Clock is ticking while I'm killing time Spinning all around nothing else they can do to turn it back Breaking partnership in this crime Ripping up the past, condescending smile Time to forget The fall of my truth Time to forget Our ways of our truth

Lacuna Coil - Our Truth Under normal circumstances Cieara might have shown more caution. However that prudence was lost for the moment while the surging of fury clouded her often more reasonable thoughts. She had found two opposing scouts roaming about the parameter of that invisible line. Crimson shot emerald eyes narrowed as she watched them for a moment. Had she paid just a little more attention she would have detected the ones following, seeking a way around to flank the nearest DeAuster camp. One dropped swiftly, caught by the thrown dagger, Vestia restraining her scream until impact and then it was a low cry of delight that rang through the dense forest.

Methodical and coldly Cieara reacted, stepping nimbly from the shadow provided by the thick trunk of a larger tree the very moment the second scout swung about, unleashing an arrow that flew wild as two silver stars were embedded into his throat. Only to realize seconds later that worse trouble was heading her way. Hand stretching outward, ripping the dagger free with her will, the ensanguined blade was soon back in her half gloved fingers as her gaze narrowed faintly. Sharp pointed ears catching the sound of leaves and twigs under many moving feet and the volume of sound alerting her to the number being more then she had planned for.

This was the moment she should have stepped back into shadows but taking that extra second to listen, her auburn head tilted slightly in that direction. She never saw the bolt, until it slammed into her shoulder, throwing her forward with a muffled growl as she landed in a roll upon the rough, foliage laden ground and found her knees. Pain radiated from it, and as fingers rose to touch it she hissed furiously. Bloody blessed it was and made it near impossible to rip free.

Rapid thought had her drawing for a handkerchief, pulling it from a pocket and using that she managed to snap the tip, and send it sailing off with a clattering against tree trunks and stone. Cieara muttered a harsh Elven curse before straining to pull the rest of the shaft free, feeling the instant relief of that near searing agony. She stumbled towards the nearest pooling of shadows, aware she couldn't step into them, but planned to use it as cover while she sought to deal with the aggravated damage that holy tainted weapon had created.

It wasn't hard finding the tent of the commander of the camp, the site being laid out in typical Northras fashion of the leader's tent in the center and the rest spreading outward. A quick question to one of the barbarians brought a bit of a smile, as the commander on hand was Falki Ulfirson, one of the Black Tiger tribe with whom Daniel had fought alongside in the past. Falki was seated at the low fire in front of his tent, and came to his feet to welcome Daniel with a bear hug that took the half-elf off his feet.

"Daniel lad! Now this be a surprise! I nae expected to see both the master's children this night." The barbarian set Daniel back to his feet with a low rumble of laughter, looking Daniel over with a critical eye. "And here I thought ye to be living it high in the city."

"If only." Daniel said with a shaking of his head. "Falki, you said both..Cieara's been through here?" He silently thanked the 'sibling telepathy", as the Scathachian leader Isuelt had dubbed it, as the larger Northras nodded.

"Aye, she came through here not fifteen minutes ago. Said she be scouting the lines for ye father." It made sense to Daniel, for she would have let the barbarians know where she would be. His next question died in a sharp gasp as pain bloomed in his left shoulder, the power of which sent him staggering forward into the steadying hands of Falki. "Lad, what be wrong?"

Daniel reached out and back, expecting to find a wound, but the silk shirt he had donned was whole. "Cie'she be hurt?" Grimacing, he straightened and looked into the darkness, letting his connection to her open as much as it could. "Sa-khan, ready your men?"Rotating his shoulder to drive back the ache there, Daniel glanced back to Falki. "The enemy is coming.?

A curt nod was the only reply, the Northras spinning and starting to shout the camp awake. Ignoring the sudden frenzy around him Daniel stepped into the shadows, seeking his sister along the Weave.

I want to resist - But I can't hold it back The beast is unleashed - It's got to attack Again and again the force is too strong It's breaching the chains Accept " The Beast Inside Pain...anger"the red mist of glee as blood was spilled"These emotions drew him along the murky threads of the Shadow-Weave. Travel among the myriad twisting ways was child's play, the young man almost seeming to float in place as he let himself flow through a dim mirror of the real world, the distance of nearly a league as short as that of a few steps. Hulking tree's made for a way back into the real, Daniel stepping from its shadow as one would a doorway into the thick of the fray. The first impression was Cieara dancing among two who sought to close, wielding a hissing whip as though it was an organic extension of her body and will. To his right another was falling, clutching at the ruin of his throat. And to the rear?"Behind ye Daniel!? The warning sent him spinning around, in time to see the leveled crossbow. The twang was deafening even in the din of battle, and for those few seconds, time seemed to slow. Daniel ducked away, to himself seeming to move as though caught in molasses, his right shoulder dipping down and away from the speeding bolt, but not fast enough. Silk parted under the kiss of metal, a line of blood appearing as the bolt grazed his shoulder and passed onward to whistle by Cieara's ear and embed itself in a tree behind. A bare hand flew upward to clasp his shoulder, as even the barest touch of the bolt had sent pain flowing over his entire arm, nerves tingling from the alien and deadly power there. Hissing in rage Daniel turned back toward the cleric, who had reached for his belt to grab another of the cursed bolts. He never had a chance to load it as Daniel leaped forward, his right forearm catching the heavier man under the chin and driving his head back into the tree the cleric had been using as a back guard. His skull met the bark with a hard thud, and the cleric dropped to the ground, stunned. A quick glance to his shoulder, and the sight of the blood running free despite his body's attempts to stem the flow, brought the cleric another blow, this one a hard boot to the solar plexus that left him a crumpled heap at Daniel's feet. The pain of that cut, tainted by the holy power used to bless the small arrow, coupled with the pain and battle-lust flowing from Cieara broke down his control, the darker half slipping loose as Daniel spun back to the small clearing and the fight there. Other's were sensed nearby, his lengthening talons ached to feel the flesh of the enemy under them, and fangs flashed as Soroth snarled and charged forward, toward his sister and those she fought against.

