I am Semei, hear me mew.

Left you hanging a little, there at the last one, didn't I? Heh. Well, yeah, we put our stupid selves in a bad position and got attacked by a vampire for it.

The skeletons he called up- fifteen animal skeletons, at that- were....pathetic. I wiped them out while Ann took to the trees, but before I could get out of the circle that had surrounded me to the others, the vampire fused them into one giant ass skeleton that I held my own against for a few minutes.

Then the son of a bitch flipped me on my ass with it's tail, and I didn't even have time to get angry before pain. Lots and lots of pain as the fucking thing did what felt like it's best to rip me in half. It backed off for a second and I rolled away, drinking a potion and hoping like fuck that Ann was still above me somewhere, in the trees and out of this thing's easy reach.

It's been a long time since Ann and I fought as two seperate entities. That is, normally we're AnnandSemei fighting against a commen enemy, compensating for weaknesses and making sure we both make it out alive, each picking a role and sticking to it.

This time, it was Ann fighting and Semei fighting, and we just happened to be taking on the same thing. I normally know where she is and what she's doing; it's a simple fact that I can just take a bigger beating then she can, and I can hold out longer. She's stealth, I'm power, and if I don't remember that and know where she is, the next time I see her it'll be unconciouse on the ground.

This fight, though, it was enough that last time I'd seen her she'd been up. I stopped fucking caring after that, because I was the one quickly loosing bodily fluids with a vampire advancing on me.

Me. I didn't have his fucking king's blood!

I did, though, have his armour. Yeah. My beautiful, wonderful armor I love so much? Yeah, apperantly it was his, once. Just my luck the old owner would turn out to be a fucking vampire when most people just go off and quietly die when they're killed.

You know, when a guy that's come back from the dead twice as powerful, twice as pissed, twice as mean, and twice as arrogent, and twice as demanding wants his shit back? Playing 'finders keepers' isn't a great idea.

But it's mine now, damn it, and I don't go down without fighting. Besides, the bastard hit me, pretty fucking hard. So, watching Ann pop around me in the trees like a fucking squirrel, I stuck my knife in the back of a fuck-knows-how-old vampire.

I think poking a tree would have gotten a more emotional response. Hell, I think it tickled.

Then he turned around, and looked at me. Just- looked.

.....I don't, really don't, like being mind-fucked. Seriously. Not fun. Not fair. Low fucking blow, jackass. But there it is, and there I was, mooning like a calf over him, perfectly ready to strip my hard-won prize off and hand it back to him. Once, I almost came out of it- or, almost nearly came out of it, it was that tiny a moment- but then nope, nada, drooling calf again.

Then Ann tackled me. Full on, body-to-body slam that had us hitting the earth hard and did nothing to bring me around. But the man- Salic, we found out his name was, later- found his job much easier. Two for the price of one, and he caught me up with stone- stone, where the fuck had that come from?- bonds that Ann managed to wriggle out of. So she took off, and when she did, Salic jerked the knife from the tree where I'd stuck it getting ready to damn well strip, and put it to my throat.

And told Ann my life was in her hands, which meant I was ass-fucked.

I knew it, cold and sharp, all through me in this distant, chilly tingle. I felt weirdly calm, strangly okay with this, with knowing I was about to die, was going to die, here and now.

I wasn't scared- pissed as fuck, but not scared- and half jokingly considered the idea of being revived a second time, if it was possible and if Ann would do it.

I'd died once already, and hey, once you jump in, does it matter how deep the water is? What matters is what's waiting for you there, and that's the only thing that frightened me.

He asked me which of them I hated more. The man willing to kill me or the person willing to let me die. And at first, I honestly couldn't answer. And then I lied.

I told him 'both of you'.

That was a lie.

I didn't hate Ann. I don't. I'm- I expected nothing more and nothing less. It's why I knew so clearly when it happened that I'd die. Knew that Ann would let this man kill me, and would consider it a sacrifice well made.

And in reality, so do I.

For Talron. And only for Talron.

My words, though, made him offer me 'revenge'. Half-hoping it'd give me a chance to get back of level footing, to keep him talking, I asked what that might be, and he simply beared his fangs.

