StinkyPatchem wrote:Sten watched as the massive beast snatched Xanik was snatched from the air and pummeled into the ground before being swallowed whole. The scene disturbed him, and he felt some pity for the warrior, but no sensitivity was shown – he had hardly known him, and had no attachment to him. Same went for the translucent wolf hybrid dying beside him; there was nothing he could do. Luckily for it though, Ovid came by and protected the group while he healed her. Sten continued his job and released a couple arrows in its stomach, to see if there was at least something he could. The corrosive sap came out in rivers but the monstrosity hardly seemed fazed. Sten growled to himself. He began to doubt killing it was even possible, and he was running out of arrows. Ovid, however, seemed done healing Ivy and threw himself back into the midst of battle. The fool… what did he plan to do? Get eaten, like that other fool that got too close?

He watched as Ovid leaped into the air, doing his fancy ballerina routine. Ugh, really… like that would do anything to this creature. Well, actually, it did. It flayed him down the middle and was emptied of all the sap and Xanik came pouring out practically dead. That was, of course, until that shining light reoccurred and everyone seemed back to normal. Sten had to admit – he felt a tad more physically imposing than he had before, Ovid looked like a woman with his goldilocks and little feathery wings, Xanik hardly seemed to change at all, except for the fact that he wasn’t melting anymore. Gitbasha… God damn, he was bigger than before, how was that even possible?

Everything seemed fine. Until Ovid piped up with his ass of a suggestion. “You’re kidding me, right? We get done fighting the devil himself, and you think ‘woopty doo, let’s find us another one’?” He spat. “Balls to that, let’s just get some rest and eat something, otherwise just go on without me.”

Sten sighed as he put his hand to his forehead, and shook his head saying, “Look, we don’t even know each other. Despite what happened, how can I even trust you guys, especially him?” He pointed a finger at Gitbasha. “Besides, I have more arrows to make…”

Grunting with aggravation he sat down on the ground and swung his knapsack in front of him and dug through it, grabbing some supplies from his back to fletch him a couple extra arrows. Huh. It appeared he was low on feathers. He had enough to make some arrows, but it was never good to be low on supplies.

“If any of you want to make yourself useful, kill me a couple birds, and let the big guy eat it.”

He pulled out his supplies which consisted of arrow shafts, some iron bolt and spikes, and some feathers. A bottle full of this paste he kept stirring with a stick was also present. It was a mixture of herbs he had collected back in Elibe. Waited a couple minutes and the mixture became as strong as rock when smeared on something, but in large contexts it got about as hard as clay until you started stirring it up again. He coated one of the shafts with the paste before jabbing it into one of the holes that went through the arrow heads. He cut up some parts of the contour feathers with the paste before sliding it in through the slits that were on the end of the shaft. Voila, it looked rather impressive. It had three feathers on one end of the arrow, which helped kept it in the air. In a couple minutes, it would be one of the sturdiest arrows one has ever seen.

Then his mind travelled back to the others. He hoped they would ask too many questions, because he didn’t anticipate answering any of them. It wouldn’t exactly be a good idea to let one’s… temporary allies know that you used to be an old bandit. Yeah, that would get a lot of stares.

As the beast grabbed Xanik and shoved him down his throat, Xanik didn't fight back. He was lost in thought as his life flashed before him. He screamed when the pain of the beast's stomach acid began burning him alive. He fully expected to melt away, and to die eaten alive. He would have been proud of that; if Xanik broke down to a liquid, the poison inside of him would have burned to beast from the inside out. Xanik already experienced that pain; it's how he became a featureless black figure in the first place; and he knew that if Xanik's death lasted all of two minutes melting, the beast would be roasted alive for the next few hours, and would eventually die very painfully.

If Xanik had to choose a way to die, that would be one of his first choices.

But, his life wasn't done with him yet. He somehow was rescued, and poured out onto the ground. The agony hit hard now, and Xanik thought he might die anyways. But, the same way Deathly Winter had, this monster released a golden wave that seemed to bring his health back. But, this caused something bigger; he felt his scythe burn against his back, and he wondered if it too had been affected by this blast.

