Post originally by Character_Kyrian

They were in place and just about ready. His father and Deanna were about to head over and set things into motion. The young man couldn't help but feel scared and worried. He was so sure that he was going to mess something up and get them all killed.

"Alright now, you're going to have to stop thinking that way boy. We're not going to die here. We won't allow it." The voice of the black dragon echoed through his head.

"How can you sound so confident? I mean, I've never even been in a real fight." everyone else faded away as he focused more on his internal conversation. "I can't even unclench my fists right now because I'm afraid they'll see my hands shaking."

He could hear the smile in the dragon's voice as he spoke again, "And you've never even known the pleasures of a woman." he said making joke of comment that Deanna had made before. "I've been in my fair share of them. I'll be there the whole time."

"And so will I." piped in the white dragon. "You'll have the protection of both of us with you today."

He couldn't help a small smile crossing his face. The two dragons began to make him feel like they had a paternal sense of protection over him. It was kind of nice.

"Now, just to prepare you, the first few times breathing fire, hurt. A lot. However, once you get used to it, you begin to tolerate it. When you change back to yourself, you might even burp some smoke up. It's perfectly natural. I'll take the lead at first, however I don't think I'll be able to stay in control that long. It doesn't seem that I can do that for an extended period yet."

Kyrian had noticed that the white dragon had been in control for a longer period of time than the black, but hadn't realized that it was something that he couldn't control. The more he thought the more he wondered if it had anything to do with the energy expended. The white dragon had only flown for a distance, however the first time the black dragon took control it had been to race his father and then attack him.

He passed his theory on to the his dragons. "You know...that's not a bad idea. That probably has something to do with it. And if that's right, then I really won't be able to stay in control long. I'll basically be a backseat driver, but I'll still be there to help."


The young man nodded, bringing himself out of his monolog with the dragons. Apparently it all took place in just a few seconds. That made sense though, it was all in his head. So basically it happened as fast as he could think about it.

Looking around he noticed that Deanna and Quinn were making their good byes. He turned to his father, and gave him his best reassuring smile. "Be careful." It was all he could say. Anything else and he wouldn't have been able to keep a straight face. He went over and hugged him. As they separated, he stepped farther back and started shifting.

The black dragon opened his eyes and stretched a bit. It turned and got ready for the first wave of attackers. He hadn't had this much action in years and was looking forward to the chance to change that. But in the back of his mind he couldn't help remembering the promise he'd made to Kyrian. He would stand by his word. For now, he had to focus on the plan.

The time was finally here. It felt like it'd taken them entirely too long to get to this point, but it was finally going to happen. Verial told them that he and Deanna would sneak to the edge and start 'getting their attention'. He'd been so nervous the last few nights even De's little practical joke had almost set his demon off. However now that things were about to get messy, he was calm and ready for whatever was to come.

Before Deanna and Verial could leave though, he grabbed her arm and pulled her to him. There was a moment that she looked confused, but they both knew that things were about to get bloody and that this may be the last time they were able to talk without there being a bit of pain for a while. He leaned his forehead down against her's.

"I love you Deanna Dicorvino." his voice was soft and still as calm as before, but he spoke softer still next. Some things are meant only for your mate's ears. "We will be going home." the half breed promised her. He knew she was about to say something that might break the moment, something laced with logic and reasoning. Before she did, however he pulled her closer and pressed his lips to her's. He held her in the kiss for a long time, not wanting to break it for fear that he may not be able to make good on his promise.

When they did pull apart he smiled at her. "We're going to kick their asses." he said. And something inside him twittered. He was actually looking forward to it. Quinn had killed in the past, monsters. So this wasn't about to be something new to him. What was new was the scale of this attack, and the importance of who was with him. It was going to make what happened in the next few hours interesting to say the least.

After her departing words The Redeemer looked over Kyrian, who had shifted into his dragon form. "Looks like he's ready as he'll be." said his demon. "By the way, are you sure you're ready as you're going to be? I mean we never did get to talk about what you were going to do."

Quinn nodded, "You're right, we never did. I'm going to need some of that lightening you used on Deanna that one night. Once the bastards get past Kyrian's tail I'm planning on joining in with the lightening and shocking every bastard who doesn't get flamed broiled by the dragon's fire. And when they get too close to us or someone else, we'll go in hand to hand." with that last bit his hand rested on the hilt of his sword.

"Sounds like a good plan Boss. I do have one question though, are you going to let me out before or after Deanna dies? I'm just asking cause I want to know if I'll have time for a nap before then?" the question came across as natural and innocent. As if talk of his mate dying was something common place and normal.

The Redmont spun around so that he wasn't facing Quinn, "She's Not Going To Die!" he hissed aloud, still low enough not to be heard clearly but if anyone was paying attention they might think he was talking to himself. "IF. I need you, I'll call upon you. I've killed weres before and didn't need your help that much. I don't expect this to be too different."

"Oh, of course not Q Ball. She'll live a long and healthy life. That's why you gave her that little kiss and promised her you'd all return. There won't be a single scratch on her. All four of you will walk in there, slay everyone, get the venom needed to save Verial and walk out like the Four Horsemen. Would you be Death or War? Considering your one man crusade before you met Deanna I think either would fit. Maybe you should discuss that before going in?

"Quinn, this isn't like all those times before. They outnumber you all 5 to 1. Kyrian over there hasn't fought anyone other than a practice dummy his whole life. Are you going to keep him and Deanna safe while keeping me in control? Stop and think Q Ball! You're going to need my help, in a bad way. Just letting you know that I'm here for you."

