The Blackblood Shifter | RP |

The gargoyle heard the wood splintering. He was hidden in the small storage house next to the pub. He realised that it was still light out, so he was disappointed. He had seen the beast coming out of the door and it had perked his curiosity. He wanted to know what it was. He raised a stone claw and carefully pushed at the door, taking a look outside. His stoen face cracked into a grin as he noticed how gray it was outside. But more importantly: dark. But he quickly shook his head. It couldn´t be risked. Although...
A few seconds later, a bulky, cloaked figure came out of the storage shed. The clothe completely covered the person. Then Durlace hurried forth, always a carner behind the beast, following it, catching glimpses at it´s facinating form.

 

August had been stricken by fear. He was sitting inside the tavern enjoying a glass of water until that woman had entered. Her presence was off putting for him, so he had grabbed his bow & arrow and decided to hide in one of the nearby barrels in the corner. He could only hear murmers from the woman's conversation with one of the regular drunken hooligans, but he dared not to listen. Shortly afterwards, the muderous chants of the other men of the tavern made one thought cloud his mind; she was a servant of the Dark Lord. The man which he had been searching for, for many months now.

Panic had striken the dear old tavern where the local men would gather. The woman turned out to be a shape-shifter - his only knowledge of this from the gastly growls. Men cried out in pain; screamed in agony; writhed in torture. When the shouts and bellows finally ended along with the heavy breathing of the assumably cat-like creature, and with the being gone, he climbed out from the barrel slowly. Blood had been shed. A lot of it, too, by the splatters and pools of blood. The once dull, brown wood was stained red, which made August feel repulsed and sickened. However, a larger cloaked figure plodded by with heavy footsteps in the same direction of the woman shape-shifter. Preparing his bow for any attacks, he stepped between the remains of the men, and splashed in their blood, before pressing against the door with his hand. It made a faint rusty noise, but it didn't seem to catch the attention of either creatures. He sighed to himself, and with his blood-stained boots, crept after them.​

 

The solemn view was that of what normality had become. Such a quiet and tranquil hill in the forest had become naught but a barren waste. The soil was dry, yearning for the soothing sensation of water to slip between the arid grains. Skeletal trees merely gazed out upon their brethren, listlessly as the minutes passed. Upon this hill sat a lone creature which had become a scarce sight in these woods forever lost in oblivion. The harried breeze caused the white fur upon this creature to dance so slightly. He was a spectral form in this dreary land with nothing but a dark marking upon his head in a shape that was very reminiscent to a crescent moon to distinguish him--to make him stand out as a creature still alive, for too many that had once inhabited the forest had been devoured or left to starve themselves. The unyielding dark eyes of this creature--a wolf--stared out at the woods from atop this lone hill with only those naked trees to accompany him. How long had it been since he had seen one with full foliage--full of life? It felt like too long to him. He used to call this place home, but now deserved no name of the sort. It didn't deserve to be called anything but a byproduct of abusive power. Disappointment filled the soul of this wolf as day after day went by. It was at the point where he was doing a favor to the small woodland creatures he consumed. Nothing was growing. How could they eat? Soon enough, he too would find that there would be nothing for him to eat, and he would starve. Such dour thoughts had become commonplace in a heart once full of hope. Knowing no companionship since a fugitive friend of his took off, he found that he could not reject what things had fallen too, and oh how far they had fallen.

"A true....shame...," the wolf, Erimis, said to himself in the tongue of humans. It was something his old friend had begun teaching him, and he sought to finish that education by sneaking into the nearby village every day and night to spy on conversations. He shook his head as he started hearing some commotion coming from that very village. Standing up, he stretched out his lanky body and turned around to see what was going on. From his vantage point, he couldn't really tell anything. It wasn't until a large beast barged out of the tavern that he realized what was wrong.

