[Felicity]
Average height, about 5' 8", weighing around 130 pounds. She appears to be about 20 years of age. She has long, curly, black hair and dark brown eyes. She has a stout build, but is not particularly muscular. Her round face has a small nose, and slightly pouty lips. Her complexion is bronzed, and when she speaks, there is an almost musical quality to her lilting voice. She is currently looking in a very bad way. Her white blouse has several tears, underneath which can be seen cuts on her skin. Bloodstains seep into the blouse, contrasting bleakly with it. There used to be a design in silver thread over one breast, but it is now unrecognisable due to damage and bloodstains. Several buttons are missing, but the blouse is somehow still fastened for decency. Her blue trousers are in a similar state, and they have been cut off at the knee. Once light blue in colour, they seem stained almost completely to a brown sort of colour, and several cuts are visible on her legs and thighs. Scabbarded at her waist, by a battered steel ring belt, is a short, double edged blade, known as a gladius. There is a sheathe on her other hip, which probably used to contain a dagger of some sort, but it is now empty. There are clips on the belt which suggest at more weapons, but they too are now gone. Her face also bears a few cuts and bruises. On her right hand, on her index finger, is a blue-silver ring.
She seems tired, weak, confused, and bewildered. From time to time she sniffs, indicative of her cold, and she shivers as if cold.

[Darkstalker]
A dark-skinned man, of average height and somewhat stocky build. Observing his features, it may seem difficult to tell whether he's faintly amused or slightly disgusted by the goings-on about him. His short black hair blends in well with his midnight-blue cloak, which he wears over a loose brown shirt, and dark brown breeches. Two small pouches on long cords dangle at his sides under the cloak, and a bracelet of some black stone adorns his wrist. His eyes are yellow with a tinge of green, and move to note you briefly as you look at him. He speaks with a soft, smooth voice, the words dropping from his lips like a feather floating gently to the ground. Where you can see his skin, a rosette pattern of tattoos mark him from high on his neck down to his toes. The man wears sandals, and you glimpse a knife belted at his waist, under the voluminous cloak.


Kathrow in the Marshlands of Crinos
     The swamp festers all about this raised stretch of land, known as a Kathrow. The earth here is tightly packed as if trod upon thousands of times, the dirt has taken on a dark reddish-brown color and smells strongly of blood. Long forgotten symbols to Mokh spirits are etched into the large moss covered trees that surround this place, their great branches stretching above and forming a protective canopy. A feeling of strength and unbound rage abides over this place; for even if abandoned by the Mokh, their presence is still felt and their dark gods still watch over their sacred ground.
    The sound of night creatures stirring signals the setting of the sun. The hard-packed dirt allows little room for spring to show its full colors. Only the tiny gourlet flowers bloom, their pleasant, deadly fragrance bane to many of the swamps insects. Jagged forks of lightning rake the sky, crying their rage in a thunderous voice. Rain pours down in sheets, the waters of the swamp move in, lapping at the shores of the Kathrow. The spirits here seem restless and often ghostly images of nightmarish beasts battling one another can be seen dancing across the earth.
Obvious exits:
Jungle  Forest  Blighted Plain  

Felicity is sat weakly next to a tree, gladius in hand, and looking about somewhat wildly. (For those with any interest, that is.)

For some time in Felicity's journey through this land, a presence -- several, in fact -- have been trailing her, following the scent of her blood. From time to time hunting cries come from behind her, sounding much like human screams. Now, they're ominously silent... though their presence is felt.

Felicity shivers, almost involuntarily, her eyes going about the swamps. The gladius, it's steel cool, and yet covered with blood, some of it possibly her own, remains her link to reality. Her grip firm on it, she points it in the direction of any noises she hears close by.

A splash, a hiss, and the snap of a twig breaking; all muted, but each comes from a different source, as if the unseen hunters were encircling their prey. Judging by the sounds, and the cries from before, there must be at least five. As the night shadows thicken about the Kathrow, the hunters seem to become bolder, their almost tangible presence moving closer... nearer to the prey who sits next to the tree.

