Marth Coralax stood on the shore of Bakulaw Isle, eyeing his surroundings. The spice traders who had taken him to the area had refused to get closer than two nautical miles of the island - he'd been rowing a small boat to shore. The scenery was beautiful. The edges of a forest were halfway through consuming an old ruined settlement - half sitting on barren soil, with nothing but the odd bird's nest to mark nature's impending domination, but the other half was completely overgrown with vegetation, a sea of greens, reds, blues, purples, and yellows, vines crawling up every wall, moss covering every floor, and branches through every window. The critters were also beautiful. Exotic birds with brightly coloured beaks, small cats, graceful and with stunning colours and patterns. In the middle of the ruins there was a boar as tall as a man, eyeing Marth for a second before dashing off. It was stunningly beautiful. Too bad the corpses ruined it all.

On the shoreline itself, there were a number of corpses. Mostly human and canine. The dogs were huge, easily the size of a direwolf, though more in the shape of a schafer than anything else. The humans were dressed like barbarians, but the garments were well-made with delicate hands and exotic materials. They were armed with spears and shields adorned with long feathers. And their guts were invariably ripped out, by a hound from the looks of it. But the muzzles of the dogs were all clean. Those men who had made it into the water were bloated, having been washed in with the tide after their drowning, at least three days past. There was one corpse which stood out among them all. Not from its injuries, but its shape. Six legs, a head that was only a mouth and ears, pitch blank, patchy fur, and claws like talons. The flame of its tail was still burning, proving that the hellhound could rise again at any moment. Marth took a quick step over and pierced its black heart, located between where the stomach and bladder would have been on an ordinary dog, with his long-bladed spear. There wasn't even a twitch. The hound simply died, its flame guttering out in the wind and vanishing in a tiny wisp of green smoke.

So the stories were true. Something demonic had appeared on the island. Marth, with the mental scars of Reaver still fresh in his mind, swallowed and had a look around. How do you expect to handle this on your own, Marth? Rubbing his forehead, he grimaced. He wasn't a religious man, but he found himself on his knees, praying. he had no idea as to whom he was praying, but he did. Gods, if you're out there… Help.

She could smell the demons' taint before even setting foot on the shore of the isle.  That was bad, a sign that the invasion was likely entrenched somewhere.  It wasn't the easiest thing in the world to open a portal to other realms, unless there was already a tear in that place.  But the drow thought that scenario unlikely, many rifts had been closed.  Perhaps a cult?  It was more likely, mortals so often went delving into powers beyond their ken for short term gains.  And the world as a whole tended to suffer as a result.

Glancing around, Moliira had observed the mortal, though she had used magic to remain hidden.  Even though her own divine talents were muted here, there were still quite a few things at her disposal.  A small grin tugged at her lips when she heard the whispered prayer, at least the boy knew when he was in over his head.  Adjusting the cowl of her cloak so her eyes were better shaded, Moliira headed towards the man.  It was as good of a time as any to introduce herself.

Calling out in the tongue of Wyllmochvar on a whim, there was an odd cant to her words, but she did not hide the fact that she was drow.  "Friend!  Are you here to pursue the demons as well?  I think the gods themselves have forsaken this isle," she said.  The drow showed her hands, a widely accepted sign of peaceful intentions.  There were a small number of fine scars, showing that Moliira was no stranger to a good fight.  "My name is Halzyne, and I hunt demons.  You?" she asked.  Moliira had found herself much more accepted when she simply got down to business.  Far less questions that way, too.

No sooner than his prayer had been completed, Marth heard a female voice. Drow, by the pitch and resonance - and looking up, Marth quickly saw that his guess was correct. She seemed forthcoming and friendly enough. Her Wyllmochvarian was good - she was clearly no stranger to the tongue - yet there was a slight hint of accent. Marth perked an eyebrow. You'd need sharp eyes and a good memory to recognize the robes and weapon of a Wyllmochvarian battlemage. That was promising. Marth rose, giving a silent thank you to whichever god had heard his prayer.

"Marth Coralax, battle-mage. I'm more interested in the source of the demonic incursion than fighting a war, but yes, I am here to do what I can to see it end." Even though his gut told him this woman was no particular threat - not because she wasn't skilled, for she clearly was, but she seemed freindly - his scarred mind was on high alert, ready to spring into action at a moment's notice. In order to keep a measure of control of his own situation, Marth held out a hand in a 'stop' fashion. "Let's not get too close right off the bat. I found the place by way of rumour and scrying. How did you get here?" His veins turned a bright shade of blue and began to glow with the tension, a display of magical prowess. Marth didn't think much of it - the place was uncivilized and riddled with dangers, and so his precaution was a sensible one. That, and Marth cound't shake a sinking feeling that there was something else, something inplacable, about the woman in front of him. But for the life of him, he couldn't figure out what.

(I am SO sorry for how late this is, had a lot on my plate lately.)