"They are....called. Hmm...," he said aloud to himself. He remained calm and collected. He couldn't bring himself to care about the paranoid humans dwelling in the forgotten settlement. They were cruel to him when they saw him around. He was just another hungry wolf to them, on the brink of starvation and out for blood. They chased him away with tools and threw rocks at him. He could understand their reasoning to perfection, but as such, he could feel no emotion towards them. An idea sparked in his head as he remembered what those beast things were called. "Blackblood shifters...the Dark King's minions." The Dark King. The mere mentioning of that title caused Erimis's pulse to race rapidly in anger. An invisible hand squeezed around his soul making him feel helpless. That man...did he even have the right to be called that anymore? He was a monster for turning this world into the disaster zone that it was now. How the mortal soul is tempted by power to such an extent...it sickened Erimis and he sat back down on his hind legs again to watch as the beast escaped the settlement.

Erimis noted something off about the whole deal though. "This doesn't seem like a normal attack." There was only one shifter which was usually enough to take on a settlement like this one, but it went so much faster when there were more of them. There was also the fact that the commotion most likely would have started as soon as the monster entered the settlement, and not ended with it running away. "Hardly any destruction." Erimis watched as the shifter exited his sight, entering the very forsaken woods he was in at the moment. The wolf tilted his head in curiosity as he watched some of the humans from the settlement chase after it. How many of them were there? He couldn't tell easily. His tail swished from side to side against the rough ground causing small dust clouds to billow off into the air. What an interesting turnout this might be...

"Best to just let things unfold. I, for one, am not looking for death," he concluded, keeping his ground. The icy claws would grip around him eventually, but he'd rather lose his very essence of being before his body was rent to shreds by a monster under Xavier's command.

 

Damien Belgrade was leaned up against a wall in a small village. Supposedly, there was excess in it, but if there was, he had not found it. Just because he was part of a thieving guild, that did not mean he had no morals. He was a Robin Hood of sorts; stealing from only those who had excess in this harsh, foreboding land that had come from some catastrophe. People who had more than they needed were criminals in every regard in Damien's eyes.

A female had come in. She seemed different than the others. At first, Damien could not place his finger.on it. She drew attention from absolutely everyone in the bar, and Damien was no exception to that. Swirling the last sip of the mead in the mug he held, he watched as an older man tried to court the girl. Fool, Damien thought as the girl rejected him rather casually, what does he take her for? Then, seemingly instantly, the tide of the place turned. Within moments, the patrons of the bar, most of whom blindly swinging in their drunk stupors, started after the girl.

Damien stepped forward, not wishing to see a girl ganged up by men much larger and stronger than she was.

Then, the girl changed.

Her form took a complete turnaround: Instead of the strange human she.once was, she was now a wild beast. A large feline of some sort, almost like a couger. She was a Blackblood Shifter. Though she seemed different from the tales he had heard about them. Less... Damien could hardly think of a term.. bloodthirsty?

Then, the girl fled the bar, killing multiple men on the way. Soon after, a boy not much different in age than Damien ran out. Smiling, Damien followed, dropping his ceramic mug and agilely jumping over bodies and pools of blood. Once outside, he picked up his pace, giving a loud whistle with his finger and thumb in his mouth.

Within moments, a loud rumbling could be heard.

From the side of town, positioned in such a way that it would be a straightaway shot past the bar, a huge, yellow lizard came running for Damien. Easily bigger than any steer, its pace was easily threefold of Damien's -- and Damien ran fast. As the horned beast caught up to him, Damien jumped, easily alighting atop the back of the Lizard. A spear was nestled on the dragons side, bound by rope thick enough to not snap from the sharp scales on the lizard. Damien ignored it for now, his scraggly hair jumping around with the lurching of the lizard as they attempted to track the Shifter.

Just what was she doing?

 

It was such a small little thing, an almost miracle in this desolate forest. With a sleek gray fur coat, small beady little eyes and round middle, it would make for a nice dinner. As much as she did not want to kill such an innocent little creature, it would be a shame to let it go free. A hand reached into a small brown satchel for only a moment before coming out again with what seemed to be a seed. Holding it in the palm of her hand, pale pink lips lowered themselves close and then, she breathed. The air curled and surrounded the small seed, its essence seeping into its hard shell.