Had that come from either Verial, Kyrian, or Deanna, it would have meant a lot more. However it just came off as patronizing. "I'll call on you...IF...I need you." with that he shut out the voice in his head. He looked down at his hands, one had almost drawn his sword out and the other shone with the power of the demon. Bits of electricity flashed in the glow even though it effect Quinn.

"I'm ready." he said to himself. "Lets get this over with."

She was freezing her ass, or rather her breasts, off lying on her stomach in the snow, and she scowled her displeasure at the grinning fool Verial who was happily aware of her discomfort. Still, she kept her complaints to herself, for their moment had finally come. It was time for the four of them to finally take a stand against the weres, to seek their own personal justice or vengeance against the beasts who had wronged them and every other victim in this realm.

It was, in fact, a good day to die for a just cause.

The snowfall was increasing by the minute, and it wouldn’t be long before it was a total whiteout. Deanna bit down on her chapped lower lip, unsure if the blizzard like conditions were an asset or liability for the small team. It was difficult to see and hear what was going on down below, even for she who had keen eyesight and enhanced hearing. Verial’s senses were more advanced than hers, and he was able to detect not only the weres, but those they held captive as well. Deanna muttered curses, knowing it would almost an impossibility for those held prisoner to escape this war with their lives.

She nodded to Verial as he pointed out the path that would lead them into the bowels of hell itself. The four of them crawled away from the Gorge’s edge, and before they separated, spent a moment or two to say their farewells.

She was about to say something flippant to Quinn, silly words of sarcastic humor to ease the pain she felt at the prospect of losing him, when he pulled her to his much taller form. Quinn bent his head toward hers and the words he spoke then warmed her very core. "I love you Deanna DiCorvino. We will be going home.” The shifter swallowed the lump in her throat at the earnest promise of her mate, knowing that there were no guarantees in life that his prediction would come true.

Their kiss was long and slow and filled with bittersweet longing. What she would give right now to grab her mate by the hand and run like a madwoman back home, but Deanna was no coward, and would finish what she started. Vengeance for Mal and justice for the innocents. “Me too,” she murmured against his mouth. “More than you know.”

“We’re going to kick their asses.” Ah Quinn, ever the optimist. Her lips curved upward into a smirk. “Of course we will, dear.” Previously she had given Quinn her weapon’s belt and pistol, but now was the time to retrieve it. She would need it when she and Verial ventured down into the Gorge. She felt the familiar weight of her sword against her back, a comfort to her, but it was the pistol with its silver bullets that would be her salvation in battle. She didn’t fear leaving Quinn unarmed, for he had his own sword, plus the demonic advantage lurking inside of him. Deanna knew that if push came to shove, Quinn would let that demon lose to save his own skin. Or she hoped.

She finished strapping her belt around her waist and glared at her mate. “Don’t do anything stupid. Got it?” It was her parting command to him, and not one she needed to clarify. Quinn would stay up here with Kyrian and protect the boy. She winked at the boy before she and his father headed down the path. “Good luck, kid. See you soon,” and with that, both Deanna and Verial left their hearts behind.

The drow and the shifter took great pains to be careful as they made their decent on the rocky path covered in snow and ice. The pair were both graceful and stealthy as they moved slowly and purposefully. Visibility grew poorer and the temperature grew colder the further down they went. The moved in silence, ghostly angels of death hell bent on spilling blood. From time to time they would signal each other by light taps on the arm or hand signals, not willing to make their presence known. Not when they had come so far.

Finally, in what seemed ages, they reached the heavy snow covered ground of the Gorge. Neither had reached for their weapons yet, though both were coiled and ready to spring into action at a moment’s notice. The sounds of snarling growls and pathetic cries grew louder, echoing in the vastness of the Gorge, as did the thudding of Deanna’s heartbeat. It wasn’t fear that drove her, however, but anticipation. Her fey amber orbs glowed with inhuman delight as the adrenaline rush began to grow inside of her. She would kill, without mercy, without hesitation, and so, she was sure, would Verial.

She peered at him as they moved further into the Gorge toward the noise, checking to see if the Drow was as ready as she felt. Though she hated to admit it, she was depending on Verial more than she wanted, for she knew she could not, would not, be able to take on however many weres were lurking beyond by herself. Be ready Verial. We can do this. We have to. They’re depending on us. Her gaze went skyward for a moment, knowing it was a futile effort, for she could not see Kyrian or Quinn at this depth, and sent a small prayer to whatever gods were listening for their safety.

An honorable, but stupid action, for at that moment, Deanna stumbled forward as she tripped over some obstacle, blindly groping for Verial’s arm to steady herself. She swore softly, hoping that her actions hadn’t drawn unwanted attention to the duo, and looked down at the snow to see what exactly it was that caused her blundered movement. Deanna frowned as she narrowed her eyes and bent down, nimble fingers grasping the small dark object in hand, brushing it clean of snow. She stared…and gasped, her breath catching in her throat. It was a shoe. A small child’s boot, and it was splattered in blood.

Slowly, Deanna straightened, her eyes boring into the torn and bloodied boot that she held with great care in her hand and turned to face Verial, her features grave. “They took them, the children. To butcher. To feed.” Horrified at the notion, the boot slipped from numb fingers and landed once more into the snow packed earth with a soft thud. She was shaking now, with fear, with rage. The rage, black and blinding, grew so fiercely and quickly inside of her, her beast threatening to break lose before it was time.

