Just as she finally had the wyvern in her sights, a flash of fire blinded Jeniya, forcing her to look downward. The perfect aim she had achieved was lost. Angrily she turned towards the fire, only to remember that was where the man with the glaive stood. She let out a brief gasp and for the swiftest second, moved towards him but reason stopped her. What could she do anyways? Instead she raised her crossbow, aimed, and fired at one of the wvyern that attacked him. It collapsed on its side, crushing its rider against the ground. Grinning as she felt the blood of both beast and master mix together and soak the earth, she turned to go after the other one when her shoulder cried with pain. She cursed her shoulder as she gently massaged it before continuing her task.

As she nocked her crossbow and loaded, she noticed something peculiar. When the fire died out, instead of killing the man as it should have done, he was still alive, albeit weakened. While she was familiar with magical shields from her world, none of them could deter the intensity that the two wvyern unleashed on him. She was inwardly glad that she chose to ally herself with him. He was clearly not someone she wanted to face on opposite sides. She aimed at her target when her shoulder protested again, collapsing under the weight of the crossbow and throwing off her aim. Cursing, she put down her crossbow and concentrated on her wound, allowing the blood to clot faster and inhibit the pain slightly. She sighed in relief as she hurried to aim at her enemy once again.

_________________

I was cured all right.

Kith felt the beasts before he saw them, a strange reverberation in the air. He should have said somthing earlier, to give the rest of these people a little more time to prepare. As he dodged the viscious teeth of a wyvern, he realized how useless it would have been. He shifted into a swift and launched himself at the wyvern's rider. A mere moment before he collided with the rider he shifted again, this time into a black panther. The momentum threw the rider off the saddle. Kith tumbled over the wyvern's back, slipping into open air. For a frightful second he was free falling. Then his insticts kicked in a and he was a hawk. Kith raced to the back of the riderless wyvern and landed in the saddle, gently shifting to his human form. Although he had no idea how to steer, he grabbed the riens. He pulled experimentally, but the wyvern shreeked in protest. Realizing he would never be able to control the wyvern, he dropped to the ground, shifting into an eagle. As the wyverns swooped to attack he clawed at thier eyes. He tried his luck one to many times with this tatic and was rewarded as a wyvern flung his head, catching Kith in the wing. He spiraled downward, his right wing painfull and unresponsive.

“Oh yes, that’s bloody brilliant, lets fight wyverns and their riders with rocks. Now why didn’t I think of that? Oh, that’s right, I think of things that give us a chance of not dying,” Kayne rolled his eyes as he looked back at her. He propped his staff up against a tree directly behind him and pulled his scimitar out of its sheath as he asked, “First off, what’s your name?” He tossed the blade to her feet, “It’s enchanted. It’ll increase the speed and strength of your attacks with it. And please don’t hit any of my stuff, that sword’ll break the enchantments I’ve put on them and I really don’t have the time nor the resources to put them back on.”

The wyvern injured earlier by Kayne’s reflexive attack wheeled back around once it was obvious their little group wouldn’t surrender without a fight. Kayne waited patiently until the wyvern had begun its dive and then murmured a word, unleashing the energy pent up inside his blasting rod. Said energy took the form of a column of flame thicker than his chest that hurtled toward the duo of attackers. The wyvern took the brunt of the blast and just shrugged it off, but even the tiny fraction of the flame that reached the rider managed to turn him into the literal human torch.

Of course, that left Kayne with a very pissed off wyvern hurtling towards him at what looked like Mach 1. Kayne could see the flames begin to pour out of the creatures gaping jaws, so he raised his left arm, focusing his will on the bracelet dangling from it. The bracelet was a chain made of several braided strands of metal, predominantly silver. Metal shields of silver, iron, copper, nickel, and brass hung at even intervals along its length.

“You might want to step away. Unless you like being burnt to a crisp. If you do, then by all means stay right where you are,” Kayne said as a blurring swirl of colours flared into existence in front of him, solidifying in an instant into a curving rampart of silver energy. Flames hammered the shield, billowing out around him, setting the scenery alight all around him. In retrospect, it was a very good idea to put his staff right behind him, as if he had placed it on any of the other readily available trees, it would be cinders right now.

