[Seran]

Muahaha.
Dark Warriors - continued!

+++

"Something...good?" Vilbert repeated blankly. He focused his eyes on Drizz'l, failing to continue at chewing the ropes off of him, while he continued to slowly recover from the outpour of rage that had taken place earlier -- consisting of him trying to kill them with a chair, that is. He felt rather ashamed of himself. However, he wanted to know more about what Drizz'l was thinking about, what Drizz'l meant by blood and what he meant by good. Drizz'l answered him with a dark, mysterious smile, no longer exposing his fangs, but his eyes were piercing the vampire in a most disturbing way, as though Drizz'l was attempting to take a glance into Vilbert's distorted mind -- and was winning. Vilbert squirmed in the ropes uneasily. Drizz'l continued to merely stare at him, stare with his dark elf's gaze, with that evil eye that could make any human cower. And although Vilbert was no human, he nervously tried to bite the ropes off again like before. Garland glanced between the two, lost and uncertain of what had just happened.
"Are you okay?" Garland asked, reaching out towards Drizz'l. The dark elf aggressively grabbed Garland by the wrist, his smile falling into a scowl, and he turned onto Garland, turning his head and forcing his gaze onto him instead.
"Don't touch me," he hissed. "Or I'll call one of my friends."
"But we're your friends," Garland answered. Oh, how confused he was! He had no clue as to what, exactly, Drizz'l was talking about, and he blinked at the dark elf, starting to succumb beneath the pressure of his disturbing gaze. Garland froze, swallowing down his dry throat, having completely forgotten about Mister FuzzyDoomBringer. They both stood there, motionless, staring each other down. Garland tried to decipher the reason that Drizz'l was acting so unusual, so unnatural, while Vilbert chewed his ropes apart and Bikke had disappeared in the bushes for a while. Once the last rope had been seperated, the vampire collapsed onto the ground, falling on the palms of his hands and onto his knees. He raised his head, watching Drizz'l make Garland fidget nervously in his grip.
Eventually, Garland pulled his arm away.
"Whatever," he muttered with more evil tone. His voice grew dark, as he had finally realized that something serious was at hand. "Tell me what you're planning, Drizz'l."
The turning of the mood startled Vilbert, who quickly gathered himself up. He looked at the two, staying within the shade of the trees.
"They're out there somewhere," Drizz'l answered flatly. "The Light Warriors. Not too long ago, I ran into Fighter. You saw him, right?"
"Not that I recall."
"By the river."
"The one you pushed me in?"
"Yes."
Garland remained in his spot, his back on Drizz'l. "...You didn't have to say yes."
"I know."
Garland glowered for a moment, but decided to ignore the response. "You were saying?"
"I don't think he was just dancing through the woods, lost," Drizz'l replied. "I think he was up to something. He wasn't too far from the camp of his fellow Light Warriors. I say we check them out."
"Arr!" From the trees did Bikke emerged, looking rather refreshed. "Nothing more relaxing than a -- "
"If it has something to do with the bushes or the base of a tree," the dark elf quickly interrupted, "don't say it." Exasperated, he looked back to Garland with an irritated expression. "Sharpen your weapons, get into shape, we're attacking immediately." Drizz'l turned around and retreated into his tent. Garland stood by the campfire, staring down at the burnt wood and the dying flames. He only stood there silently, reflecting on what a jerk Drizz'l was. Vilbert stood there, as though he was waiting for someone to say something to him, but when he watched Bikke return to his own tent, and Garland do the same, Vilbert stood there, abandoned. He was without his coat as well.
"The wave of despair that washes over me," he recited, "is cruel and forsakes my being."
+++
Fighter, with his golden eyes shut, clutched his bleeding wound as he coughed even more violently than before, blood spurting out from his throat. Black Mage's knife had come dangerously close to where his blood could leak, making him cough it out and putting the pressure of pain onto his lungs and chest. He collapsed onto his side, covering his mouth and still trying to stop the bleeding, while he coughed into his hand and Red Mage kneeled by him. Black Mage's stab had been much more effective than it had during all the previous attempts.
"Fighter," Red Mage spoke, "try not to move, okay?" He slowly drew out his character sheet, ready to change his class into something that he could use to fix up Fighter. Meanwhile, Thief was whacking Black Mage hard in the head with his fist, still sitting on the ground.