Her breath came in quick pants, as she dropped to her hands and knees, struggling to breath and for control. Not now. Please. Not now. Deanna fought hard, and if Verial had spoken or acted, she was unaware, for at this moment all Deanna could see was ghostly images of children, bloodied and broken surrounding her. The phantom children cried out to Deanna to avenge their murders, and it was only when hot salty tears splattered against icy cold cheeks, did she finally rise as the madness left her, with her pistol in hand.

Her eyes burned their darkened amber hellfire as she leveled her gaze at the Drow. Not so long ago, Deanna had swore that she would do everything in her power to keep Quinn and Kyrian safe, and even to return herself and Verial to their respected loved ones in one piece if possible. Now, now it didn’t matter if they lived or died, at least not to Deanna. Not anymore.

“Death to all,” her voice was raspy as she spoke, her eyes a terrible thing to behold. She didn’t wait for Verial to respond, the shifter strode onward, pistol clenched in hand, unblinking, unseeing, uncaring. She would march right past the gates of hell to where the demons were waiting, gun blazing, until either all the weres were destroyed, or she breathed her very last breath. A Bringer of Death.

The path Deanna and Verial had taken down into the depths of the gorge was much longer that it appeared. Part of that was mostly due to the strained silence and caution the duo took while moving. There were times where the mist had grown so thick that he had lost sight of Deanna. Nevertheless, her presence seemed to be reconfirmed by the two reaching out to each other or just Verial using his sensitive hearing.

Before their journey into Tezzra's Gorge, Verial had heard captives and he had warned the rest of his travelling companions they would all need to much more careful now so no one got hurt or worse, killed in their attack. Nevertheless, he had not heard that the weres were keeping children as prisoners as well. At this point, reaching the bottom of the rocky gorge, he could hear the whimper of youth - of innocence. It was all he could do to stop himself from cursing out loud.

Verial was unsure if Deanna had heard the same desperate cries as he had. Part of him wanted to lean over and whisper into her ear, but something stopped him. He heard Deanna's voice in his head which he found was odd. There was a time some years ago where he had completely shut out his family's (and anyone else's) voice from entering his head; he built a subconscious wall so to speak. Coming from a family of Dreamers, they were always privy to each other thoughts, however Verial liked his privacy. So it was strange that he heard Deanna's voice so clear and concise in his head, as if her thoughts were on a prayer.

Be ready Verial. We can do this. We have to. They're depending on us.

This wandering thought was interrupted when Deanna grabbed hold of his arm and they almost went tumbling onto the ground. Verial wrapped his other arm about Deanna's waist, caught her and lifted her back to her feet quietly. For a moment, he listened and noted that his shifter friend had not caught the attention of the weres as she stumbled. There was the distinct sound of throaty and gravel-like laughter in the background, but no voices alerting others.

Verial let Deanna go as she inspected the floor and he knelt down with her to find the source of their almost being caught. It was a shoe and the only way they could tell it was not very old was due to the blood on it. The small boot had been mangled and was still soaked with fresh blood. Within shaking palms, Deanna held this out for Verial to see, her features both horrified and angered all at the same time.

The shoe dropped from Deanna's hands and Verial watched for a second as the thing hit the snowy ground. When he was turning back to Deanna, she was on her hands and knees, shaking with an almost uncontrollable rage, one that threatened her to shift at any moment. This was something Verial could not have; at least not now anyway. He needed Deanna and not her were-hyena. On his knees as well now, his hands went to her shoulders, to try and calm the trembling mess that Deanna was.

Stay calm, Deanna... I need you here with me - not your beast. Focus.

He was not entirely sure if she had heard him. Part of him wanted to believe Deanna had, just as she had heard his voice earlier. In any case, Deanna was finally standing with Verial at her side and taking out her pistol that was armed and ready with silver bullets. When she had finally left the sadness and anger that overwhelmed her, she nodded ready at Verial to which he returned that same confident nod.

"For Mal and the children of Elved, let's get rid of these infernal weres."

Deanna's sentiments for killing off every last one of the Bluefields were mutually shared. At first it seemed as if this was a mission to find Verial a cure, but at the very least, he wasn't focused on his own benefits any longer. He wanted the land to be purged of the therianthropes the same as Deanna; he wanted revenge. So into the cloudy darkness did he stride with her, arming his own self with his bow and a silver tipped arrow.

At what seemed like long last, the first shot was fired by Verial. His bow string was suddenly drawn back and the arrow that was released as a result soared through the darkness. Though it wasn't visible at first, it was clear the arrow had hit its target due to the sudden wounded howl that followed. For a few more seconds it was quiet and then suddenly the gorge was filled with a symphony of howls and roars. It was then that shadows started moving from the snow laden fog towards Deanna and Verial.

A few feet in front of the duo stood at least thirty or so weres that had come to see the commotion. Most were wolven type of therianthrope, but others seemed to be infused with hyena, panther and even tiger blood. Verial had about ten seconds to acknowledge the diversity of the beasts until they started charging. This sudden swing into motion had Verial firing more arrows into the weres as they came running; he only hoped Deanna was able to aim as successfully into her targets as well. He had no doubt that she was, as he could hear her by his side firing off rounds of bullets.

With Deanna, Verial was backing up the icy path they had come from now. After all, their objective was not to take out all the weres within the gorge, but to draw them out. As great as the silver tipped arrows were for fending off weres and taking them down, eventually he would run out and he kept in mind to save one for the undead therianthrope that had bit him. It was about halfway up the gorge's path that Verial took to using his sword and pushing weres off the side of the path if needed. It was also about halfway up that he started hoping they would make it to the top where Quinn and Kyrian waited.