Even though he could feel the shock and pain the others felt when he was swallowed, Xanik felt more distant than he did before. He used to think there only chance at surviving was to stick together, to work as a group, but now, he felt they shouldn't stay together. Xanik was most equipped to work on his own, and this might get him home faster. As for the others and their survival, he could care less. He didn't know them. They weren't his responsibility. And, on top of that, they could all threaten Xanik.

Xanik looked at the Ork first; he could create a mass of confusion. Xanik was a swordsman, so he was accustom to precision and control. It would be like battling a tank with a handgun. He looked at Ovid; another swordsman, Xsnik could easily get the better of him one-on-one, but his light magic never ceased to amaze him. As for Sten, Xanik never saw him as threatening, instead just some idiot with a bow and arrow. His stupidity trumped any type of skill he had. Then, finally, Ivy. Xanik's biggest threat. She is a hybrid creature; so, by design, she was infused with a type of magic that would tear through him like a knife through butter.

He had no clue where these beings were going now, but they seemed to have a plan in mind. Maybe they would all magically escape this place and go home. He didn't care much; but he knew he couldn't go back now, so Xanik floated off of the ground and sat in midair. He would follow this group regardlessly, since they were the only ones in this entire realm who didn't seem to want to kill him.

Ovid stared at Sten untill his stomach suddenly rumbled and someone sniggered softly in the background with amusement. He sighed and started to beat his wings.

"Give me a moment".

He flew through the trees untill he saw two sleeping deers and a hare peacefully relaxing. He drew out his claymore while hovering in the air and brought forth his magic to lightly hover their bounded forms back to the other adventurers only a minute away. When he released the binding magic holding the animals, they all tried to run, that's untill Ovid sent them straight to sleep and pulled away their life force in such feeble and harmless creatures so that they died painlessly.

"Ready to cook".

The Magical Warrior poured a concentrated beam of light into a small pile of wood which would serve as an acceptable place to cook. He traced a glowing green finger over the animals stomach's which let open a clean cut to gut them out easily and cleanly. Ovid simply levitated them all out and dumped everything inside of the animals into one big pile. He levitated their ready forms over the fire and bound them there above the flames to cook at a reasonable rate by sinking his claymore into the ground to hold the magic in place to do so. He went over to the other adventurers and sat down.

Ovid sat down and stared into the fire silently, reflecting back on the party's adventure so far. He could point out a few mistakes he made himself which could of made life easier. For one he could of been less cocky to begin with and get down straight-to-the-point. Secondly he should of stuck aat protecting and healing and only using his claymore as a swiping/stabbing weapon as a last resort to protect everyone from harm and lastly Ovid thought to himself that he felt like he was getting softer personality-wise.

Damn feathery Angel-Wings, they were turning this trained warrior of magical power and honor into a softie. He shrugged his shoulders anyway. They were useful and will be vital in the coming battles, despite the slow personality change.

OOC: I'll never understand why people spell my name as a Mr. StinkyPatchem.


"Not exactly what I had in mind," Sten scolded, "but I guess it should do. Make sure to catch a couple others for tubby." Sten’s eyes opened wide as he realized what he just said, oh crap, holy shit, did he really just insult the big guy? He quickly turned around to face Gitbasha with his hands raised to his chest, and began stuttering. “N-not that there’s anything wrong with that, I-I personally like ‘em big and round myself!”

Yeah, because calling the big death machine tubby was the smart thing to do. Shrugging that embarrassing aside, he finished crafting arrows with his last feather, and had new fifteen ones altogether. He sighed. That wasn’t nearly enough if he was going to be using them up like he has been. He only used two on the dragon and got one back, but here? He was flinging arrows back and forth, either destroying trees or slowing their advances, and hell, he also probably saved Ovid from a concussion or something. He sighed as he grabbed his arrows and re-zipped his backpack before mounting it on his shoulders and started to head out of the forest. Before that though, he turned around and gave a beckoning finger to Xanik. “Come on emo kid, we’re goin’ bird hunting.” He called as he stood there waiting, as if Xanik was just a kid that didn’t know his way around. Sten personally didn’t have the patience for working in groups, and often came off as harsh. Weeelll, that’s because he probably is.

