A soft wind blew across the night, smaller branches swaying from the breeze. The air felt cool, fresh and it was welcomed by a traveling warrior. His footsteps could be heard crunching with the dirt under his feet as he followed a road along with the sound of his armor shifting and his weapon and shield tapping his armor as each step was casually taken.

His hair sometimes picked up with the wind, but it never blocked his vision, as it wasn't long enough to do so. The blue-eyed man took a deep breath, as if he hadn't taken one in a while and then let it out with a large exhale. He turned his head to each side, glancing at his surroundings and taking note of the area around him. Besides the light from the whole moon dimly lighting the road, it was completely dark.

On a normal day, he'd have set up his bedding and taken the rest of the night off, but the peaceful night was something he did not want to waste, and so he stayed on his path down the trail. The only thing that interrupted the peaceful silence of the night was his armor and the occasional howl in the distance. The armored person did not fear these howls and continued on his calming walk, occasionally taking a deep breath when the want arised.

'I'm always dying in myself'.

Aldrion, a name which means "Sacrificial" in his land, trudged through the peculiarly darkened forest, his feet hefty weights below his knees. His armor felt like it weighed him down, a feeling he hadn't felt since squirehood. His nerves were plagued and his breathing was hefty, as he sauntered onward, ever deeper into the wood. He dared not look behind him for fear of longing, fear that his compassion would simmer to boil and a heartsick feeling would cascade over him. He couldn't bear the thoughts that came over him, his memories running rampant, playing over and over again in his head the horrid things he'd done in the name of survival. His sword had bathed in the blood of enemies that used to be friends, and his blood continued to allow him to live. It was a sick comedy of the Ancients, staged all for him to participate in. He couldn't allow himself to be slain by his friends; they didn't understand.

His footsteps imprinted the soil, ever ceaselessly they moved forward. His eyes were filled with the surrounding Dark Woods, and he felt delirius in the humid, dead air. He removed his helm, breathed and let the sweat trickle down his face, soaking into his tunic and rolling down his armor, glimmering in what little pale sunlight shown through the treetops. The ground was heavy-ladden with shrubbery, fallen leaves and other grasses. Taking his closed eyes to the leaf-clouded sky, Aldrion inhaled a stagnant air that was still sweet to his lungs. 'Still alive,' he thought. He was certain this forest was the pathway to his afterlife, his meeting with the Ancients coming sooner than expected. But he recalled that skirmish now, the realization of life washing his conscience to easiness.

He smelled the sweat, on both of them. His helm was still on, and it restricted his vision. Good. He couldn't bear to see his friend clearly, to look him, unhindered, in the eyes as his sword destroyed him. Their steel had sang songs of hatred, clashing back and forth, back and forth with no recoil. Firis had a longsword, so he was advantageous in range, but Aldrion was always the better swordsman. Firis was ringing his death bell as he stood, sweat and anger seeping from his being. He had sworn vengeance on Aldrion, one too many times. Vengeance? Aldrion had said. What is it that Firis Rinschild knows of vengeance? Thou dost not even comprehend what he fights for! At this, Firis had fumed, raising his sword and clashing it with Aldrion's. I know it well enough, foul being of the realm! Defiler of maidens and warbringer to his homeland!
More swordplay, more savagery. If thou wouldst only understand Firis! It is not I who has been the demon! Clashes of steel and more rining of sweat. A split lip from the graze of teeth, his black hair pressed against his face, burrowed brow above hateful eyes, aimed at the former friend and captain of his companions. You were trusted! We were betrayed! Thou hast sullen the title of knighthood and deserves none better than the abyss of the Otherworld! Dost thou not know the blight thou art upon our realm? Thou hast transformed me, made me sick in displeasure and hate. Ancients! Just who art thou anymore? There was a pause in their bloodlust, if only for a moment. Swords by their sides, the two men could explain one another, if however vainly.
Firis you know nothing, your cause is allfor naught. I shall be branded with a traitor's mark and have a target painted upon my spine, for that is where the dagger should fall. Your king wishes me buried and gone and forgotten because he cares not of love but only the interest of his coffers! Firis would hear no more, and lunged, embedding himself upon Aldrion's blade. Blood traced down the broadsword's hilt, painted Aldrion's hands like a sin stains the soul. Aldrion's mouth, beneath his helm, was agape in shock. Firis, however, held true, his visage stone. This is what I've come to expect. He faded with a blade run through him. Aldrion let him go, could not stop to bury him. He ran, panting and weeping. Firis was no longer his friend before his passing, and the pain only seared more becaue of this.