Silence. And then, slowly, its shell split open and something green began to sprout forth. Blues eyes watched as the seed took its form, growing, lengthening until finally, something resembling an arrow was now sitting in her hand. Its base twisted and turned, the soft green a dark brown wood. With her other hand, she picked up a beautiful white bow, its string shimmering in the light from the sun emitting above. Quietly, carefully, she knocked the arrow back and steadied her arms, the string pulled back tight. She locked onto the oblivious little rabbit, its nose twitching as it chewed cutely at the scarce grass from the ground.

Truly a pity.

The arrow flew straight and true and pierced through the rabbit's body with nary a sound. She could tell with just a glance, she had pierced it in its tiny, once beating heart and it had died instantly. This, she was glad for. She rose from the crouching position she had taken quite a distance away from her prey and began to move, brown boots crushing the dead leaves and dirt ground beneath her. She going until she made it to the dead animal's side and stared at its small corpse. Such a tiny life and she had extinguished it so quickly.

Ellen sighed.

Bending down, the elf took hold of the arrow in her dinner's chest and pulled. Blood dripped from the arrow's tip and some of it colored the earth but Ellen paid it no mind. Focusing, she pulled at the energy she poured into the arrow to give it shape and, a moment later, it returned to its original seed form. Dropping it back in her satchel, the disguised female picked up the dead rabbit by its ears and stood once more. Now that she had her food, she had to cook it. Her teeth weren't strong enough to eat something raw. Looking around, Ellen's face fell and sadness could be found in her gaze.

Everything was so dead, outside of her home. As a Forest Elf, she had the power to make things grow. Humans had no such power. It was. . . saddening, to say the least. Shaking her head, she didn't want to think such depressing thoughts, Ellen returned to her task in light a campfire. All the dead trees around her was a great help. In minutes, she had campfire up and running and was now roasting rabbit meat for her next meal. She had skinned it before doing so, of course.

 

"I cleaned out the trough and finished washing the tools and your clothes." The speaker was a tall boy. His clothes were worn but still strong and his dirty hair was wet at its tips where it met the sweat on his brow. Below which, one could find possibly the stupidest face ever seen upon this forsaken land. His eyes were crooked and one drooped slightly, as if it were eternally watching his bent-out-of-shape nose. He wore a large grin of pride as if he had just become a king.

"I didn't ask you to wash my clothes." The eight-foot behemoth rose from his long-legged chair, made to comment the man's own monstrous leg size. His dark hair was pinned back as to not get in his own face. With a single step, the small mountain covered the five-foot gap between himself and the now dwarfed boy. "You don't have to try and impress me, Harold." His deep voice seemed to be much louder than it actually was.

"I'm sorry, Master Grey," Harold responded, his smile ever-present. "But you just hadn't done your laundry for a while and I thought..."

"Don't worry." He gazed the malformed face without judgment, chuckling a bit as he realized what the boy wanted. "And don't think I haven't forgotten your birthday. Eighteen is special indeed." With that, he turned from Harold and rummaged a bit around a workbench.

The workshop itself was small, but one couldn't really tell how cramped it was because of how high the ceiling was. In the far corner was the coal bed where the iron would be heated. Across from it were shelves of multiple shapes and sizes surrounding the workbench Grey was facing. In between the two were racks of tools and an anvil below.

Finally the giant of a man turned back toward Harold, and in his arms was a hammer and a pair of tong. Both of which were wrapped in a leathery blacksmith apron. "You can start tomorrow." He said, placing the bundle in the excited, now-a-man-by-digit's arms.

"Can't I start now?" Harold's legs were wobbling slightly with anticipation.

With a chuckle that sounded as if the smithy were hit by a rock-slide, he waved toward the opening in the workshop. "No no, it's already almost noon and now your day off. Go enjoy yourself."

Harold hesitated a moment, then carefully placed his bundle on an empty space on a shelf that Grey had secretly cleared earlier that day just for the young man.