Post originally by Character_Kyrian

He had been in battles throughout most of his past lives. This should be fairly easy compared to most of the other battles he'd been in. Of course, in the past he'd had much more control. This time he'd only be able to do so much before tiring out and Kyrian taking back over. That was the part that worried him the most. Not that the boy didn't have a bit of training with the sword, but he didn't have the experience and it was going to be 5 or 8 to 1 out there. He just hoped that the others would be able take out more then their share.

Of course he wasn't going to share this information with Kyrian. However, he shared these concerns with his fellow dragon. "If I lose control too soon will you be able to help any? Or are we working on the same power supply?"

"Honestly I'm not sure. I do plan on trying though. Maybe not as soon as you step back, but I'll be ready if he needs me."

It seemed odd to him that he was actually working with the white dragon, but it wasn't really a matter of who was the strongest or who was going to be the "dominate" dragon. It was a matter of survival. That was something he knew. Something he'd lived with for years. It was familiar if not comfortable ground.

"You know Dear, if this is going to be an ongoing thing with little Kyrian, you and I need to talk about a few things." She paused for a moment and let the words sink in. "For example, what we're going to do when we get home. We can't be ruling over his life like we have been. I'm not saying that I haven't done it as well. We're here because I was worried about Kyrian's father. So, I'm owning up to my part as well."

Before she could go on, he interrupted her, "I know. And we will, if we get out of this alive." He wasn't nearly as optimistic as she was. She was looking on the bright side of life, but he was looking on the realistic side. There was a good chance that they'd die today, but that was beside the point. Right now he needed to get into place and be ready with Verial and the shifter returned with their prey.

He lumbered over to the left side of the trail leading down to the gorge as they'd mentioned. He looked over to notice that Quinn was taking a position to the right. The Redmont was getting ready to catch anyone he missed. Oddly enough he took comfort in having the grinning man at his back. It was interesting to see the change in the man from when he first saw him to the man he was right now. It would be even more interesting to see how he handled himself in battle.

Movement from below brought him out of his thoughts. They were on their way. Nodding to Quinn to let him know he'd seen it, he reared his tail back ready to snap it forward and knock some of those were bastards flying.

Once the 'bait' came into view he noticed that they weren't just firing their long range weapons, they had to use their swords and other handheld weapons too. The were's were that close. That wasn't good. He would need them to be a bit farther back if their plan was going to work.

As if reading his thoughts the skies opened up and the were that had been about to jump towards Deanna was struck by a bolt of lightening, frying it where it'd stood. Everything seemed to stop for a moment, even Verial and Deanna. And then they sprung back into action. They came running towards them and took a dive out of the way of his tail. The two of them running, brought the were's attention back to the task at hand and they were chasing after them again.

Luckily they'd dove just in time for him to be able to catch the front-runners in the chase, sending them flying into the air. If anyone had been able to hear the landing they would have heard the cracking of lots and lots of bones. The next few rows of were's coming didn't get hit nearly as hard, only sending them to their butts...a few feet behind were they had been, but still it stopped the charge for a bit.

Now it was time to start bringing the fire. Continuing with the spinning motion of swatting his tail, the dragon brought his fiery breath down on those who hadn't been flicked away. Apparently this took a lot of energy from him. Three fire balls into his new attack, he was feeling drained and could feel himself losing control. "Well, Kyrian, I hope you're ready for this. Cause it's your turn now."

The massive black dragon's form began to shimmer and seem to shrink. In just seconds, he'd reformed into Kyrian's normal "human" form. He drew his sword and looking at the burning were's before him said, "I guess I don't have much of a choice." And he stepped into his first real battle.

It seemed that he was cursed to wait. Kyrian and himself waited. And waited. Of course with his feeling of uneasiness from the get go, Quinn's waiting turned into an almost paranoid worrying. With each passing moment of not hearing anything from the direction of Verial and Deanna, he became more tempted to run after them.

Just as he was about to start forward he heard the sound of battle. Steel against steel. The strained grunting and shouts. They were on their way. He looked over and saw that the dragon boy had turned and was getting ready for the oncoming heard as well. Apparently he wasn't the only one who had heard them.

The Redeemer began getting into his "hunter face". Growing up he'd heard athletes talk about putting their "game face" on before a match. Something that wouldn't allow the opposing team to see how they really felt of what they'd really planned to do. As he was training he kept that in mind and began to develop a "hunter persona". When he was the hunter he was focused on the kill and everything around him. He didn't want any innocents to get hurt, he was after all doing this partly for them.

As the sounds grew louder he slipped deeper and deeper into that persona. Everything around him became much clearer. Things seemed to move a much slower pace, almost as if he'd sped up and everything around him slowed down. Quietly he drew his blade from it's sheath, something he hadn't done since the night Deanna shot him.

The two friends slowly became visible in the mist. Fortunately they weren't alone. Unfortunately they'd appeared to really piss off the were's, who were now just inches from both of them. They'd been forced to start fighting hand to hand because there wasn't enough distance for guns or bows to be used effectively. That wasn't good. If they didn't do something soon to get a bit of ground between them and the were's their plan wouldn't work. Kyrian would have to hit his father and Deanna, something neither of them were willing to let happen.