He placed his helm atop his head once more, walking, begrudgingly through the underbrush. His right hand rested on his sinner's blade that rested at his hip. He was tired, andhis heart was heavy. But he had to press on. A kingdom of trees surrounded him, and the pale sunlight that bled through the trees did not console him from the deathly atmosphere that emenated from this forest. A trickling breeze seeped through the wood, kissing at his tunic just slightly enough to make it liven the slightest amount. The whispers of the trees filled hs ears. He wasn't content, and he feared he never would be. His heart sank lower in his chest the more he recalled his sins.

He heard laughter, sick malicious laughter that ached in his spine as the ice crawled through it. Aldrion glanced around and saw nothing, nothing but dead air and black trees. It was then that he found himself staring at the treetops, his head throbbing, black fog in his vision, his back against the earth. He blinked, staring at the malicious, black face that hovered over him, a hollow gaping visage that was illustrated with evil design.

And it lunged, intent to kill.

"We have nearly reached our destination! It is only a short distance further to the castle!" Annalise's voice, gentle but strong, rang out over the barren wasteland that used to be her home.

She turned to face her party, her hair a soft, ghostly lavender in the pale moonlight. The lonely breeze rustled through the remains of the broken town and fluttered the tresses of her robe. Save for the footsteps of the few worn townspeople that followed her and the subtle clink of her comrades' armor, the night remained as silent and miserable as those behind her.

"Once we reach Hyrule Castle, we shall be safe from the beasts!" The voice did not waver, but still it could not instill the slightest bit of hope in the battered people. The sound was swallowed like their hope in the vast, tattered ruins of the once bustling town just outside the capital city. The members of Annalise's party consisted of the survivors of a village utterly ravaged by the demonic creatures and what was left of the once numerous guards that had departed with her from Hyrule in hopes of saving as many people as possible. However, where they traveled they found only death and destruction. The broken, half-alive, unarmored wretches that dragged behind them were the only civilians they had managed to find and save before the creatures had devoured or slaughtered the entire population.

Annalise pushed on, her thoughts falling back to the innocents she saw murdered, the friends she watched die… and the faces. The faces of the creatures, demented with a sick pleasure as they drew blood, twisted smiles curling as dagger teeth sank into hearts. The faces of her comrades as they charged into hopeless battle, as they watched their friends fall around them, as they stared in a hopeless pain as armor gave way to flesh and life drained from their bodies. The memories swirled in her mind, the dark, hellish creatures dancing around them, taunting her, mocking her and her vain quest. Her eyes welled up with sorrow and hatred as she quickened her pace and tightened her grip on her staff.

"My Lady! My Lady!" The hoarse, shouting voice ripped Annalise back into the present. "Another! Another approaches from behind us!" Annalise and her five remaining men rushed back to protect the rear, weapons ready. The refugees simply began to fall to their knees. Not a tear was shed, no words spoken. Only pure, raw despair as they accepted their fates. It fell like a heavy blanket over Annalise and her men, and a few faltered, seeming ready to turn and run, or fall to their knees themselves. But they all stood strong. Waiting.

