someone else came and asked the same question the girl did he knew he should definantly.

He left the trees and flew down enough so he could be heard. "Well, ummm. There was something killing a bunch of gypsies during the night." Midori said sheepishly and hovered down closer to the ground a bit but still above their heads.

She ran to him and he instantly took her for a survivor of the slaughter. This slender girl with red-rimmed mismatched eyes had a dagger in her hand and Taiaka knew he did not have the features of a gypsy. He held up one of his hands while the other curled limply at his side and couldn’t help but lose his attention at the earthy scents of burnt sage and candle wax. She brought his notice away from the fetid sweat of the dead with her questioning perspective.

Vultures formed a halo around the sun; their shadows passed over the faces of the reposed in lazy swoops as they circled meticulously. The barking dogs made it difficult to speak around the throb in his head but Taiaka clenched his teeth and hunched his shoudlers.

“They came with no warning.” He heard that he had slurred his words so he squinted and licked his lips.

“All they could do was scream,” he had swallowed the warble in his voice because Taiaka sought no proof to offer the girl. The scene spoke for him and he could only share the same red tinge around his eyes and the expressionless hiccup of breath caught in the tangle of mourning. He did not want to lament for the beauty of the corpses, escape into the familiar moan of an ill-begotten faith to whine at the Stars. They could have warned him. The magic of the soothsayer and his astute granddaughter should have at least given them a fighting chance, yet there were only the plebian barks of startled dogs.

Tawny streaks of blood were Taiaka’s war paint now that the celebrations were cut short and he balked at his own appearance from the anger he felt quicken his pulse. A desire to bleed cut the pain and crept along the dark surface of his chest in the form of a shiver turned gooseflesh. The rat skull he wore around his neck had broken in two and the tiny blunt teeth had cut a welcomed freckle, a brand that forced the recollection of names and faces that had been like kin, into his collar bone. Taiaka was embarrassed that the blood that ran though his veins had no right to grieve and seek retribution. He lowered his gaze and even there, as he stared at his own toes, saw the grizzly reminders flecking the trampled grass that his survival was of little consequence.

The specters had taken careful consideration to slay them all. Women and children were not spared, yet they had paid the animals no mind. The mules still grazed ignorantly in competition with the cart oxen and the dogs were still in their sleeping pens at opposite sides of the encampment. Taiaka had been an unseen hurtle sleeping at the soothsayer's fire and was swatted out of the way rather than attacked. The old man, eviscerated and dismembered, was scattered across the camp. Taiaka had only found his head and hollowed belly.

“I don’t know why…” He had not meant to say this out loud and his voice trailed off like a lost thought, but his pale focus hunted for the semblance of understanding.

“I did not do this,” warily, “Yet you are not from this family, why are you here?” He swayed on his feet lost all of his sturdy composure and when he shook his head it hurt enough to cough. He closed his eyes for just a moment. “You are too late to help on either side.” The somber realization was said in a sterile whisper.

There were other voices on the wind and Taiaka recoiled, arching his back and turning his head as if spooked. Scavengers took all forms and some were not interested in the literal carrion, but hoped that digging through the remains would yield some sort of prize. Taiaka knew he could not stomach warning away visitors bent on pocketing 'authentic' trinkets and baubles to sell to the highest bidder as souvenirs. With a sharp inhale, Taiaka made a decision.

“I must tell the other clans what has happened here.” He touched the girl’s shoulder as if committing his first act of penance, “Do you know where to find them?”

Kogata was rooted to the spot by the sight in front of her, she'd lived in a desert for most of her life and there were plenty of thieves and bandits roaming about there, but she'd never seen anything on this scale before. It was a good thing she hadn't eaten lately otherwise she'd have likely thrown up by now.
"Oh, I knew this was a bad idea," Mana said, breaking the silence "Hey pipsqueak, you O.K?"
"I..." Kogata mouthed, but nothing else came out.
How could this happen? The half elf thought Why would someone do something like this to so many people, what could provoke such a thing? And...What if...What if they're still here?"

