Forest of Darkness (Alvis & Hemlock)

Arrows sank into the ground to either side of him, making the man grin. It was always better this way, to know where you stood, and to thank the Gods for giving you another chance to find glory. The mounted foes were coming closer, discarding bows in favour of swords. Fools. The word came to him easily, knowing that they may have very well surrendered their only true chance of beating him. Two swords were on his body, one on his back, one on his hip. He drew the blade on his hip, the old blade a comforting weight in his hands. It had been with him for many years, and carried him through his exile. Now, here he stood, discovering that the land had not in fact forgotten him, and now sent small groups of killers to bring him down.

As the horse came close, the man leapt to the side, moving to the other side of the charging animal, forcing his foe to try and change his swing completely. The chance never came, as a sword swept low, taking a lower limb from the horse, and sending the animal screaming to the earth, the rider flying through the air to land hard, and begin to shakily rise. An arrow landed near his feet, making the warrior look to the oncoming forms of three more attackers.
"Stand coward! Stand and fight!" A voice shouted at him, his native language sounding strange to his ears after so long away from it. The horseman close to him came around, but the warrior did not stand still. He used the dying horse on the ground to aid in a leap to attack his enemy, removing the surprised man's head in a single blow.

He had not been born with the name he now carried. But exile had a way of changing the priorities of a man, and he had taken on a new name, from a foreign land. Erasmus he called himself, and he saw the oncoming foes, saw more still behind them, and shook his head. He was good. But he doubted he would be quite that good. He ran.

The tree line was near, and horses would be of little use within the denser terrain. There was a half thought in his mind, something about this wood, but it was like old music, half-remembered, unfocused. He heard a volley of arrows thud into the trees around him, banishing any thoughts of retreat. He dashed inwards. He began to cough briefly, something at the back of his throat irritating him. An arrow sturck a tree not a foot from his head, telling him that pursuers were willing to follow him part of the way in at least. He kept going, ignoring the strangely coloured mist that collected around him.

Teh pursuers drew up, none willing to go more than a few paces into the wood. At a quick gesture, they began to spread out, moving along the treeline to cover any chance of a quick escape from the trees. They would leave the exile to the fate he had chosen by entering the cursed place.

The arrows had finally stopped. He was too deep into the dense trees now for any shot to come close to him. Erasmus stopped, taking a deep breath, and then hacking and coughing, some vile taste on his tongue. There was something wrong with this forest, and he was starting to suspect he knew what it was. This ill coloured fog felt wrong, clawing at the inside of hi lungs. But a man had to breathe, and if he was breathing, then he could be moving. He slowed to a walk, not wanting to draw in more of this vile smog than he had to, and began to pick his way through the woods. He kept his sword in hand, wondering if there was something within these woods that might threaten him, give him cause for combat.

The air was becoming closer, and that only made this miasma of fog cling closer to him, making it harder to see, and even harder to breathe. He coughed again, this time a wracking thing that nearly doubled him over. As he gasped a breath, he paused to take stock of his situation. There was no sound. No bird calls. No tree rodents. All was silent. And this was a very bad sign. He was getting the impression that this fog might be a poison, and that being herded into this place was a sure way of killing him without further loss of life. And a most inglorious end to him. And that would simply not do.

Erasmus kept moving, leaning on trees now and again, feeling his strength starting to ebb away. He coughed hard, and spat the taste from his mouth. The spittle was discoloured, the same look as the fog. Well, that's a terrible sign. He thought to himself, and girt his teeth. He had to find a way out of here, but something about this forest made him think he had been turned around. A root caught his foot, and laid him out on the ground, landing with a thud and clatter. He groaned, his throat feeling like it was on fire. He was going to need help.