They heard the crackle of splintering wood as the creature's footsteps crushed debris. Not a breath was drawn as they heard it saunter closer and closer, taking its time, creeping slowly toward the worn, easy prey. The men circled around Annalise as her staff began to glow a cloudy ivory and she began to cast. Deep, heavy breaths. They subconsciously matched the rhythm of their own breathing to that of the approaching beast. Then there was the wailing. It came from the survivors lying on the ground. Long, sorrowful, tearless moans as the steady pace continued and steps crescendoed. Red eyes emerged, interrupting the darkness. Closer and closer. Its shadowed figure towered above the group. And it was there.

It hunched forward, mere yards away, revealing itself in the moonlight. Its face remained blacker than the night in which it lurked, yellow fangs bared, misshapen red eyes blazing with hunger and hatred. Jagged spikes jutted out in a trail down its arms. Bent forward, the same trail was vaguely visibly protruding from its spine. Its dark, muscled body wreaked of grime, burned flesh, and blood, and a long, thick tail writhed slowly back and forth along the ground behind it. And suddenly with an ear-splitting, murderous cry it was upon them.

"Summon ice! Shield us!" As Annalise's cry escaped her lips, thick spears of ice burst forth from the ground in front of her allies, slashing the monster as they rose, blocking the full brunt of its assault. However, it was but seconds until yellow claws shattered the shield like a war hammer through glass, the filthy hand reaching out and grasping a swordsman by his worn out armor and tearing into him with the sharp yellowed blades of its teeth. The other four men leaped at the creature, slashing wildly at its thick hide, cutting slight wounds that oozed with blackness.

Annalise grit her teeth and waved her staff again at the creature. "You shall not harm another innocent man foul beast!" The staff's aura shimmered gold. "Light, bind this treacherous demon!" Intricate symbols encased in rings of radiant magical energy materialized around the creature, leaving it trapped and allowing a warrior to drive his sword deep into its arm. It screeched as the others hacked away at it, crying out as they threw all of their strength at their ensnared enemy.

With another determined screech, the creature released a black pulse of energy that disintegrated Annalise's hold over its body. Free to attack again, it launched another soldier high into the air with a sweep of its tail, then drove his claws through his body as he fell back to the earth. His blood-soaked talons struck again, decimating the armor of two more of the attackers. Annalise called upon the familiar element of water, the power coursing through her staff as she focused her energy into creating a healing blast of energy that showered one of the men the creature had just struck down. He rose, armor mangled about him, and charged the beast again, jumping to deliver a powerful slash to the creature's back as it struck down the last standing soldier. It spun around, backhanding the man and sending him flying to Annalise's feet.

"My… lady… you must… escape wi… with the survivors," he managed between shallow breaths as he climbed to his feet.

"I shall not leave you to die here! Occupy its attention for just a small while longer; I shall unleash the very last of my energy upon it! Together we can still defeat this monster!" The warrior charged at the fiend again, and sharp cries of claw against steel rang in the night. Annalise held her staff aloft as the golden light swirled and gathered around it. "I am almost prepared! Stay strong!" As she spoke, the sword flew from her comrade's hands, and he too was cut down before her eyes. The creature charged toward her as her staff grew continuously more luminous in the crushing darkness. "Come forth, vile thing!" As it reached her, its face nearly in her own, teeth seconds from being clamped around her neck, she released a blinding blast of light, burning the creature in a shower of golden energy. "You shall pay for what you have done! Light of Retribution!" The creature's skin burned in the brilliance, sapping its evil energy, making the blood-ridden creature writhe in pain upon the ground, screeching its cries of hatred, cursing the girl and men that lay dead around them, never relenting until its final breath, upon which it finally lay still, and Annalise dropped heavily to her knees, her staff slipping from her grip and falling to ground in front of her, next to the body of the murderer of her last allies.