---

Harold sat in the bar, in a table to himself. Nearly no one in the ram-shackled town ever payed heed to him. It wasn't that the child was hated, they simply felt awkward around such an ugly person. Harold didn't mind much anymore, not since he began apprenticing with Greilzyn the town's blacksmith a few years ago.

The young man's delirium was broken when suddenly, people began shouting. He gazed toward the light huddle and found someone he didn't recognize pestering the most beautiful girl Harold had ever seen. Then she was gone from view, and Harold let out a sigh and looked back out the window he sat beside.

A fight broke out.

Without a second thought, Harold got up and ran toward the quarrel in an attempt to free the girl from the barrage. Attempting to step in front of the clear a path to the door for the defenseless female, he stepped in front of one of the men.

"Leave her al-" A sharp pain tore into his back. It was unbearable. Dropping to one knee, he reached his arm to feel the injury, but immediately recoiled as the pain tripled. He tried to cry out in agony, but then there was a black blur moving past him. The rest of the world must have loved the blur, because suddenly it all became black. With one last breath, Harold let out his life.

---

"Grey!"

Greilzyn didn't mind the nickname. It was close enough to the strange pronunciation of his name. Looking from the length of metal he was forming, he dropped his hammer. The sight before him was too much to take in at once.

Before him stood Felds, one of his more frequent customers, and Harold's father, holding in his arms a bundle of clothes and dripping blood. Felds' eyes were streaming with tears that dripped on the motionless form of what Grey realized was a person. Taking a few cautious steps forward, he looked down at the bloody mess.

"Harold..." He choked on the word. The boy lay with a gash across his throat that coated his entirety in his own blood. No breath escaped him. On his face was his wide grin. His opened his mouth, failed, and tried again with a hint of success. "There... th-there was... I mean..." Swallowing and taking a deep breath, he pressed on with determination. "A Blackblood Shifter."

It was all he needed for an explanation, but it did not make the image any more believable. As careful as a hunting fox, he placed the boy's birthday bundle upon Harold's lifeless body. "Take care of him."

"Wh-where... where are you...?"

With a mighty heave, Grey threw down a shelf exposing a handle in the wall. Ripping it open, he extracted a massive warhammer. "To avenge my pupil."

Without another word, Greilzyn plunged into the unsuspecting world.

 

August's pace had began to quicken. The woman and the mysterious cloaked being were somewhat faster than him, but he knew that he couldn't lose sight of either one of them. Still, with his bow and arrows in hand, he forced himself to get into a light sprint. His ear twitched, as the sounds of a large beast came from behind. His head darted round to see another boy not too far off his age jumping on top of a yellow lizard.

August's pulse raced. Never before had he seen such a creature, and he hoped that this would be his last. As the lizard began to easily catch up to him, and with no information as to whether or not this boy was a friend or foe, he catched the remains of his breath and blew out a gentle flame. The arrow in his hand caught fire, and he prepared it in his bow for any attacks. Luckily he has had a lot of practice with his weaponry, so if he needed to, then he could possibly strike down the boy with a single, well positioned shot.​

 

The white wolf had not deigned to leave his spot on the hill. He had been observing everything. The humans of the settlement were definitely after this shifter. Erimis tilted his head up and sniffed. The air was thick with the scent of blood. He opened his mouth and let his rough tongue slide across his pointed fangs as he thought how wondrous it would be to taste whatever it was that was bleeding. The first scent he found familiar--the blood of a rabbit. Someone was evidently hunting in the woods which wasn't completely abnormal. The other scent, however, evaded him. It was...an interesting one. Perhaps it was the shifter? He had never smelled their blood before and human blood smelled a bit differently than this. This piqued Erimis's interest much more than a shifter fleeing a town being pursued by the townsfolk. He started putting the pieces together in his mind. Was this shifter weak? No, that couldn't be it. The shifter hadn't been trying. Erimis growled as the realization came to him. Another cool breeze wafted through the area causing his fur to dance. His ears flicked a bit, not because of the sensation, but in an attempt to hear more sharply. From his position, nothing would come to him. Just the stunning silence of the sorrowful woods.

