The first swing of Alana's battleaxe was a powerful one, and it served the purpose of cracking the skull of a Fallen that had moved to pounce on her. The foul smell of death emitting from the Fallen themselves was overpowering, but Alana pushed through it with her head high and her mind set on destroying these creatures as quickly as possible. She had known far too many who've caved in because of the stench; there was a certain underlying darkness to their scent that made you want to turn and run, but Alana was not like them. She would fight through it. At least there weren't too many of them in the moment, but there were more than enough enough to cause damage to the nearby markets.

She briefly sees Lazlo and Lyria fleeing, and in her moment of distraction, a Fallen had taken the opportunity to claw at her.

"Fuck!" Alana cursed, grasping tightly at her arm over the gaping wound there.

The Fallen that wounded her snarled, crouching back to pounce, but a shout in the distance caused it's attention to shift. There stood Chase, running at the Fallen full speed. The War Wolf slams into the creature with all his strength, wrestling with the Fallen.

Alana turns her attention away from the small fight, continuing on her way to kill whatever Fallen was stupid enough to come at her. She hadn't realised a second wave of them was fast approaching from the South until one of the nearby soldiers called out her name and pointed to them. She briefly wondered why this was happening, but her thoughts were cut short as the screams of her people that were unfortunately caught in the crossfire reached her ears.

She wouldn't be able to block those sounds from her mind anytime soon, that she was sure of. The Fallen tore open the throats of any soldier who was distracted enough, and any other person who was running for their lives. Meanwhile, a newly shifted 8'0 tall Chase barrelled across the battlefield and swiped at any Fallen he could reach. He kept a relatively close distance away from Alana, however, as she was his owner of sorts.

He wanted to make sure what nearly happened during the War of the Fallen wouldn't happen again. He was hyper-aware of his surroundings now though; the deafening screeches of the Fallen, the cracking sound of bones being crushed and the sound of swords slicing through skin. His ears twitched and his head spun around to look in all directions with his gaze occasionally locking onto Alana. His heart pounded against his chest as he attempted to catch any familiar scents nearby, and if he were in human form, he would have blanched.

He had caught onto Freddie's scent.

He frantically glances around, trying to spot that familiar mop of pitch dark hair, but to no avail. He could still smell Freddie; the Vampire had a strong scent of spice and blood (what with all the spicy food he inhaled on a daily basis because for some very inexplicable reason, the vampire loved spicy food), but he had no idea where his precious Vampire was located.

He continued to plow his way through the crowds of Fallen and terrified people, dismembering and tearing into any Fallen who attacked the innocent festival goers and in general just because he wanted to kill these foul monsters, all to see if he could find the one face he really wanted to see.

With Alana, she had watched as Chase had run off in the opposite direction and she knew why. She knew Freddie would come running back to try to help, but it was useless. The Fallen's numbers were already beginning to dwindle, and there was no sign of a third wave of these creatures, so she had faith that her soldiers and herself would be able to dispatch of the rest of them quite quickly.

She still couldn't help but wonder why, even as she was in the midst of being surrounded by several Fallen and successfully slaughtered them all, and even as she saw the familiar face of her best friend getting closer and closer. He raised the sword he held and brought it down, slicing one of the Fallen clean in half. She was admittedly quite impressed, however she was none to happy to see him out on the battlefield.

"I'm no child" he suddenly said, and she went rigid, "I'm your best friend and you look like you need some help, so allow me to help princess"

She says nothing, simply nodding in reply. A Fallen had taken advantage of his distraction and hissed, swiping out at Freddie and knocked the sword right out of his hand. Freddie spun around, Alana surging forward to slay the Fallen but she was cut off by two Fallen leaping at her.

A flash of dirty blonde fur alerted her that Chase had come running back, tearing into the Fallen that was positioned in front of Freddie which allowed Alana to deal with the two that jumped at her.

Briefly, she wondered where she would current be without Chase and Freddie by her side. The conclusion she came to was simple; she would be dead without them.

'This battle is dragging on' she thought disdainfully.

She draws on whatever inner strength she has, even though her wound still hasn't fully healed quite yet, and she feels her faded battle scars and recent scars she received from sparring re-open, glowing like the red lava that bubbles within Laanfier's volcano. Her eyes turned blacker than black, like two bottomless pits, and her hair seemed to be alight with fire. Freddie and Chase stuck close, and could feel the power radiating from Alana. They were unafraid of it, however the Fallen cowered under its intensity.