But it wasn’t, so he snatched it up, pointed it at the riderless wyvern and snarled, “Forzare!” Unseen—but quite solid—force sped from the tip of the staff and impacted the wyvern right in the joint of its wing, shattering the bone and rendering the wing useless. That of course, sent the very heavy wyvern crashing into the ground below, quite unintentionally right next to some other combatants.

Kayne felt a slight surge of elation as he saw the creature fall, but that was cut amazingly short by the feeling of a wyvern’s head impacting him full in the back. The impact should have snapped him in half, but his enchanted duster took the brunt of the impact though he would have a nice bruise there later, provided he survived. Which didn’t look likely as even though the duster could take the kinetic impact, the laws of physics still applied and all the energy the wyvern would have used to break him in half was instead spread out over his whole back. Which meant that he was now hurtling towards a very big, very solid tree at a speed much to fast for his liking. And he knew that there was nothing he could do about it, “Oh, sh—.”

The sickening crunch of snapping bones could be heard as Kayne impacted the tree at full speed.

_________________
Four Gods wait on the windowsill,
Where once eight Gods did war and will,
And if the Gods themselves may die,
What does that say for you and I?

Now, three Gods wait on the windowsill
Where one God's blood was lately spilled
While black tongues lap at the spreading pool
And build the strength they need to rule.

Crunch. What the - ?

Ryairon had no idea what had just happened, and nor was she about to ask. She only knew that sky - blessed clear sky - was above her again. Oh, and she wasn't dead. That was always a plus. She leaped to her feet in time to see Devarion darting away from her, right into the path of - Was the man bloody mad?

Apparently not. Into his hands winked two spheres of darkness, which he hurled at both wyverns' mouths. The reptilian creatures tossed back their heads with identical screeches of pain as they choked on their own fire. Their riders barely managed to hang on. Neither of them continued pursuit, even after they'd finished coughing up smoke. They'd learned to stay away from Devarion. Unfortunately... Their slitted gazes roamed the beach. Roamed, roamed, roamed. Ah-hah. As one, their wings shot out. As one, they streaked toward her.

Fortunately for her, Ryairon already had an arrow nocked and the string pulled back. Target? Not a problem - even a blind man couldn't miss. Effective target? Curse it. She had two seconds to aim. Two seconds to raise her bow against the half-flying, half-bounding monstrosities and hope against hope... Well, guess what, genius? Hoping won't get you anywhere.

She let fly. The arrow whistled through the air to embed itself, shaft quivering, into the neck of the right-hand wyvern. The creature hissed. It lurched. It stumbled.

And it kept coming.

Time to panic. Throwing down her bow, she launched herself into a roll underneath the charging wyvern. Flames roared behind her, searing her back. She tucked her head in and came up behind it, sword in hand. She pivoted to face the second one. Not fast enough. An impact both painfully sharp and wearily familiar slammed into the spot between her shoulder blades. She toppled face-first onto the sand. Third damn time. She closed her eyes and waited for the second impact - the one that would kill her.

It didn't come.

Eyes flying open, she flipped herself over just in time to see a flurry of feathers - an eagle? - drop from the sky, talons raking across the wyvern's scaled face. It veered away too slowly. An ebony spike caught it in the wing, and it spiraled to the ground, unmoving. And then she remembered. That same eagle had once been something else - a panther, maybe - and before that... a man? Kith? The wyvern reared back its spiked head like a cobra coiled to strike.

That was when Ryairon did something very, very stupid. Ignoring the pain stabbing down her spine, she jumped back up. And jumped again. And threw her arms around the wyvern's arched neck. Predictably, awkwardly, it threw up its head just as she let go. She turned in midair and landed on top of the armored rider. Literally. It hurt. She snapped out her dagger and drove it into his left armpit. Then she yanked it back out and plunged the blade into the wyvern's neck, beside where her first arrow had pierced. The creature screamed and lurched forward. At that moment, nothing sounded sweeter than the thud of its body hitting the ground. It didn't get back up.

Ryairon slid off the dead wyvern's back, caught her leg on a spike midway down, and landed gracefully on her buttocks. She picked herself up with a grimace and cast about for her weapons. Her sword was lying five feet away. Her bow was lying twice that distance in the opposite direction. Great. As she staggered over to retrieve them, she shot a glance over her shoulder, at the eagle. "Are you all right?"

