Her sword danced through the air, magic fizzed back and forth and spiked clubs rained down on Aelistae and Linnix. The drow priestess managed to nimbly avoid the uncultured swings of the orcs besetting them, but Linnix was not so lucky. Two blows from the hulking brute battered into her, and almost lifted the young woman off her feet.

“Nau,” Aelistae muttered under her breath as she slipped her blade through the orc’s guard once more, “olorn tlu dos nindel rel.”*

A shriek and a flash of light alerted the drow woman that there was something amiss behind her. But Aelistae could not afford to let her attention be diverted – not when the life of her friends was at risk.

OOC: *"No, you will be the one that falls."

Just another attack on the orc facing Linnix. I was thinking of taking a 5' step back and casting a spell, but that would expose Linnix to more attacks and I'd like to avoid that if I can.

Arcsheva was born in Tilverton, and had a relatively uneventful life, as childhoods go. Her parents, though not destitute, were tired of having to provide for the extra mouth when they could barely afford to feed themselves. But they made do. A fortuitous opportunity arose for them when Sheva was only thirteen years of age. An itinerant mage was caught in a sudden rainstorm and hailed them from outside seeking shelter until the storm abated. Sheva's father's offer of shelter for the spellcaster, even overnight if necessary, was in keeping with what he had long taught her -- if you have something to give, give without fear of loss. It will usually be repaid in kind, or in abundance. And even though the presence of yet another mouth to feed would further drain an already sparse pantry, he invited the mage to stay as long as he wished. The meager night's meal and pleasant conversation was proof enouigh to the mage that these were no ordinary, greedy, self-centered, get-what-you-can peasant that would charge him outrageously for what could be considered poor travel plans. Sheva's parents had, notably, asked for nothing in return for the shelter offered. Only after the meal did the mage reveal his name to them, for they had not asked for it at all, as if it were none of their business.

The following morning, when taking his leave of them, he told them he would return in a few hours. He said that he would have a request of them when he came back and left them wondering as he went to Tilverton's marketplace. There, he made arrangements (paying in advance) for food and necessary requested items to be delivered to Arcsheva's home every other day for the next year. That being done, he returned to the abode of Sheva and her parents to inform them of what he had done. He would accept no thanks, telling them that he felt what he had done was well deserved, in recompense for what they had provided him unbidden.

He also mentioned that he had noticed during his stay that their daughter showed and inquisitive and intelligent nature in her questions to him, but also showed self-restraint in restricting of the number of questions asked, of her own accord. The corcerer asked if they would be willing to foster her to him as an apprentice, for he felt the need for a change in the quality of his life and had not felt the desire to instruct a new apprentice until he heard Sheva's questions. Her father hesitated before answering, for now there was food enough for all of them. But so generous had their guest been in his return for their hospitality, he would now refuse him nothing. He agreed to the apprenticeship for Sheva. And so NeoMaximillianus zund Dwibius and Arcsheva Millander traveled together to Baldur's Gate, each to begin a new chapter in their lives. It was during her apprenticeship that she aquired the surname Redmane, given her by Max and describing her fiery-red, curly locks. It was also his contention that her bright shock of hair and the intelligent sparks flashing in her green eyes signaled greatness, as told in a local legend of old.

After concluding her apprenticeship in an uncommonly short time and, gratefully, striking out on her own as an adventuring mage, Sheva's travels took her into and around Sembia, the forest of Cormanthor, and lands around the Moonsea. She periodically returned to visit her parents until the death of her father at the hands of brigands, who also ransacked and destroyed their home. She had returned a full month after it happened, and she set her mother up in an apartment in Tilverton, for which she pays on a yearly basis. She is still searching for the brigands responsible for the death of her father, but has not located them yet. She is carefully cultivating a repertoire of damaging spells at this time, and when she feel she has sufficient strength, she will either divine the robbers' identities for herself or pay to have it done. There was time, and hurrying her goal would not bring her father back.