As soon as this thought crossed her mind a chill ran up Kogata's spine, flushing all senses out of her body and enslaving her to her own imagination. A phantom enemy crept up behind her, silent as night and completely invisible. A breath of wind blew past Kogata's ear, the chilling breath of the assassin freezing her blood solid.
"W-who's there?" Kogata whispered.
"Huh? Err hello it's me!" Mana called "Hey Pin-nose, can you hear me?"
"Who's there?" Kogata repeated as the invisible footfalls grew closer.
Mana looked around and then back at Kogata.
"Come on there's nobody there, get a grip!"

Kogata didn't hear her and instead continued to listen out for whatever it was she thought was there.
"Hello!" Mana called, tapping Kogata on the shoulder.
Kogata seemed to snap all of a sudden and crouched down, covering her head with her hands and sobbing: "Go away, go away please. Just leave me alone!"
She looked about cautiously and then spied the fairy floating beside her.
"Mana?"
"She recognizes me!" Mana informed the air.
"I-I'm sorry," Kogata said "I just..."
"'You're a nervous wreck', I know," Mana finished "Now let's get out of here before you go mental again."

"Kyte!" Kogata cried.
"Hm?"
"Kyte's gone," Kogata said "He was here a moment ago and he....When I was....I....He..."
She collapsed and began sobbing again, this time in the sort of bawling babyish way a newborn child usually would.
"Aw come on, it's not that serious," Mana said.
"It is," Kogata said between sobs "He might have been eater or, dragonnapped, or he's trapped somewhere..."
"D'you smell alcohol?"
"Or maybe....What?"
Kogata looked up and saw the muddy, bloodstained pirate approaching them and then settling himself down next to her.
Z-zombie!? Kogata thought.

Mana looked about and spied another creature moving towards them, helpfully informing the party of the massacre that had just occurred.
"Oh, you must be this pirate guy's fairy," Mana said, not giving the creature a chance to explain himself "I'm Mana, pleased to meet you," she curtsied in mid air "This is my...Err....master Kogata."
Kogata wasn't listening to the conversation and had merely continued her bawling fit.
"Oh yeah, and she lost her dragon," Mana explained, not realizing how completely ridiculous this sounded.
Kogata got to her feet again, wiping most of the tears of her face but causing her face to become even grubbier than it was already. The without a word she tore off through the field of corpses, glancing about wildly.
"Oh here we go," Mana sighed.

"Kyte," Kogata called, somewhat quietly "Where are you! Kyte!"
She stopped to catch her breath after only a few minutes of running about, the lack of food was really getting to her. She clutched her stomach and collapsed onto her knees, moaning under her breath and covering her shins with muck and blood.
"Gah, I never knew fairies were such bad luck," she murmured.

Midori didn't know what to do as the girl started to cry. As the other fairy started to talk like what seemed slightly endless he perked up and listened. "I don't belong to anyone." he said looking down while twirling his hair that almost went down to his shoulders. He thought for a moment. 'Master' was the first thing that came to mind. Fairies becoming like pets to bigger folk was not the best thought he had. That happening to Midori, he did now know what he would do. "Kogata and Mana then? I'm Midori." he muttered not sure if he was heard.

Midori noticed Kogata had started looking around the dead zone. He remembered seeing the two of them with a dragon fly. He, himself, was not paying attention to it though. Midori heard her calling out the dragon fly's name. He thought he should help. He hovered around looking. He could not see anything and he didn't want to look around the bodies. After Kogate fell to her knees, Midori went over. He felt slightly hurt that she would inculpate fairies for this. It seemed very malapropos to make another race for her troubles. He looked down at the bodies on the ground. "Do dragons eat flesh? Could he have buried himself in one of the corpses eating it?" Midori asked, more generaly to Mana since Kogate might not listen to him, hoping he was right but proably not.

Anika half listened to the man in front of her. Her mind was being taken over by the horrid smell of death and the screams of scavenger birds that plagued the heavens. As the man explained himself, Anika lowered her blade before placing it back around her waist.