_________________

One minutes they were just standing there waiting for those who had departed from the village to get back. The next *poof* there was a group of wyers in the sky. One, apparently the leader, called out to surrender or die. Well, Vincent had never heard of anyone that had ever surrendered. And even if they had still been killed eventually. So 'surrender or die' usually meant 'just die'.

That wasn't going to happen today. As soon as the first ebony creature swooped at one of the others, the red druid was under cover by a tree in seconds. He threw down his staff, which really wasn't used in quick thinking fights like this, and pulled out a small leather bound book from under his cloak.

With one hand he held it infront of him, his other was scribbling runes in the air with a fingertip that was glowing red. And the runes stayed in place where he wrote them. While doing this, he was also chanting under his breath. Then he went still and quiet, waiting for something to attack him.

Vincent had only to wait a split second before he heard a screech behind him from a creature. With speed you wouldn't expect from a man like him, he turned to the beast. With a loud word from another language, he pushed the group of red runes at the creature, hitting it in the chest. But didn't hurt it, instead the thing couldn't move. It hovered in mid swoop, completely still, it's mouth gaping open to bite. It's rider was holding up a short sword, and was now looking stunned at his mount questioningly.

Vincent took this moment to pull out his own simple sword and jumped up at the rider, stabbing him through the neck, and let him fall to the ground. The druid then stabbed the wyer in the chest where the heart would be. With a word under his breath, he released the paralyze spell, and the thing dropped to the ground dead.

Looking up, Vincent realized that he needed to find a different strategy. He racked his braid for ideas as he ducked and dodged another creature that was swooping at him. He pushed his sword upward at one swoop, and felt it his something, and felt a liquid shower down on him.