Once they finally got to a point that he felt safe finally acting, Quinn did. He drew upon the power of his demon and called down a bolt of lightening to strike down the nearest were. The fact that it had been about to attack his mate was just a coincidence. Sure. Whatever the reason, the were that had been about to attack was nothing but a smoking pile on the ground. The resulting silence was deafening.

Willing Deanna and Verial to move, they finally did. It hadn't been more then a couple of seconds, but it felt like it took forever for them to finally run. Once they did though it was like they snapped the were's out of whatever trance had held them as well. Luckily they were able to keep ahead of them just long enough to be able to dodge out of the way of Kyrian's tale as it came swooping around, sending were's into the air.

"Well, color me impressed." his demon muttered.

He ignored the demon's comment and silently slid into the wave of confused, and battered beasts who hadn't been sent soaring. Without a word he began dispatching those who had been wounded but not killed. And so the battle began. His sword flashing in the dim light, he began hacking at a group of werebeasts that had gotten their courage up and decided to attack again.

As one he dealt with one of the beasts, two more circled around him and both, bit into his shoulders, one on each. His teeth ground together as they bit deeper. The halfbreed wasn't able to swing his sword, move much in general.

"Don't worry, I can keep those nasty genes out of us. Use the lightening. You asked for it. Just send it out through your body, they'll let go."

He thanked his demon and did as he suggested. Lightening exited through his body, hitting the were's holding him first and worse. It didn't take long for the smell of burning fur to fill the gorge. Of course he wasn't the only one burning these bastards, but he hadn't had time to see what damage Kyrian had done already.

When the were's let go, he was free to spin around, the lightening had given him a moment to breath and he took that moment to check on Deanna. And the other two. He caught her attention and as he noticed the surprised look on her face, he grinned. "What? did you think that first were was a fluke?" he winked at her and turned back to the small army that he had to deal with, leaving her, Verial and Kyrian to their own armies.

He hadn't gotten a good head count before they were scattered but it looked like there were a good ten were's for each of them. The pressure was on, but despite it all a small smile crept to his lips. It'd been far too long since he'd indulged in a hunt and this while not his normal way of doing it was a great way to "scratch that itch" he'd been having since his last hunt. Things seemed to be going swimmingly. Hopefully it kept going that way.

The sound of Verial’s arrows flying though the icy air of the Gorge, how sweet they sounded, forced a smile upon Deanna’s chapped lips, however grim it was. The howls that emanated from the weres they managed to hit, him with his silver tipped arrows, her with her silver bullets, was splendid to her ears.

Even with her keen eyesight, visibility was quite poor, and she maneuvered her way through the thick fog in silence, the sound of revolver speaking volumes for her. She took great pains to make sure that the direction she fired in was aimed primarily at their intended targets, and not random innocents that were screaming and shouting, a mad scramble in the midst of the pandemonium. Out of the corner of her eye, she spotted Verial drawing his bow to fire his arrows, and like he, noted that it was not simply werewolves they were encountering, but a mixed group of beasts that awaited the slaughter. Fun.

When the gun clicked empty, Deanna simply drew her sword and began swinging it at anything large and hairy that came into her view since they was no time to reload. She was pleased with the outcome regardless, for though only a few were killed, many more were wounded. The pristine snow was marred with the crimson splatter of blood, as was her face and body. She imagined the gruesome sight she was to behold to both beast and human alike.

Deanna and Verial managed to herd the weres on the path of the Gorge that led to where Quinn and Kyrian waited. She could almost see the duo when a one of the weres decided that Deanna was fair game and launched himself at her, a snarl tearing from his throat as they grappled with each other among the screams, shouts and curses of the rest of his brood. How ironic it was for Deanna to be fighting against a were tiger, for the last one she encountered left her with a souvenir, the rounded scar above her heart. A parting gift from the McKennah bitch.

The were's breath was hot against her face as they wrestled on the path, her sword knocked from her hands, as the beast bashed his head against hers. Blood sprayed from her broken nose and she exploded in a stream of furious cruses at the were, her dark amber orbs narrowing into slits as her own clawed hands reached for the were tiger’s throat. Around them, chaos ensued as they slammed into the were beasts that rushed up the path. It was the break she needed for at that moment, those sharp claws dug their way through fur into flesh, effectively tearing out the were tiger’s throat, an end to that particular battle. She tried to catch sight of Verial, but the drow was busy handling his own battles. Both shifter and hybrid were caught up in their own battles to be of use to each other.

The shifter found her footing and her sword, and wiping the blood that streamed from her nose, continued onward and upward. Wounds could heal at a later date, but time was precious and she couldn’t afford to lose any, not when so many depended on her course of action. She continued swinging and hacking when another were decided she was prey enough to attack. Her steel blade arced over her shoulder, ready to sever the head of the beast, but never connected. Instead, time seemed to slow to a crawl, and fire from the sky above came down in its sizzling form to strike the were dead. Kyrian’s attack disoriented her for a moment when time sped again, and as she viewed her now dead foe she promptly kicked the charring flesh of the corpse from her path shouting her thanks to the boy in dragon form.

Kyrian sent his mighty tail swinging, and weres flew through the air to land back onto the hard snow packed earth that was the bottom of the Gorge. Deanna ducked repeatedly as to avoid getting caught in the crossfire of were flying and burning to death, and used the opportunity to reload her revolver, her fingers smoked as they burned the moment they touched the silver bullets. A small price to pay, in her opinion. The dragon boy had been successful in his mission, and finally spent, reverted back to his human form. She sent up a quick prayer for his protection, and as she managed to shoot another enemy before her, she took note of Quinn.