The clearing was quickly filling with pressing bodies, the first two that charged Daniel and Cieara were sent flying, the impetus of their own movement used against them with a quick duck. Steel met steel in a hard clash as the next two surged in behind, and Daniel felt the sting of a razor-sharp edge as he took a near hit on the neck, a line of blood forming. "Are you ok, Cie?" The growl was low as they again found themselves back-to-back, protecting one another in the swirling melee.

"Oh, just fine." Cieara's growl sounded similar to his own, a sign her demon was near the surface. Daniel/Soroth hissed in amusement, despite the obvious danger, and sent the one he faced backward with a swipe of his talons, following a circular riposte of his blade. Now, unlike the last few previous times, the two were indeed one, the demons strength backing up the man's training. Reaching back, his hand took hers for a few seconds, an exchange of energies to help her own with the work to heal the wound in her side.

Shouts were heard through the trees, the Northras arriving in the area and following the noise of combat, to join in their own chaotic fashion. The din echoed through the copse as the two sides locked in earnest, and the red glow to his eyes flared as he unconsciously took in the aura of battle around them. "Sounds like this is turning into a right party."

"Yeah, it does!" Cieara replied, her voice rose above the noise, and a glance over her shoulder toward Daniel revealed a smile, sinfully angelic even in the dust and blood of battle. "Care to dance, brathier?"

"Of course, maur sethar!" came the immediate reply, having guessed her intention. With the barbarians drawing off the main press, only a couple came at the two now. Cieara and Daniel stayed pressed back to back, keeping their opponents settled in front of them. Feeling a subtle press on his arm Daniel ducked his shoulder around, and the two spun around. The one Daniel had been fighting had to swiftly sweep his sword around to block the suddenly-lower swipe from Cieara, while the other found himself stepping back from the swipe of claws that would have sliced his face wide open.

Almost immediately the two switched again, keeping the mercenaries off-balance with having to change stance and footing to fight a different-sized DeAuster with every whirl and twist. The dance was pure instinct, Cieara taking the lead as she and Daniel spun in place, the spoke of a circle of clashing steel that was slowly drawing tighter.

Leaves crunched underfoot as he walked over to where Cieara had slumped, tearing the last scraps of the ruined shirt off and tossing it aside as he knelt beside his sister. He also bled from a multitude of cuts and scratches, the worst being the gash in his left shoulder from a lucky sword thrust, but all that was pushed aside as he looked her over. The normally crystalline blue eyes fairly glowed crimson from the amount of emotional power he had absorbed in the fight, and even now it was augmenting his body's natural regenerative abilities.

Pale talons clicked together once as he reached out, taking Cieara's blood-caked hand. Fingers laced together, and the energy flowed, moving through the touch of flesh from him to her, channeling toward those injuries she had sustained, as well as taking in her pain into his own. A soft hiss escaped him, the multitude of fangs flashing as his lips grew back in a muted snarl, and a surge of unholy joy at the thought that those who dared hurt his beloved sister were now in pieces flowed into the threads connecting the two.

"Br"thair, ye shoulder?" A black talon rose to shakily trace the wound, drawing a welt in its wake. The corded muscles tensed at the brief sensation, sharp even against the aches and pains of his other hurts.

"It be no more than ye own, piuthar." He was about to say more, but sharp hearing caught a soft moan from the treeline, and a glance that way reminded him of the initial entry into the skirmish. The smile as he looked back to Cieara held more than a hint of sadistic glee, as did the soft chuckle that came. "A moment, piuthar. I believe a surprise awaits ye."

"What be ye about?" Cieara asked, her fingers slipping from his in another attempt to brush back the tangled mess of hair. His answer was a quick brushing of a toughened fingertip to her lips, and a quick wink as he heaved himself to his feet and started over toward the treeline. He had forgotten about the priest he had knocked senseless at the beginning of the fight, but now, as the fighting moved deeper into the wood, he was beginning to stir, trying to clear the fog that seemed to have descended.