Her head tilted when the man called himself a battle-mage, those had always been interesting sorts in her experience.  And useful, if they had complete control of their abilities.  But they were also dangerous beings, and Moliira had known them to be easily seduced by promises of power.  It would be interesting to see just what this one was like.  "Good.  It is easier to hunt them with two, another set of eyes is always useful," she said.  Halting her approach when Marth held up a hand, she didn't mind his reaction.  Her head tilted to one side at the reaction, there was something about it that made her lupine senses tingle. 

From a pocket, she pulled out a compass, and showed it to Marth from a distance.  "I use this to track down demonic corruption.  It uses soil from the Hells themselves, and finds it on this plane.  And I have never failed on a hunt," she said, pride showing in her voice.  That much at least was completely true.  There was a moment of complete calm between the pair, then a snarl broke loose from the forest in the distance.  Without hesitation, the drow whipped out the bow from her back, drew, aimed and loosed an arrow.  It crackled with lightning as it slammed into the daemonic hound that charged from the protection of the woods, and the hound let out a yelp before collapsing to the ground.  The arrow was protruding from its eye socket.

"More are coming.  I hope you're ready," the drow said, a grin crossing her face.  There was a joy to the hunt, especially when its purpose would bring balance back to the world.  There were more howls coming from further inland, it was clear that whatever was going on had been happening for a time.  And the Huntress had every intention of burning out every last inch of the corruption from this place.

Marth watched as the woman displayed her compass, intrigued. He knew such artefacts could be found, but they were very rare, which led him to believe this woman was indeed a potentially invaluable ally. His admiration was cut short, however, by a snarl coming from his right. He whipped around and readied his spear instantly, just in time to see a thundering arrow slam into the demon's head and bring it down. A brief expression of panic crept along his face, before his eyes turned to the woods and his face began portraying something else entirely: Hatred.

"I take back what I said. War is perfectly fine by me." He dashed, putting himself between the drow woman and the woods. Tactical education and experience raced through his mind, as well as his memories of duelling practise back in Wyllmochvar. She relies on a bow. Put yourself between her and the location with the poorest visibility, so she can use her weapon to optimal effect. Prepare suppression abilities to limit enemy movement and visibility, and trust your ally to find optimal firing positions and keep an eye on your flanks. Marth readied his spear, ready to keep at bay whatever fell things the woods would present. Tiny fireballs began appearing around him - the size of golfballs, nothing more - hovering in the air and ready to launch. Marth took a deep breath. "I've decided to trust you, Halzyne, for you seem to have the skillset of a dedicated demon hunter. That means our interests align."

Before the drow could respond, however, three more of the fiends bounded out of the woods. Marth let his fireballs fly, a flurry of light, heat, and minor impact, which stopped one and slowed the others down considerably. One of the horrors began running in a zigzag, approaching Marth, while the other tried to circle around him and attack him from the side. Marth gave his undivided attention to the one approaching from the front. He rubbed a section of the spear and lunged. The blade shone with light, stabbing the semi-confused demon in the belly, killing it instantaneously. With a twirl, Marth took a step backwards, his spear crackling, and sent a bolt of lightning into the third demon, not killing it, but damaging it considerably. He ignored the flanking demon entirely, trusting in his newfound companion to deal with it, as well as deliver the finishing blow to the one he just zapped.

The shift in the man's face was curious, there seemed to be something else at play.  But there was almost no time to analyze him.  In these lands, Moliira was weakened, and she had to be a bit more aware of her surroundings.  "War isn't always a choice.  But you can at least somewhat control its outcome," she told him.  He seemed more adept with melee weapons, which suited her just fine.  The drow's skills with a bow would compliment Marth's spear quite well.  She waited a few long moments first, wanting to get a better idea of her companion's abilities.

And she found herself impressed.  The small fireballs made quite the impact, and she kept a line of sight on all the hellhounds.  She let her companion take the first shots, waiting for more to come bursting from the woods.  But they didn't come just yet.  her eyes turned to the demon that was flanking Marth, and it made the mistake of turning its back on her for too long.  Another arrow slammed into the base of its skull, snuffling out the flame instantly.  The hounds dealt with for now, she cast her eyes inland.  She could smell the corruption on the winds, telling her there was more work to be done. 

"There has to be an origin point somewhere deeper into the island.  A portal, born of blood sacrifice likely.  My kin are… adept at such things," she said, giving Marth some information that might be of use.  The drow were somewhat known to summon demons, but most outsiders had no idea just how deeply her kin were involved in horrific rites.  Raising the compass again, she let the instrument gain its reading.  It took a few moments, but the pin indicated the same direction as before.  "Come, lets find this camp.  I know a ritual that will cleanse the area.  But we will have to kill any of the summoned creatures before it can be performed," the drow said, setting off into the interior of the island.

Marth finally looked to his side, seeing the flanking hellhound brought down with a single shot - more or less as anticipated. His glowing veins pulsed with deep purple and flashes of bright green, before settling to its normal bright blue hue after a few seconds. Finally, the magical energy receded entirely, and Marth once more looked like a robed mercenary. He nudged a dead hellhound with his foot, frowning.