Erasmus looked up from where he lay, his arms shaking from the strain on them. Stubborn will would carry him farther yet, but he needed to know where he was going. He raised his head as he felt something ringing in his mind, words that never touched his ears, and adrenaline surged through him, pangs of fear and trepidation piling up in his mind. He saw a white fox. Rare. Very rare, and valued. Eyes of mismatched colour stared at him, neither colour wholly belonging to a fox. The fog was likely playing hell his mind. He saw the tail of the fox move. And then another. And then another. Reeling back, he felt his back hit a tree, and his sword swept out, pointing at the kitsune.

Time away from home dulled some memories and instincts, but some never faded. And this was a creature out of legend and darkness. Things that preyed on the unwary, and caused untold levels of trouble. But then, he was a master-less warrior, said to cause trouble himself. Mayhaps he was not so different. Slowing his breathing, he let his sword arm drop, the adrenaline no longer lending him as much strength.
"Why would you help me spirit? What is the death of one mortal to you?" He breathed out, his breath still laboured and burning.

Erasmus sighed, his arms feeling too heavy to lift, let alone swing his sword. He might be able to focus enough for one last swing, but that would be it. And he'd have to kill the thing with that stroke. But it was staying away from him, out of the reach of his sword. He was dying. Again. He'd been sorely wounded in some of his conflicts, and had nearly passed once. It was a familiar feeling, but not one that he had been hoping to revisit. He was not able to focus his eyes tot he best of his ability, and the miasma made it harder to track thigns. But her white fur seemed to almost glow. Was it a factor of her being a spirit? Or just her colouration?

He knew he was starting to fade. His mind was wandering to strange places. But she looked...was the right word hurt? He took a deep breath, coughed, adn concentrated on seeing. His vision sharpened up enough that he wouldn't be missing things from her. Frankly, if he was going to die, and be eaten by this thing, he did hope she at least let him die before she started. And then that voice was ringing in his head again. He made sure to pay attention, pick apart what she was saying.

Take her...with him? His mind rejected the concept, old habits and memories long dormant returning to the surface. One could not trust a spirit like this. Liars and cheats, nothing they said could be taken as truth. But again, the same could be said about his kind, and he knew that he was possessed of more honour than half the men of this entire land. How much of the old tales were truth, and how much was just fear, passed down for generations?

"Your....your oath. My soul will remain...untouched by your magics. I will have my mind. And remain my own man. Swear it by...the blood of your ancestors. And by...the tails you bear. Swear it, and I will agree." He managed. Oh, he was fading fast now, on his way out. But he had to be sure that something worse than death wasn't waiting for him. He had no idea exactly what she might be capable, but all he could do was extract the most solemn oath he could from her. And then pray he was not making a mistake.

It was close. Erasmus knew he could summon enough effort to bring his blade crashing down on her, take her throat, her head right from her shoulders in that action. He could lay her low. But what would it accomplish? If she was intent on something underhanded, then his slaying her would not prevent the next creature from accomplishing something to his fallen form. And she had presented her throat, almost asking for his blade. But she had sworn an oath, and even amongst the people that he had learned his new way of honour, there was nothing in all the world more wretched and hated than an oathbreaker. He would not stain his soul in his final moments. If he was to live, he would have to place some trust in this creature.

His free hand shakily lifted from the ground, his teeth grit in concentration. His fingers grasped at teh ribbon, but he could get enough of a grip to pull it free. Was this how he was to fall, with what was to be his salvation at hand, but unable to grasp it. He growled, low in his throat, and gripped as best he could, before swinging his other hand over, his sword still in hand. The blade fell with a kind of finality, Erasmus knowing that he would be gone within a few moments of his swing. The blade fell on the ribbon, the sharp steel, ancient though it was, was still possessed of a lethal edge. The ribbon parted, adn the blade hit the ground harmlessly beside the fox.

The ribbon still in his off hand, Erasmus coughed.
"I've...done my part." He gasped, the miasma feeling as though it was filling his lungs with tar. "Help...me." He leaned his head back, his breath more and more laboured.