Though Sten figured he would probably need more convincing than that. “Birds are a lot more flighty than deer. I don’t think most of these…” He was about to say blowhards, but decided against it. “…warriors here would be able to even lay a hand on one, and Fido here would most likely want to play tag.” He said, looking at Ivy. Did it even have a name? Did it even know it had a name? “At least you can stay hidden.”

Something told him that Xanik didn’t like him. Ha, that would be amusing. He probably liked him even less after the emo comment, or maybe his skin wasn’t as thin as it looked? He really didn’t care about anyone’s feelings around here (except for the ork, because his mood decided life or death). The only reason for bringing someone besides for gathering more feathers was to emphasize he wasn’t to be fucked with. He had unmatched aim, and he knew it. But it was also to get more feathers, seeing as how anyone else would just scare them all away. He’d give him directions after they got into the open field. Also, come to think of it, another monster could also come by, so another reason bring someone with him – and who else would be a better choice than the guy who got eaten by a tree?

Ugh…

Ovid scowled at Sten, picking up what he was trying to subtly say to everyone. It wasn't even that amusing considering Sten is the only Non-Magical besides the Ork in the party and is limited to arrows, shortswords and whatever he can improvise with. The Winged Warrior sighed and layed on his back to relax slightly. 'At least he was right when he mentioned we needed a break' he thought to himself bitterly.

"You know... we could be in this realm for an unknown amount of time, whether we all leave tommorow, next week or next year. If you are going to act like an asshole about it and try to act better than everyone else intellectually then you really have another thing coming" Ovid said to Sten waspishly. He sat back up and stared straight into the Bowman's eyes.

"By the Honor I have been raised by and by the words of my Lord 'Archangel' in which I serve her with my life, I have to assist all of my fellow warriors in battle... yes even you. I don't have to like it though and neither does anyone else" Ovid stated blandly. It will be interesting to hear what Sten himself and possibly what everyone else will state.

Xanik stared at Sten, lost in deep thought. But not his own thoughts. Xanik watched as Sten's thoughts went through his brain, and Xanik started to learn who this guy was. Just another bandit who thought he was invincible. And now, in his infinite wisdom, he realized that he needed feathers, and feathers came from birds. Or Ovid, which was slightly amusing. Xanik hadn't even cared when Sten insulted him; he had been called worse before. Even though Sten's comment hadn't affected Xanik, he felt the need to mock him back. So, in a serious, almost concerned tone, Xanik asked, "Do you even know how to catch a bird?"

Without waiting for a response, Xanik walked into the forest, then listened for birds. Without a sound, Xanik transformed himself into a hawk and took flight in the direction he heard birds in. As long as that moron doesn't shoot at me... Xanik thought. Xanik spotted a couple of smaller birds below. Perfect. He swooped down and snatched one off of it's perch before it had time to react. But, instead if bringing this one back, he flew to a small, nearby clearing and left the bird on the ground. Xanik the dissappeared, and waited.

Within minutes, a fox drew near. Xanik attacked it quickly, then decided it was better bait for larger birds. Then, it was only a matter of time before a circle of birds would form above the dead.

“Do you know how to catch an arrow?” Sten barked as he lead the way out of the clearing, ignoring Ovid's ramble and was soon into the open field where his sight was unrestricted. He watched as Xanik made the kill and left it somewhere in the forest. Ugh. He didn't bring someone along to catch birds if he was going to simply put it somewhere inconvenient. His eye followed the other bird that had been scared from i's perch, and Sten put up his bow, and drew back the string with an arrow on the string. He traced the bird's movement exactly. The bird was flying far over the head of the trees, and it was hard to determine the size. For all he knew it was a crow, or a bird of prey but it mattered little to him. As the bird was still moving through the air, Sten released the string and the arrow whizzed through the air, just scratching the sound barrier. He was amazed at the power he was able to release the arrows at now, was that what this light did to him? It had to affect the bow to, because there was no way his old bow could withstand taking that amount of pressure. In fact, he almost missed the bird get completely gouged by the arrow, and even then it kept going a couple feet before falling back down to the ground.

Sten eagerly jogged over to where it landed; the bird itself was fairly large and provided plenty of contour feathers. The arrow struck through the breast and through its back, and those were mostly down feathers. What caught his eye was that the bird slid down to the end of the arrow where the feathers were. Then he came to the realization that, if the bird were any closer, or if the arrow struck any harder, the arrow would’ve likely just gone right through. “Damn…” He muttered. “Better be careful then.”