"Here I was...just about to let it go," the wolf said to himself, shaking his head before getting up on all fours. He gazed down at the settlement with a bit of resentment that was well-founded. For them to get destroyed by shifters might have been a bit much, but he definitely wasn't about to feel remorse for that fate. It seemed as though they would survive for another day regardless. Erimis started walking away from the hill, the pinnacle of peace for this place. It was as close to tranquil as you could get. Perhaps that was why he was so drawn to it, day after day...after day. As he felt the dry soil beneath his paws, he wondered if he'd ever be able to return to that hill alive. Getting involved with a shifter was dangerous business, even though he figured this situation was vastly different. It was more odd than anything he had seen before. Why the sudden change of heart?

Erimis growled. "It's not like I'm definitely going to find the thing anyway. Shifters are notorious for being hard to catch," he said to himself in a low voice as to not give himself away. "Those people chasing it...if it didn't want to be found, they'd never find it." He continued sniffing the air, trying to keep the scent of blood. He could feel his muscles tensing. The hunger was turning him into nothing but a wild beast, and he held great regret for that fact. He had more self-control; trying to eat a shifter probably wasn't the brightest idea in any regards. In the grand scheme of things, he sought to protect it--to protect it from the people chasing after it and anything else that might pose a danger. He couldn't exactly fathom why he felt the way he did. It may have been due to the strange nature of the circumstances, or something else. He had to find out what was going on.

When it came to wolves, Erimis had his fair share of intelligence. He had always been commented on, saying that he had wisdom far beyond his years. Here he was at the height of his life, and he might have been throwing it away. "The ones chasing the shifter to destroy it...they are doing just the same. All life...is irrational." Content with that thought, he continued on his way quietly between the dead trees.

A world devoid of life. Perhaps in time, it would truly earn that title.

 

Durlace had followed the creature as it raced through town towards the forest and he had gladly followed it into the forest, where branches covered most of the sunlight. Only here and there were small beams of light. He avoided them, because this situation was far to interesting to be turned to immoblie stone yet. He watched her as she cleaned her wounds. When she was done, he spoke out of the shadow of a tree.

"Do not be afraid. I won´t harm you. I´m coming out from behind this tree. Don´t run away."

This wasn´t even a lie. He had seen the tears that the now human had shed and wasn´t sure if this was really an evil being. Perhaps she, like him, was a thing of evil siblings, but not one herself.

He stepped out from behind the tree and looked at her.

"You shed tears when no one was there to trick, so you cannot be evil. What is your trouble?"

 

The shifter was faster than Damien would have given credit for. Even on his reptilian mount, which he named Savage for reasons that were obvious, the only thing he had to go on for tracking was the occasional spot of blood or footprint. As he rode, a stray thought came to Damien. Why am I tracking her? The thought came as a slight surprise to him, though it was not enough to stop his chase. Now that he started, he could not stop; he would not stop. The only reason he could think of.was curiosity. If she was one of Xavier's minions, he, along with everyone in that tavern, maybe in that town, would have been dead. The girl only killed those who attacked her.

The nearly nonexistent trail led to the forest near the village. Tracking the girl would be impossible in the mess of long-dead trees. At the very edge of the trees, Damien laid his hand against Savage's side. "Halt," he commanded the lizard with a smooth, even-toned voice. The lizard, upon hearing the command, immediately dug his claws into the ground, bring him to a lurching stop.

Damien jumped off of Savage's back. He proceeded past the lizard, leaving his spear strapped to its back. A forest was no place for a spear; the branches would get in the way of his strikes. Besides, he doubted he would need it. He only hoped that, if he found the shifter, it would not get the wrong idea and attack him. Again, the question of why came into his head, but he ignored it.

Even though he knew that tracking would be useless, Damien knew this forest. There was a stream that ran through it. The shifter may have gone there, if anywhere. If he could not find her, he would give up the chase. As he entered into the slightly darker forest, for the only shade came from branches, since most of the foliage was gone, he turned towards where he knew the stream was. With all luck, he would find the shifter. His padded shoes made no sound; the only thing that could possibly reveal his presence was his scent.