The was a flicker of light, brighter than anything he expected to see in this forsaken place. Erasmus lifted his head from it's place, and looked at the spirit. His brow furrowed as he watched, the fox changing before him. Modesty was clearly not a concern of the spirit, not judging by how she, and he now knew for certain that it was certainly a she, changed. Pale and smooth, her features too sculpted to be human, it was otherworldly even without the ears that were on her head, or the tails that showed behind her. She began to lean closer to him, and his first instinct was to bring his blade to bear against this creature, something that he had no true idea of it's ultimate goals or motives.

But his strength wasn't ther, his death was moments away when he felt the gentle touch of her hands on his face. The touch was...not what he expected. It was warmer than he, which spoke of her otherworldly nature, or to how far he gone he was. Her face loomed closer, and he fought his warriors instinct to but her with his head. There were other instincts that were trying to assert themselves as well, with so much bared female flesh in close proximity to him. But his failing health prevented anything of the sort.

Her lips were like the touch of the softest feathers, and there seemed far more in the gesture than he would have expected. He felt air flow into his lungs from her, and as she broke away from him, he tilted his head back and gasped, a long sound and a thick, oily cloud flew from his mouth, billowing into the air. His hands clenched, his old strength thundering through him. The headache he hadn't even realized had been plaguing him. He felt...great actually. Ten years younger in fact, and he looked around, then back at her. Well, now that his health had returned, the fact that there was an inhumanly beautiful woman leaning over him bereft of clothes was having it's normal effect, and he gently placed a hand on her shoulder to give himself enough room to stand. Time for the rest of the deal.
"My thanks Ref fljóð." He spoke, the last words in a harsh, guttural tongue that utterly lacked the grace of his native language. "Now, can you lead us out of here? Somewhere that we will not be set upon by those who hunted me?"

Erasmus set off after her, his lungs feeling fine now, almost ringing witht eh newfound clarity, as though the years he'd spent near the smoke and ash of the battlefield had been lifted from him. Even the by then comfortable ache of several old scars on his shoulders were silent. It gave him a looser field of motion that was almost disconcerting. He'd forgotten how it felt to be this light. This creaure, though it was harder to think of her as a spiritual monster when she wore a shape like this. Dressed as she was it was much easier for him to keep track of her, though he did find himself mildly distracted by the ears. They just simply didn't belong on her head like that, and the absence of human ears in the location that they belonged gave her a very different profile.

The kimono she was very good at keeping her tails out of sight, though if he looked closely enough at her backside, he could still see them. And it wasn't much of a chore to put his gaze there after all, why it was-

It was going to be difficult he realized. Feeling this light and as though years had been stripped from him was making his thought process a little more skewed than it might be otherwise. He let his mind drift, and found the centre point of his mind. It helped keep him on task. And right now his task was to escape from this wood. He was levelling a lot of trust to the Kitsune, but he had little choice in the matter. She might have given him back his strength, but he had no idea if that could be revoked by her just as easily. And then he'd be in the same place he had been. He kept her words in mind, and tracked his eyes around. He didnt want to be caught off guard. He paused a moment to try to get his bearings, when the ground under them shook faintly, as though something very heavy had taken a step. Erasmus looked about, but got moving again.

When she froze, it was a rather...pointed moment. He stopped before running into her, and drew short, casting his eyes around. When she spoke, his attention snapped to her, noting the faint hints of fear in her voice which did nothing to reassure him. This creature, who defied the miasma, was bound in powers beyond his knowledge, was afraid. This would not bode well for him. This much was certain of. And as she spoke, he was cindicated. An Oni. As though being hunted by men wasn't bad enough, now he must face something beyond the pall of man.
"I recall them. I have faced things..." He spoke, and turned his head tot he side, a momentary surge of old fear as a memory exploded before his mind, recalling a night of blood and terror, and things that should not be within the world of men. So said the scholars that he had spoken to in his travels, men who reasoned that such things could not be. Men who had not travelled to places where all men knew what waited in the darkness. She pointed him to a tree, and he opted to trust her, to follow her advice, and hope her word was good, that she had not led him to a worse fate than what he had been saved from.