The victim may have wore clothes similar to those of her people, but that was the only thing they had in common. His skin was blackened by an unforgiving sun, whereas hers had an olive tone to it. She was not mystified by his looks though, for she had seen people like him before when she was a slave girl in the deserts. Why was he in these grasslands then.

The gypsy watched carefully as he brought down a strong hand on her shoulder. She instinctively drew away, never having the ability to trust strangers after what had happened to her. It was then that Anika noticed his broken hand " I do not believe that you would do such a horrible thing to these people, and I know that you want to run off and help others, as do I, but there are certain things that need to be taken care of first. Let me see your hand!" She wiped the last of her tears from her swollen eyes, and took in one last sniffling breath, before she lightly touched the swelling hand.

She directed him towards his knees, where she could work better. She broke attention from him for just a moment. She pulled out two tablets for him to swallow " This will numb the pain..." Next she took out a jar of purified water and poured it over the hand. She then pulled out a bulb of garlic and broke cloves off, rubbing it on the hand " This will sterilize the cuts.". She then retrieved a few broken pieces of wood from the haphazard camp and formed a splint, keeping it tight with tent cloth. She admired her handy work for only a second before pulling out a handful of poppy seeds. She began to dig small holes in the blood stained soil and dropping seeds in " When there is death, gypsies believe that there is life to balance the change. When something as horrid as this happens there is not enough life to balance so the souls of these people will be forced to wonder this area forever. But if we plant these seeds, there death will nurture the soil and make the flowers grow. Their souls then becoming part of life again." All of this she had learned from her family's book. She had read it over and over countless times, as it was the closest thing she had towards a family. It had taught her so much about gypsy magic, her family, recipes, legends, and so much more. She owed her family book for becoming the girl and gypsy she was today.

After the ritual was done she pulled out a map of arda and a scrying crystal. She looked up at the stranger and faked a smile, something that looked ill bred and that did not belong in a place such as this " I can find another caravan, but it will take me a while. You scout the area. I am sure there are others here."

The gypsy girl was speaking the same tales his own people had woven to answer the questions of creation and it made Taiaka somewhat uncomfortable. He had let her lead him as if he was an animal of fur and claw, the growl from deep inside his chest steeling him from the pain. The pills he tucked under his tongue and pushed to the side of his mouth to spit out later and knelt, though listed to one side. Sheer convenience stopped him from recoiling to lick his wounds on his own time; there was a need to scurry off, limp about, and be found sleeping at the foot of a grandmother’s bed by nightfall however much he reeked of garlic. Yet when the girl seeded the spoiled earth and told him in somewhat certain terms that she would help him, he simply decided to do what was requested of him. If anything, staggering through the field of bodies would at least clear his head.

When he stood back up, the gypsy had already unfurled a rugged map and Taiaka read over her shoulder just long enough to wince at the glint of midday sun on the many faces of her crystal. He let his wrapped hand lie on his belly, and drew the scent of raw death into his lungs. Somewhere, someone was crying, and while Taiaka did not want to discard the gypsy girl and her service, he could not bring himself to feign ignorance. At worst, a survivor wept for the vacant stare of a loved one and Taiaka would have to create an appalling eulogy off the fly. Deep down a disjointed anger gathered strength, and the shape shifter would have grinded his teeth if the act didn’t cause his head to pound. A mistake had been made by excusing him of a responsible death and left him to gag on the bile of sour rage. At best, the sobbing would actually be the wailing moans of angry ancestors or the enemy, too stricken with remorse to flee, waiting for an executioner. Taiaka doubted the latter would come at such a convenience as the gypsy healer and her crystal.

He pressed his swollen fingers against the scalloping of his ribcage and rolled his eyes down to the scattering of the non interred, ambling past the barrels of barley mead and brandy. The fires that had been burning through the night surrendered to hunger and were eventually routed by the languid eastern winds. Thin wool blankets that had been hung along tight hemp lines breathed like a cutter’s sails, puckering and snapping when air washed under then. The suddenness of the slaughter did not leave enough time for the loaves of bread, set awkwardly on hot rocks, to grow stale and life lingered like the scent of wet grass.