I surprised myself when I replied instantly 'no'. No amount of revenge was worth it. Even if I'd really wanted Ann's head, I'd already played the role of monster. Once is more then enough.

And there the conversation ended, because there, with a snarled 'fine', he slit my throat.

....I won't go into that. I won't go into how he started to feed off me. I don't think I could. I won't try. I knew, somewhere, that Ann was playing with the big skeleton. I knew she hurt it when I felt him flinch, and then again when he pulled away.

Then he chased her through the trees, while I tried to get free. And failed. Miserably.

I was only aware when she killed him when I saw a flaming ball that had been Mr. Blood-sucker go tumbling to the earth, crying out in pain.

Yes, Ann single-handedly took on a vampire. Yes, I am aware how pathetic this entire fucking story makes me look. Shut up.

Moments after he went down, who else but King and Ivy showed up, King freeing me and Ivy watching coldly while Ann made the killing blow to the vampire, retreving her dagger back from him. I think I told him I loved him. I think I cussed. A lot. Colorfully. I don't really remember. I'm surprised I said anything. I could've been hugging his leg and gotten dragged along for half a mile, for all I care.

Ann made the mistake of asking Ivy why she would be branded traitor, and both of them huffed and puffed for a bit but, of course, didn't do anything else about it and certianly didn't give her a reply. We did go, though, to what I assume is the place Ivy and King call 'home'. A horrible, cold place, with plants that sucked the life out of the earth and a general desolate feel, but oddly, I felt perfectly safe. At least, in the company of this pair. We moved inside Ivy's building of choice, past her courtyard- and I was warned not to use my healing potion, not here, as things didn't work like you'd think here- and stepped into a room considerably warmer and more brightly lit.

Ivy has an alchemist's lab.

Ivy has one fuck of an alchemist's lab.

Let's suffice to say she didn't want to just drink Talron's blood.

When we'd just met King and Ivy- before we were absolutly positive it was King and Ivy, as a pair- Ann and I had invited King inside the shelter we'd taken for the night. And he'd been as trusting as a mouse in front of a tiger. Dispit the fact that he could easily have taken us both, he'd been wary of us. Harsh, when the first thing you expect from someone inviting you inside is a trap.

Ivy's first instinct was to think I was tricking her with the blood. Giving her someone else's and calling it Talron's. And rather then be threatened or intimidated, I felt a bit- not sad, exactly, dissapointed isn't right, either- that she'd immediatly think we'd do that. Hell, wouldn't that other blood-sucker turning up be enough to proove it was the real deal?


She explained that she wanted his blood for the memories he had- memories of three thousand years. Not that she thinks he's three thousand years old. Honestly, I had my own doubts about it. She told us he was, as beast as she can tell trapped, held in Nabudel for what seemed to him to be only twelve years. Ironically enough, he was the one that, she said anyway, made the protective warding, sheilding, whatever you want to call it, around Nabudel, and it was fading as his own magic did. His own what, again?

This is just getting us in deeper and deeper.

But, she said, he was without a doubt the King of Nabudel, she knew that for a fact. No mistaking it, not after what happened next.

She was- is- trying to find a 'door' to Nabudel. Find it before undesierables do, first. Because, she said, there was a chance that if things kept going the way the are, there was a chance any old someone could just walk into Nabudel and use what they found there. So she wants to get there first, and then?

Well, I don't know what she plans on doing then. But she hoped his memories might help.

It didn't.

After she played with, then drank her little prize, there was about two-point-five heartbeats where we all, inlcuding herself, experianced a wave of well wasn't that just as anti-climatic as all fucking hell?

And then she stummbled.

I'm glad- really, really glad- I didn't step forward to help the way instinct wanted me to. Because if you have never seen what looked like the undead version of a person having fits, it's just not pretty. I was honestly scared for her, for a moment, even with King holding onto her, supporting her as best as possible- she put some major gashes into him, too. I was honestly scared for us, when those fangs of hers flashed, when we saw her wings. Magnificent. Horrible. Terrifying. Amazing.

Confusing as fuck, friends.