Sheva had recently purchased a scroll of Teleport to take the "easy way" from Suzail to the abode of her mentor, whom she had not seen for nearly four years. She would rather had purchased a scroll that minimized any error on her part, but her "liquid assets" were not sufficient to purchase the more expensive scroll. When casting the spell she did buy, she visualized an underground escape tunnel and storage area known to her, but seen only a few times during her tenure in training. Where she arrived, there seemed to be an unexpected lurch to her innards. This was a bad sign, she knew, for the spell described no such effect as a result of its use. She began to mutter under her breath about overpriced and shoddy merchandise, while ever-so-briefly entertaining the thought that she may have flubbed the casting herself. Her cursing stopped quickly and suddenly at the din that her ears finally passed on to her brain. Not only was she not where she intended to be, but she had arrived in the midst of a battle! From experience, she took precious seconds to take in the current situation as best she could. She knew she would have to take a side, but which one? Then the words "fetch quite the coin" faintly reached her hearing above the sounds and screams of battle. And did she hear something about the "winning buyer's price"? She couldn't be sure. But the combination of phrases told her what she needed to know -- she knew what to do, and to whom.

She quickly turned her staff horizontal and dropped it behind her. Then she tapped the foot-long gecko on her shoulder on the head to indicate she wanted him to stay put and hang on as she fished in her spell component pouch with her other hand. From it, she drew forth a waxed paper packet that contained a small ball of tallow, infused with a pinch of brimstone and rolled in powdered iron. She quickly pulled off the wrapping and began rolling the tallow between her palms as her lips began the formula for creating a Flaming Sphere. This she would direct toward the man who seemed to be orchestrating this chaos while holding a big sword.

[She will take no chances and will push the Sphere against him, keeping it in contact with him as much as she can, until dispelled, duration ends -- 4 rnds, or he falls. Do you want rolls (2d6/rnd)?]

Suddenly it was as though time had slowed, and Artanis could see everything with amazing clarity even as it happened. She rushed the deranged man the elementals had referred to as Jethro. As she did this, Kas, it seemed, cast a spell causing the man to cry out in pain. She gasped in fear as she saw the baby suddenly launch into the air, her head snapping at an unnatural angle. The child’s screams only echoed those in her mind of the child she had lost so long ago.

As Loriel crashed into the man’s legs, bringing him down, Artanis suddenly changed her course and jumped for the child, reaching her arms out desperately in an attempt to catch her. The gods had smiled upon the child that night as barely, on the tips of her fingers, Artanis caught the child by the blanket that surrounded her.

Artanis clutched the child to her breast and crashed through the window, her only thought was to get Maribelle out of the inferno that had once been her home. Realizing, much too late, that there was no stable place to land, Artanis did the only thing she could. She curled her body and shield into a ball around the child, effectively sandwiching Maribelle between her body and the shield as they rolled down the roof, over the side and fell to the ground below.

A loud crunch could be heard as Artanis’ body made contact with the stones that were the street outside the house. Her collar bone shattered, and her shoulder crushed, Artanis’ cry of pain was lost in the sound of the roaring flames. Her body shuddered uncontrollably and she tried to move the shield to see the child, only to find that she could not. Her arm was apparently broken as well.

And then she heard it. The most blessed sound ever to touch her ears. Tears streamed down Artanis’ face as she heard the child’s cries. Maribelle was alive.

The joy of knowing the child was safe suddenly faded. A loud crash was heard and Artanis’ eyes snapped over to see the house collapsing in on itself. Instinctively, Artanis tried to hide behind the shield, another cry of pain escaping her lips as her entire body protested the sudden movement.

In almost more pain than she could bare, she was unable to move herself and the child away from the house that was now so thoroughly engulfed in flames. Bystanders, thankfully, moved her further away from the heart radiating from the house, and they took the child from her arms.

Suddenly the house crumbled down with Loriel and Kas still inside. Artanis could only lie there and watch in horror, a barely audible, hoarse cry on her lips protesting the loss of her friends. And she cried.

Rage is a powerful emotion. Unrestrained and unleashed, it can easily destroy both the provoker and the acter. Such is true of Linnix's anger.