Clarity returned, along with the realization of his position just as a hand closed over the neckline of his leather jerkin and yanked him to his feet. The cleric found himself nose to nose with a snarling Daniel, the young man's features contorted by the demon taking control. While still predominately his own, the elven features were warping, the elegant sloped ears taking a more jagged edge, but the most pronounced were twin horns breaking through the temples, the bony edges almost glittering in the light of the moon and nearby fires.

"Bane preserve!? He cried out, one hand grasping the wrist that held him, the other reaching for the holy symbol that hung around his neck. The mere words help power, forcing Daniel to release him and step back with a growl of pain. The priest stumbled backward, trying to put distance between him and the demonspawn, and grunted in surprise, feeling the trunk of one of the great pines behind him. The suddenness of the stop had him taking his eyes off Daniel for a second, and he missed the sudden movement forward.

It took a couple of seconds to realize pain was radiating from his right shoulder, and more to understand it was coming from where the ornate dagger-hilt was protruding from his shoulder. The cleric's left hand rose to grasp the hilt, only to scream out in agony as his nervous system, having been shocked by the suddenness of the hit, finally registered the full effect of the cleaved flesh and pierced muscles. Pinioned to the tree trunk by Toroth, he could only try to pry the blade from where it had passed completely through his shoulder and into the wood underneath as Daniel stepped back again and looked over toward Cieara.

The monster of hate overcomes rational thought Fast fuse burning the lessons I've been taught It's just too late to remember who I am The things that I believe in and the way that I stand About peace, harmony, respect for fellow man All that shit just got thrown against the fan In my violent rage, they say that I am a criminal There ain't no labels within the human animal In this world of bigotry and pain The violence spreads and terror reigns The opinions in our minds replace our souls As the human animal takes control

Biohazard - Human Animal

"If we do that, br"thair muileach, then we will nae get to enjoy his delicious screams." Her words, so silky in their deliverance despite the rage and fatigue, brought his gaze back around to Cieara. Seeing the crimson glow settling into those deep eyes his smile grew, knowing that her darker half, his sethar deamhan, was joining the game.

"Bannaghtagh y luaidh sethar!" Stepping back from the struggling priest, he moved toward Cieara, his steps feeling heavier than they actually were as he approached. Leaning in, his nostrils flared as he sniffed close by her ear, the soft growl almost like a lion's purr. "Such a wonderful fragrance ye wear this eve." The smirk firmly in place, he circled around behind her as she turned back toward the tree.

"As do ye, m"br"thair." Her movements were more fluid as she tilted her head to look over at him, then back toward the pinioned priest. Snarling, her movement was a blur to the eye, Vestia twirled around lithe fingers before being brought back and hurled toward its target. The bound imp squealed in glee as it was buried deep within the unwounded shoulder of the cleric and joined Torth in beginning to feed from the priest's lifeforce.

"Excellent throw, mo muileach sethar." Snickering softly, the sound almost lost in the moans of pain and blending ominously with the backdrop of the fading battle, he moved past her, closing on the struggling man to inspect the wounds. "Aye, excellent indeed!" He moved to glance back at her, but jerked back as her arm shot out, accompanied by the hard snap of her whip near him. A sickly scream erupted from the priest, whose hand now covered the ruin of his right ear. Most of the lobe lay on the ground between the two, and Daniel looked back toward his sister, who had a most evil smirk.

"I nae believe ye would wish him to have grabbed that necklace. It positively reeks." She nodded toward the pinned man's chest, and the small trinket hanging from a silver chain. Leather-clad fingers closed around the holy symbol and jerked it from around the other's neck, the fine chain snapping in the process. The cleric shouted something, but the words choked off in another scream of pain as his head flew back with another snap of that whip Cieara wielded.

Daniel didn't notice the result of her latest attack, for his attention was focused on his hand, and the pain radiating from it. He clenched the talisman tighter for a few seconds before tossing it aside with a growl of pain and rage. Smoke hovered around the scorched leather, testament of the reaction of blessed metal to his unholy touch, and Cieara's soft snickers only heightened his dark anger. His right hand held by his side, Daniel reached out with his left to grab the cleric's chin and force his gaze around back. Only one shocked eye met his gaze, the socket of the other a bleeding mass, result of the kiss of the whip so skillfully wielded by his sister.

"You bastard?" He began, lips pulling back to bare the mouthful of fangs in a hard snarl. Unintelligable words were drowning out his own, and Daniel reached down, drawing on the dark powers of his heritage. When next he spoke, the tone was lower, the words almost echoing in timbre. "Quiet, little man. Be silent!" Willpower flowed in the words, the calling of the Wierding slamming into the consciousness of the hurt cleric, his babbling trailing off into soft whimpers as he met the narrowed gaze.

"Before I be done with ye, ye will wish to have died in the fight." A half-turn of the head brought Cieara into sight, and again his lips peeled back as he turned his gaze back to his prey. The Wierding flowed again, carrying with it the force of his own pain, and simmering rage. "Prepare for pain??