With a heavy tread that spoke of one still waking from a deep sleep, the oni stepped around the trees, adn into the low light. Erasmus felt his eyes widen at what he saw. From story and legend, the beast was real, and standing befor him. He felt a moment of sheer mortal terror, a reminder that was bone deep that facing such a thing meant nought but horror and pain beyond imagination. And it was standing not twelve feet from him. Skin the colour of dried blood, it loomed up over the fox-woman, nine feet tall if an inch, and layed with thick bands of muscle that stood out strakly. A long mane of white hair hung down, though the top of the head was bare. Short but heavy bone horns adorned it's head with a sense of almost regality, and Erasmus could see a faint echo in the way higher ranked samurai showed their status with horn-like marking on their helmets. No weapons were carried, save for the clawed fingers, but with size and strength like that, what need of weapons did such a thing have?

"Little fox." It rumbled as it looked down at Shiro, it's voice sounding so very much like wood under great strain, a groaning sound that rattled Erasmsu. You have left the palace. Master will be..." It trailed off, sniffing the air, and started to look about, before noting the important difference on Shrio. "You are unbound! WHo has done this?!" It roared, the sound very nearly a physical thing, rattling the trees, and seeming to buffet the air. Erasmus fought back the urge to cry out from the sound alone. The woman likely counted on his aid if a fight was coming, but how could man face such a thing? He squeezed his eyes shut, and in that moment heard a voice, a memory of the last time he had been confronted with something like this. The Gods breed monsters friend. And man has given answer. We breed heroes to face them. Erasmus opened his eyes, his soul at peace. Heroic he might not be, but in the absence of a true hero, he would stand in that place. He just needed an opening.

Ibaraki glared down as the Kitsune garbed herself for battle. Oh, he well knew that this was likely a risky proposition for him to enter into. But he had sworn an oath of service to his master, adn he could not forsake that, not even for the preservation of his own self. And so he could not swear the oath she asked of him, nor would he, even if he was able.
"You have earned nothing! Only the master has the right to release you! You attempt to steal away! Escape your rightful place within this realm! And I shall not allow it!" His voice rose, and the very air seemed to crackle with his insistent demand.

Erasmus squeezed his eyes closed, hard, straining to keep to the words of the Kitsune in his mind. She called on him to not intervene, but he had no idea of her power, whether she alone would be able to stand against such a beast. And sitting out of a fight had never been the kind of task that he had been good at. But he would try. Try as hard as he could to follow her words. After all, she was the expert in this forest. And he had to trust in her. Though he also couldn't afford to let her perish. She was his only way out of here. And if the beast killed her, he had little doubt that he would likely be following suit shortly after. He let out his breath quietly, in a calming motion.

Ibaraki moved, and he moved fast. Far faster than anything his size had any business doing, and it brought both fists down at Shiro in an attempt to crush or at least cripple her. Unsurprisingly, she was not there to accept his offered blow, but the force of the hit deformed the ground, and shook everything around him. It was a blow that was made to not only attempt to kill a creature, but even a miss had the chance to rob the balance from those around him. Only his great mass let him whether that impact. Another missed swing came, but this one a powerful backfist that struck the tree that Erasmus had been hiding behind, taking it off nearly at the level of his head. Flushed out like this, Erasmus cursed aloud.
"Ingavin's blind eye!" He half shouted, throwing himself into a roll away from the beast. Ibaraki stared at the newly revealed man. Erasmus had little choice now, but to draw his sword. The goal was to stay alive now. And give Shiro the chance to strike hard.

Erasmus had fought the inhuman before, and thought he knew what to expect from them. But it wasn't the great hulking beast before him that so startled him. It was his companion. He'd seen fast warriors, people who could draw and strike with a weapon in a movement of eyeblurring speed. He'd seen a creaure that was nothing of human, and seen it move fast enough to kill three men before the blood had landed on the ground from the first blow. But nothing prepared him for how Shiro moved. There was a faint blurr of motion, and then a momentary image of her standing before him, then she was on the shoulders of the brute, and power flared brightly enough to leave small spots on his eyes. And then it was another moment of stunning speed, and she was in front of him. He hadn't seen power like this. And he had to wonder if there were limits to what she was capable of.