Felicity steadies herself, with her back to the tree, and starts to mumble to herself, almost incoherently. Her hands hold firm to the sword, which she moves smoothly, and with some ability and speed still. However, there is a noticeable droop to her posture, which derives, no doubt, from not only her weariness, but also from a certain level of resignation.

From the dark, an object comes whizzing towards Felicity and lodges in the tree a few feet above her head: an arrow, short and black-feathered. A sudden scream-cry from another direction comes after a few heartbeats, covering up to some extent the slight flapping sound, as of wings.

Felicity shivers, and lowers the gladius slightly. Her back still to the tree, she starts to concentrate on her ring, and then stops, shaking her head at herself, almost reprimanding herself for such foolishness. The sword rises again, as she makes an effort to stand, using her ears now, more than her sight, listening in the darkness for where the next attack will come from.

From directly before her comes hurtling a shape; dark and winged, it flies towards her with speed and uncanny silence, taloned limbs outstretched to rend.

A piercing scream right in front of her face, starts Felicity into motion. Faster than even she would have assumed possible for her current condition, her hands and blade flash upwards, seeking the creature in front of her face.

The creature reaches her, its rush unabated, claws ripping at her... to no effect. The dark form passes through her and the tree, insubstantial as the fear it generates, and disappears into the darkness.

Felicity shudders, eyes closed, and she starts to lurch away from the Swamps, her progress slow, but steady. Her steps are short, so that she can keep her balance, no mean feat in her condition. The sword, short though it is, she retains in two hands.

Faint, hissing laughter can perhaps be sensed more than heard, as the hunters move to follow their prey, still encircling her. As she passes a foul-smelling bog on her left, there's another rush of air and a flapping of wings, and another of the dark shapes rushes at her from the right, flying low.

Felicity drops at the last moment before the 'creature' hits her, using her weariness and gravity to her own advantage, and slashing out with the gladius at the creature as it screams over her. There is a brief, muffled sob, as she realizes this is yet another illusion.

Just after the dark insubstantial form passes over her, another form speeds through the air to meet Felicity. Unlike that which it follows, this one is solid, though smaller: A short barbed arrow, aimed at her legs.

Felicity rolls on the floor to try and avoid the arrow, but her movement is too slow.. the arrow strike true, and sticks painfully in her right thigh. She grimaces, but still doesn't call out, continuing the roll, until she comes to another tree, which she places her back against. She raises the sword right handed, trembling as she does so, and glances down at the arrow and the damage.

Felicity curses quietly under her breath as she sees the barb still under the skin, and feels its effect coursing through her already weakened body. She really does concentrate this time, using the ring as her focus, and slowly a faint nimbus of blue energies flow out from the ring, covering the blade. Those energies glint, supplying light.

Another arrow hisses by, scant inches from Felicity's face; this one's purpose seeming to be to draw her attention to it, as another of the dark forms hurtles through the air toward her. Not as silent as the others, nor as quick, it nevertheless approaches the small island of light of Felicity's blade, claws reaching for it.

Felicity is almost taken by the ploy, wrenching the blade sideways at the last instant, crashing it into the creature as hard as she can with such little leverage. As she does so, her concentration drops, and the light goes down.

A shriek from the creature, this one of pain, as her sword jerks into real flesh. Claws scrabble on the blade's metal and Felicity's hands on the hilt, but fail to wrench it away; a second set of clawed limbs tear at Felicity, then the creature flees, darting away into the concealing darkness. It does leave some of its blood behind, this time.

Felicity nods to herself, and reaches down to try and push herself off the ground. She doesn't quite manage it, as she is only using her left hand, her right hand still trembling as it holds the gladius up for use against those unseen assailants. She sighs, settles back against the tree again, and calls out now, her voice hoarse, but carrying, speaking in Thari, "Cowards! Can't you come and face me evenly? I'm hardly in much of a condition to win any fair fight.."