 

August had been following the large lizard for some time now, and it led him to the forest. He carefully slipped by it without him noticing, and delve into the forest. The fire on his arrow was now put out, so it wouldn't start a fire in the forest. However, he still had his weapons ready in case of anyone attacking him. Eventually his eyes caught a figure - it was the boy on the lizard. August crouched down, and hid himself in the wildlife as he began to stalk him. He must know where he was going.​

 

Before him was carnage. Blood scarred the inn's floor and the bodies that lay upon it. The sight had no clear effect on the man-mountain, but Grey's innermost reaches were reacting in a way he had not expected. The emotion was very faint and struggling to surface. What was it...? It was similar to... joy? But that couldn't be, it must be something else. In an attempt to ignore the feeling, he bent over to the nearest body and examined his single wound. A gaping slash from his shoulder to his sternum. This poor soul could not have survived even if he had gotten medical help.

Greilzyn rose to his feet after his examinations of the other corpses. Whatever this Shifter had become to deal such unrelenting bloodshed he was unsure, but it was definitely a quadruped given the fleeting tracks he had difficulty discerning from the trampled ground outside the inn. Shouldering his hammer, he began to follow the scattered, barely identifiable tracks. Too many people gave chase, and the tracks soon eluded his inexperience. He stopped where the tracks vanished and explored the nearby area for any sign.

"What have we here?" Several yards further down the road he came upon some strange tracks indeed. Prints of a large creature that was no form of horse, unless it were shod with claws on its shoe. They were consistent prints moving in an unwavering direction. Must have shifted into something better for covering great distance, or perhaps to frighten pursuers. His next move would have to be decided quickly, for the longer he waited, the farther his vengeance would become. Careful to keep an eye on the trail of footfalls, he ran at full stride, covering distance with his great size and muscle strength that would put even the greatest of runners to shame. Some had even said his speed was unnatural even for his own height, as he could keep pace with most horses.

The tracks continued forward, undaunted. They were consistently fresh, so the beast was not gaining any considerable distance. However Grey was certainly not catching up, which unnerved him.

 

Pounding feet, snapping twigs, the harsh and heavy breathing of a living creature.

Ellen immediately grabbed a clump of dirt and threw it over her fire and cooked rabbit, eyes sharpening as her hunting instincts took hold of her. Making sure the fire was completely out and the rabbit completely covered, a pity too since she had only gotten a few bites in, the elf picked up her bow and rushed over to one of the dead trees. As she neared it, she jumped, grabbing hold of one of its branches and then pulling herself up on top of it. She jumped again, grabbing onto an even higher branch and pulling herself up. Ellen continued this process until she was on the highest place on the tree, which was actually pretty high. Steadying herself, and careful not to put too much weight on any one point in case she broke her perch, the elf began to survey as much of the land as she could.

With the trees bare of everything except insects and fungi, there was no place for any large being to hide. It didn't take long for her eyes to catch sight of something large of black dashing through the dead forest, heading for a nearby stream she herself had taken a small drink from. Ellen's grip on her bow tightened, what good luck she had to find such a large creature in such a dead forest, and she slowly began to bring it up, her other hand reaching for her pouch. Pulling out a small seed, she poured her energy into it, forcing it to grow into the shape of an arrow. Eyes unblinking, the elf carefully began to knock back the arrow, grasping the end of the arrow and the string of her bow with her thumb and the first two of her fingers. She watched as the beast stopped at the stream of water and prepared herself to strike.

"What. . . ?" Ellen froze, sucking in a breath, her eyes widening in shock. Black fur receded, the creature's form shrunk, its beastly features disappeared, all to be replaced by a species she had only just begun to understand. This being was no beast! It was human! Ellen breathed out and slowly lowered her bow. Her gaze stayed on the now human, watching as the being washed themselves of their wounds. The distance between them made it hard for her to make out the human's features. However, from their slight stature, she was quite sure they were of the female sex.