"If I may, I have some… experience with demons. If the demons are here, that means one out of two things. Either it's a scounting party, or they've gone feral. Considering the fact that they rather attacked than marking our location, the latter seems to be a bit more likely."

He turned to Moliira, before having another quick look around the island. "If what I've heard is correct, this island is a rather hostile environment. While addressing the camp is certainly a priority, we might be better off gathering some intel first." He pulled up a piece of parchment, and began drawing. After a few seconds, he'd made a crude map of the island as well as adding details about their immediate area.

"I want us to go to high ground before advancing on the camp - both to get the lay of the land, and to get a chance to survey just how intense and destructive this incursion is." While talking, Marth pointed to a hill not too far away which would provide a decent field of vision. He turned back to Moliira. "And if we need to clear out any summoned demons before the portal can be closed… We might want to learn how best to salvage provisions. I doubt we'll be able to leave the island right away, so I'd rather prepare myself as well as I can before I take a potential summoner's ring head on." He looked at Moliira, military experience and authority burning in his eyes - of course oblivious to Moliira's true identity.

That was good, she wouldn't have to keep too close of an eye on Marth.  He at least had a fair idea of what to expect.  "I think you're correct.  Perhaps… hm.  I would guess the summoners did not know what they were getting into.  It is likely they're dead, or enslaved.  So that would mean there is an open, unregulated portal to the netherrealms. And that is something that will only get worse left alone," she said, her eyes narrowing.  She had noticed the changes to Marth's veins, but had sensed nothing that would harm her.  It was a question to be asked later. 

Looking towards the interior of the island, the drow nodded.  It was a good plan.  "You're correct there too.  Lets see…" she said, crouching by the map for a moment.  It was clear he had done this sort of thing before, given the amount of planning.  "I wouldn't worry about staying here, I have means of getting us somewhere safe once the threat is dealt with.  And I have supplies enough for a few days.  Lets head for the ridge there," she said, tapping it on the map first.  She then pointed at it, an outcropping of gray stone perhaps a mile away.  The hike to the ridge wasn't too bad, but Moliira led the way and she chose the best path.  She had been hunting for a long time, and in many different places, so she moved quickly through the jungle.

Once they stood on the ridge, Moliira brought out the compass again.  It pointed further into the island, though she couldn't see anything immediately.  Her eyes narrowed, and she considered what that might mean.  "Perhaps they are caves?  That would be an idea place to summon demons, especially since the cultists would be protected from the predators,  Thoughts?" she asked, wondering what his view on the situation would be.  There were rumors of other things living in those caves, and Moliira hoped it was something she could handle in her weakened state.

Marth followed the stranger up to the ridge, mostly in silence. He didn't seem too fond of the idea of relying on his newfound ally's exit route or supplies, but he didn't complain - at least not audibly. When they got to the top of the ridge, his partner pointed to a cave in the side of the mountain. "The overall likelihood that we can find our quarry there is low, but it certainly seems like the kind of location we're looking for." He took a step onto the ridge, standing on the edge, and crouched. He pointed along a rather distinct treeline near the base of the cave. "Our safest option would be to survey the area surrounding the cave entrance to look for signs of heavy foot traffic. If we see evidence of human presence, we investigate further. If not… I'd rather not tangle with the local wildlife if it can be avoided."

Marth stood up again, reaching into his supplies and pulling out a pre-packed meal. He sat closer to safety, yet still within visual range of the cave entrance, and pulled out the map as well. "Let's wait here for a few moments. We can eat, I can draw up some details on the map, and we can keep an eye on the cave for traffic, all at the same time." The way in which he spoke brooked no argument - he was hungry, and the vantage point was more than suitable for chartography.

She nodded, he did have a point.  The idea of surveying the area was quite a good one as well.  "Agreed.  This is a safe place too, we are high enough that we can observe, and there is little that can sneak up on us," she said with a grin, tapping her ears.  It was very difficult to sneak up on an elf, let alone a drow.  Add in her lycanthropic blood, and trying to sneak up on Moliira was nigh impossible.  But Marth didn't need to know about all of that, not yet anyway.  Crouching low to the ground, the drow pulled out a compressed bar of dried fruit and venison from her pack, and chewed on it while she watched the area. 

At first, it seemed that nothing was going on, and Moliira wondered if she had been mistaken.  Her abilities were stunted this far from home, but she didn't think her tracking skills were that bad.  Then something crept out of the cave, and it made the drow freeze.  She knew exactly what was in that cave.  "Marth," she said in a low whisper, pointing to the entrance.  It was another hell hound, but there was something different about this one.  There seemed to be eggs all over its body, looking like strange tumors.  It was something she had seen before, and it did not bode well.  "Something is using that hound as an incubator.  For spiders' eggs.  I've seen it before, my own people do it to raise daemon-blooded spiders," she explained quickly.  That meant one of two things in her mind.  Either there were drow in those caverns, or someone had taught the cultists that particular ritual.  Either one was not good.