Move, Ancients damn it! Move! And he did, just as his thoughts commanded him. Aldrion rolled away from the blackened beast, just mere moments from being impaled by its jagged blade of an arm. This one was of curious design: its arms were, in fact, sharp, pointed blades, it hunched over, keeping its jackal-like head always facing its prey. The demon had a tail that seemed to act as a flimsy spear as it lashed out at Aldrion. Horns of a goat's nature protruded from its fiendish head, sharp and deadly, like its every other appendage. Gripping his sword and cursing the loss of his shield, the knight made circles around the terrible monster in preparation for battle. This beast, if it were able to stand straight, would tower above Aldrion by at least to feet. Its body was wider by a great lot as well, making it very imposing, and extremely deadly. It stared with hazy yellow eyes, drooling a sick green liquid from its mouth. Its skin was a faded black, looking as if it were covered in worn armor. And it ginned. That was the worst of it.

Aldrion kept his blade held steady in his left hand, his right hand idle, open, elbow bent so his hand is closer to his body. A black arm swiped, and he jumped backward, stumbling and falling on his back; he had tripped over a root. This seemed to amuse the monster, as it emitted deep, gutteral sounds that Aldrion could only assume was its form of laughter. He stood, shook the shock off and thanked above that he wasn't killed in that small window of opportunity. His back felt compressed now, spine wrenched around from the fall. Damnation! he thought. He continued to circle, continued to think. Thinking was good. He stayed alive that way. Another swing, a clash of blades. Another thought.

The demon jumped, arm bent and coming downward, aiming for the center of Aldrion's skull. Death swooping down to bring an end to this battle. But Aldrion rolled sideways, a simple motion, but very effective at postponing defeat. His own blade came upward, slicing air and nothing more. He looked; the beast was gone. Confusion waded in his mind, and anxiety set his nerves ablaze. A few moments out of sight could make or break a skirmish. But this thing was crafty, he knew. He knew by the way it smiled at him, how it winked before it vanished. Aldrion looked around and around again, not seeing anything. A rain of green leaves from above covered him. The trees above shook with fury. The monster was doing this on purpose, drowning his ears with noie to make it hard to locate. It was a fantastic tactic, and Aldrion was falling victim. He could only back away, keeping his eyes to the tree tops.

It crashed down, out of nowhere, further away from the shower of leaves it had initiated. It was a great strategy, raining confusion before raining death. Aldrion had to move quickly in order to avoid being crushed. But it wasn't enough to stop the monster from piercing his chest. There was a pause, then a sharp tug. The right side of his chest bled, a hole spilling crimson and staining his tunic. Aldrion hadn't so much as scratched the beast yet, and already he was facing demise. He swung ferociously but collected. The beast backed away and chuckled. Aldrion then hardened his gaze, and came to peace with himself.

He lunged, plunging the blade into the beast's gut. He then sliced its skin, allowing it to bleed a sickly black ooze. This angered the demon, as it knocked Alrdion away with a blunt portion of its bladed arm. The demon disappeared again, howling into the wood. It faded, and Aldrion watched, hazily, as a pathway of leaves led deeper into the forest. The monster retreated, leaving Aldrion to die on the forest floor.

He stood and shambled toward daylight, a breaking in the trees ahead showed him the way out. He was weary. Taking his blade, Alrdrion stripped some leather from his bedroll, stretched it, and pressed it against his wound. He would keep walking; he'd faced this sort of dilemma before. He estimated he had half a day to find help. Otherwise, he would surely fade, wither, and become no more.

As he cleared the forest, he looked about and saw nothing but fields and hills. He exhaled, heavily and painfully, as he trudged forward. This was going to be a very awful ordeal indeed.

The warrior, who was fairly certain that these wolves were surveying him from a distance, kept hoping (however foolish it might seem) that they would not turn aggressive. It wasn't as if he dislike battling with monsters, but this was an unusually peaceful night so far, and why ruin it with meaningless violence? But alas, it was not to be; a abnormally large wolf-like creature emerged from the darkness on a sprint on all fours towards the man.

"I guess it can't be helped..." he mumbled as he drew sword and shield.

It would appear Raze's observation that this...thing...was just simply an huge wolf. As it closed nearer, eliminating any distance between him and the beast, he began making out a few more features of the beast, one of which was longer legs. This meant that it could stand up, eliminating 'wolf' from his list of known foes it could possibly be.