A voice, carried out of the darkness, reaches her. "You isss our meat, now, weak-thing." The words are a heavily-accented Thari, a slight lisp present, the tone deadly. "We feed when choossse." As if to punctuate this statement, a series of screams comes from all around; if each of the cries comes not from illusion, there must be at least seven of the hunters gathered now.

Felicity pushes harder this time, managing to attain her feet, although the gladius wavers somewhat as she does so. She calls back, hoarsely, "Come closer to your meat, and I'll drop you into the darkest pit creation has to offer."

In answer, three forms step out of the darkness; or rather, the darkness retreats from them, as the forms become surrounded by a purplish luminescence, making their outlines visible. One stands facing Felicity, brandishing a spear; another crouches at her right, a short bow cocked and ready; the last advances from her left, two black knives held in taloned hands.. Slight sounds indicate more movement at her back, around the other side of the tree. The center figure spreads wings, and hisses. "We come," it says. "Call to your godsss to receive you."

Felicity moves quickly, using some little remains of her strength, darting towards the creature with the two knives. She strike quickly, aiming a swift blow to its head, and praying on the restricted vision, and closeness to ward her from the other two.

The creature with the two knives moves forward eagerly to meet Felicity's rush. Confidently, it raises one of the knives to block the blow descending, the other striking at her belly. It seems surprised as Felicity's blade impacts its own upraised one and knocks it away, her sword cleaving into its head; its own blow never landing. The spear-bearer hisses in displeasure, and raises the spear to throw it at her. The one with the bow lets fly the arrow it had nocked, straight at Felicity's back.

Upon hearing the bow string 'twang' Felicity is already dropping, her sword to one side, and the other arm caught about the neck of the creature. As she falls, the arrow takes her in the shoulder, and she cries out slightly in pain, but rolls and tries to bring the dead creature around as a shield. The gladius she keeps hold of grimly.

With a snarl, the spear-bearer releases its burden, a hard throw sending a spear directly at Felicity and her shield. The weapon's flight is true, and perhaps strong enough to pierce the body-shield and the woman it guards; it does not land, however. Accompanied by a very subtle swell of magic, a green flame grows directly in front of the spearpoint. The spear is consumed entirely by the flame as it passes through, leaving only a bit of fine ash to fall harmlessly on Felicity. With a blood-curdling scream, another of the creatures swoops down upon Felicity, striking from behind out of the darkness.

Felicity moves the 'shield' to block the creature from behind, but her movement is still slowed; one talon rakes across her brow, before she blocks that creature, and blood flows down her face, into her eyes. She reaches up with her right hand to wipe it away quickly, and some of her blood goes onto the pommel of the gladius.

The former spear-bearer gapes as its spear is consumed, then turns, a curse escaping it. Before it can finish the movement, however, a green flame grows from within it, and it's consumed in a matter of seconds, its agonized death-cry echoing throughout the area. The creature attacking 

Felicity veers away, swooping off to circle above her, circling around the tree. Another takes its place, rushing at her low to the ground. The one with the bow looses another arrow, which encounters a limb of the body-shield.

Felicity blinks blood out of her eyes again. The whole world about her seems to spin crazily, but she holds onto that gladius as if it is the single point of reference in her life. She reaches over to the tree to pull herself towards it, trying for cover again, but her progress is slow.

The grin on the bestial creature's face is wide, as it closes with Felicity, claws reaching out. Another green flame erupts suddenly between her and the beast, and it shrieks as it jerks back, singed. The one from above dives at her, talons grasping her shoulders, a second set of taloned limbs grasping at her swordarm, trying to keep her from using the blade to dislodge it.

Felicity can't focus on the creature attacking her sword arm, but she doesn't really need to, as she lashes out with a punch from her left hand. It is slow though, and ponderous, almost as if she doesn't actually want to hit the creature. Her movements seem much slower now, and somehow more solid, as if she were acting in slow motion.

The creature shrieks, more in defiance than pain, at her glancing blow, it twisting to avoid it while still striving with her swordarm. Another figure comes into view from the darkness, this one at least human-shaped, though cloaked. The spear carried in his right hand is raised to throw, and he casts it, gasping out a word, perhaps a curse. The spear flies to the creature on Felicity and strikes true, piercing it and tearing it off her.

