The fire was everywhere, consuming everything in it's path like a ravenous beast. No-where was safe and all around Aneron's ears, screaming and panicing could be heard as a result from the sudden bandit attack that had befallen this travelling caravan party. Some of the party members were armed with swords, but they were no warriors. At the beginning of the attack, there were at least half a dozen swordsman who were ready to defend the caravan, but now there were only two left... and Aneron himself.

Three armed people against 10 armed bandits, the odds were heavily stacked against them. At the moment, Tathlin was engaged in combat with another bandit who was armed with a large machete blade. Gripping the Silver Wing of a White Angel, (the name of the sword that Aneron wielded), Aneron twisted the blade into a defensive position.

The bandit came forward and attacked, with a loud cry of "chew on this!".
Aneron didn't even have to move his blade, for he simply sidestepped and let the bandit stumble past him in confusion. Before the bandit knew what happened, Aneron brought the blade down in an arc. The blade bit deep into the bandit's shoulder and crimson red blood began to pour from the wound, for the sword did not stop just at the shoulder... but it cut it's way down straight to the chest.

The bandit died, gurgling and choking in a pool of blood. But there were plenty more where he came from. A sudden scream of pain alerted Aneron as he twisted to his left. Another caravan guard was struck down, a bandit's blade going straight through his body. And then another scream as the final caravan guard went down in a hail of crossbow bolts, his body flopping to the ground like a discarded rag-doll.

Aneron's face lit up in rage, an attack of cowardise such as this on an unprotected caravan party. The group of travellers were heading to the mountain areas and had passed through Norwood Forest for the scenary. Aneron had arrived and paid for some space where he could rest. How was he, nor any of the travellers supposed to know that the bandits had spotted the caravan party and under the cover of fog, sprung a suprise attack... setting fire to the caravans and slaying any man who dared get in their way.

Aneron had fought to protect the caravan party, but the bandits were skilled and the party guards were not. They were quickly overwhelmed and now it was Aneron who was staring down at least 7 more guards who were all standing infront of iron cages, each iron cage containing the women and children of the caravan party. They had no interest in Aneron, and he knew that soon... he would die. But he would die taking as many bandits as he could.

Suddenly, some of the bandits began to turn back... only three remained. One of the bandits, obviously the leader judging by his muscle, looked at Aneron and smirked. Then he shouted back the remaining three...
"Kill him and come back to the camp. This calls for a celebration... and we have plenty of dancers willing to work free of charge..."

The rest of the bandits guffawed at the thought of women dancing for them against their will before climbing on their horses and riding off into the fog. As soon as they were out of site, the three remaining bandits attacked. The first bandit attempted an overhead strike, but the White Wing of the Silver Angel seemed to move on it's own accord when it was raised above Aneron's head. There was a clang as the two metals collided and some sparks, before Aneron pushed back with all his might. The bandit stumbled and Aneron brought his sword down in a sweep that was aimed at the bandit's stomach...

Once again, the sword bit deep and failed to stop at the bandit's stomach, infact it almost cut the vagabond in half! The bandit screamed in pain as he fell, his stomach gushing with blood and sinew. Then the knight felt a searing pain in his shoulder as a lucky strike from the second bandit managed to slip inbetween the plates within his armor. As a result, a sword was producing from Aneron's shoulder... and the pain was excruiating.

Aneron fell to the ground but refused to give up. When the sword was removed, Aneron fell to one knee and took a deep breath before charging forward and knocking the bandit unconcious with a tackle to the ground. Blood pouring from his wound, Aneron saw the third bandit run. Picking up the shortsword from the unconcious fiend, Aneron threw it as hard as he could and was satisfied to hear a scream as it hit the bandit.

But now there was a problem... where were the bandits going? To the bandit camp, but in this fog it was impossible to be sure of what direction they were heading. Raising up onto his feet, Aneron looked in the direction that the bandits departed in and closed his eyes. They could be anywhere by now...

But wait! Of course... there was still one bandit alive wasn't there? Aneron turned to the one he had tackled and picked him up, slapping him with a gloved hand. The bandit groaned with pain and open his eyes to see Aneron enraged, his eyes ablaze with fury... no... fury was a human emotion. The look in his eyes was that of an enraged beast, and the bandit immediatley knew that the time to be scared was now.