When she seemed okay again- after she was done gasping for breath, as if she could breathe- she told us my magnificent king had crammed his memories into the proper twelve year span without even trying, and that there was no way she could make much sense of it. It left her dizzy and out of sorts, and it got us no where and only frustrated. She said she'd be alright, though, and I would, too- she checked my neck and the bit wound left on me.

She told us who the man had once been- not a very nice guy, let me say, a power hungry ruler with issues galore- and advised us to avoid the man who had once owned Ann's bow. Though she did add that his bark might be worse then his bite.

And then I got the start of a lifetime. I didn't have to worry about eventually heading south, or what if Ann didn't want to go there. Because Ivy suggested we did, to find out more about the crystal in our packs and for some reason of her own, as well. She warned me, though, not to wander off the beaten path in search of my own- in other words, no Damon hunting- and to find a man named Danelle, in a town called Jaradul.

She warned us to be very, very careful. Avoid the shadows that don't move, she said, stay with people, travel during the day, and don't be heros. And Ann should not be an elf. If we wanted to go, there was a ship in port, for three days. Not a lot of time to decide. My mind was already made up, even while part of me shook it's head in violent denial. Bad idea, that part of me screamed. Bad. Idea.

I think that little corner of me is called 'commen sense', and I don't often listen to it much.

And with that, we let King escort us out. I teased him about man-handling a lady- wherein Ann informed me no lady used language like mine, which was true enough. He laughed and I stuck my tongue out, and I don't think he quiet knew if he should rip it out of my mouth and shove it up my ass, or tolerate me the way he had been.

Sue me. I know King is fucking dangerouse. Give me a fucking break, we all are, on some level. Even Ann. Even me.

Everyone we call companion or friend around us is. Some more, some less, but they all are, and I don't go tipy-toeing around Ann just because she could put a dagger in my back. Could. I treat Ann like I treat Simon like I treat Dagon like I treat Talron like I treat Damon. Like freinds, even if it's only to a point.

The only people I handle more cautiously are the ones such as Madam Dryad, out there in the woods. And her less out of fear and more out of 'if I don't say this just right she'll tell me to get fucked and we'll be back at round one'. I don't fear her, but I know when the time comes for me to measure and watch what I say and how I say it. And Master Hunter, as well, because I don't know him well, and because I respect him. And he? Could kick my ass without blinking. And would. If Ann or I ever happened to become lycan again, our newfound partnership with monkey-toes would be ended in a blink.

But King? King does not frighten me. Simple as that, friends. Almost never has, really; only for a day or two, upon our first rocky encounters. He's not bad, no matter what Illoria thought, and he's certianly far from really, truely evil. Dangerouse, yes. Issues galore, why not. Bad attitude, gruff, raw, mercanary, all that is without a doubt true.

But he protected me, even if Ivy told him to do it. He went beyond what he had to, and I remember plain as anything the way he did it. Almost willingly. And I felt absoultly, perfectly safe with him, being alone with him.

Aside from the fear that I might wind up with a cracked rib if he tossed me again.

But I degress, now.

My point is that I stuck my tongue out the same way I would have at Ann, and when he snarled I just grinned my biggest grin and waved. He stared at me for a long moment. I admit, no matter how not-afraid I might be of him, that stare is damned unnerving, combined with those fucking teeth, but I held the grin and I managed to mean it until the snarl went away. Then he took us home.

And nearly made me laugh out loud when I thanked him, and he actually said, 'you're welcome, my lady'.

I could almost hear the 'so there'. Point to King, allow me to be all appologies.

He pointed us in the right direction for home, we said our goodbyes, he took off again and we headed back.

And we began to get ready to go South.

After we'd bought supplies and packed, I headed off to say....goodbye.....to Talron.

There was a time, I know there was a time, where I could form coherant sentances around this man. I damned well remember it. I remember being able to bless him right the fuck out. Hell, I'm sure I still could.

But when he starts getting all- all- gentle with me, every word I think of goes out the window, and I am either going to cry or laugh.

I warned him that I was going to try and find Damon, and bring him back here. For answers, for his own saftey. And I warned him that I might not- for one or another reason- come back at all.

