Shade of the Hunted

Set up, seeing this is the middle of the chapter (it's so long, haha): Sahara is a female elf that is on a trip. She was on a train with her friends when it was high jacked by an army of lizard man. To escape the dark army they ran into the great jungle/forest. There, she was seperated from her friends, but met Feijin, a lizard man left to die. They grow to trust eachother, and as they travel deeper into the forest to escape the army, they stumble into the land of a great necromancer. They are noticed, and Feijin is attacked by skeleton warriors. This part picks up where Sahara joins the battle...
{Note: it might need editing, so please don't complain about grammer or spelling unless it is really horrible, which usually is not.)


         When Feijin’s attackers began, so did Sahara’s. Their attack was mere grabbing at first, which Sahara easily got away from. But when she found herself pinned between a tree and three skeletons, she knew she could run no more. She steadied her hands on her hips and for a moment processed the scene. She found a resolution to tame the wildest of forest beasts.
         With beautiful movements she guided her silken hand towards her sheath. She grasped the handle of the scimitar, and in a quick flick of the wrist and arm she freed it from the leather prison. The blade cast forth blinding luminescence which even took Sahara by surprise. The skeletons were more so startled by the blade that they stopped in their tracks.
         The blade did not belong in the shadowed forest. Its beautiful diamond edges and glistening metal gave it a look of pure light in the dark surroundings. It seemed to draw in all the darkness and pour out sweet effulgence in return. The beautiful carvings shone with such radiance that it looked like they had been carved into the air by light itself. Sahara’s peach hands and arms faded into the warm radiance and it reflected off of her skin, leaving her pale and haunting. Her blue eyes turned to spheres of pallid cobalt and her hair had a golden glow to it, all because of the blade.
         The first skeleton made his moved. He lunged in for an attack. Sahara dodged it easily, gracefully stepping back. As it swung its arm at her, she blocked it with the scimitar. If it was a regular blade it would have just haulted the arm, but because of its powers, its strength, it cut through the bone swiftly. The arm just a little above the elbow and down fell off, leaving the skeleton with a smoothly cut bone for an arm.
         The skeleton examined its wound. The bone was so smooth and soft at the wound that it almost seemed like it had been melted off. There was no fracture or scraping of the blade on the rest of the bone. It had never seen such a cut before, nor such a blade. It took a step back slowly, and Sahara did the same.
         Luckily Sahara kept her eyes on the skeleton’s face and not the wound or else she might not have caught the second skeleton attacking out of the corner of her eye. She quickly stepped back again, spinning her side so the skeleton’s arms missed her. The creature took a swipe at her head, but she ducked and took another step back. The third attack was another miss, but the way the creature was posed, the way the arm stretched out far towards a fist and the curves of the bone putting strength into the blow, left Sahara with a perfect oppurtinuty to counter.
         She spun herself around when she turned to dodge the fist. She now stood on the skeleton’s side facing the monster. The creature quickly turned towards her, but its actions were too slow or hers were too fast, for it was only greeted by a quickly strike of light as the scimitar came down through its body, crashing through the bones from the right shoulder down to the left thigh. The flash of light left a smooth wound that would have made it looked like the creature had barely been cut, if it wasn’t for the fact that the skeleton fell to the earth in pieces as its bones shattered and disjointed.
         The third skeleton made its move in the form of a swift lunge forward, its wicked arms reaching for Sahara. It grabbed her by the shoulders and, still holding on, shoved her back. She slammed against a tree, with the creature’s hands still upon her. The wicked bones were cold and cruel and they released small rivers of blood from her pale skin.
         It stared her deep into the eyes and let out a horrible screech. Upon doing so it raised its left hand into the air for the final blow, but it had made its fatal mistake already. The release of Sahara’s right shoulder allowed for the scimitar to be raised. With a quick cut the creature was sliced in two, the bones falling at Sahara’s feet.