She had been hit twice already, but reasoning is impossible for her now. Kill, or be killed, and so Linnix chooses to kill. Gripping the dagger in her left hand so hard that her knuckles turn white, Linnix stabs and slashes and stabs at the orc in front of her. In her right hand, her second dagger stays silent; its use will come later.

Looking for all the world like a comically enraged china doll because of the absurd makeup, Linnix continues her offense, in spite of her wounds.

Xaris looked at the old farmer, and then thought of something. He smiled and then nodded towards the man Mr. Winters.

"Here, follow me to my room so I can give you the items which you deserve. It will make up for the loss."

( if he agrees)

Xaris walks up to his room with the man through the crowded tavern, and opens the door. Seeing everything in it's place he headed to his javelins, and took one of his new Master Work javelins.

" Here, if you sell this you should get more than enough back in crowns. Also take this."

Xaris bent down and took one of the cure light wounds potions, and handed it to the man.

" you could sell this or keep it for when anyone you know is injured. It will seal up wounds and close up nasty burns. But I must go now, I am getting worried for my friends, I have not seen them in a while."

Xaris walked to his dresser and strapped his shortsword to his waste, and stuffed one of the cure light wounds potions in his pocket, and headed out the door. He followed Mr. Wintersout and hastily walked down stairs and out towards the fire, seeing if his friends were alright.

They say your life passes before you when you are dying, it did for Kas. The blank spot in her memory was finally filled. She remembered who she was, Kasenarrion Sunblade and what she was, preparing to be a Paladin to Pelor, and why she was, as a descendent of a Solar and Paladin of Pelor, and she knew where she had come from--another world.

There was little her Celestial blood could do for her now; she had as many of her ancestors had, given her life to save others. Not that she ever wanted to following the paths of some of her illustrious ancestors who descended from their Solar ancestor. She had wanted to be a Bard, even though her father, also a Paladin to Pelor, saw to it that she was trained as a warrior. When she was shown to be favored by Pelor, her father was elated, though shortly after he died in service to Pelor, and to honor him Kas had forsaken her dream to be a Bard. Kas had been on her way to train at a Temple of Pelor when she was whisked away to this world.

Pain and the stench of her own burning flesh assailed her, yet she fought for conscious thought. At least Loriel had been unconscious in these last terrible moments.

There would be no way home for her. She would die far from home and family, alone, though not alone she was sure her only friend had or was dying with her. Loriel has sacrificed herself, by going against the Mage so that Artanis could secure the babe and get out of the burning building. Kas could have opted to escape, but she would not leave her friend is such dire straits.
Maybe self sacrifice was in her genes, but it would end with her.

A flash of blue ripped at her heart, somehow Jethro had manage to escape. She had hoped that, after hearing his own cries of pain that he would suffer the same fate as they and Justice would have been served. Instead it brought of tears that burned away in the fiery depths of the collapsed manor house. She had failed, she had not saved the poor cat still wrapped in her skirts, or Loriel, nor had she brought justice to the mad mage that had started the fire and killed them.

Sight had gone, breath had gone, and pain lingered

Kas’s last coherent thoughts did not lighten her mind, there was her failure, Kas would not be there to help Bart in his quest as she promised. She had helped save Artanis and the child, but could not save Loriel or the cat. At least her family, which she now remembered, would never know of it. Her family always spoke to facing their deities at death with their heads high, she was not sure she could. Added to that was not knowing which deity would claim her. Would she return to the place where Pelor held sway, or would Tyr take her.

She would know soon enough, as the pain died, so did Kas.

Talus Mukesh wearily approached the town. He'd been wandering for several days now, letting pure whim and fancy decide which path to take whenever he approached a crossroads. Now, it seemed, he was supposed to venture into civilization again. Pausing for a moment, he considered turning around and venturing back into the wilds.
Why did it have to be a castle? Lady Luck, you are fickle indeed.
Ok, just get in, spend the night and head out in the morning. You can't avoid people forever... and there have to be a few that aren't power-mad. Right?
With a heavy sigh he pushed his brown hair back out of his face, tucking it behind an ear, and reluctantly continued forward. Talus pulled the cowl of his green cloak low over his face, covering most of his features, but a few wisps of hair could be seen ending in curls just above his collar bone.

