[center][h1][color=39b54a]H E L V E T E[/color][/h1][/center]
[right][hr][color=gray][b]The Well of Valdis[/b]
12th Day of Autumn, 1088 AD[/color][hr][/right]
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It was soon made clear that many of the man-things had survived whatever massacre took place here. In a graveyard of unrelenting death there still stood a few too resilient to die. Helvete found little comfort in the appearance of several man-things, however. He knew not why, but merely to look upon them made his guts churn. Flickering embers in his belly flared red hot for reasons unfathomable to the druid. They could not be trusted. Nothing could- not in this blood-soaked pit of madness.

Helvete's pleas for nonviolence were answered by the tender, shaken voice of a younger woman. Her words offered some meager comfort in an otherwise terrifying situation. Surrounded by strange man-things and standing in a mass grave was enough to set anyone on edge, with Helvete's amnesia only compounding the bleakness of it all.

A terrible scar about her neck drew his agitated gaze, piquing a small bit of curiosity in him. [i][color=39b54a]'Strange-weird,'[/color][/i] Helvete quietly wondered,[i][color=39b54a]'Would kill most man-things. Would kill this thing, too, yes-yes. How strange-weird indeed.'[/color][/i]

[color=39b54a]"Ah...yes-yes..."[/color] He spoke in a slow drawl, still working to process all that was happening. [color=39b54a]"Very good. No fight-hurt. Fight-hurt very bad."[/color] He was glad to know that he wasn't in any immediate danger. Not from the people around him, at least. Someone had still tossed him into this place, and killed all of those man-things. Someone very bad.

As Solon was just managing to calm himself down, a mighty bellow slammed against his ears. A woman more akin to an angry oxen was screeching furiously from atop a mound of broken bodies. The angry cries of the obvious warrior caused Helvete to scamper backward in a low crouch, his body kept close to the ground as he brought his staff about before him. A wordless hiss was his only verbal response to the berserker's screams for answers. Not only because he found her dreadfully terrifying, but because the druid had no answers to give. 

More man-things descended from the hills of corpses, all of them as confused as the last. No one seemed to have any idea where they were or why they were here. Five man-things and Helvete still breathed among the many hundreds of fallen. 

Many questions, no answers; that was all they had. 

A few had a determination to act, however. The only man man-thing that had joined them spoke rather strongly of escaping this dreaded pit of despair. Helvete was inclined to agree. The longer they spent here, the more likely they were to run into whatever monster-beast had tossed them in here. 

The young woman with the scar about her neck wasn't so keen to leave right away, however. She wished to stay and search for more survivors among the dead. Solon was of a split mind on that one. On one hand, Helvete felt a strong desire to agree with her. Staying and searching for at least a short while sounded like the right thing to do. Yet, on the other hand, Solon was afraid of what they might encounter if they lingered here for too long. It was not an easy choice to make, so he stayed quiet, allowing the rest to speak their minds first.

Before that discussion came, however, another spoke up. The one that Helvete had seen conversing with the neck scar woman before he had scampered into view. She thought it wise for them to introduce themselves before they continued. Knowing the names of his temporary companions sounded like a good idea. It would make it simpler to address them, when the need arose.

[color=39b54a]"You don't remember-recall either, man-thing?"[/color] His brow shot up as Syrenia mentioned that she was suffering from the same amnesia that afflicted Helvete. [color=39b54a]"Strange-odd. Very strange-odd indeed."[/color] The old man muttered to himself, a hand letting up off the floor to run through his stark white beard. [color=39b54a]"This thing is Helvete."[/color] He shifted his hand down to beat against his chest. [color=39b54a]"I am one with the Wood. Very good-great with Forest magic, yes-yes."[/color] Solon proudly proclaimed. That was something he had felt the moment his fingers wrapped about Oakheart. It was a part of him. He could feel it's presence radiating through his very marrow, filling him with power.
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