He yanked the bloodied arrow from the corpse and layed it next to the old bird, and loaded a new one, keeping his eyes on the sky. Another one soared just over head and it was closer, and was able to identify that this one was smaller; a harder target. Sten made sure to not pull back on the bow as hard, since it seems to have a stronger spring than before. He traced the movements of the fowl… and launched the arrow, and watched it puncture the base of one of its wings. Sten sighed. Well, there may be one, two or maybe three feathers he isn’t getting there was plenty left to be had thankfully. The arrow didn’t fly as high before, but flew higher than the tree line. Sten grabbed the legs of the original corpse and the end of the bloodied arrow and jogged his way over to the new addition. He continued this process about two or three times, and the third time he felt confident that was all he needed, so he went over to collect his final prize.

Only to find an ugly surprise.

He watched as the bird writhed with insects and its feathers were ruffled and a strange fluid flowing from its mouth, eyes, and nostrils. Gah, that’s nasty. The bird was diseased, without a doubt, and it wouldn’t be healthy for anything to eat it and possibly infect other creatures, or even people… how to get rid of it though? He doubted that any of the people here were capable of starting a f—there was always Ovid. He shrugged off this occurrence as a minor accident, a simple diseased bird that he put out of their misery. He wasn’t going to retrieve that arrow though, no way. For now, he was just going to find other birds to hunt, but none seem to be flying in the open right now, they probably learned it was a bad idea to come out here right now. So he started his way towards the forest, where he could hopefully find Xanik holding three healthy dead (because death isn’t a disease at all, right?) birds by the feet. He could probably get him to go back to that old dragon and collect some of its teeth for arrow heads. He should probably get to Ovid first about that one bird though.

Nah, it could wait.

Food? How tantalizing, if Ivy were actually capable of eating. If she were capable of moving her "mouth" at all, really, which was impossible when it was basically drawn on a mask that took the role of your face. She was perfectly capable of surviving without food, but that didn't eliminate the fact that she took her nutrients from a different source; The creature's genetic make-up was mostly organic, living material, and the way her body functioned could be compared to a plant; a slightly modified version of photosynthesis. Back in her home realm, she "fed" off of the rays of the moon (there were two, actually, one large and one small), and was always in constant supply of energy because it was a place of eternal night. Here wasn't much different, there was just a stronger presence of mana in the air. The magic was practically visible.

Being similar to a plant, Ivy tended to require more water than most creatures. She didn't drink it, obviously, but loved to swim and could adsorb some of the liquid through the pores on her skin. This way she was kept hydrated. In places devoid of water or moisture of any kind, such as a desert, the wolf-creature could suffer a great deal of health damage.

Ivy was sitting and watching the others, tail wagging behind her, head occasionally tilting as she looked each being over. She hadn't known them for very long, but she could already tell that she liked them. They were interesting and a bit funny, the way they moved and talked. Their powers were impressive. Moments like these were one of the few where Ivy wished that she could communicate with them in their common language and strike up a conversation. It would be nice. Unfortunately, her species wasn't blessed with that ability, so all she could do was stare at them with her ever-expressionless white face.

So, bird hunting? Sounded like fun. Feeling a bit fidgety, Ivy stood up and trotted towards where the three others had went off, too. The Orc wouldn't mind the absence of her company. Not wanting to interrupt them, She slithered up one of the tall trees and rested on a branch. From this height she had a good view of the adventurers and what they were doing. Ivy let out a content murmur, listening to them talk and watching the birds flutter by.

Xanik sat in silence a four birds descended on his kill. They where a good size, no doubt, but he knew that if anything disturbed them, he'd lose all of them. They still circled, but they got lower with each rotation. Finally, they started landing. Three landed instantly, while one of the other rotated once more. They stood on edge for a second, then approached the fox. Xanik hovered slightly, not making any noise, when suddenly, one looked up, alarmed. Sten was nearby, oblivious to Xanik's trap. The other birds stopped in their tracks to watch Sten pass. That's when Xanik attacked. He dove out from his shadow and grabbed the two nearest birds. He threw both to the ground and tried to grab the others; one flew out of his reach, and the other was caught by Xanik's hand, which caused it to spiral to the ground, where it twitched, then was still.