As the traveler approached the outer gates to the city, he took one last look behind him to sprawling farmsteads he had passed and the open country beyond them, tossed the branch he'd been using as a walking stick to the side of the road, and passed through the open portcullis and into the city.

Inside Talus found that the air had a tense, panicked, quality that he had not expected, given the grandiose nature of the exterior. There was something else hanging heavily in the air as well... Smoke! Following his nose and the cries of alarm, Talus finds the conflagration just as a person dives out of one of the windows on the upper floor, bounces along the collapsing roof, and disappears into the crowd. Sprinting to the back of the crowd, Talus begins shoving his way through, trying to find the man who had leaped from the roof.

Slipping through the last few of the onlookers Talus drops to his knees to check on the fallen man and discovered, much to his surprise, that it was a woman who had made the desperate leap. An explosion above his head stole his attention from the wounded woman. Looking up, he watched, awestruck, as all of the windows and a few sections of wall from the upper story blew out into the air above the street, flames close behind. Then the roof started to collapse.

Talus grabbed the woman lying on the ground by the collar of her shirt and began to drag her away from the inferno when he noticed that the injured woman was holding a baby under her shield, protecting it from the heat.

"Someone give me a hand here! It looks like she's got bones broken is several places, but I'm not sure. Be very careful when you move her." Talus instructed the few that stepped forward to lend a hand, then took the crying babe into his arms. He threw his cloak out so that it would be the soft blue of his billowy shirt cradling the infant instead of the more abrasive cloth of the over-cloak. Rocking the baby in his arms and cooing softly, Talus turns his back to the blaze to keep the little one safe from the heat.

"Is she going to be okay?" he asks over his shoulder to the group tending the battered woman. "Does anyone know if the child is hers?"

Xaris walked down the street in a hurried strut as he seen the flames of the fire grow closer and closer. He broke out into a sprint down the street as a great fireball blew out the second floor. His short sword flying wildly at his side, and a potion gripped firmly in his hand, he bolted down the street to a large crowd of people. He waded his way through the crowd and made his way up front just in time to see Artanis laying on the street, people around her. One person grabbed the baby from her hands and spoke out.

"Someone give me a hand here! It looks like she's got bones broken is several places, but I'm not sure. Be very careful when you move her."

Xaris ran up to Artanis's side and got on his knees, bringing himself close to her head. He looked into her sobbing face, and knew the worst had happened. All he could do was grit his teeth and hold back tears as he uncorked the potion and held it to her lips.

" This will make you feel better, drink it. We'll get you out of here Artanis, you'll be alright."

Xaris tried to hold back the tears of anguish as he imagined the worst fate for his friends, and slowly fed his friend and ally the potion, making sure she got every last drop.

The auction had brought more than the Calims***e had bargained for this night as unexpected guests continued to arrive and disrupt the proceedings; and he was getting more than a little ticked off. Reaching into his pocket, he retrieved a small metal tube, and with a quick quaff downed the entire thing.

He stalked closer to the cage doors, even as the new arrival almost immediately began falling into a spell, the incantation only furthering the fear of Aelistae and Linnix as it appeared as though another enemy possibly lay behind them. A sudden sphere of flame appeared just outside the cage, and rolled towards the Calims***e, who could not escape the rolling conflagration. The sphere burned at his already bronzed skin, and he growled in anger, his own curse at Arcsheva muffled by the flaming gout of breath which left his lips. The flames, released prematurely, only barely washed over the newly arrived mage. (Arcsheva 20/22) (calims***e -7)

Meanwhile, those around her found on for everything they held dear, life, love, and friendship.

