The forest was dark as the Mage walked through the wood, his hair was partially out of the ties he had keeping most of it behind him. Pausing he jerked his ties out making his long hair look a bit weird from how long the ties had been there. Reaching behind him be re-tied his hair after running his fingers through it a couple times. Looking up he felt uneasy, what if someone else was to come by? All he had was the knife that hurt him and the staff he conjured; he could not weild a sword, could not use many weapons other than something as small as a foot in a half blade or a staff.Whne in the College he was never required to learn bladed combat... that and it cost too much so on his spare time when he was learning conjuration and summoning he would ask the creature to teach him how to use a blade. Mythril was skinny and not at all strong to weild the weapons warriors and most men could weild. Which to him made him seem weak but he was learning.<br/><br/>The staff he had been using faded out into a puff of saw dust before Mythril paused. There were no crickets. No noises. He stopped in his tracks and looked around, where was he? Somehow he had gotten off the trail and was lost. He tied the knife to his belt and lifted his hand, a glowing orb formed over his hand, brightening the area for twenty feet, he had no idea where he was but he knew there had to be structures or campments somewhere in this forest. There had to be since that group was there. Walking he rubbed his neck with his free hand and soon saw the path after twenty minutes, it was then he realized the overgrown area took out most of the path in places which was a good and bad thing. Good because no one coold follow, bad because of possible hidden traps from hunters. Though even with this knowledge he was still quite lost... Each moment waisted meant he'd probably never find his goal. Which was to save the female who had been kidnapped, even though he knew her not be still wanted to help her some how. Normally knights or kings went out to save females, never lone mages. Which was why he was here, to be different. After all, he never spoke his spells, they happen when he cast them in his mind. It was a rare trait to have and he could do it.<br/><br/>All he wanted to do right now was rest but he was in the bad area of the wood, he had to wait till morning to rest. Which would be far off from now, even so he had enough energy to go on till then. With a hurt back from the tree, a stabbed shoulder, and sore feet he would go on. Why was his feet sore? From stumbling in the dark for so long before using magic to light his way. Which was helping till he walked right into a tree? No. Backing up he went wide eyed as he was gazing at the back of a rather large and tall Grey-Back Orc. He backed up more and more quietly till a snap came from under his foot, a twig broke, tonight was just not to be his it seemed. The Orc turned and grabbed Mythril by the collar of his cloak, jerking him upward and growled in his face, the breath blast Mythril received made him feel sick. It was like rotting milk and burning flesh, both grossly pungent smells. The Mage held his breath as he was tossed into a tree, "Skinny stick-man thrashin' time." At that Mythril looked up, out of breath and easily rendered still due to the slam into the tree. Standing the Mage glared, he wondered why he was on the hit list. No matter he was going to fight to get out of this, he may be smaller but he could use magic.<br/><br/>The Orc took a morning star from his hip before coming at Mythril to slam it down over his head, the Mage looked up lifting his non-glowing hand to wave a sheet of thick ice to break the impact. This action gave him time to back away, yet at the same time this Orc nearly killed him. The Grey-back swung side ways with the weapon, Mythril lunged forward and slammed his fists into the chest of the giant Orc before casting a smell that shot the Orc back a few feet. Blood-Bucket, that was the name of the Orc, growled before hosting his Morning Star to his hip once again by the leather strip it had on the butt of its handle. The brute balled his fists and swung a hefty round house punch to Mythril's already-hurt shoulder making the Mage gasp and wish to whimper in pain. Before the grey skinned hand moved back to leave way for a new punch Mythril gripped the arm and lifted a leg jerking the Orc into his foot making his opponent wail in agony for being struck in his groin. Blood-Bucket howled and slammed his fist into the Mage's skull, instantly knocking him out.<br/><br/>Later, the Mage groaned and woke up to be tied up with his hands behind him and ankles bound tight. He was laying on his side observing his situation. The fire before him was hotter than he was used to and felt like he'd pass out again, the Orc was eating some bird while humming. That was until he heard the growl from the brute's gut signaling his captor would be running to go use the woods, which meant he could escape. His hands were thin enough to work out of the rope. He just had to wait. By now the sky had a partial moon, making the old fort slightly visible in the distance far bellow the hill.<br/><br/><br/>Spectre walked around the form of Diviner and growled, he hated how his brother had that creepy robbed thing in this fort, even the black and red wolf with them soulless eyes scared him. No matter his twin only dealt with the odd balls, though soon as Jasel made known Spectre's mood changed. It went from a dark mood to sheer dark joy to see his bonded brother. Hugging him back the way Jasel did he grinned and looked to his friend, "It has been long hasn't it?" The Phoenix then laughed at the words on his brother, pulling a chair from the table he sat down, "Leonardo? He has not been a good stuffer for years now. Though I can't wait to see his reaction to what you did." The Diviner lifted its head, "He be mad, especially since the vampires were the first birthed of the Celtic Vampire Demon who has no name." Spectre grabbed his boot and pulled it off, bucking it at the hooded figure who shrieked after being hit in the head and crawled to hide by the bed closest to the wall, "Who cares he's been dead for years. So what if the vampires were still fledglings? It was nice to have my blade finally kill that bastard. Sides, he made those vampires as a gift to his new kind of Shadow Vampires." He heard a hiss and got up before taking his boot and put it on, looking to Jasel with a grin. Walking over he sat down again, "I'm glad you are here. Means my twin gets to be pissed at someone other than me for a change."<br/><br/>Leonardo walked from the upper tower that rested over the fort all the way to the outer front to spot a fire not far off. From the looks of it, it might be a camp fire. There were no torches here on the outside or near windows so no one could see or tell if anyone was here, walking down the stone path that Ebony warrior went to the far entrance to see many men laying on the ground unconscious. Walking closer he knelt down and narrowed his eyes, something came through here. Wings of white tore from his back before he took off in a rush through the wide maze only to see all his vampires were dead. He flew through the tunnels only to smell a familiar scent, snarling he flew towards the main room and flew up the gap to land on the peak. Snarling he folded his wings into his back only to hear the shriek of his diviner. Walking into the room after a few moments he saw Jasel and growled, coming up in a rush to punch him in the face, "Bastard! Why decimate my army and torch my Shadow Walkers!?" The shrouded figure crawled out hearing Leo's voice and patted its way to the spot it sat in before going back to work.