         In no time did the final skeleton, the one armed one, make his move and he swiped quickly with his good hand. A quick turn of her body and the boney claws went past Sahara and scratched the tree. The friction slowed the arm down enough for Sahara to bring her sword up with both hands. The creature, well aware of its demise, looked up at the blade and elf and screamed in fear just as the smooth bringer of light came crashing through its body like buring rays of sun. The bones almost looked like they melted on impact with the blade, but Sahara thought it was just her imagination.
         She stood against the tree, catching her breath, unaware of Feijin’s battle still raging or anything else dark in the forest. She could not tell if she was standing in the shade of the tree. The sky was so thick with clouds and the forest with mist that the two moons appeared as hazy spheres of blue and green in the sky. The wicked braches of the tree stretched high above her, almost as if they were reaching to seperate the clouds for her so that the moons may warm her with their light. The tree itself was cold and wet, covered with thick clumps of moss and dead vines.
         Her ears perked up at the vivid sound traveling in the air. It lasted only for a second or two, but it seemed like it echoed on even longer. It was smooth and alluring, and was followed by a slight flash of silver above her eyes. There was the touch of wind across her hair and face and then followed by a large crash in the tree above her. Her dream was shattered.
         Above her, smoothly cut into the bark and halfway stuck in the tree was a silver blade. It was long and smooth, with dark outlines and flickers of orange and green on it. The blade extended into a large, black pole, and Sahara recognized the weapon as a scythe. She followed the pole to her right, but it disappeared around the tree; she saw nothing on that side.
         Then Sahara turned to her left, and she screamed at the sight. A pair of dark, almost black eyes awaited her there. They were large and solid, with highlights of the burning green moonlight and traces of the scimitar’s light in them. They were set on a pale canvas of what looked to be flesh, only much more smooth and stretched. The structure of the face was bony, more so than a skinny or starving person. It was as if there was just enough skin to coat the face, and every move it made stretched it a bit further. The nose was dark. In fact, there was no nose, only two huge nostrils below the eyes. A large grin with sharp and crooked teeth awaited her just below that and the mouth opened to a large blackhole of void. There was no hair on the face, nor color.
         Sahara quickly stepped back from the creature, still screaming at the sight. She held her blade tightly and watched as the monster faded back into the shadows of the tree. When it repeared it was on the other side, holding the long scythe in its hands; hands of pallid color like the face, with little skin and long bony designs. The creature was about a foot taller than Sahara, but much more skinny. It was literally flesh and bones, if you could call that flesh that covered its body. The skin was white everywhere, and it wore some dark robe. There was a black hood on its head that fastened to the robe which extended well below its feet. The way the shadows and mist absorbed the robe bottom almost made it look like the creature was floating.
         Sahara had never seen such a creature before. It was haunting and gruesome, a pale and almost living reincarnation of a skeleton; well, besides the skeletons that she had fought earlier which were in some way alive, or atleast animated. This creature, though, had a more sinister, almost blank look to it. It held its stare with Sahara for quite some time, just taking in her beauty and her light. What scared her the most was the way it looked at the scimitar. The skeletons looked at it with fear, but this thing looked at it with hatred.
         Without warning it sprung forward, scythe poised for battle. Sahara didn’t know what to do. She stepped back and dodged the blade as it swiped over her head. The creature gave it a dark look, a look even darker than the way its eyes settled in its head, and took another swing at her. Again she avoided it, but this time not as greatly as the other.
         She was closer to the monster now, and she realized she would not be able to dodge the next attack. So when the creature raised its scythe in the air, tip of the blade pointed to the sky, she too brought hers up high, leveled with the horizone and just above her head. The scythe made countact with the scimitar, and as the two foes waited for the outcome, a loud burst of metal on metal and sparks flew from the impact.
         A beautiful shower of embers danced in the air, their white and silver colors burning the mist around them. When they settled the outcome was clearly shown; the scimitar had been victorious. The scythe’s blade was cut in two; the end still attached to the pole came down swiftly infront of Sahara, but at a fear distance. It swerved back up and settled as the creature held the weapon tight. The other end flew through the air over Sahara’s head and landed in the dirt, leaving a trail of glimmering silver.