Linnix was in a blind rage, pushing through her body’s pain as she struck out at the Orc before her, her small dagger once more slipping past the creature’s defenses and drawing a thin line of blood across his arm. Aelistae followed suit with a mighty upward swing of her own, splitting the Orc’s hide, and chest as the fine blade came free of his body with a trail of blood following. (-4, -10) The Orc grunted a guttural gasp of pain (say that three times fast) and along with his companion they both turned their attention to Aelistae, The recently wounded Orc’s club came up in a mighty swing of his own, clipping Aelistae under the chin, and nearly sending her head spinning as she felt her heels lift from the ground as the might of the blow lifted her. (Aelistae 16/30)

Nash, still parted from his beloved moon-dancer fought on with renewed vigor, his mighty cross-blade arcing in a whirl of blue trails eliciting numerous shrieks and screams as it was set about in deadly efficiency. The whip wielding woman cracked her leather at Nash, hoping to disarm him of his weapon, but found herself dropping the whip instead as Nash gave a mighty tug, almost pulling the woman close enough to feel the bite of his blade. More swings were exchanged as another pair of enemies fell, and as Nash finally came into view, he was like a man possessed. His normally grey-green eyes seemed devoid of their emerald hues, and instead his eyes were blackened orbs of steely void as he set about the grim task at hand.

The featureless mage, along with the gender discretional half-elf turned towards Aelistae and Linnix, and while the mage finished his spell, the orc before Aelistae’s (the one previously affected by the Wave of Grief spell) muscles swelled and rippled with increased strength. (Bull’s strength) The half-elf pulled out a small mandolin from his back, and began playing a haunting melody while singing along. What was even more disturbing was the quasi-elf’s voice was at a tone, pitch and accent that still made it hard to differentiate their gender. The sound fell over all those gathered, and it was evident as those originally welcomed for the auction stood just a little bit taller, confidence filling their actions. (Bardic Music)

Still rocking the baby in his arms, Talus craned his neck to check on the battered woman and her newly arrived gnomish nurse and to stare at the blaze behind him.
This one's lucky to be alive. Only the heroics of her mother saved her from that horrid fate... I hope saving her daughter didn't cost her her own life.
The sheer destruction playing out before him awed Talus. Then it occurred to him that all of the fire's fury had been focussed squarely on this one house. The nearby buildings weren't sporting anything more than mild smoke damage.
If the Fire Marshal was here soon enough to keep the flames from spreading, he should have been able to douse the fire entirely. If he arrived too late to save this house, the neighboring buildings should have suffered more damage. Someone wanted this house destroyed.
The baby cradled in Talus' arms either had a penchant for coincidence or was reading his thoughts, because just then she caught a hold of his index finger and squeezed with that vice-like grip that all infants possess. That action snapped Talus from his thoughts and he knelt down next to the gnome and his patient, inquiring, "Sir, how well do you know this woman? Does she have any enemies? Perhaps ones that would want to kill her and her baby? I believe that this fire was no accident and that someone intentionally started this inferno, intending it to become their funeral pyre."

Artanis was so relieved to see a familiar face. “Xaris!…” her voice was but a horse whisper, “Loriel..” she looked at the blazing rubble, no longer a house, her voice broke, “…and Kas…” she closed her eyes and sobbed all the more, her words could hardly be understood through her coughing and sobbing, “I didn’t save them.” Her body was wracked with a fit of coughing, her lungs burning from the smoke and heat she had inhaled while inside the house.

She laid her head back and slowly swallowed every bit of the potion Xaris poured into her mouth. “Thank you.”
…

A man came over and began speaking to Xaris. She recognized him as the one who had taken Maribelle from her arms, and saw he was still holding her.

“…Perhaps ones that would want to kill her and her baby?”
She blinked in surprise, and actually smiled at the stranger. “Sir, I am most grateful to you for having helped pull Maribelle and me away from the heat. The child is not mine. There is a woman here somewhere. I don’t know her name, or how she escaped the fire. She alerted us to the fire and told us the baby was in there.”
She took a deep breath glancing at the remnants of the house that were still burning, then back at the man, pain beyond that of her broken body, and loss evident in her eyes, and now anger. “I know that fire was sent intentionally. What it’s purpose was, I do not know. There was a man…Jethro, he was also in the house. He had some kind of control of all the fire elementals that were setting fire to everything.”
A slightly less intense coughing fit delayed her next words. As she recovered she took a deep breath and continued, “He mentioned something about the fire having succeeded in separating me and my friends. I don’t know what he meant by that, but…” the tears began streaming down her face again, and her voice cracked, “they were still in there….Oh Kas, Loriel…I’m so sorry.” And she turned her head as if wanting to hide her face as she was overcome by grief and tears once more.

