The Cherry Hung with Snow [open]

[Sygon]

Sygon could not help but worry for Eithne and at the same time curse the wretched creatures who attacked the Imbolc festival crowd. Cowards he thought wildly as he drove his blade through the gut of one of the creatures with a fierce yell. He pushed the limp body aside, singeing it with his magic. The creatures had attacked the faerie at a neutral event, firing volleys of arrows into a crowd that was full of innocent creatures, servants and children. Truth be told, any attack in a neutral place in Alanor was dishonorable, but to attack without any type of aim, without care for whom the blood spilled belonged to screamed treachery of the likes Sygon had never seen.

The behemoth had run another through with his sword when he heard Adele speak. He looked up at her but still kept his head on a swivel for arrows and would-be attackers. ”Head towards the bonfire.” It hadn’t been his plan, but as he looked at the meek weapons she possessed he concluded that she would not be able to sustain in battle for very long. The fire would offer her some protection and if need be she could even use it to aid her in battle. Sygon himself needed to make his way towards the fire, but not after he moved Eithne and Cantrell.

He crouched low, scurrying across the ground on all fours as he made his way back to the garlangers. Sheathing his sword and deactivating his magic as he approached them, ”Make your way towards the fire and help the other pixie. I’ll take care of Eithne.” He cradled the girl in his arms, gesturing for Cantrell to go. Sygon couldn’t be responsible for the lives of all the garlangers, so if he had to choose to protect one it was Eithne.

Still crouching he moved, trying his best to avoid running into any more of these creatures as he made his way towards the fire.

[Eithne]

Eithne was barely aware as Cantrell tended to her – unfocused dark eyes drifted listlessly over his face, her expression a blend of worry and fatigue that seemed out of place for the circumstances. She winced as he broke the arrow and pulled it from her flesh, fresh blood spilling out in a slow river down the bib of her dress. She coughed, a little desperately, but the bleeding quickly slowed. A Sidhe might have been healed by now, but even Eithne’s tainted blood had enough faerie resilience to go to work on her wound. She leaned forward as he wrapped her shoulder and chest in the makeshift bandage.

“Thank you,” she murmured, her voice very far away. She was so cold! She hadn’t been this cold when they had been laughing and joyful, but perhaps the daytime had warmed them, too. Her glance lazily shifted around the room, filled with chaos and the dark mist of their attackers. She did not understand what she was seeing, or she would have reacted with more panic. Instead she just wrinkled her brow, trying to comprehend the images and sounds. “Can we go now? I think the party is over…”

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As if on cue, strong arms swept her up again, and she was momentarily floating. She looked up at her protector, her soft smile dreamlike, and curled against his chest; her body was tiny and light, more like carrying a doll than a living thing. Wings of blue silk draped over his arm as he carried her, hanging as lifeless as drapery. The pixie was barely there, but the bleeding appeared to have stopped completely. They approached the bonfire. Heat that might have been oppressive to a healthy creature enveloped them in its blistering embrace. Eithne made a little sound of gratitude, grateful for the warmth which began to banish the chill of bloodloss, and the hero that carried her.

“This party isn’t very nice any more, is it?”[/color]

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[Cantrell]

When the sounds of something approaching quickly was heard, Cantrell drew his knife and turned towards the possible threat. Seeing that it was only Sygon, he lowered his own weapon and listened to what the Sidhe had to say. Apparently his services were no longer needed here, and he would be safer going to the fire. That sounded good. He had to be careful though, being mortal and all. One wrong move and he would end up dead with no chance of coming back.

He quietly made his way to the fire, dashing in between trees and taking cover. Also, when it was possible, he made a few quick kills by attacking the hostiles from behind and picking off loners. The main tactic was to reach around and cover the mouth from behind and then slide the gurkha into the side of his victims neck before ripping out the throat with the blade. That way, there was as little sound coming from the victims as possible.

In a few minutes, he arrived at the fire to assist the other Pixie. It was not a pretty sight to look at though. Blood trickled in a small stream off the tip of Cantrell's blade, and his clothes were covered with sprays of blood from his targets. This didn't bother the human soldier though. He was quite used to such things from his time on Earth. Some might say he even enjoyed it. In fact, there was a light smile that came across his face for a moment as he looked around at the destruction that was present.