A bath will be manditory after this, he thought, turning to the still body of the creature, and it's master that was now stocking towards him...

~~~~~~~~~~~

It was quiet. The voices were still there, but it was still quiet. That was until he heard a voice from above, hardly audible from his possision, then a shriek from something unhuman. With a glance at the sky, it became known that it was filled with strange creatures.

Run, hide, fight, something! Nelnya's voice rang in Vondell's head. They mean to kill us.

The bard grabbed Tristan by the arm and pulled him behind a bush. And not too soon either, because looking where they had just been standing, there was now a pile of scorched grass. Von made sure the blind man couldn't be seen in the bush, and jumped out, pulling his tri-bladed dagger out in the process.

Wait, a dagger isn't good for aireal attacks. Putting his dagger away, Vondell pulled out his bow and notched it with an arrow. The creature that had charred teh grass now swooped at him. Von dodged with a nice handless frontflip, and aimed his bow and shot. All in one fluid movement. The arrow hit the master in the neck making him fall to the ground.

The beast screamed in rage and wheeled around to face Von. But before it got very far, it found a nice arrow in it's head right between the eyes. The head had made an easy target, coming right at him like it had been. The creature fell, and skidded on the ground, stopping at his feet.

One down, a million more to go it seemed. Von didn't have time to count how many were still in the air. He ran back to Tristan and hissed at him to stay where he was, and went off towards the group that had been standing around talking earlier. Now they were in their own battle against these wyers and riders. And a number of beaste and rider bodies lay scattered on the ground.

He figured he had a better chance of fighting next to this group of miscreants than on his own...

_________________

(}--{)Imagination Inspires Ideas -Zandain(}--{)
Married Cloud Strife 9/17/08

Despite the fact that he did have one working wing (or maybe because of it) the ground below him was getting closer with an alarming speed. He opened his wounded wing as far as he could, trying his best to ignore the pain. The wing held, barely, just long enough for him to hit the ground and tumble unceremoniously along the dirt. He cae to a stop on his bnack, his limbs spred eagle (he didn't find the pun so funny) A woman, looking over her shoulder, asked him how he was.

He sprung to his feet, shifting to human. "Fine" He muttered through the remains of a beak. "Dandy, peachy, a-okay, great, the kind of feeling you get when you're being chased by giant flying bas-"

He stopped his angry rambling as he glanced at the sky. A wyvern hung there, motionless. Kith couldn't help but blink in amazment. Then a man, the one who said he was a druid, lept up and killed both the wyvern and his rider.

Ah... aren`t those clouds nice? Far more nicer than you ugly piece of rothe dung... I wonder should I rejoin the battle or just let them deal with it? They might take me for dead, everyone, but the victors might scavenge the corpses and that would bode well with me.

Well I suppose I should make sure I am on the side of the victors...

Xarw thought to himself as he laid on the waterline next to the dead wyvern, facing the skies and the clouds above him. Xarw took his time to recuperate as he knew, that he would be of no use in combat exhausted despite the need of his aid, but he for one did not care for the casualties. He quietly moved his fingers, then hands and legs in order to be sure nothing was broken because he could feel the whole of his body aching from the crash. Xarw, feeling the handle of his sword, stumbled up yet leaned against the wyverns carcass for cover.

His sharp eyes surveyed the battlefield for a chance to spring upon an unsuspecting foe all tough it might prove difficult with enemies still hovering around in the air. Such nuisances might try to intercept his dash and force him to back out of his attempt to attack an opponents blind spot. Unfortunately he had abandoned his crossbow further onto the beach, near the line of the beach and grass. Well no use crying about it, he would have to make a run for it. His weary feet sprang into movement and soon enough he was already on the dry sand, trying to reach his bow lying ten feet away.

At that instant a beast lunged from the skies after him, reaching for his back with it`s talons and there by glancing behind his shoulder Xarw could see a greedy smile on the riders face. Typical human, always so certain, that when they hold the upper hand they are going to win. Yet the threat was still eminent and Xarw made a daring maneuver, he lunged and turned, landing right on his back. As the wyvern swooped over him, he made a wild slash with his sword into the vulnerable under belly of the wyvern. The impact was far more ineffective despite the serious wound he inflicted upon the wyvern as the motion of the wyvern twisted the sword from his hand. To top this one of the wyverns talons cut a wound across his left shoulder making him curse into pain about something unearthly.

Xarw laid on the ground grinning for a while, but knew, that the rider was not going to give up. The wyvern might be done for or at least taken out for a while, if it managed to stop it`s guts spilling to the ground. Then there it was, the sound of footsteps trampling on the sand and approaching menacingly quickly. Xarw sprung up and managed to barely block an attack towards his left shoulder with his right hand, which now held a dagger, that he had hid away. Coming face to face with his opponent, Xarw stared the man in his eyes, which clearly inflicted fear on the man and made him wonder what kind of a foe he was up against. He wouldn`t have to worry about that any longer.