"WHERE IS THE BANDIT CAMP!!!????" Aneron shouted to the bandit, his voice full of unsupressed rage, "WHERE IS IT, OR I SWEAR ON THE SUN GOD THAT YOU WILL WISH I DISPOSED OF YOU WHEN I HAD THE CHANCE!!!"

The bandit didn't talk, was he too scared? Or was he simply being tough?

Aneron turned the bandit around and slammed his face straight down into a muddy puddle, and then pushed his face in further until it was making an imprint on the dirt. The bandit began to choke and gurgle, drowning in mud wasn't the best way to go. He slammed his hand to the ground in a gesture of submission... Aneron turned him around and shouted again...

"TELL ME WHERE THEY ARE DAMN YOU!!!"

The bandit pointed toward the east and could only whisper, "The camp is that way, straight ahead."

Aneron punched the fool straight in the face, no nonsense, and watched as the guard returned to a state of unconciousness. Raising from the ground, Aneron saw he was covered in blood and mud. He looked a state, but right now he didn't care. He had a group of people to save and he wasn't going to let something like a cut shoulder stop him...

The Norwood forest was suprisingly quiet today. Something was wrong. Meera knew that the moment she stepped foot into the foliage and got comfortable. The birds were not chirping and hardly ever did she hear the rustle of a larger mammal running through the bushes. There seemed to be nothing here. It was odd. Nonetheless, she had continued walking, on high guard though. Her nimble fingers rested easily on the hilt of her sword and all of her senses were on high alert. Her ears were so highly attuned that even her steady breathing seemed to disturb the balance of things. Her steps were light, ready for either fight or flight should the need arise. Suddenly, a definite smell drifted into her nose. There was no doubt in her mind. The smell was smoke. Wheeling on her heels, Meera turned to see a thin stream of smoke in the distance. Having nothing better to do, and wishing to help anyways, Meera called Ciaran. Sure, she could fly, but since smoke rose and there was no way she would be able to fly through smoke laced air without risking consequences. It was much safer on the ground. Without much more time, thundering hooves shook the forest floor. An ebony head craned over a branch as twigs popped and the hooves slid to a stop. Ciaran whickered a greeting and Meera gave the unicorn a small warm smile. She stroked her hand just beneath his chin, and whispered a quiet word of thanks before entwining her fingers through his mane and pulling herself aboard. She explained to him the situation, with the smoke and that she would like him to leave as soon as the smoke got too thick. Meera would be able to make it alone anyways. She just needed to get there quickly now.

By the time Meera reached the spot where she would take Ciaran no closer, his chest was heaving with exertion. Foam gathered in the corners of his mouth and his coat shined with a thin glean of sweat. It was dangerous enough anyways. Meera patted the unicorn lovingly, but didn't know how much time she had to save whatever was burning. Maybe it was her nature, but Meera really did not know why she automatically assumed that the fire was burning something important. Being the goddess of water, she did not particularly care for or favor fire. That did not at all mean that she was not able to handle it. In fact, she knew a few fire spells. They would do her no good in this instance though. Every time her boots touched down upon the ground, smoke puffed outwards, upset by the matter breaking apart its particles. Though the smoke was thick here, Meera knew it would get better as she neared the object actually on fire. At this moment, she was just following the smoke to find the source. That was not her smartest move, but it worked nonetheless. Meera attempted to slow her racing heart so that she did not have to take as many breaths. The less she breathed in of this smoky air, the better off she would be. Hacking a couple times, Meera paused and grabbed her stomach. Almost there, she encouraged herself. Finally, she reached a pocket of cleaner air. But there in front of her stood something that was no so much of a relief. Burning caravans, dead bodies, smoke, and distantly she heard the sound of clashing fights. Though Meera's first instinct was to run and help the warriors, she thought about saving the caravans from fire. In a reflex, Meera sent out a cooling sea breeze to dampen the ground and slow the fires rampage if not confine it. A thin layer, almost looking like dew, settled easily.

