One might have though that, given her parentage, Aryel would have been more appreciative of the exploits of the ones hunting her motley band down. She had been sired by a marauding steppe warlord herself, after all. However, the tiefling had never been the type to meet the expectations set for her, as a matter of fact, she made it a point to openly defy them. Knighthood was an odd profession for one of her pedigree, but she seemed to have embraced the challenge. Indeed, she had found a purpose in it--she had learned to take the drive to<i>possess</i>that so defined a demon of Greed, and turn it into a drive to<i>protect</i>. She'd guard this kingdom as fiercely as any dragon with a hoard.<br/><br/>And so, when these marauders had poured out of the wilderness to sack and pillage, she had been at the forefront of the campaign against them. They had already had to contend with the "Blue Devil" and her warriors several times before, but each time they always seemed to escape before she could finally bring them to bay. The Sullen Crew had the obnoxious quality of being just large enough to be a threat, while at the same time being small and scattered enough to be annoyingly difficult to chase down. Trying to corral the horde was like trying to catch water, a pack of feral dogs nipping about the heels of the massive, ponderous beast that was the kingdom's armies. Already weakened from a war against a would-be conqueror years prior, their resources were stretched thin, and it seemed the Crew was eager to take advantage of that. Numerous towns and villages had already been razed, their inhabitants enslaved, scattered, or murdered, and their possessions either taken or reduced to cinders. She and her warriors were escorting one such group of refugees from a town so recently destroyed that they could still see the smoke plumes in the distance. The Crew had been held off long enough to evacuate the surviving townsfolk, but now that they were fleeing, Aryel and her warriors had quickly found themselves the new prey. Had it only been them, they might have stood a chance of outpacing the horde, but with refugees in tow, many of them injured or burdened down with their few remaining possessions, they were slowly gaining. When the wind shifted, they could hear sonorous voices in the distance, the harbinger of their deaths.<br/><br/>Several times she had taken to the air to scout out a path through the strange forest, though as their enemy drew closer, she had been forced to remain on the ground and out of their sight, lest she give away their position--not that it would have mattered much, given how close they already were. With their path set, Aryel now remained at the rear of the caravan along with several other soldiers, casting grim glances behind themselves as if they expected to see marauders charging out of the trees after them any moment. Being<i>hunted</i>like this galled her, but there was more at stake here than just her pride.<br/><br/>Even so...<br/><br/>The tiefling growled her frustrations quietly, one hand slipping downwards to grip the hilt of her scimitar. If they could just make it to the capital city, they'd have a fighting chance. She wasn't willing to simply wait for death to fall upon them so close to their goal.<br/><br/>The terrain had begun to dip down under their feet, while to their sides, it rose up into steep cliffs. The gulch had likely been carved centuries ago by floodwaters, leaving a jagged scar in the land. Maybe fifty or so feet at its widest, it formed a natural choke point flanked on either side by heavy metal thickets.<br/><br/>An idea came to her, then. It was an utterly foolish idea, almost certain to end in her death, but it seemed their only chance to getting away. Aryel stopped suddenly, causing several of her men to look back at her in puzzlement.<br/>"What is it?" asked one. "Have they found us?"<br/>"Not yet," she responded, "but they're going to if we don't do something." She gestured forward, to the head of the caravan. "Pass word on that Sergeant Leander is in charge until you get to the capital. I'm going to stay here and wait for our friends to come calling."<br/>As expected, this decision was not met with approval, and she waited until their protests had died down to explain. "Look around us. If they want to keep up, they'll have to come through this gully after us rather than chop their way through the thickets on either side."<br/>"Nobody doubts your bravery, liege," pressed one, a grizzled old man, the veteran of many a campaign. "But you can't possibly expect to defeat the entire horde on your own."<br/>"I don't<i>have</i>to defeat them," she retorted with a grin, cracking her gauntleted knuckles. "I just have to waste their time."<br/><br/>There was little time to argue, and ultimately, the survival of their charges came before that of their leader. The plan was laid out quickly. As the caravan pressed onwards, Aryel remained in the gully, seemingly alone. Concealed at the top of the cliffs, however, were a dozen of their swiftest runners. Should she fall in combat, they would run ahead to warn the others, scattering through the trees to ensure that at least one of them made it back.<br/><br/>Aryel had always known that she wouldn't be lucky enough to pass peacefully in her sleep. She was a warrior born and bred, and if she was going to die, she wanted to do it fighting. The tiefling leaned against a massive boulder in the center of the gully, likely dislodged from the walls long ago, her eyes fixed on the far end of the canyon, where she knew the Crew would soon be appearing. Was she frightened? Of course, she would have been stupid not to be. Yet at the same time, the finality of it all was almost reassuring. She shut her eyes, then inhaled and exhaled deeply, reaching for the natural magic humming in her veins, reaching for the furious, possessive greed she knew she would need now. So many lives lost, so many homes destroyed.<i>Her</i>people,<i>her</i>lands,<i>her</i>kingdom. This was all<i>hers</i>, and she would defend it to her last breath.<br/><br/>On the next exhale, a wave of flames sprung to life and rolled down her wings, and when she opened her eyes again, they carried a fiery gleam of their own. She took a step forward and, with her heel, dragged a line through the sandy soil underfoot. A clear challenge, that not one of the Crew would be stepping a toe past that line.