[Adele]

"Marcus, yes?" Adele whirled towards the bloody man, clutching splintered arrows still. "Tell me you have some extra weapon that I could use," she breathed. She even chuckled a little, partly in disbelief, partly in coming down from her adrenaline rush. This was just ridiculous -- where did this all even come from? And what in the hell was she doing getting caught up in it?

This is what I get, she thought, for deciding to be social again. I could have avoided this altogether.

Not that she was complaining. A neglected piece of her rejoiced in her strength and pride, in her attempt to assist, even though she felt mostly useless. If she just had her daggers, or maybe even a sword of some kind --

One of the creatures took a swing for her back -- Adele had a moment to worry over her wings and fluttered them for reassurance -- and she dodged what she could. She rolled to the floor, but the thing's axe still managed to gash her shoulder and upper arm. Grasping her wound, she struggled back to her feet, supporting herself with the flap of her wings, and threw her bunch of arrows, rather unwisely. Most of them missed, and any that actually hit did not stick or break skin. Adele bit her lip and breathed in sharply. The wound wasn't so bad, she was only bleeding slightly, she knew she would be fine -- so long as the creature did not pursue.

[Skylla]

The creatures move towards the pyre, some fall where they stand as they pursue, weakened by wounds that they had incurred earlier but were strong enough to overcome. Adele’s attacker does not fall and continued to press forth, enraged at the arrows having been thrown at him.

Marcus cannot shake an odd feeling of trepidation, a certain anxiousness that has him looking all around him for enemies.

[Sygon]

Eithne weighed nothing in his arms which were toned to a warrior’s cut. It had been years since Sygon had taken up his sword, but the warrior’s spirit still lived within him. At one point, a younger brasher Sygon had thrived on bloodletting and the dance of the Altar. That young man had matured into a being that valued connection with other creatures and the beauty of the world over the atrocities one could commit in it. But still, Sygon was relieved to know that if he chose to unsheathe his sword that its hilt was not foreign to his grip. Now though, he had returned to his reserved state as he dashed and ducked behind tables, a pixie in his arms.

Sygon figured Eithne’s wounds wouldn’t bleed for much longer, but her wounds had never been his worry. Leaving the pixie at the mercy of these creatures was his main concern, as there was no telling what they could do to her. The curse of immortality was one often overlooked: with a body that could withstand the greatest of atrocities, sometimes death was better than the pain one could inflict.

The sidhe arrived on the scene just as the creature was charging Adele. Hoisting Eithne up over his shoulder, he drew his sword and with as much strength as he could muster threw it. The blade spun tip over hilt several times until it hit the being. Yet Sygon’s time off with the blade showed a rare flaw in his abilities. The blade did not hit the creature in the way he intended, but instead it hit parallel to it, a long shallow scrape manifesting on its back and the force of the sword merely knocking the beast to the ground. Sygon was too far away to pursue the creature and he was hoping Marcus could take care of it before he could rise.

[Cantrell]

This feeling of anxiety could not be shaken so easily from Cantrell. He was confident of his own survival abilities, but it was the others he was worried about. As he looked around, he saw what the problem was. A berserker wielding an ax was charging towards Adele, and the futile attempt to stop the creature by throwing arrows at it only seemed to further enrage it. A throw at this range would be easy for the soldier, but the problem was that there was no clear line of throw. Adele was between him and the creature.

The human quickly took a few steps off to the side to make a target, but was not able to do so before the Pixie was wounded. Inconveniently, old memories flashed back, the ones involving not being able to keep safe those who were around him. A lucky break occurred when Sygon managed to knock the brute to the ground by throwing his sword. Not a great hit, but it bought Cantrell enough time to move closer to the enemy.

While the hostile attempted to regain footing, Cantrell rushed over and kicked him in the side, knocking the foe flat on his back. A sickening *crunch* followed by a louder *thud* was heard as the Human brought the heel of his boot down on the creature's temple. He couldn't tell which was more disturbing - The fact that the enemy's skull was shattered into two pieces, or the fact that the sound of his sole hitting the ground was actually louder than that of bone being crushed.