Next, came the rain. Reaching her arms up towards the heavens, Meera glanced towards the smoky sky. Then, in one quick motion, she jerked her arms down. Immedietly rain poured down. It was in thick sheets. Meera had figured that this would do the most good. She didn't have time to put out each individual fire with a simple water spell. There was still a fight going on. Only when she had just thought about that did Meera turn her attention to the audible sounds of a clash. Just as she heard one clang of swords, there was complete silence. Worried at what this could mean, Meera hustled into motion again. The sudden start caused a hacking fit to begin again in her smoking lungs, but she ran through it. The longer the silence reigned, the more concern Meera had. On the run, she pulled out her sword of water. It had never failed her. Before she even realized it, the smoke had begun to thin. She must be reaching the edge of the caravan. The fires hadn't gotten this far yet. Meera's rain still covered it anyways. Her thick amber hair was plastered to her cheekbones and the back of her neck. It was very uncomfortable, but was that really the objective here? Finally reaching the open area where Meera was sure she had heard the fight noises coming from, Meera saw only more dead bodies. As she looked upwards, she saw a man. He was running. That was definitely suspicious in her book. Meera hurled herself towards the man at a dead run. she was bent on killing him. Whoever dared do this much damage to an innocent caravan had no right to live. Golden emerald eyes blazing, Meera knew she was gaining on him. This mortal could not compete with a goddess.

Though her mind was toughened with rage, a glimmer of doubt flashed upon her. What if he wasn't the enemy? Could she ever forgive herself for killing a freindly force? This caused a small stutter in her step. What could she do to be sure? Immedietely, Meera knew. Quickly thrusting her hands out, Meera conjured a large ice wall directly in front of the man. He would have to stop now. Another hacking cough ran through Meera's body. Those were going to kill her. Shaking her head, Meera cleared her mind and ran to catch up to the man finally. Still at a run, she growled "What's your business? Do you help, or do you murder?" Though her face was a mess of charcoal smudges and her hair was damp and plastered to her skin from the rain, Meera still felt she presented a menacing sight. Chest rising up and down in an effort to catch her breath, Meera slid to a halt in front of the man. Who was he, and why was he running from the scene? Meera still held her sword gripped tightly in her fist. It was held at the ready just in case the man tried to pull anything funny. Her mind was just as ready. Any spell, she was ready to counter. He had just better not underestimate her. Just then, Meera noticed a wound on his shoulder. She immedietely noted it as his weak side just in case they should get into combat. After all, what good fighting could this man expect to accomplish with one shoulder out of comission? He obvoiusly had some important reason as to why he was running. He was alone, he was injured, and he didn't appear to be happy or in pain. In fact...he just looked...mad. Meera could see it in his eyes. Even as her own shot icy daggers into him with her glare. She felt she was prepared for anything he might throw at her. Words or weapons.

Gritting his teeth, Aneron walked forward in the direction that the plunderer had given him. But he only got two steps before his legs gave way due to the pain he was in, thanks largely to the wound in his shoulder. He couldn't concentrate and he was drifting in and out of conciousness... goddamit, this was annoying. Raising his hand, Aneron attempted to cast his greater heal spell. It didn't work, for whatever reason. Perhaps he was too weak to cast a spell, or perhaps he said the command word wrong. Whatever was wrong, it stopped his wound from healing...

Suddenly, the heavens opened up and rain began to pour upon Aneron. It was refreshing in some way and Aneron opened his mouth and let the rain fall into his mouth, for he was drained and extremley thirsty. Using all his strength, Aneron attempted to get back up again by using a tree as a leaning post. It worked, but Aneron was still shaky, covered in blood, grime and mud. He looked like an avenging warrior who had crawled straight from the swamps.

And then, there were footsteps. Another bandit! These bandits were sending another person to finish him off and there was no way that Aneron could win this time. But he would go down fighting that's for sure... no matter what happened, the Paladin would not die from exhaustion. Hiding behind a tree, Aneron raised his sword until he could hear the footsteps get so close that there was no doubt that the bandit was gaining close.

Aneron struck, his sword brought down in a powerful downward slash that would no doubt cleave the body. But the sword never got the chance to hit the bandit, for instead a shock went up Aneron's whole arm and caused him to drop to the ground in pain. Now that was both arms that were out of commission, he was in trouble... and he waited for the killing blow.

