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Dormarin, in a rather panicked state, immediately challenged the barks and growls with a loud, intimidating war-cry raising his battle-axe in a steady position while stepping back and bracing.
He was, of course, in a last-resort kind of mood, attacking everything in sight. An attack like this had never happened, and the stakes were much higher here then in drills.
He spun, releasing his left-hand grip on the battle-axe and landing a upper-cut jab on the lower side of the wolfhound, sending it flailing backwards.
"Human flesh..." He thought, terribly confused and winded.
There it was. One fatal mistake and everything can change. The tide of a battle can come down to one decision. He turned towards the smell, leaving his back completely exposed.
Though one cannot blame him for this, it was quite a foolish choice.
A noise of sorts was emitted from the great Minotaur as a large, curved blade pierced his armor and hide. He was lifted off of the ground for a subtle moment as he gripped the sword in which had gone through his stomach.
"The last of the Minotaurs...What a shame..."
He was then dropped, and he struggled to keep footing. He groaned, his leverage failing him as he fell helplessly onto what seemed a white haired figure.
[center [pic https://i.pinimg.com/564x/68/4f/3c/684f3cda8d80630a390ea18952f1e86b.jpg]]
[right [size10 art by NeexSethe on Deviantart]]
The mist had thickened considerably before Leviath realized it, good eye moving up over the trees around her as the free hand that wasn't holding the book open in front of her moved up to adjust the patch over her right eye.
The mage hummed a bit in her throat, shoulders shifting in the long, dark coat set on her shoulders. The sound of footsteps beside her was comforting, the soft plodding of the animal beside her. Soft panting from a long muzzle comforted her as she heard Melchior snuffle and shake his head, ears flapping softly next to her. The wolfhound's pale, slender body wound through the brush as she moved in the general direction that her intuition was taking her. Or, well, the road was taking her. Nice thing about wandering around in populated places like these was there were plenty of quiet hikes to take while slowly trying to gather information on your ultimate quest so you could walk your energetic hunting dog.
But a distant, hazy shriek tore through the woods around her. Viath snapped the tome shut in her hands with a quiet [i poomfh], eyes snapping up to see the white dog had stopped, a low growl of a whine pulling from him, eyes up and ears alert.
The woman pushed her hair behind her ear. She had cut some of it off since then, pushed back into a wad of secured hair at the back of her head. The weight taken off of it bringing up windblown strands in number about her ears and falling over the unused side of her face. Amazing what messy hair and an abomination of symmetry would do to increase your overall mystery.
Her gloves squeaked softly against the leather of the book as her feet seemingly fearlessly bore her closer to the sound. Melchior next to her kept pace, sanguine eyes forward and head low, despite the at ease image the open, lolling pant gave him.
Presently another distant, yet incredibly close- or was it perhaps just quiet?- little screech whizzed by her ear. Viath spun, hair whipping into her good eye, watering it. That had to be carried by a body. It sounded like it came from a humanoid throat. But nothing moved that fast. Nothing human. Nothing elven. Not solid, like that. Were these fey? She was high enough in the hills that their domain should have fallen behind. The king throwing his weeks long, lavish, deviant parties and draping himself about, perniciously bored even then.
So what was this then?
Another cry was heard, this time hoarse and largess. Viath's head turned towards that sound, able to recognize a bellow when she could. Perhaps there was someone up ahead. It was hard to tell in the mists- which again were odd coming on high noon now. The sun should have burned this off by now, especially in the hills- but that mattered less. Safety in numbers, and all. Viath sped up, tucking the heavy book in her bag, with her dog at her heels before he would lope ahead and then stand, alert, and wait for her to catch up.
A leather grip went up to her overcoat, gripping it about her shoulders as she kept up the definitely relaxed jog she had going on. Were these what she was suspecting them to be? No visual confirmation yet. But that didn't take much, and she would rather not be close enough to see what she supposed this was.
Suddenly an entire mast of a being barreled out of the mist at her, wielding an ax and a mighty set of horns. Viath's eye blew wide, fear breaking over her face as her boots immediately slid on the damp earth and she stumbled as she tried to both stop and switch directions.
A very inelegant "[+red [i Geagh!]]" was torn from the woman, Melchior behind her barking a shrike, confused sound, edged in a growl as he bound towards what had made his mistress cry out.
Viath's boots eventually slid out from under her as she twisted, falling on her hip, and flung an arm up. "[+red Whoa- wha- hey! Desist!]" White hair littered her face, one eye stretched wide towards the figure above her.
Dormarin, a rather large Minotaur, watched with a sharp eye, scanning the area carefully as a thick fog rolled in dangerously fast. "Ready p-p-positions. This isn't n-normal," he stated as numerous guards, Faun ones at that, outside and on the wall aimed their bows or raised their shields.
The fog's speed increased, passing them before a single Faun could draw an arrow. Dormarin sniffed the air, his battle-ax at the ready. His grip on it tightened as he heard movement, and also as he realized that he couldn't see any Faun Guards around him.
Before he could asses the situation, an arrow hit his left shoulder, piercing his armor before his thick hide stopped it. "Cease fire!" He ordered roughly, looking behind him where the wall was.
"Archers, stand down. We will have to m-many misfirings," He once again yelled up to the wall, confused as to why his first order heeded no response.
He growled, constantly spinning and stepping back. "Show yourselves!" he stammered, a quiet shake in his voice. In response to this he felt a blunt impact on his back. He spun around instantly and swung his weapon in an overhead swing only to find the grey void once again.
He examined the area, finding a dead body of a Faun on the ground in front of him. He bent down low to get a better look at it, revealing the armor and weaponry of an archer.
He dropped to his hands and knees, listening for the heartbeat of the unfortunate warrior. To his dismay, the Faun was neither breathing us giving a pulse. Dormarin breathed heavily, expecting the worst at this point. Slowly picking himself up, the large beast picked itself up as it cautiously scanned his surroundings to the best of his ability. Upon standing to his feet, a sharp, stinging pain enclosed on him, following the complete inability to see from his left eye. Shocked, he stumbled backwards as he fought for leverage on the steep incline behind him. Finally gaining his footage, he slowly moved forward again.
He was given a short amount of time to address the situation, figuring that he was surrounded and quick movements would most likely be more effective. He quietly crouched and placed his ax on the ground, not bothering to open himself up to attack by placing it on his back. "W-where are you?" He demanded, though in no real position to do so. Dormarin pulled his sword from it's sheath in an instant, wielding it with to hands as he secured every step he took.
Though he did his best not to show signs of weakness in battle, he still gnashed his teeth and groaned in pain after the loss of his eye, hindering both his combat and moral.
Dormarin stood ready to strike at any moment, catching slight movement to his right as something seemingly ran passed him. He reacted quickly, meeting it with a horizontal strike.
The speed of the creature and force of the impact cut deeply into it's chest area, nearly cutting it in half. Dormarin immediately picked up the squirming monster by the throat, observing the face of the creature intently. "N-Nightwalkers?" He stammered confusedly. "well, that's very inte-" he stopped abruptly upon hearing more movement from behind.
Dropping the NightWalker, he placed his hand firmly back on his hilt. He moved forward shakily, now dizzied by continued concentration on sight and his now none-existent one. Nonetheless he approached the Nightwalkers daringly.
"You can't hide," The Minotaur stated boldly. Dormarin listened as his words were carried in an echo, not a sound to disrupt it. "Can we?" An eerie, almost Demonic sounding voice sounded directly in his ear.
Dormarin shoved it with his shoulder as it once again disappeared into the thick nothingness.
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