         The creature brought his blade down while Sahara’s brought hers up, and both foes dodged the blow. The scimitar cut through the pole of the scythe, leaving the monster with half of its weapon in one hand and the other half in its remaining.
         With elegance Sahara swung the blade even more, and it made contact again, this time with the blade of the enemy itself. The blow was not strong enough to shatter the blade, but was powerful enough to swipe it out of the monsters hand. The scythe flew through the air, landing near the battle scene of Feijin.
         Without its weapon the monster seemed lost, but it wasn’t defeated. With the remaining piece of the pole in its hand still it quickly swiped it Sahara’s legs, knocking her off her feet. She was completely taken by surprised, and quickly scurried away from the creature, but knew it was useless. She raised the scimitar for attack, but it was swiped out of her hand by the creature’s claws. The scimitar landed past the scythe, closer to Feijin, but horribly out of reach and hope for Sahara to regain it.
         She laid there in the cold mud, staring her foe in the eye. It held no solace in its look, nor pleasure. It was vacant, even more so vacant than their chance meeting. Sahara gave a quick glance to the scimitar and then stared back at the creature. She feared this would be her end, but she still held hope within her.
         Then, the creature gave a look past her, past the shadows and trees, onto something out of her own eyesight. With a quick turn the beast sprung towards the blade, leaving Sahara by itself.
         Sahara watched the monster grow closer to the blade while Feijin had just finished off his own foes. She knew he had to reach the scimitar before the creature, and in hopes of doing the right thing, she screamed his name. “Feijin! The blade! Grab the blade!”
         Feijin, startled by her yell, quickly walked towards the blade, grabbed it and stood back up. He was unaware of the creature, who now was carrying his scythe again, was approaching quickly. With a flash out of the corner of his eye Feijin noticed the silver flying at him, and he quickly leaped out of the way. By chance it missed him, but the creature took no notice. It continued its assault. It swung again, but Feijin stepped to the side. It swung the silver cutter low, towards the lizard man’s legs, but he jumped over the swing. It swung it high, across the lizard man’s chest, but he ducked out of its way.
         Sahara watched the battle unfold as she got to her feet, but was interrupted as she felt a cold stare upon her. Her body slowly turned towards where the creature had looked before, and as her eyes gliding across the mist she spotted the source of the darkness.
         Standing in the shadows, with the moonlight burning upon its edge, stood the dark one himself, the Necromancer. A figure of black, the mortal man had an air of death to him that surpassed even the pale corpse Sahara had fought before. The man’s skin was dark, a shade of deep verdant or so, and glistened with what she assumed was scales; he was a fijian. He wore a robe of shadows, of deep void, covered in red runes down his chest and body. They were ancient runes, old and faded, painted with what appeared to be blood, only more vivid than any of pure origin. The robe, other than the faded runes, was in perfect shape, as if it was untouched by the outer world.
         The necro had beautiful markings on his face; beautiful even for a creature of shadows. They were of crimson and sanguine color, but they were elaborate and detailed. They were almost carved into him, permanently marked on his face. They flowed across the crown of his head, down to the eyes and faded at the cheeks. His face was similar to Feijin’s in that it had a look of youth to it. It was a darker youth, a more corrupted and tortured. His lips were silent, but his eyes weren’t. They had a fire to them, a stirring of vermilion and old ivory hues mixed in wtih a haze of charcoal and paltry emerald.
         In his right hand he held a long, wooden staff. It was carved gracefully and made of dark
ashen wood that looked on the brink of rotting. Beautiful swirls of deep mist messaged the pole with sleek passes and faded at the tip. The tip held a beautifully carved claw of the same wood holding a red orb. The fingers of the claw were long and bony, with darkened tips. They had a glow to them, a crimson glow that came from the orb.