Off to his left, something zipped by, and Taiaka whipped his suspicious gaze towards the streak he thought he saw. The vultures still flew in lazy loops above them and at first he thought he may have caught a bird’s drifting shadow in his peripheral. Yet, when he saw it again he grumbled under his breath. “Fairy,” he hissed as he made his way around the splayed body of a bronze skinned boy, neck jerked at a savage angle. Taiaka tilted his head to match the child’s stare and was caught for a moment in a sliver of shade cast from the door of an opened cart. Flies buzzed in protest as Taiaka’s feet sunk into the blood sodden quagmire of stubborn crabgrass, and he saw the hard white splinters of newborn maggots cling ruefully to his toes when he took a step.

His dark features hardened when he spied a young girl in a vibrant red scarf kneeling in the muck. Taiaka’s wariness faded and he stopped a few yards away. No, not fairy. Fairies, he corrected himself, and sighed as if to offer the girl his presence in the way of a concession.

“You child, what are you doing here? Did you survive this attack?” Taiaka intentionally drew his words without the usual roughness and replaced the gruff drawl with a more youthful pitch. He did not want to seem a threat and, though he stood with his shoulders squared, his eyes wondered from her face to the tiny faces of her companions.

“Come,” he said as he offered her his good hand, aware of the fact he was too far away for her to take it, “there is nothing worth crying over in the muck.” The smile he tried was incomplete and it could not dampen the stark bleakness in his pale eyes, yet he flicked his fingers at her, beckoning. “My name is Taiaka. Come.”

Kogata hadn't intended on anybody following her, although since Mana was an extremely persistent fairy it was unsurprising that she went after her, and the other one might have taken an interest in the small girl or just felt sorry for her. Either way things hadn't gone as planned and Kogata was still sobbing to herself in the mud. Mana floated down beside her and folded her arms, shaking her head at the tiny ball of nerves.
"Come on, he can take care of himself," Mana attempted to reassure her "He's a dragon, remember."
She looked about as the other fairy approached as well, apparently more concerned about the loss of the dragon than Mana was. Strictly speaking all Mana wanted to do was get the heck out of here.

"I think some dragons eat whole humans," Mana replied to his question "But I don't think Kyte's that sort of dragon, in fact I'm not sure what fly dragons eat."
Kogata let out another dry sob.
"He did lead us here in the first place," Mana went on "Well actually we followed him here, maybe he's looking for something here..."
Kogata sat up again, still sobbing but trying to hide it. Her knees were now completely covered with muck and blood and her attempted to rub it off only succeeded in spreading it across her and getting more on her hands, she finally gave up and wiped her salty face and now smeared the crimson fluid over her cheek as well. She was becoming a real mess.

"Damn, you need a bath," Mana commented.
Kogata didn't answer and merely sat in the mud, staring about at the mass of limbs, heads and bodies.
Why would Kyte bring us here? She thought [/I][/COLOR] What's he looking for?[/COLOR]
Kogata didn't know much about Kyte, she'd met him while she still lived in the desert with her mother. She'd been outside playing in the sand when she'd spied his quivering form half buried in the sand dune. Once she walked over to him she noticed it was a small bronze dragon, it looked badly hurt and was quivering. Being only a small girl, Kogata had no idea what a dragon was and took him for some strange desert creature, she took him home, cleaned him and took care of him until he appeared healthy again.

She'd been planning to release him into the wild again but the dragon wouldn't leave, he just kept hovering about Kogata's head and seemed to want to stay with her. Kogata didn't have any complaints and so she continued taking care of the dragon, even after she ran away from home, and that brought her here.

She panned across the camp again and then spied something that wasn't a dead body but looked in equally bad shape. Kogata jumped and almost fell backwards, her large eyes growing wider as she stared up at the stranger. She put a hand out behind her to prevent herself toppling over again and felt it land on the side of somebodies face, half buried in the mud. She jumped and scampered to her feet, looking behind her to see what was there before looking back up at the man in front of her. She swallowed nervously.