Xarw used his dagger to force the opponents sword aside whilst forcing his left hand to move, grabbing a throwing dart. Both of the opponents took distance from their opponents, but soon clashed again. This time Xarw did not try to protect himself with his weapons, he suddenly spun aside and allowed his cloak to get in the way of the sword. It was enough to entangle the sword for a moment as it ripped the cloak from Xarw`s shoulders, but it was all that the drow needed to strike. He threw the dart at the raised left hand of the rider, which nicely pierced it and to finish up Xarw delivered his dagger into the throat of the rider. The man struggled for a while, but finally fell down as Xarw pulled his dagger free and hid it in his sleeve before rushing to grab his sword.

Now that his left hand was useless and the rest of his body aching like hell already, Xarw grinned as he did not like how his `companions` were not doing their share as he had hoped.

_________________

Let him curse my name
On these blood stained pages of misery
Let him call me a tyrant so cruel
Let him curse my name, but remember the truth!

Gramsil had not been idle. The first, perhaps, to realize this was a wyvern that had attempted to set his broad back on fire from behind. The beast's rider had lingered too long to ensure Gramsil's demise, causing him to meet his own untimely death with one fling of a palm sapling, alight and crudely sharpened to form a massive javelin. The second creature which attacked received two blows in rapid succession, the first shredding one wing and the next removing its head.
From then on Gramsil had played a game of follow-the-leader, in which riders and their mounts attacked softer, squishier humans while Gramsil tried desperately to block their attempts. Things were not looking good at all. The god-man was down on his knees, his magic sputtering, while that oddly-dressed magic-user had crashed face-first into a tree and now lay unconscious. The soldiers were not stupid. One now directed his wyvern in a dive straight for the young girl Merrin, who had only a thin sword to protect herself with. Instinctively Gramsil lunged, breaking into a lumbering run to throw himself between the two. Brace your feet! Not going to- CRUNCH. Flesh yielded to stone, but the giant found himself shoved violently backwards with the impact. His feet gouged the earth, and a palm snapped against his back. I have you. The creature's mouth gaped to spew fire, and Gramsil slashed from both directions with bloody yet razor-sharp claws, shearing the monstrous head from its body. Too close.

Her shoulder continued to ache and cry in pain as Jeniya tried to steady a shaking crossbow at a swooping wyvern. She fired and missed her market. Instead of hitting the throat of the beast, it only grazed its shoulder. She swore as she dived out of the wyvern's path...only to land on her injured shoulder. Wow, that was really smart , as she felt the shoulder protest in agony. As quick as possible, she strapped her crossbow on her back. No need to waste bolts on targets she couldn't aim at. Instead she unsheathed one of her swords. Not very helpful without its twin but she couldn't see how much help it would serve when any movement of her left shoulder was painful. She quickly examined its condition through her magic. Judging the amount of marrow that flowed from it, she probably fractured it. Minorly but she wouldn't use it to the extent that she would have use it.

The wyvern turned to make another pass at her. She tried to figure out if it wanted to try to slash at her or make a fire breath run. Neither of which was good seeing as she couldn't shoot it out of the sky. Nor could she climb up the houses. That would require two functional arms. Fantastic, she though. Can't imagine a better situation to be in. She could run like she had always done in the past. But while she could outrun her enemies in her past world and Elementals, she wasn't willing to bet on running away from a flying angry beast who could breathe fire. And that was just the wyvern. She nearly overlooked the fact that it carried a six foot armoured man who probably saw scores of wars and battles and lacked any sense of mercy. Who was carrying a five foot sword and knew how to use it. Well. Jeniya knew hundreds of attack styles against heavily armoured enemies. Only once again, it required two functional arms.

She held the sword in her normal ready pose as the wyvern dived down. Her eyes flashed murderously as she reached into her magic. Rarely she did this but now she couldn't see any alternative. She felt the blood flowing through the wyvern, into the heart and out of it, flowing like an endless river. She reached out further into her magic and stopped the river of blood like a dam near the heart. The heart, human or wyvern, needed blood to carry the oxygen or else, it would die. Just like the wyvern did. It screeched and squawked as it twisted and jerked in midair before it fell into a dead heap of flesh, wings, and bones. The rider somewhere crushed, dead in the middle of that heap.

Jeniya dropped her sword as she leaned forward, clenching her legs and breathing deeply. Her body ached in every direction and to make matters worse, her shoulder was still hurt.

_________________

I was cured all right.