Snow fell in heavy wet blankets around them, and while she was disposing of another were, she watched her mate in action, the corners of her mouth upturned in a wicked smile. Quinn seemed to be enjoying the slaughter more than any other man would, a sign of the demon he held. She was impressed by the effective skill he displayed just as she was with Kyrian. She was unaware that the Redeemer could call forth heaven’s fire, lightening, and must have seen the look of surprise on her face, for he grinned at her then. “Don’t be a showoff, you cocky bastard!” She called out to him with affection and was about to remind him once more to look after the boy, when suddenly she was flying through the air after being hit by what felt like a rather large snarling boulder, a startled cry from the shifter could be heard as she and the were fell into the snowy fog below.

Down, down, they went to the bottom of the Gorge, a tangled mess that eventually landed hard against icy rock and snow. Deanna was fortunate for a softer landing as she rolled off the were, sprawling out in pain. Her breath was robbed from her upon impact and she gasped, struggling to breathe as she swallowed huge gulps of chilled air. Her body hurt in ways she hadn’t imagined could, and as she struggled to sit up, she noted that aside from bruising and the bloody gash on her forehead, that she was quite the lucky lady not to have broken any bones or suffered worse than she was.

Gingerly she touched the wound by her hairline, and swore as her fingers came away stained with clotted blood. For a moment, she had forgotten about the were and could only think that Quinn might have seen the attack, and how enraged he would be. Still dazed, she looked around and saw that her pistol had landed several yards away, but her sword was not more than perhaps ten feet from where she landed. She began to crawl toward her weapon, when the recovered were pounced on her, intending to finish what he started.

His claws dug into her right calf, tearing through the material of her pants, sinking into flesh and muscle as he dragged her back toward him. Deanna let out a scream as she kicked and thrashed wildly at the were as she was flipped onto her back and pinned beneath the slavering beast. The were inhaled deeply as his clawed hands dug into her arms to hold her down, a growl tearing at his throat. “You are a traitor to your own kind.” His voice was gravelly and filled with contempt for she who would be his next meal. His breath stank of rotted meat as he bent to lap at her cheek with his tongue. “You taste good.” His lips curled to reveal sharp fangs that promised to sink into her flesh.

Deanna struggled like a wildcat, bringing the knee of her good leg up to connect with the beast’s groin, buying her enough time to free her arms as he howled in agony. "Bet that tasted good too," she spat at him as she tried to hold the much larger were off with one hand while feebly attempting to grasp at her sword. Damn the gods, but it was too far for her reach, and she was forced to use both hands to clutch at his maw to keep him from devouring her. She attempted to shift, but was unable to focus her attention on calling her beast, desperate to fend the were from sinking his canines into her.

Cries of pain, howls of agony, screams of those who were dying, all filled the Gorge, both human victims and beasts, and for a split second, she had hope that perhaps her friends were coming to her rescue. No such luck. She mustered all her strength as she held the wolf at bay, but she knew that eventually her body would give in. As they struggled for dominance, Deanna turned her head to the left and saw a man, bruised and battered but alive, huddling near a snow covered boulder watching the two in their battle. Near the man’s foot, was her revolver.

“The gun! Get the gun! Shoot him! Shoot him!!” She screamed with all she had at the man, her hands still grasping at the were’s maw which was getting closer and closer, digging into fur and skin beneath. Her fingers were slick with blood, both the were’s and her own, but still she held on as she continued crying out to the man for his help, which was pointless for he was frozen with fear, not wanting to risk his own life for hers. The were was relentless, refusing to give up, his clawed hands digging painfully into her forearms. “Fucking shoot him! Shoot him! Shoot the fucker!!” She turned once more to the man, a mistake on her part, for the were seized the moment her fingers slipped.

The howling shriek let out by Deanna would no doubt be heard by all within the Gorge and surrounding it, as the were sunk his fanged teeth into her shoulder, his massive jaws clamping down as he tore through clothing and skin, crunching through bone. Tears blurred her vision and she could feel her blood, hot and thick, pour out of her body, yet despite this, her fingers groped and found the flesh under his jaw and she dug her nails into his throat. The pain was immeasurable, and Deanna began to cry, knowing her time had finally come to an end. “Quinn,” she whimpered and was about to release her hold on the were, when she heard the sound of the gun firing and felt the were jerk backwards, tearing a chunk of flesh from her shoulder and neck as the shots were fired. One. Two. Three.

Deanna cried out in agony as she stretched her wounded body just enough for her fingers to slide upon the hilt of her sword, and with one painful movement, lurched to her knees to thrust her sword into the bowels of the were who was severely wounded, finishing him off for good. For ages she stared at the dead beast, her chest rising and falling with heavy breaths, the left side of her body stained dark with her own blood. Her shoulder, collarbone, and part of her neck was a ruined mess, as were her arms with their deep gouges. She had almost forgotten about her torn calf, so sick with pain was she.

Slowly, she got to her feet, an ordeal of its own. Her legs felt heavy and wooden as she shuffled and limped through blood soaked snow over to the man whom she intended on thanking for her life, but it was not he who held her revolver, but a boy about Kyrian’s age who gazed at her with wide frightened eyes, his hand shaking as he handed her back her weapon.

It was the boy to whom she owed her gratitude to, not the cravenly man who remained rooted to his spot, ashen and shuddering as her blood soaked form stood before him. "Coward,” she rasped as she coughed and spat blood on the snow. She held the pistol in her right hand and inched closer to the man who begged and pleaded with her not to hurt him. Dizziness and pain overcame her, even as she raised the weapon and aimed it at the man fully intending to shoot him in the face, and she dropped to her knees. The idea of killing the man a distant memory. “Not good,” she closed her eyes and swayed, finally slumping over onto the snow.