Xanik went back to the others; they were too injured to take flight, so Xanik grabbed them by their feet and took them back alive. Then when he was about to pick up the one that died, he froze. Something was off about it, but Xanik couldn't tell; maybe it just looked weird because Xanik was used to cleaner kills, where this bird was smashed and bleeding still.

So, Xanik took the bird back without a thought. He also examined the living birds; they could spare one and use it to their aid, since these larger birds could be helpful. He also grabbed the fox and the smaller bird; they might be appreciated. Xanik didn't really understand the need for food, though; if they got out of this place, they could eat all they wanted to. This just seemed like a waste of time. Though, he would love to see if Almighty Sten had done any better at hunting.

Sten watched as large birds of prey zoomed away from the clearing in a single file line (so that the air flowing underneath the lead bird's wings could help lift the one from behind and speed them up), Sten seeing this as a chance, instantly dropped the birds he was carrying and rather nimbly turned around and raised his bow, pulling back a loaded string in what seemed to be a blink of an eye. Not wasting any time he released the string and watched the arrow zip through the air, and saw it immediately gouge the one from behind about fifteen meters away from him. The arrow however, still carried force and momentum and went through to pierce the other one and stack both of the two birds onto the arrow. Sten himself seemed rather surprised – whatever ability Bloodwood gave him was bound to be endlessly useful in the future – practically or otherwise. He turned around to see Xanik and his pile, which consisted of four birds and one of the scavengers, as well as a fox which seemed to be used for attracting the birds in the first place. Heh. So he wasn’t as stupid as he thought he was – it took all of the sport out of it though, it wasn’t as fun. He at least had to credit his improvisation though.

“Huh.” He said as he picked up his pile of kill (not included the two he just shot) and he slowly paced over to examine his kills. “What did you do, mangle them?” He said noting that one of them appeared to be smashed. “Whatever. Good work, I guess.” Good work. Hell if it were anyone else that had known him that phrase would be ringing in their ears. He hardly ever praised anyone. Ever. He had to credit him though – the other could probably only catch one at most. He latched his bow onto his back and picked up his bird pile by their feet and grouped it up with his own.

“Hey, do me a favor will ya?” He said yawning, the small amount admiration and respect that was in his eyes previously had vanished. “Go back to the old dragon back there and get me some of its smaller, straighter teeth, and we’ll see if I can cook something up back at…” He tried to find the right words but seemingly failed, “whatever that excuse of a camp is.” It had just then he only had enough arrowheads for maybe twenty-five more arrows.

He started off back towards the two birds of prey he shot down. It wasn't very often he made a shot like that, now if only he could be in that sort of shape every time they ran into trouble.

Ovid got up and went for a casual stroll, stretching his limbs and wings out and lightly jogged into the woods while the Ork was still nearby to their make-shift 'camp'. After a short amount of time he stumbled across blood stains on the floor and a diseasesd-looking carcass of a bird which had maggots writhering around inside of it. It looked pretty nasty and the chances of an infection spreading rapidally was high.

Ovid shut his eyes and spread his wings out, his hands glowing even brighter. when he opened his eyes again his vision glowed white as his eyes shone in a pure-white glow. Waving his hand over the diseased carcass it was incinerated quickly by the white fire. Waving his hands around in a Ying-yang pattern, he radiated the feeling of his white magic outwards, purifying the area from any disease which might of spread.

'So my lady was right after all. I am better at healing and protecting than when it comes to the offensive' Ovid thought to himself intrigued. Healing and defense he only learned reluctantly when he was younger in the Citadel as he thought sword-play was cooler and big claymore's which channel magic and do neat tricks seemed to be the most awesome thing to have. Now that he is trapped alone in a realm with other realm-warriors with none of the other guild members here he could now see why Healing and defensive magics were more inportant and worked best.

"It's to keep myself and my brothers and sisters alive..." he whispered to himself outloud. THe purification had finished and he slowly strolled back to the camp. The only thing he forgot was that his eyes still glowed in a soft white light now and his face seemed calmer as he accepted his destined role more and more with every step he made in the forest.