Felicity slumps a little, before crouching into a kneeling defense, sword held high in a trembling hand. Her eyes fall upon the new figure, and she calls out, "There were seven.. four are accounted for" using Thari again.

Three more forms manifest from their points of concealment; two near the cloaked man, and one moving towards Felicity. The creature with the bow turns its sights on the cloaked form, and lets fly. The singed one has a weapon, a long knife, and lunges at Felicity now, no fire blocking its way.

The cloaked man sends no acknowledgement of Felicity's words, but instead raises his arms high, then drops them, another swell of magic perhaps felt. At the signal, a torrent of smaller forms, dark and moving with deadly feline grace, race out of the darkness behind him to fall upon the bat-like creatures.

Felicity blocks desperately with the gladius, from her kneeling position, using two hands on the blade now. Blood flows freely from the cut on her brow, and she shakes her head to clear it from her eyes, spraying it in front of her.

Felicity's opponent's lunge is countered, but barely, and it gives a piercing scream as it attacks again. The other creature nearly reaches her, but is torn away as a feline form leaps upon it.

Felicity slumps again, watching bemusedly as the felines come to her rescue. Her left hand reaches up, slowly, to wipe blood from her eyes again, as she murmurs, "Sweet Unicorn, where am I?"

The other hunters of the woman fare just as badly. The deadly catforms are everywhere, slashing and ripping. The winged creatures fight back bravely, but seem overwhelmed. Then, a muted thump is felt more than heard, and a cold blue light blazes from a gem one of the winged creatures raises; at the flash, the feline forms all disappear. The cloaked man whirls, an object leaving his hand, and the gem-wielder gurgles as it falls back, a knife embedded in it, but it's too late. The remaining two winged creatures both turn on the cloaked man and rush him.

Felicity raises her right hand, focusing. An astute observer would notice she seems to be putting what she has left into some kind of sorcerous surge, and the energies focus around her ring. Suddenly, a bolt of intense blue light strikes out towards the creatures heading for the cloaked figure, glinting with an almost palpable presence.

Darkstalker raises his hand, his fist closing as he mutters a word. His thrown knife jerks free of the body it pierced, and hovers in the air directly above the downed creature. With a curt gesture and a hissed word from the cloaked man, the knife slices through the air and encounters one of those forms rushing him. The creature, stunned into immobility by the blue bolt, falls without a sound.

Felicity slumps to the ground, after the bolt of blue light disperses, apparently unconscious.

Darkstalker turns quickly to face the other creature, hands raised to defend himself from its rush, just in time to witness it slumping to the ground. He blinks, then looks about warily. Seeing no other imminent threats, he strides to the newly unconscious winged creature, nearly repeating the gesture that brought the knife out of the body of the other. This time, the knife returns to his hand, and he kneels, slitting the unconscious creature's throat quickly and efficiently.

Darkstalker carefully wipes the knife clean on the ragged garments of the creature he's just slaughtered, and sheathes it. He rises, and after casting another swift glance around the area, walks to Felicity. He kneels again, reaching out a hand towards her forehead.

Felicity appears to be unconscious, blood flowing freely from the gash on her brow. Her body is slumped in an uncomfortable position, and her breathing is slow.

Darkstalker frowns thoughtfully, gazing down at the woman. His hand does not quite touch her skin, though hovers over her brow. With his other hand, he draws back the cloak from his arm, revealing heavily tattooed skin. With an attitude of concentration, he traces a series of runic tattoos on his arm, and a greenish glow takes form on the palm of his hand outstretched toward the woman. The glow grows as the moments pass, to encompass her form.

Felicity seems to drift into some kind of stasis.

After a time, the man nods to himself in satisfaction, and reaches out to the unconscious woman. He lifts her, gently, into his arms, appearing to bear her weight with ease. He turns, and quickly moves out of the area, heading roughly southwards... beginning the journey to his haven.