Somehow the cold no longer bothered her for she felt rather numb, which was actually nice. A blissful relief as she regarded the boy who stood over her with half-closed eyes. “Find the drow,” she mumbled, a faint tugging at her brain reminded her that his son, the dragon boy, was a healer, and boy did she ever need one now. “Before I bleed to death would be great.” Not even a brush with death would steal the sarcasm that was her way. Her world swam before her as she watched the boy run off to do her bidding, perhaps her last command as blackness claimed her.

After having reached the top of the gorge's path, Verial was quite glad to see Quinn and Kyrian ready and waiting. Sure, he and Deanna had taken out a decent number of weres from the hungry stampede that was following them, but some of the inflicted wounds were just flesh wounds and only angered the beasts that followed them even more. It was nice to have that back up waiting for the duo, even more so as the playing field seemed to be a bit more equal now. Sure, it was the four of them to about 35 therianthropes, but they were doing decently well at taking out their foes.

Verial's plan at having Kyrian surprise the weres also appeared to work out pretty well. He and Deanna had just been able to move out of the way when Kyrian's massive dragon tail swung in any possible direction it could manage. Weres flew everywhere - to the left, to the right and some just plain out of sight. Verial could also not deny the satisfying sound of bones being broken as the animals fell to the ground, howling in pain. Shortly afterwards, a wave of pillars of fire filled the field surrounding Tezzra's Gorge, melting the fresh snow that had covered the ground and burning up the weres that were too wounded to move from their fall.

Unfortunately, Kyrian had done about as much damage as he could and had gotten exhausted. Verial didn't blame him in the slightest; for a boy who barely ever shifted before let alone used hardly any magic besides healing arts, he did an excellent job at taking out about ten or so of those weres. Absently, Verial wondered if getting Kyrian involved was a good idea? He wondered if the smell of bloodlust - of battle - was good for a dragon who bordered more on the side of darkness? Though the beast inside Kyrian appeared eager to help, it might have also been an excuse to fuel some violence into the boy's otherwise peaceful soul. Verial knew from past experience that this was indeed an easy thing to succumb to.

He shook off his thoughts and went to help his son as the boy shifted back into his normal form. Verial was sure that Deanna and Quinn could hold their own and that Kyrian would need his father more. In fact, he swore off to the distance he had seen Quinn wrestling with two weres that were promptly afterwards shocked with lightning. Quinn's body lit up almost like a silver Christmas light and blasted the weres hanging onto his shoulder with what must have been a quite painful jolt of electricity.

Interesting, Verial thought, as his own sword found its way into the gut of an advancing werewolf.

The attacks came in waves; it seemed the weres were taking turns trying to attack the quartet. Every now and then, three would advance down on one of them. They were most likely trying to weaken their prey by taking turns, but still all four of them held strong. In the thick of all the battles, Verial tried to catch a glimpse of the wolf that had bitten him and saw none that looked familiar. He let his thoughts darken for a moment, wondering if maybe the beast wasn't even here.

In this moment, he couldn't deny the battle and fighting had given him a sort of revitalized feeling. Verial felt himself moving as if he were more alive and as if he didn't have deadly venom running through his bloodstream. He pondered the thought of shifting himself, but knew he'd only be weakening himself too much. Regardless of how good he felt now, he didn't imagine he'd feel like this afterwards, if he was still alive and if he didn't find his werewolf soon.

Distracted by his thoughts, Verial felt something run into him. A were panther ripped claws into his side and pushed him away from Kyrian. In an attempt to get the snarling beast off of him, Verial stuck his leg forward, tripping the were that was on him. They both went down, tumbling a few feet away from Kyrian's line of vision. Upon landing, claws were extracted from Verial's flesh and he let out a wounded, growl-like sound. His own blood splattered onto the ground mixed with the crimson coloring that was already there from others that had fallen. Verial went to pushed himself up, but was punched in the face by a large fist coming from the same panther that had tackled him.

He slid a few feet backwards across the ground and instinctively reached for his sword despite the feeling of his jaw being nearly broken. The blade had been flung a few feet away and Verial had just scrambled to the thing, fingers wrapped around the hilt, when his foe launched into the air to sink teeth into Verial this time. Verial's blade came up and caught the were in the throat; the beast made wounded call, one that was both sickening and signaled death. Blood gurgled from its throat and mouth, poring over onto Verial, some of dripping onto his face and the rest, his clothing.

Verial pushed the now dead were to the side and managed to get up, his jaw and side which had torn open skin now, pulsating angrily. It was in the moment, he had a second to turn around and notice the weres were falling; they were dying and with only a small amount left - about five - Verial felt like perhaps they could make it out of this alive. Perhaps they would live and with this, he let out an almost satisfied breath. This breath was shortly caught in his own throat when he caught sight of Deanna falling off the edge of the gorge with a were attached to her side.

Unfortunately, he could not go after her at the moment. Some of the remaining therianthropes were too busy trying to take out him, Quinn and one of them was advancing on Kyrian. This delayed him. He took out two weres, all the while trying to listen to sounds of Deanna at the bottom of the gorge. Shortly afterwards, Verial heard a scream rip open into the air, coming from the depths of the gorge. Verial attempted to hear more, fighting off his pursuers at the same time, but it was no good. Her yell was the only thing clear enough, everything else he would have strained to hear through the snarling and growling and battle cries that filled Elved's now battlefield.