Xanik was still bewildered by Sten, but he had more respect for the archer. He knew great archers back in his realm that could hit almost any target, but couldn't hit two targets with one arrow the way Sten had, even though they had the advantage of magic. He also gained respect for him when he praised him, even though the praise meant as little as his 'emo' insult earlier, he thought it took a lot from Sten to say it; he didn't seem like the type who praised just anyone. But then, he asks for dragon teeth? An odd request, sure, but not much of a task. Then again, night would fall soon, if this place went through night, and he didn't like the idea of wandering a forest that tried to kill him, day or night.

But Xanik replied, "Alright, I'll go. I might not return until tomorrow, though,"

Xanik was almost starting to like Sten; well, not really, but he didn't feel like Sten was an enemy anymore, and that's all you can really hope for in a twisted world like this. So, Xanik set off on foot, even though he could have hovered, and didn't expect to return that night. There may be more trees or other enemies to fight. There may be another boss that way. Then, Xanik turned back to Sten and said, "If I'm not back within 24 hours, leave without me,"

With that, Xanik disappeared into the forest.

After a few minutes, Xanik realized that whatever trees they had fought before had gone, and the ones
remaining where just depressed. Xanik found an especially down tree, talking about how horrible life was. Xanik was tired of this, so he approached the tree and sat down.

"You think your life is bad..."

Ten minutes later, the tree had was in shock; Xanik had one of the strangest, most mangled life story ever told. At least the rest of the trees seemed to shut up now. For the next half hour, Xanik's walk was eventless, but very boring. He began to wonder if he was lost, but the terrain seemed to thin, and Xanik knew he was getting close to the mountains again. The problem was, it was getting dark, and it was getting dark fast. This usually wasn't a problem for Xanik; hecould see through the dark easily back in his world. But this place was different.

He got to the body of Deathly Winter about 10 minutes later. Xanik now had to hold up his scythe to see; it emitted a cyan light. He found what Sten was looking for near the back of the beast's mouth. At this point, Xanik would not be able to return to the campsite until the morning. He felt alone, but he still had his scythe for protection and Deathly Winter as a companion. As he tried to sleep, he felt some kind of power coming from the dead creature; in curiosity, Xanik tested this. It seemed to grow, when suddenly, it began beating.

Then, the beast itself awoke, very alive and healed.

No... whispered Xanik, What have I done to deserve this..?

The mood of the group was...mellow. Calm and content. Everyone seemed to be occupied with something or conversing with each other, and Ovid and the few others were returning from their short hunting trip. Ivy couldn't help but cast a suspicious glance at some of the kill they had hauled in; one looked as if it had been treated particularly cruelly, but the others were okay. They were pretty skilled huntsmen.

Who? Who?

..Who? Startled, Ivy craned her neck a full 180 degrees to peek behind her at the random being whom had appeared. Who what? She hadn't said anything. High up in one of the trees on a thick branch there sat an owl; a barn owl, from the looks of it, with it's unusually interesting appearance. Ivy had heard about these creatures before but had never actually seen one in person. Curious, she took a step forward towards the winged-beast, tilting her head.

Who? The owl repeated, staring down at her. Was he asking who she was? Maybe it was more of a 'who goes there?' type thing. Unable to form the word, Ivy called back to it, the soft rumbles she made sounding a lot like a drowning pigeon. There was a short silence. The owl seemed to become disinterested in the wolf-creature, and turned its head to start to preen its feathers. Ivy sat on the grass, staring up at the bird with a small feeling of envy. She had always wanted to know how it felt to fly. It wasn't as if she had much of a chance, given that a very small amount of flying beasts inhabited her home world. Oh, the fun she would have with a pair of wings...

An idea struck her. Ivy had nearly forgotten the special talent of her species; the necessity to take on the forms of other beings as a result of a lack of a definite form. She was a shape-shifter and could only take the shape of animals that she could see. Animals that were right in front of her. It was hard to recall forms from memory unless they had been used a numerous amount of times. Silently, the wolf-creature's body began to twist and disfigure itself, the rubber-like material stretching and forming several unknown shapes. After a few seconds she settled back down and took on the shape on an owl. She was even able to add a few artificial feathers for effect. Ivy only looked different in size and shape; her black-and green striped body pattern remained, along with her mask which had been shrunk to form an oval, mimicking an owl's face. On the mask were two large, round eye sockets. The only difference was that there was no line on the mask for her mouth. Nevertheless satisfied with the transformation, the new owl-Ivy flew up to the branch where the other owl was an perched.

