"Do you honestly expect killing one's beloved, family, or friends will not incur the survivor's malice and hate, even if they are too weak to act upon it?"

-Paladin Eldenbrith of the goddess of Justice and Truth Krosa to the legendary murderer known only as Swallow.

"Just as humans actively seek success and better in their own livelihood's, they too if given the chance shall seek vengeance upon their enemies. Such is the weak willed race."

- From the Novel Elves, myth or legend? by Crasxis Crotumoim.

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The roars of the Mitocrasis became more subdued and faded the closer the skeleton came to the exit. As it neared, it began hearing the muffled shouts and cries of battle, something instinctually close to it. Hearing those shouts fixed its mind as it began to stand and moving at a shaky run, still rather out of sorts. By the time the skeleton made its exit from the cave to the outside, no sounds of combat could be heard.

Of the initial twelve members, five remained. The corpse of the man that ran from the skeleton was up in a tree in pieces. Blood drenched the ground and splatters upon the cliff face. The skeleton stood there motionlessly staring at its 'mothers' corpse. Through the bond and the stolen memories of the corpse, he developed another emotion. Vengeance. However, it should be noted that this 'vengeance' was emotionless. Hollow in its own right without anger. It was the mark on its right shoulder that drove this vengeance. Whispers it could not understand swept through his mental landscape like a tidal wave saying 'kill kill kill'. The mark glowed red as it looked down for no real apparent reason to find a sheathed dagger protruding from its ribcage.

The dagger looked familiar to it, the handle ornated like a feather. It was the hunting dagger from the father of Servnisa to his only child. It grasped the hilt of the dagger and it felt right in its bone hand. The memories the skeleton had gained from the corpse fled away leaving but one thing. Technique. It took into itself the ways of fighting from her, how to shoot a bow, to slice a neck with the least resistance, and remain undetected by the unwary.

Thus the 'life' of Servnisa ended to the culmination of her techniques being passed onto the vengeful dead. The skeletons eyes erupted like a pyre as the intensity of the marks command grew stronger every second, and under the influence of the mark, it struck at the closest. The unfortunate archer fell with a surprised cry, alerting the other four of the attack.

Fores, Grenvald, the chef Jequin, and the crooked nose scholar hiding behind the underbrush.The skeleton immediately leaped towards the closest target to it, Fores. With a leg forward, the right leg behind it like a spring, and its arms crossing in front of the skull, it came. The skeleton used its velocity instinctually from the skills it gained, near its target the skeleton immediately feinted downwards with a chop, only to spin on its heel with a stab at the side, the pyre of black flame ripping with the wind behind its attack like a dancer upon a white stage.

Fores, however, remained calm, Grenvald attempting to circle the skeleton. It was not lost on the two that the skeleton had no aura of death, however. Regardless, the skeleton had come as a foe, so any attempts to glean something from it was impossible.

The battle raged on, the untiring skeleton dodging and parrying every attempted duet by the two with inhuman grace and speed. The chef and the scholar had already run away, per Grenvalds insistence to go back to the ship and tell them to depart for the mainland immediately.

Fores was bleeding profusely. A waterfall of red from the now multiple stab wounds on its side coated his leather armor. Sweat built upon his brow and his complexion of skin became white.

"Fores, I'll hold this monster! Get back to the ship and warn them of the danger of this land!"

Fores blanched at the idea, it'd be a shame upon his honor.

"Gods be damned, now Fores!" Grenvald charged at the skeleton, his buckler in front of his head as he managed to catch the skeleton, in an attempt to finish off Fores, into a nearby tree. With a sidelong look from Grenvald, Fores gave a silent relenting stare in turn and ran as well.

Moments after Fores disappeared into the sea of trees and flora, Grenvald sighed as he watched his skeleton opponent rise yet again, its gleaming white bones untouched. "Guess it's just two old bags of bones now, huh." The silence was his given response as the two collided again. Metal upon metal scratched the air while the eyes Mitocrasis looked on empty of life, a single tear coming from its gland. No one would learn its final thoughts whether if it ever realized it was being basically brainwashed. One of its great wings was upright pointing the sky, as the light upon the arena of these two poured on in the dimming afternoon light, reflecting off their weapons.

Ferocious eyes stared into primal and feral orbs. Bodies twisted and danced on this stage. The trees rustled seemingly swaying to their furious strikes. Flowers bowed before the only remaining lords of combat standing foot on the mountain since the king had fallen. Like two princes fighting over the discovery one had killed their king, each seeking proper domain.

Here to the skeleton, he saw Grenvald as no mere old man. The skeleton saw the youthful Grenvald, with auburn locks and jagged scars with a simper of a ruthless master as he plowed through the innumerable battlegrounds of youth.

To Grenvald he saw not a skeleton, but a ghostly warrior. he saw a lifeless soldier with a gleaming cleaver, he saw the mail white as the snow of the mountains that ran with rivers of blood from the absent head, but an open fronted helmet instead. Through the mark, they saw this vision. They saw the current essence of one another. While Grenvald had a distinguished essence, the skeleton was truly void. Only the leftovers of the human who once claimed ownership of the skeleton was in its place as essence, as now too was the blood of a maiden inside the bowels of a caves abyss.

They clashed and battled, strike for blow like beasts of old. Neither giving opportunity for the other to deal any sort of counter, though it was much harder in the case of Grenvald as his opponent was undead. However Grenvald spat out no curse onto his opponent like one would expect, instead, he was exhilarated. It had been long since he held such even competition. He fought with his heart now, truly reminiscent of his younger days.

The skeleton struck from the sides continuously attempting to worm in its blade through the ribs as techniques of Servnisa guided it along with their path. As the sun began to cast violet hues across the land, the two suddenly broke back. Grenvald heaved in every breath, his body hardly staying up to speed while the skeleton bore no such problem. They silently eyed another before the skeleton sheathed the dagger and began to walk past the old master. Grenvald did not try and stop it. His eye's stared forward unceasingly, and if one did not check, they would not realize Grenvald, the iron titan, had died. He was a statue and forever he would remain the representation of this glorious duet of bone and flesh.

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They had run much of the distance in the several hours since they fled. Before they had moved slow and cautiously, studying everything around them. Night had long fallen and they began seeing lights of fire in the distance. The scholar was now thankful for the slow and steady approach that Fores and Grenvald had taken. The chef nearly shouted in glee, but he couldn't as an arrow stuck out from his neck. Fores looked behind him and faced the intruder. The skeleton melted from the shadows like a plague and Fores cursed the gods for letting Grenvald die as he knows no other explanation save this entire land is filled with deathless skeletons.

"Keep going!" The scholar already was doing just that, thoughts of his own survival were all his mind could process. Tears began streaming down the pampered scholar. He thought of his home, his tea, and his books. He whimpered as he ran, sending the crew of the ship into alarm at his sudden entrance.

"Hurry you blasted fools they're all dead!"

The captain knew there were possibilities of the explorers being wiped out, so he prodded for no more explanation from a man terrified to the point piss dripped like a melting icicle down his pant leg. Orders were given, the ship had remained ready to sail if any need arose, so within ten minutes of his arrival, the ship began sailing from the makeshift dock that had been built.

Minutes further, the skeleton walked out of the treeline and onto the docks, blood covering its bones. The flames in its eyes had died down, the mark not recognizing the scholar as a target for vengeance. The skeleton had its motion forwards to the docks end, stepping off into the sea, and upon falling into the sea, it put one leg in front of the other with its curiosity, towards what it saw in the distance and the water itself, now dominant again.

Thus it began its motion forwards, to parts unknown to it.