But it never came. Instead a voice rang out...
"What's your business? Do you help, or do you murder?"
Aneron raised his head and immediatley saw the face of the speaker. She was a woman with bronze skin, dark hair and white angelic wings. But what was more shocking was that there seemed to be a barrier of thick transparent ice that had mysteriously appeared between Aneron and the stranger, no doubt conjured as a way of defence.

"I am neither bandit nor plunderer, I am a Paladin known as Tathlin." Aneron answered, "But who are you? Are you a sorceress, to have conjured up the ice barrier so easily to block an attack? Are you celestial... friend or foe?"

Though seeing the man in pain struck a certain chord wihin Meera, she did not cave. If this was a bandit, one of whom had struck such horrible damage, she had no mercy. Within a split-second though, all thoughts were put to rest. As soon as the word Paladin whispered into her ear, Meera knew this man was not lying. He would do good. Now that she was assured that he meant her no harm if she herself stayed true to their common goal, She quickly cast away her ice wall. Sure, she had heard the man's questions, but she was still working on what and how much she would tell him as she walked forwards. He at least had to know that she was on his side, so she contented herself to answer only one question to begin with. She lifted her chin up regally and said "I am a friend. I will help you avenge these bandits." Since Meera hadn't seen any carcasses of women, or children for that matter, she assumed that most had been taken for wordless uses. That was something that Meera had absolutely no tolerance for. Even if this man didn't choose to work with her, she would go and do what she needed. Now that she had seen the havoc that these people had wreaked, she felt obligated to serve them justice. It was only right. Feeling almost certain that this man would not simply just trust on her word, since he had too much to lose, Meera added in another of her purer attributes. "I am also an infused," she added, brushing away her rain slick hair to reveal the crescent moon and diamond sheened bit of skin at her temple.

So far, Meera honored him for fighting so valiantly, but if he did not believe her now, her thoughts would travel more along the line of a fool. Though she knew it was rude, without even asking, Meera hands cupped together and she gently cast forth the greater heal spell. She didn't know the reason why the man hadn't healed himself, maybe he didn't know how, maybe he couldn't for some other reason, but Meera would do it. It seemed to be causing him great pain. Normally, she would ask, but not in this case. Besides, it was too late now. His shoulder would be healing already. Determined to appeal to his better nature, Meera settled back on her heels and in a relaxed manner slung one arm across her waist to rest on the opposite hip. She said, "Anything else I can help you with? Perhaps some more energy? A drink? It will do you no good to go off and fight those bandits in the condition you're in right now. And don't try to persuade me otherwise. I have seen the results of such a deed." Her mouth settled into a thin, grim line. There was no humor in her voice right now, no smile to turn her lips up, nothing. Meera was most worried for the women. If they didn't get there in time, she knew what would most likely become of them. And it would not be pretty. Letting out a deep sigh, Meera hacked again. For the moment, she had forgotten how much smoke had been inhaled. Expelling just a little bit of the black that coated her lungs, Meera spat. She would have to stay away from as much of the close range fighting as she could. Casting spells would work, but only for a little while. She would try not to waste her breath, for it would go much quicker with a smoky lung than with her normal healthy ones.

The stranger cast away her ice wall, and Aneron smiled before he fell to the ground... exhausted of all energy and reserve. He could only pant heavily as the injuries were starting to weigh him down and overwhelm him. Aneron knew he had found good company and knew this person was stronger than she looked, for she was able to cast such an effective spell so quickly and effortlessly. Who was this maiden, what was she doing in the woods and how did she find the smoking pile of wood that was once the caravan group's wagons. It did not matter, all that mattered was getting the women and children back before they met horrible fates that were far worse than death.

"I am a friend. I will help you avenge these bandits." the stranger answered. Aneron smiled and looked at the woman, he had found a powerful companion indeed and she would more than likely help him when the time came for them both to do battle.

"I am also an infused," she added, showing a mark on her temple.
Aneron shook his head, he knew it was safe for him to tell the truth about his race.
"I am not infused, but I am of celestial descendant. I am an Aesir, one of the few who walk here. No, I am not infused... maybe one day.
"But stranger, as you can see... I am in no position to fight yet. My injuries are of great magnitude: so please... if you could heal me and then together we deliver jusice to those who kidnapped the women and children."
(OOC: Aneron's hasn't found his infused yet. And I have writer's block)