It sure felt weird to fly. Ivy doubted that she'd get a hang of the whole thing easily, and would need to practice it more. No time like the present, right? Changing her stance, new wings outstretched, Ivy dove from the branch and immediately began to vigorously flap her wings, trying to keep herself afloat. She was a bit shaky but managed not to crash. Overjoyed, Ivy flew circles around the others' heads, chirping and whistling the entire time.

"It shouldn't even take that long," Sten yawned as he made his way towards their 'camp'. He began whistling a tune, an old Bern one. It was supposedly a song that some Bard wrote for the Heroes of Scouring after the war had been won. He wasn't one for mythology, and he honestly didn't care about some old guy gathering dust in a crypt. Xanik should be fine, he could hide in shadows right? Remain unseen? Night is drawing near, and this world would practically be his domain. He held a half dozen of birds in one hand and three birds of prey in the other, with a fox slung over his shoulder. Foxes... he never ate a fox. He didn't even think they were edible. They could always give it to the big guy. And they'll probably be wondering where Xanik went off to. Eh, explanations could wait.

He saw the orange flicker of the flame at the center of the camp, and sighed. He really wish he was stuck with his own kind, and not this makeshift team. Greater numbers, and Sten would feel more at home... than around these aliens. He strolled his way into the camp with a dutiful strut and dropped the bodies only a couple feet from the warm, orange source of fire. He tossed the limp body of a fox at Gitbasha's feet. "Dinner's up, big guy."

"And you, I'm calling you Goldilocks since I don't know your name," he said beckoning to Ovid, "the sooner I pluck and prune all these feathers, the sooner we get to eat some more." He said, making sure Ovid saw what he was doing. He ripped off the down feathers with ease, and sometimes it came off as easily as a blanket. As for the contour feathers; "Put these in a pile" he said, showing him; he simply plucked them off which required only a little bit of effort. Soon, a naked bird layed there on his backpack, rather than on the ground.

"If you can get us started on that, I can craft us a stove for cooking."

Xanik stared straight at dragon. It writhed around in the air for a couple of seconds before returning to face Xanik. Waking the fallen, Xanik? a cold, wretched voice echoed inside his head. The dragon would be the least of his problems; where he came from, awakening the dead was quite impossible, and that would remain even if Xanik did return. But for now, Xanik remained in awe of the dragon before him, which seemed to be shuttering with pain. Suffering. It won't hurt me... thought Xanik, I didn't kill it. I revived it. Xanik thought about this new power, thinking of how it would have helped years ago. He thought of the people who where lost in vein, who he could have saved.

Then, a new thought; Xanik was already dead, trapped here in a curse. Could I bring myself back?

Xanik went into deep concentration, searching for something inside that he had found in the dragon. It took a few minutes, but he found it; a dormant yet powerful well of magic. Xanik tried what he did before; he tried to draw from himself, then;

A heartbeat.

Xanik felt overjoyed for an impossible second, when suddenly, a sharp internal pain. He still had poison in his veins! Xanik cried out in pain as he was burn alive from the inside; a cruel, yet painfully familiar experience. He was dying again. Suddenly, the pain numbed, and Xanik stumbled to the ground. The poison no longer burned. His heartbeat had faded away once again. Xanik fell backwards, still feeling pain inside. He slipped out of consciousness as Deathly Winter gracefully floated above him.

* * *

When Xanik came back around he was still facing the sky, but the - Sun? Maybe...- had returned, and it was morning. He lifted his head and realized that the dragon was coiled in a circle around him. Strange behavior for such a beast... thought Xanik.

It must think you are a god, Ghojir'ka... The voice was back, followed by maniacal laughter inside Xanik's head.

Xanik had no clue how long he was out for, and if it were the next day or years later. He also had no clue what time it was. For all he knew, the group could have left without him. They may not have survived the night anyways. No matter, he had to know. He set of back in the direction of the camp, to find life... or death.