Well, a sword was definitely better than a rock, regardless of how purportedly enchanted it was supposed to be. Alanna bent, catching the swept Eastern blade by its hilt before it could hit the ground. Now if only the man weren't so frakking patronizing.

As the dragon... thing... streaked back for round two, the engineer got a better look at it. If she had ever seen a more vicious, focused predator, then she certainly couldn't remember it. This thing meant business. And soon.

Flames erupted from the man's activated device, singeing an explosion in false red across Alanna's retinas. And it was hot. She reeled backwards, turning to protect her opened back from the heat, when it stopped and a wall blossomed smoothly between them and the attacker. Still dealing with the aftereffects of the flame, she was barely able to see, but it looked like he had some sort of ... shield projector? .... around his wrist. Definitely science fiction. Or the future. There were no force shields in Alanna's time.

She wasn't quite sure what happened next, but somehow, as the shield dropped and he picked up his stick and pointed it at the attacking beast, she was bringing her scimitar up. The thing crashed to the ground, its momentum still carrying it forward, its head skidding right past her - into him.

And in a move that she had ingrained into her muscles by a thousand repeats, Alanna Yeh spun, whipping the blade over her head and diagonally down into the thick, scaled neck.

Black blood sizzled out of the gaping wound, steaming as it hit the earth, and the creature's lower body began convulsing. Tearing the framelock knife from her belt, she snapped it open, one-handed, and plunged it into one of the beast's eyes, with the full weight of her body behind it. She must have penetrated the brain, because the thing jerked once more, then was still.

Alanna must have stood there for a full minute, just breathing and trying, unsuccessfully, to stop her muscles from trembling. She might have faced bigger creatures before, but always with a team of four or five.

The faintest moan, sounding like it was trying to be stifled, broke into her thoughts. Seven sisters, it was the man - who, having argued with her, saved her, and then almost scorched her, was now lying at the base of the considerably abused tree. She loosed the sword from the dragon's neck and walked over to him, kneeling at his side.

"Hey." Alanna stopped, awkwardly. It wasn't any good asking if he was all right. He wasn't. "Hey," she tried again, waiting for his eyes, glassy with pain, to focus on her. When they did, she wished they hadn't - they were far too penetrating for her liking. She fumbled for a slim pouch in her pocket. "I'm Alanna," she told him, and slapped a sedation patch on his neck. Within seconds, his eyes had rolled up in his head, and he was out cold.

His problem was fairly obvious. One of his legs was bent in a way that legs normally were not, and she was willing to bet whatever you liked that most of his ribs and at least one of his clavicles were broken. Getting up, she set the leg straight, then pulled another patch from her pouch and stuck it on the opposite side of his neck. It shrunk slightly as it released its nanobots into his bloodstream. He'd wake up when they'd finished their work of rebuilding his bones.

A shadow passed over the sun. Alanna looked up into wings and grabbed for the sword.

"Frak."

_________________


<center>Nothing but the Rain</center>

(I will be sure to post tonight, but I have to make some banners for people and continue to organize Return of the Rings: Beyond the Movies first.)

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<center>

Raign watched in ill-disguised astonishment as one of her fellow combatants managed to single-handedly send a wyvern crashing to earth, bending trees in its wake and hitting with enough force to create a small earthquake. She was already backing up as it thundered to the ground, keenly aware that the margin of difference between where she was standing and where the huge beast was sprawled was much too small for comfort.

Not fast enough. Even as she hastily made the space between them greater, Raign caught a faint, blurry glimpse of a woman she recognized, plunging her blade into the wyvern's neck in what was unmistakably a death stroke. It was blurry because, as the creature thrashed in its brief final throes, its spiked tail whipped halfway around the perimeter of the clearing, decimating trees and slamming, full force, into Raign.

Unbelievable pain exploded in her side and multiplied threefold, tenfold, as she hit the ground. Raign rolled over, fully expecting another attack, and prepared to stagger upright in a feeble attempt to evade; but the wyvern was dead, one eye a mass of blood and the other glazed. She gulped air, gasping as the pain in her side flared near unbearably. Wings shadowed against the ground in what was now the most sinister shadow she'd ever seen, and, willing her knees not to buckle, Raign stumbled upright and cast about in a panic for her scimitar.

In pressing a hand to her tunic, it came away wet with blood. Raign gritted her teeth, black splotches swimming in front of her vision, and staggered across the clearing. Her hand was just closing on the hilt of her scimitar when the earth shook again.

She turned, very slowly, blade dangling from her fingers limply and uselessly. The wyvern's crimson eye scanned her briefly, greedily, and then its rider urged the best forward. Raign smelled the acrid stink of its breath and forced herself to stand motionless, unflinching, staring up at the open blood-red maw about to descend on her. Just a little further...come on, now... it lunged forward and she flung her blade at the space between its upflung wings, where the rider sat.