         It was the orb that seemed to light the forest with its fiery material and flickering substance. It released a cold and burning red tint upon the staff and surrounding forest, which in turn faded into a deep orange and brown that blending in smoothly with the rolls of mist upon the earth. The orb was about the size of a fist and had an appearance of a gemstone, though the color was far more vivid than a ruby. It burned with an intense flame, a flame that was only outdone by the fire in the Necromancer’s eyes.
{indentSahara was frozen there, almost locked to the man’s stare. He was silent there, even more so than the trees that rattled their leaves in the wind; his cloak was untouched by the gusts around him. She took a step back, but it seemed like she had taken it forward; the man was moving closer, his feet hidden by the layers of mist and fog on the ground.
         “Feijin,” she called to her ally, but he could not hear her over the battle he was in. “Feijin,” she called louder, but it was even more useless. She could not warn him, nor gain aid; she was on her own, facing the Keeper of the Point.
         She took more steps back, hoping to spring into a run soon, but this hope was shattered when the Necromancer raised his empty hand. The palm was coarse and light, well, lighter than his dark scales. The mist around it left the area and settled on the ground. His eyes had a stronger glow, or so it seemed. There was a soft glow coming from his palm. Sahara couldn’t move; she was free to move, but her mind wouldn’t let her. She stood there in fear, wondering what was to come.
         There was a new mist around the Necromancer’s hand. It was green and thin, but vivid and burning at the same time. It was violent, rapidly thrashing in the air. It grew stronger, more intense, vaster across the moonlit forest. The mist spread its hallowed green colors through the air, and brought with it burning sparks of orange and red that seemed to have a shape to them. Rings and orbs of crimson and carmine floated in the verdant mist, and spread more. Sahara realized too late that the mist was spreading to her.
         Its majestic form was painted across the sky at the command of the Necromancer, and it drew even closer to Sahara. She wanted to scream. She wanted to run. She wanted to be free of the nightmare, but she knew it was real; it was all too real. When it breached the two thi radiace of her, she brought her hands infront of her face, shielding her eyes from the oncoming doom.
         It did not hesitate to stop, but drew even closer, until it was just upon her skin, but it did not touch it. It swirled around her body, around her limbs and waist. It lifted her brown hair into the air and let it dance upon its stage of haunting light.
         The shapes of orange and red did the same, but they grew more intense. Sahara could feel the warmth from the mist on her skin, or was it the cold? She let her hands set down by her side, slightly poised to shield her from the unknown. The green mist flew by her, coming within a third of a thi or so from her face. It was thin at first, but quickly thickened in the distance, obscuring her view of the forest with a wall of vivid emerald dust.
         The red shapes came closer, and took on forms that appeared to be skulls and bones. The fume-made skeletons danced before her, swimming in the mist around her. The bones of fire tinted nebulas sauntered around her, calling her closer with their movements. Rings and skulls marked the wall, and she watched as they became more lifelike in their shading, their forming.
         One of the red skulls came towards her face and lingered there in front of her. Its hollow eyes gave a deep look into the wall of green behind it. They stared at her, pulling her gaze more and more into it. The orange hues and red tints swirled together, and the skull destracted her with its haunting beauty.
         Then the skull split, the mist parted and a dark object came into view. It came so fast that it gave Sahara no warning. The shape exloded in gold light, and it dulled down to reveal two eerie eyes. The face was highlighted with the mist, given the dark green skin touches of pale verdant and fiery colors. A glow of white stretched out below the eyes, a tint of yellow and orange in it. They formed into teeth, crooked and scraped. They revealed a hole of black painted with red and maroon. The object was the Necromancer’s face, snarled and wicked, a nightmare of a being a few inches from Sahara’s face.
         Sahara screamed at the sudden burst of colors and horrors before her. She leaned back, stepping slowly, pressing herself against the solid wall of fog behind her. The clouds of burning skeletons surrounded her, watching and sealing her moves. The Necromancer stood before her, sealing the box of effluvium and vapors with his dark form. His wicked shape shaded the moon from her, casting his shadow upon her and covering her sapphire eyes with a glaze of dusk and suffering.