As Verial heard another cry come from the floor of the gorge - from Deanna - he knew things weren't going well for the shifter. Having finished off the two weres that were on him, Verial rushed back to Kyrian who was hacking away at his own beast. The were was too distracted in thinking he could pick off a young boy as a meal that it didn't see Verial. At the same time, Verial and Kyrian's swords were thrust into the beast, the combing blow killing it. After it fell to the ground, Verial looked over to Kyrian and seeing no serious wounds, took the boy's hand and started towards the edge of the gorge. It was at this point that Verial saw another boy at the top of the path now, one that was a few years younger than Kyrian, waving his arms frantically.

Verial took this under assumption that Deanna needed help, and fast. Stealing a glance at Quinn, Verial was convinced the demon would be able to handle the last struggling were and moved towards the gorge. Taking a leap forward, with Kyrian's hand in his own and spending no time to explain, he jumped off the gorge taking his son with him. At first, it might have seemed like a suicide mission, but it was the fastest way to the bottom and thankfully, he and Kyrian had wings. They fell through the thick cloud of fog and a few feet before hitting the floor of Tezzra's Gorge, Verial's raven feathered wings expanded letting father and son have a safe and somewhat graceful landing, although Verial couldn't help but note this pained his wounded side even further.

When he caught sight of Deanna, slumped over in the snow with blood pouring from open and vicious looking wounds, Verial was sure his dream had come true. That she was dead. All the same, he let go of Kyrian's hand and moved towards Deanna's kneeling next to her and with care, turned the shifter onto her back. Verial let a string of silent curses flow from his lips as he saw the condition Deanna was in, a mangled mess of what she used to be. Verial made an attempt to stop to blood flow from her largest wound, to apply pressure on Deanna's shoulder with his hands, but the span of it was almost bigger than both of his own hands. Verial turned his head to call Kyrian over, seeing that Deanna's hazel colored eyes were slipping in and out of blackness, hoping it was not too late to heal his friend.

For a moment, he thought Quinn was sure to kill him once the demon finally reached the bottom of the gorge. Unfortunately, when Verial had turned to wave Kyrian over, he did not see his son. Instead, his entire body was met with some powerful force that had him sprawling away from Deanna. Verial knew what it felt like getting hit by a dragon's tail and this was very close. Verial flew through the air a few feet, the wind having been completely knocked from him and crashed against the side of the gorge, his head slamming against a rather sharp boulder.

His world started flickering in and out of darkness. He made himself struggle to stay awake, to fight the void that wanted so badly to wash over him. Though he made unreasonable attempts to keep his odd colored eyes open, his body would not get up, having been spent over and over again. Verial kept thinking about Kyrian who was alone now and Deanna who was dying and Quinn who would be coming down into the gorge soon. All the captives around them were crying and whimpering, too scared to get up and do a damn thing. Another steady flow of curses flowed from his mouth; he noted these were in some other language... draconic, drow... he couldn't tell because as far as he knew, he wasn't able to speak anything else. Verial was frustrated he couldn't get up and do a thing and was even more angered that the thing that had hit him was the very same werewolf he needed to cure himself.

"Why is it that none of my kin can do anything right?" Elijah said advancing over Kyrian now. The werewolf, towering over Kyrian with a height of twelve feet, was an impressive sight of strength. Even more impressive that the therianthrope clearly looked undead, yet his muscle was still intact and rippling with the excitement of being able to spill fresh blood. "Are the Bluefields damned to be complete and utters idiots? Where has our bloodline gone so completely wrong to deserve such injustice?"

Elijah let out a dramatic sigh and then reached down, grabbing Kyrian by the collar of his shirt. The boy was lifted a few feet into the air, dangling for a moment, then thrown back down directly onto Deanna's middle. As Kyrian would lie across Deanna's stomach, before he could even attempt to get up, talon-like claws much bigger than the youth's head, wrapped around his neck, strangling him. Elijah felt Kyrian's legs kicking beneath of him and smiled. Occasionally he would loosen his claws for fun and then tighten them again, giving the kid a small glimmer of hope and then strained panic.

"Where have I gone wrong? Can you tell me what I can do to better my family situation?" Elijah asked, tilting his head curiously at Kyrian as if the choking boy was even able to give him advice. "Family; this saying has never been more accurate... Can't live with them, can't live without them. You send a large pack of them to kill off four - let me stress that - FOUR intruders and they just... DIE? On the other hand, at least their distractions have delivered this nice little four course meal to me. You can be the appetizer!"

Elijah smiled at Kyrian with a grin that was filled with razor sharp teeth. His head than cocked towards Deanna and he leaned down to let his tongue roughly lap across the open wound on Deanna's shoulder. Fresh blood flowed across his muzzle and a shudder of delight seemed to ripple through his body as a result.

"And you... you can be desert, you traitorous and delicious bitch."

Nevertheless, it Elijah would have to wait for his meal. Right before he could rip a chunk out of Kyrian's midsection, severing his intestines from his body, a fire lit up the bowels of the gorge. The fire came hurtling at him and hit him square on. Elijah tumbled away from Kyrian and Deanna, slowly getting up as the flames were extinguished from his body. He knew that magic; it hurt like hell considering he was undead and hurt even more considering who it was coming from.

"My love," Elijah started pushing himself off the ground, "I thought you would never make it. You're just in time for dinner!"