She registered only his scream of pain, and then flung herself backward and sideways in the split second of the wyvern's distraction that followed. Once safely a few feet into the trees and out of any direct lines of fire, she collapsed to her knees, and concentrated with all her remaining energy on not blacking out. Blood seeped from between her fingers where she pressed them to a ragged series of deep gashes, inflicted by the spikes on the now-dead wyvern's tail. Think, Raign! THINK! her mind was demanding, but her body wanted nothing more than to lapse into blissful unconsciousness. I hope I get my scimitar back, she thought dimly. I wonder if Valtair's worried yet.

Her body won.

_________________

Ruth Ann remained fortunate to not be hurt as severly as she should have been, one of the main reasons being the diversion from the actual fighting. After taking down three Wyverns and almost being killed by one of them a multiple about of times, Ruth Ann decided to take a run for the beach so hopefully the protection of the others would come in handy.

Running through the woods, she was still unable to get the Wyvern off of her tail. She zigzagged through the forest to dodge the firey trail coming from its mouth. Catching sight of the beach and feeling the presence of the Wyvern coming closer, Ruth Ann jolted forward, turned around, and shot an arrow right into the chest of the Wyvern.

Screeching from pain, the Wyvern ascended at a glance and then dramatically fell out of the sky and onto the ground about 15 feet past Ruth Ann. The rider climbed off and examined his ride. Once determining the status of life, the rider turned around to fight but soon fell back from another arrow lodging itself in his throat.

Ruth Ann smiled with joy for a moment before she noticed everyone laying on the ground. It took a few seconds to comprehend, but seeing the Wyvern riders attacking a small group including what appeared to include a girl and a wizard, Ruth Ann snapped out of her trance and ran over, bow and arrow in hand.

----------------------------------------

"14 for 14.." Kira laughed to herself as she flew as a bonfire in the sky towards the next Wyvern. She had been having a blast knocking each of them down one by one, but it seemed the Wyverns riders were getting smarter. At first, they thought she was just the fire coming from the Wyverns' mouths. Then, it appeared, they were just astonished that someone could turn into flame. Now, they formed a coorelation in order to take down Kira. It didn't matter to Kira either way; she would just have to match their wits.

Flying in a stagnant place, Kira scoped her area to spot a good 6 Wyverns collecting together and heading towards her. When the first one came past, she diverged out of the way and burnt the hair of the right side of the Wyvern. The second, third, and fourth soon flew by, and the fifth and sixth turned around to designate another gathering place in order to think of a new method of attack.

Loafing in the air while waiting for another run through by the Wyverns, Kira glanced about to make sure all of the unfortunate people without fire power were having as grand of a time as she was. To her disbelief, it did not appear to be so. Flying down, Kira laughed beside Devarion and dosed the flames. "Are you ok?" Kira yelled in Deviaron's face and knelt down to check his heartbeat.

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<center>

"Oh dear," was all Denaris Erydera could manage as he stared into the waters of the scrying bowl. What he'd once thought of as an amusing diversion was rapidly spiraling in the opposite direction. With a flick of his wrist, he directed the view in the basin to enlarge until it encompassed the entire island. Tiny figures darted about like ants, lunging with their pointy sticks or blasting fireworks from their fingers. Black scaled bodies lay twisted upon the ground. Far too many of those for his liking.

Drawing back wouldn't be much too embarassing. This patrol of wyvern-riders was exactly that - a patrol. They were accustomed to finding this isle, with its humble inhabitants, fairly docile. If they encountered something suspicious, they were trained to attack, take prisoners, and wing them back to the capital for questioning. No questions asked.

He counted six wyverns and riders still spiraling in the air, as though uncertain. As he watched, one aggressive unit swooped. The speed of its descent took his breath away. Surely this one would strike a fatal blow? Then, to his thinly veiled shock, it spasmed in midflight and plummeted to the ground. Five wyverns and riders now. With a cough, Denaris drew away and turned to Lord Raen. "It seems we've run into a bit of a... ah... situation. I don't suppose a quiet retreat would be in your vocabulary?"

-----

"Good to hear it," Ryairon replied at Kith. She bent down to retrieve her sword.

It didn't work. Throbbing pain stabbed across her back. Swearing under bated breath, she sank to her knees and threw an arm over her shoulder to gingerly poke the spot between her shoulders. Curse it, that hurt. Bracing her knees against the sand, she slowly reached for her sword and buckled it on. Now for her bow. Eyeing it, she knee-walked over to grab it.

Only after she'd slung it over her shoulder did she realize that, in all three minutes of poking her back and crawling around, she wasn't dead yet. That is, no enemy had taken advantage of her vulnerable position to plunge down and fry her.

A bird chirped in the treetops. An insect floated lazy circles around her head. Soon, the drone of a million more insects joined it.