“You child, what are you doing here?” The stranger demanded “Did you survive this attack?”
Kogata didn't answer, and carried on staring up at the man. His appearance was intimidating enough without the broken skull around his neck and all the blood covering him.
Did he kill all these people? Kogata thought, he certainly didn't look like most of the rest of them.

“Come,” the man said, extending his hand, the other didn't look like it was usable “there is nothing worth crying over in the muck.”
Kogata took a tentative step backwards, keeping here eyes on the man.
Is he going to kill me too? She thought Maybe he stole Kyte, or...Or ate him or maybe, perhaps he... Kogata's wild imagination short circuited and she carried on backing away from the man, shaking her head slowly.
What on earth does he want with me?

There was no time to waste. Anika had no time to morn the death of these people, for there was work to be done to save others. She pushed herself up off the ground and began to walk the forsaken field. She was looking for something that she could use as a focus to find the next caravan. She decided it best to use something from the old attack to scry for the next.

It only took Anika a few moments to find what she needed. She stood before the body was a small child. She tried to look behind the child, only seeing the blood she needed. She tried to make herself callus and withdrawn, as she always did when she worked with the sick and dieing. As a healer, death was all around her, but it did not make the sting of loss any less painful. Her heart still ached for the dead, no matter how calm she acted. The only thing that kept her going was the knowledge that somewhere out there, there is more that need saving. This was certainly true here.

Anika bent down quickly, not looking the body over too long, in fear of losing control once more. She quickly smeared her translucent crystal in the crimson blood of the victim. The blood of the victim would act as a focus to find the blood yet spilled.

She through herself away from the place as soon as she could. She kept her head low to the ground and ran back to where she had left her map. When she had found the area, she wasted no time, beginning the scry as soon as she got herself situated. She sat in a meditative position, letting herself become limp and lucid. She leaned over the yellowed parchment slightly, fixing her eyes on it. She then released her grip on the bloodied crystal, letting it fall towards the weathered map. Anika held the silver chain in a limp wrist and began to spin it clockwise very slowly.

She would have to focus her thoughts on the gypsies that needed saving, but her senses worked against her. Her thoughts were constantly rampaged by doubt and sorrow. The unforgiving sun claimed the bodies that could not find shade, making the smell almost unbearable. The solemn silence of the area was broken by the greedy screams of the scavenger birds that tore away the flesh of the dead so apathetically. Her eyes stung by her salty tears and willed away by the ugliness of the current situation. Her entire being willed her to leave. This was dangerous, and she should not be here.

Anika had to fight all of this. She took in long and deep breathes through her mouth, calming her nerves. She closed her eyes to eradicate the thoughts of death. She formed the people in her mind, imagining her own customs. She imaged herself being surrounded by a party of blank faces. The smell of herbs and ale engulfed her for a second, before the swinging crystal dropped unto the map. She had done it! She had found the location of the next attack! Now she had just to find the others and get there before it was too late.

Midori went over to where Kogata had gone. He saw a man, he was one of the men fighting with the gypies. How had he gotten out alive or in this good of shape, he still had all of his limbs still. It might've been a miracle. The young fairy noticed Kogata seemed to be scared of this man. Did she know him, from the man's words it didn't seem like it. She was backing away from the man who had his hand reached out. He didn't want to speak out to try to stop the girl from freaking out, it was not his place and she probably was not going to listen. He thought this might need someone taller them himself to do anything here. Uttering a few words and making some quick unseen gestures.

Magic swiftly swirled around Midori, he had used the polymorph spell to turn himself into a human. He did not like to be out of his own race but sometimes he had to or it may help better. He planted his feet on the ground inbetween Kogata and the man. He tried his best to speak up to the man he slightly failed. Umm, your the p-person that umm was trying to help these people, right? he asked trying to make sure he was right in the first place, he did not want to end up being wrong with this and getting them all killed.

Keeping himself distacted he looked around and saw a women doing something with one of the bones, he was not sure what she was doing but she was talking with this man shortly before. Midori still had no clue what had killed the people here, it was like an invisible force or something. He would have to ask the man that next.