So absorbed was she by this new discovery, Ellen almost missed the sounds and presence of others that had entered the once silent forest. Snapping her head around, her eyes located so many others, at least three if her sight was right. Eyes narrowing, the elf pressed herself against the trunk of the tree she was on, wrapping her cloak around her. Its green color was too obvious in this dark place, she would have to do something about it if she wanted to stay hidden. However, at this point, Ellen had a feeling whoever had entered the forest wouldn't be looking up any time soon.

She looked around. There seemed to be no one in her current vicinity. However, she could still hear the sound of running feet and had no doubt there were many more in the forest now. Strangely, one sounded like miniature quakes, as if something rather large was approaching. A frown soon spread across her face, her eyebrows furrowing. She couldn't understand why there were suddenly so many beings here. Were they after the human capable of turning into a beast? She still had not been around long enough to know the going-ons in the realms outside her home but she knew enough that something was wrong. Then again, it was an obvious conclusion, with all the commotion occurring. Were they, perhaps, hunting the person she had seen by the stream?

Turning her attention back to the mysterious human, she would have to be a blind elf not to see the strange figure who now stood before the other. Raising her bow once more, her eyebrows furrowed in concentration and her eyes locked onto the new figure, she aimed her arrow and, after a brief moment, released it. The arrow whistled through the air, bypassing numerous dead trees, before it plunged itself into the ground in front of the one she was focused on. Wasting not even a split second, Ellen began to pour her energy into the far away once seed, ignoring the uncomfortable feeling of her energy leaving her. The distance meant she would have to put more than usual.

But that mattered not. What mattered now was the arrow's steady growth into roots that dug deep into the dead ground, vines that entangled with each other, leaves that covered any small gaps left from the vines and roots until finally, a giant wall of plant life separated hunter and hunted. Ellen lowered her bow. This was atonement for her attempting to make a meal out of the shapeshifting human. If the strange human was smart, she would start running before the one hunting her got past the barrier.

As for Ellen, well, it was time for the elf to make her escape. No doubt the rest of the hunters had located her position, thanks to her attack, and would be heading straight for her now. Pulling out another seed from her pouch, she turned it into an arrow before leaping off the branch she was on onto the branch of another tree. Ellen had enough practice with even the thinnest branches so that they wouldn't snap under her feet.

Though Ellen did not know the true reason for this hunt, she was not about to allow the human to die right before her eyes.

 

Durlace was surprised when the arrow hit at his feet, but he didn´t jump and he wasn´t shocked or even startled. The positive side of being a gargoyle was that no such thing as a simple arrow would ever pierce his stone skin. Swords could leave dents and arrows never even left more than a small scratch, but whenever he was damaged, he never felt any pain. Not physical pain at least. He always felt sad though when humans tried to hurt him. He never meant harm. His pitch black eyes turned a bit darker in sorrow as he looked around, searching for someone aside the Shifter in front of him.

Before he could spot anyone, vines shot out from where the arrow had hit. This on the other hand did surprise and startle him. He avoided magic, even this kind, because that was the only thing that could truly damage him. Aside from that, he had once turned to stone in an unfortunate spot. He had awoken a whole 50 years later and it had taken a half hour to pull all the vines that had grow on him off his feet and legs.

He carefully glanced up, without wanting to let the sun under his makeshift hood. It was still far too light out to use his wings. Even if he risked it, he didn´t want to turn to stone on the other side while in mid air and accidentally break or land on the shifter.

"It seems someone is trying to protect you from unreal threats. I´d like to talk to you, but I can´t get over this wall. Don´t be alarmed if I tell you that I should avoid the sun. I don´t know if I can trust you. In fact I don´t even know who or what you are. And I´m sure you think the same about me. Never the less, I assure you, that I´m not going to hurt you. I´m going to cut through these vines with my sword. If you trust me, take a few steps away from the wall, so I don´t hit you. If you don´t trust me, I´m sure this wall will give you enough time to flee before I get through. It´s your choice."

And with that, Durlace took out his claymoure and started hacking at the wall of vines.