The wyvern-riders were gone.

She raised herself to her feet and shot a quick glance behind her. Nothing swooped down to topple her over. No black shadows smeared the twilight. Unmoving wyverns lay steaming on the beach. A cleared area smoked where trees, now burnt to crisps, had once fringed the jungle. The others - her companions now, she supposed - stumbled into and out from the flattened underbrush. In the heat of the battle, most of them had filtered toward the beach where the wyverns' fire held less devastating effect. They looked alive, albeit battered and a tad disgruntled.

Cries from behind spun her around, sword halfway raised. But it was only the villagers, shouting and flapping their arms at something in the water. Her gaze followed their gesticulations and landed solidly on a cluster of canoes anchored to the dock. Her brows drew together. The villagers yelled more loudly. They jabbed their fingers first at the canoes, then at a point in the distant horizon. The direction to mainland? About time.

Her back still throbbed - the bruise must be magnificent indeed. A swift glance at her companions, though, told her that her that she'd been incredibly lucky. The shapeshifter, now human again, looked all right, as did Devarion. She passed them both on her way to the trees, where the man with the staff lay sprawled on his back, his bones contorted at awkward angles, but he was already taken care of by a black-haired woman.

Slashing aside a burnt tangle of vines, Ryairon navigated deeper until she nearly tripped over a comatose figure. By the braid, she recognized her as Raign Terhin. The woman's hand pressed against a blossom of red on her tunic. Ryairon gently lifted it aside and inspected the gashes underneath, visible through the torn fabric. She tore a strip from the tattered hem of her cloak and applied pressure to the wounds while she fished around for - ah. She found a short roll of bandages, which she carried in a pouch at her belt for situations like this.

Raign stirred and moaned something unintelligible. "You fool," Ryairon said, making small talk as she uncorked her canteen and dribbled water around the gashes. "You almost got yourself killed. Try being more careful next time. I don't have that many of these, you know." She held up the bandages and ripped off a strip. "This might hurt. I apologize in advance."

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Vincent had easily finnished off the wyvernless rider. It was an easy job. A few blocks, and then a killing stab to the heart. Well, that was easy enough but what about the rest of the wyvern... looking up, he noticed there were hardly any left.

Now he made a note to check on his 'companions'. Many were wounded and in bad shape. Then the other magic user, Devarion, asked if anyone other mages could lend him their power.

Vincent picked up his staff, and slowly came over to the mage with the glaive. He carefully stepped around the many littered bodies of the wyverns and their riders.
"May I ask what you mean to do first?" Vincent asked...

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(}--{)Imagination Inspires Ideas -Zandain(}--{)
Married Cloud Strife 9/17/08

As Xarw finally reached his destination and grasped his crossbow with a vengeance in mind for the throbbing on his shoulder not to mention the aching of his whole body. Yet as he turned his bow to face the pesky wyvern riders they were no longer there and had seemingly retreated as there had been many more than the corpses laying around. Xarw sighed and sat down, the battle would have gone on for quite sometime had the attackers not retreated yet there were no guarentee`s they wouldn`t return in larger numbers.

He swung his crossbow on his back and sheathed his sword before opening a small pouch on his belt containing various salves and medical supplies, he didn`t guess, that the gifts of his god did not work in this world nor did he even dare try. He had been a rather uncanny worshiper yet somewhat faithful considering it was a part of his cover up and he couldn`t have afford to blow his chance. Xarw grinned as he used a salve on the wound making it burn like hell, but at least it would keep it clean and the bandages would protect it from further bleeding. Because of his armor he had to remove a part of it, completely revealing his left hand and shoulder whilst he wrapped the bandages around it.

As one of the villagers stared in quiet amazed and shock at his dark skin, he simply threw a look at him with enough intent to kill about it, that the man immediately looked away. After patching himself up and putting the part of his armor back on, Xarw headed for the canoes, unopposed. He walked up to one and immediately began inspecting it for any signs of foul play, he wasn`t very fond of the idea of his vessel going to the bottom in the middle of the ocean. However just as he suspected, the villagers hardly had anytime to do anything so foolish and they seemed intimidated enough by the strangers to give them these canoes.

Xarw gazed at the rest of the combatants on the beach and wondered how in the name of Mask, he would be able to continue to associate with these people as they would surely be targeted and whether he was better off on his own, trying to discover a way back? Yet my exiting the group might make him miss any important clues about a possible solution, he would have to bear this group for a while now.

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Let him curse my name
On these blood stained pages of misery
Let him call me a tyrant so cruel
Let him curse my name, but remember the truth!