The Flare line was a pure and powerful one, and her power was alike of whatever was documented of the infamous Khana Flare's power. She walked forward, her battleaxe held tightly in her right hand, and she swings. The Fallen that was unfortunate to be close enough burst into a shower of fire sparks, and Freddie cast a sideways glance at her.

"I was beginning to wonder if you'd show your power Alana" she could hear the smirk in his tone, and Chase just grumbled in agreement.

There was no real need for the show of power, but she knew the Fallen were scared of it, and she couldn't allow them to cause havoc any longer if she could help it. She still wondered why the Fallen were even there, but she couldn't dwell on it.

She had a battle to finish...

***

Even as he was situated deep within the cave, Wyntar could smell the dampness that came with the rain. The little light offered by the small flame of the fire he'd built the night before cast shadows across his annoyed expression; he hated that his cave now smelt like a wet Werewolf because of all the rain.

Wyntar scowled, and with his right arm he pushed himself up into a standing position. He had lost his left arm from the elbow down in the Great Divide, it being cut off and him being thrown out of Tandour shortly after the then new ruler set a new law that hybrids were no longer allowed in Tandour. Of course, he counted himself lucky to not be slaughtered on sight, as most hybrids have been since then. However, he still hated that cruel King for slaughtering his parents for trying to protect him and hide him from the law.

He shook his head free of those thoughts as he walked toward the entrance of the cave, his scowl deepening the moment he set foot out into the open. His already mud covered feet were being caked in more mud, and he stared up at the steel grey cloud covered sky with pure contempt. He despised this kind of weather; it made the area cold and wet, and made his cave even more so.

He growled; a low sound that came from deep in his throat as he glanced down at his feet, "all this mud...I need to bathe".

He trekked through the mud, heading to a small lake located a few metres away from his cave. The lake was by far the dirtiest lake in Arraila, but it was to be expected really; it rained quite a bit on the outskirts of Tandour, and there was a high mound of mud positioned directly next to the lake, so the mud flowed into the lake regularly. Nevertheless, it is the only lake nearby, so he doesn't really mind.

Every time he looks at that lake, however, unwanted memories invade his mind and he's suddenly transported back to the past. When he was a boy, he would visit what is known as Laanfier, more specifically the Volcano is what captured his interest. He would smile and giggle as he'd state up at it, and he once tried to go into the boiling lake at the foot of it, but it was said it would melt the skin off your bones if you dared swim in there. He always enjoyed his time there.

Joy, and happiness, is all but a memory for Wyntar; the years turned his heart to ice and his emotions sour. Wyntar couldn't even remember the last time he smiled, nor the last time he laughed. Those moments seemed as if they'd happened millions of years ago. He felt the familiar pang in his heart whenever he thought back to the past, however as he slipped out of his torn clothes and sunk down into the mud clouded lake, he felt the memories of the past melt away. With a bitter realisation, he knew he would be consumed by those memories once he exited, but in that moment he thought of nothing.

That moment hadn't lasted for very long.

His werewolf hearing had suddenly picked up the squelch of boots stomping in the mud accompanied by the distinct sound of swords clashing. A fight had ensued nearby, and Wyntar was beyond irritated.

He growled and grumbled, "could they have picked anywhere fucking closer? Stupid fucking-ugh" and he angrily pushed himself out of the water.

He hastily threw his clothes back on, his anger flaring as he heard a male curse aloud. The clashing steadily grew louder as he stormed towards where he'd heard the sounds come from. At that moment, however, as he closed in, the sounds quite suddenly stopped. There was no scream, though Wyntar assumed that one, or both, had died. Upon walking closer, he finds one of them standing and the other dead at the other's feet. The dead one he recognises as a soldier from Tandour by looking at the armour, and the other, a female, who he recognised as someone he, although begrudgingly, accepted as a friend.

"Daevina Carvour. I didn't expect to see you around" his tone was ice cold, and it would have sent shivers down Daevina's spine once.

Daevina turned her attention to Wyntar, and offered him a grim smile., "He was sent to kill you. I followed him and stopped him before he could. It seems he was under orders-" she cut herself off, and pained expression replacing the grim smile.

Wyntar looked down; there was a long, deep gash running diagonally across her chest. Daevina staggered back, a choked gasp escaping her. Wyntar, despite his previous coldness, surged forward and caught Daevina in his arms before she hit the ground. She attempted to say more, but she slumped against him and blacked out before she could.

'What a way to start my day' Wyntar internally scoffed as he carried Daevina towards his cave.

He glanced back, perhaps a little paranoid that he may be followed by a hidden soldier, but once he gathered that the coast was clear, he slipped into the cool darkness of the cave...