I expected him to at least ask 'why', but instead he said he'd have to learn how to sail. And that's when my brain turned to mush and leaked out my ears.

He'd come and find me. He'd as good as said he'd come and find me, or try to, if I didn't return.

And you wonder why I'm falling into a black hole over this man.

It only got worse when he said he'd make sure a latern was lit and hung from that tree in the courtyard until our return. Mine.

.....Why am I trying to find Damon again? Damon who?

That was a joke, people. A joke.

And off we went to the South, on a ship that looked like shit when we boarded but turned out to be hugely grand and very comfortable- I have no fucking idea what they did to it- and in two uneventful weeks, we reached the place that I had once called 'home'.

A place where you couldn't go outside after dark, where dark came early and left late, as if the sun was lazy or sleepy and couldn't be bothered to do it's job properly. A place where monsters spent the entierty of the first night scratching at the walls and running about outside the walls, giving me the willies. Where the doors had no locks (if there were doors) and people stayed in close packs like frightened sheep.

A place of unparraled beauty. Horses running across the wilderness and a lot of wilderness at that. It was breathtaking, during the day, magnificently lovely to look at.

Made you wonder what hid under the surface of the seemingly calm water, what monster waited for you to be foolish enough to enter.

We were the only two going to Jaradul, and our trip was taken at a startlingly fast pace with horses that didn't seem to tire, in almost utter silence. The man riding with us was tense and on full alert, and it didn't make for a comfortable trip.

We stoped, ten minutes out from our destination. 'The horses won't go further', the man said, and told us it was ten minutes on foot, and to be fast.

No arguments from either of us. The path leading to the city was very pretty, with sun streaming through trees and flowers and trees and greenery and plants.

But there were patches of shadow that didn't move, and things burrowing under the ground. Right at us, and fast.

We hit the gates at a full sprint, slamming it behind us, panting and wide eyed like two foxes that had just barely made the saftey of their den.

The city was empty.

Deserted, not a sign of life anywhere, and looked as if it'd been that way for some time. I could read the writting on the signs, even though this place held no memory for me- I suppose I saw it somewhere before, while living here- and the signs swinging outside every building was a family name.....with etchings, tallies, underneath.

I did not think it was number of family members. It looked more like number of dead.

Plauge. I couldn't be positive, of course, but I had the sinking feeling it's what happened here.

Swearing to myself in frustration and wondering what the fuck we were meant to do now, with no one alive and no way back besides on foot, we heard the sounds of life.



A man, with a bald head and a scrap hiding his vital parts, and not very fucking much else. Any other situation and I'd have been blushing, but this man was hauling a cart that made my stomach sink, going from house to house.

Counting the dead- checking, maybe, for any left alive. When he slipped into another building, I walked up to it- and knocked. Yes, I knocked, okay?

He cracked the door open, and simply watched as I explained myself- the stuck out a tongue that had been cut off. No help from this one.

He did, though, take us to people that could help.

A temple, full of men that looked much like himself, (though all these, thankfully, seemed to have tongues.) And we were lead to a man who seemed to be their leader.

I came straight out with it- who we were looking for, though not the full truth of 'why'. I'd been right, too, about it being a plauge- people suddanly just started dropping dead. No symptoms. This temple full of men (yes, men, we were the only females) belived their faith had saved them.

The man knew I had at least been born here- though I don't know how-and knew Danelle, and said not to go around pronouncing his name, that his art was forbidden. But Danelle hadn't been here for this , had left before it happened, and if we wanted to find it, we were to go to a place called Farrah, two days away on foot, and help with them with the 'mystery behind their nightmare'.

So much for not being heros.

So much for only traveling during the day.

But we were given as escort- only one man brave enough to stand up at this leader's request and offer to help keep us alive (or try to, anyway) on the road. Of course, our escort turned out to be this man's son. His name was Mayone, and once he escorted us-

-he couldn't go back. A sacrfice more then I ever expected from a group of strangers. He was very interested in Ann, in her elvishness, and to my surprise, she seemed....interested back.

Two days walk, hu?

This could be fun.