Erasmus nodded to her words.
"So be it. Let us finish this then." He took a deep breath, and got both hands around the hilt of his blade. "Thunir guide my hand." He prayed quickly, and exploded forward. His movments felt slow and muted after seeing the stunning speed that his companion was capable of. He was not sure if his blade would be proof against this beast, but he was willing to bet his life on the attempt. Any less and he would do a diservice to himself. The beast sniffed the air, a hand on the ground, palm flat, and it lunged forward to inercept Erasmus.

Just as the man had known it would.

THe sweep of Ibraki's arm would have pulversized a man had it connected. THis was not a blow that could be parried, only avoided. Erasmus held his blade up, letting hte momentum of the arm drag it along the sharpened edge, laying the limb open. Foul ichor flowed from the wound, and he twisted his body to avoid it. As the liquid hit the ground, it raised a cloud of foul smelling vapour. Erasmus assumed it would affect him like the misama had, and avoided the cloud. He pounded a foot ontot eh ground, letting Iraki know exactly where he was, before leaping forward, balde held high for a strike, lifting his feet to avoid the sweep of limb that tried to bat him away. Even as his blade licked into teh side of the beast, drawing another wound before he had to bound away, he noted that the beast still had a hand pressed to the ground. It was waiting for Shiro to make a move. The moment she did, Ibraki leapt into the air and pounded both feet into the ground in a thunderous impact that sent Erasmus sprawling onto his back, denying balance to anything on the ground, and savagely rushing at the Kitsune.

Erasmus was breathing hard as he got to his feet. Even blind, the beast was a terror to behold, charging boldly at Shrio with fists swinging. The brute was not dumb, and had approached this fight much more intelligently than expected. And it had allowed him to corner Shiro. Erasmus was back on his feet, Shiro looked to be in a tight spot, and his honour demanded that he go to her aid. His charge carried him close enough to strike low at the beast, the edge of his blade going through the dense muscle, the tip scraping bone. On a human, he'd have hamstrung the thing, but he had no proper idea if it worked on any snesible rules of biology. It seemed to work though, the leg giving way. Still Erasmus gave a bark of surprise and concern as the field Shiro had thrown up gave way, but he needn't have worried. She was simply gone, a blurring streak of movement, and as Ibraki was lower to the ground then before, he was more easily within reach. He barely caught the movement as she struck him, her hand ripping through his side, an appalling wound for such a small creature to deliver.

He heard her speaking, saw the strange ribbon like materials form into a sharpened point, adn hammer into the skull of the beast. As it finally stilled, falling silent now. With a shuddering sigh, the body bonelessly sollapsed, falling back, and settling onto the ground. Erasmus was breathing hard, his blood still up. With a solid swing, he hacked one of the horns from the head of the beast. Not carrying a weapon, it was hard to observe normal traditions here. But with the beast down, he sheathed his blade, and spared a look at Shiro. More than had met his eye, more than he had aexpected. He did hope that she had been truthful about not being able to break her word, since he did not fancy his chances in a fight against her. THough maybe his armour might save him somewhat? Perhaps much of her power could only be excercised against supernatural beasts? He did not know. And he would have to learn more to be at ease. But for the moment, they likely still had much ground to cover.

"Impressive ref fljóð. Very impressive. Should I be concerned? Are there other such as this around? Or should we simply...keep going?" He asked her quickly. his heart was still hammering, and not for the first time, he wished some of his old companions had come with him. Or rather, that he had let them come with him. A fight like this called for good ways to try and push the horrors and unreality of it from the mind, but were very difficult to do without proper comrades. But wishing for that which he did not have was a waste. He could do only what was within his reach. And right now, he only hoped that escape and survival was within his reach.