The monstrosity before him seemed to grow as it came out of its four-legged sprint and into an upper-cut attack with its massive claws on only its two back feet. Aleph blocked this by blacing his shield before him, but even still, he was lifted into the air by a foot as he flew back. It would be unwise to allow this creature to pummel him like this, so he'd need to claim an evasive posture and counter-strike when the opportunity presented himself. Unrelenting, the towering foe, which stood about two feet taller than Raze did, swung with it's right claw in a horizontal fashion, as if to cleave off the man's unprotected head. Banton gifted him with nothing but a slash with his blade as he ducked under the forceful attack.

*ROAR*

A booming sound escaped from the thing, but it didn't appear too injured. In fact, it pretty much brushed the cut off, though in comparison to normal foes, this one looked a lot bigger, so it might've been a smaller cut. Blood dripped from the small wound, yet Raze saw a lack of interest in the wound when his eye met upon the creature's crimson eyes. They were focused on him, or the kill. Either way, another attack was attempted in the form of a kick, actually.

This kick was unexpected, though Raze instinctively blocked it. However, he was yet again sent back, down a smaller drop on the road, causing him to fall and accidently discard his shield. The beast moved up, his black fur stained red in the small area he took a hit from the warrior, and began to crouch. Raze knew what was next if he didn't move. This thing was more weight that he could handle and if it pounced on him, this fight would be over as well as Raze's life. That was not an option, he had survived so many other things before and he would be damned if a werewolf was the one beast to do him in. Propping himself back and timing a hop, he managed to better wound this monster as it went for the fatal pounce. It dove, arms outstretched for the warrior's throat as it pushed itself towards him. Aleph's small hop back wards while his blade was aimed towards

A blade entered the beast's juggular, or the area around it. The lack of a decent amount of light made it harder to tell, but it did enter the throat of the gigantic foe and caused it much pain. While surely a killshot, the beast was fumbling around and ferally lashing out all around him and occasionally gripping his neck. These actions indicated intense pain, but he wasn't dying...yet. The culprit of this was his blade, which was not fully impaled into the neck of this near-dead creature. He would have to change that.

Raze, after pushing himself away from the rocky floor and standing up, ran over and tried to further shove the blade into the airway. However, he was entrusted with a mind rattling blow to the head courtesy of the creature and nearly lost conciousness. That plan didn't work. But then again, the sword wasn't lodged somewhere he could easily reach with his hands. It would be best if he had something to knock it it. His eyes turned to his shield, which was still lying on the dark floor, only visible from here due to light reflecting off it from the moon.

With the subtleness of a honey-badger tearing a cobra apart, he ran towards the item with a short burst of speed and hastily grabbed his shield. He was now ready to end this extremely displeasant meeting with a werewolf. The wolf, still occasionally yelping, was trying to remove the blade, but ultimately failing. Its claws would only nudge the blade further in or cause it pain at the angle it was lodged, so it would be unable to remove the foreign object alone. Raze would remedy that. He made one, final sprint towards the monstrosity before him, taking care to line up a perfect hit. When he had closed the small distance between them, he jumped, shield before him in a ramming manner with the intent on pushing the blade further into the beasts throat. The creature, as if just remembering Aleph, looked down at the worst possible time for himself and the shield charge did its job.

*ARRRGHHHHH!*

The beast's pitiful cries of pain were not lacking in the feeling that should accompany such a thing. Blood escaped from the wound in gallons, it seemed. There was no way this wasn't going to end it. Raze won this battle unscathed, and was about to just laugh, if no other reason than because he was happy he wasn't made wolf food.....

*BAM*

One final attack in the form of a backhand to Raze's head was his reward for the feat, sending him back and almost doing back flips. When he hit the ground, his vision blurred and blackened. The last thing he saw before slipping away was the creature falling backwards, and bleeding out.