A spray of blood cavorted in the air where her blade had bit into orc-flesh, but Aelistae had little time to savour the fact. The hulking creature responded with a furious swing with his club that connected so solidly it lifted her off her feet.

Aelistae shook her head, as she reeled backwards from the blow, her long, silvery hair spinning wildly around her. As her vision cleared she saw that Nash had already scythed through a number of the slavers, the auctioneer had been eviscerated into ash by a giant ball of flame, and the woman responsible for summoning it was standing in the cage with her.

There was no time to time to query who she was, however, or how she had arrived there. A quick nod of thanks was all she could manage, before Aelistae began an incantation of her own.

“Orthae Eilistraee, morfeth ukta treemma l'vharc avuna d'l'vassnti,”* she mouthed quickly, pointing at the orc who had obviously benefitted from wizardly magic.


OOC: * “Holy Eilistraee, make him fear the righteous fury of the wronged.”

5’ step back for Aelistae and she’s casting Cause Fear at the unwounded orc.

Linnix's dagger drew blood, and while that gives her some degree of satisfaction, it is not nearly enough to abase her rage. The glint of red on her dagger is easily reflected in her eyes, for a moment overpowering the natural colour in her irises to make them appear blood red. The vindictive Linnix smiles with malice, as she stabs again and again at the orc in front of her.

How could this be the same woman who had danced with grace?

...and her voice cracked, "they were still in there..."

Talus' eyes drifted back to the fire before him, a pained look crossed his face as he lamented the loss of people brave enough to risk their own lives to save a stranger's baby from danger. A danger intentionally brought by another.
Another fool mad with power. Does he use his control of fire to aid the blacksmith? Does he summon water elementals to water the crops? Probably beneath him. The self-absorbed...
Maribelle squeezed Talus' finger again, partially bringing him out of his mind and back to the street. He could feel a familiar heat building within him, one not connected to the blaze still burning so near the group.

"Here, perhaps you should be the one to return the child to her mother." He said, looking back to the woman lying on the ground. "That potion seems to have you on the mend already." He helped her into a sitting position and returned the babe to her arms.

The flames dancing before them quickly caught Talus' eyes again. Why must there be destruction everywhere? And it's not even the evil races doing most of it... it's us. We do it to ourselves, to each other. Humans should be counted next to orcs and goblins as creatures to be feared and turned away from civilization. I should never have ...
The cloaked man's shoulders slumped as he stood there, watching the flames, just as most others in the group were doing. Merely watching the show, hoping for a spectacle. He cast a defeated look at the trio beside him, the gnome, the woman, and the baby, then turned back towards the city gate.

A few members of the Fire Brigade caught his attention as he turned to leave. There was an elf that had just finished scrambling away from the building and was currently checking to make sure he wasn't on fire. He went into the building to help those inside. He could have stayed out here and still done his job... There was a human and, although there was a look of hopelessness on his face, he was still waving his wand about, creating water and trying his best to get the inferno contained.

They're trying. Most everyone else is just gawking... but those two, and the woman... and the gnome, are at least trying to make a difference.
Talus, you will not give in again. You will work through this, you will find a place where more people are like these four. You will work...
Talus hurried up to the man with the wand, "Do you have any more wands like that? I have some skill with them, and the more water the sooner we can get this put out. Maybe even find the bodies before they're completely incinerated."

Xaris dropped the vial onto the ground and let it roll away. He held Artanis until she sat up slightly to speak, apparent the potion was working through her.He watched as she spoke his name, then Loriel and Kas, and looked into the fire. He knew what must of happened, the worst thing he imagined come true. He looked down and closed his eyes, thinking of them and remembering their faces, never to be forgotten. He heard her speak something about a man named Jethro, and he remembered that name too. Hopefully he died somewhere along the line. One of his friends getting him or the fire.


" Don't get up to fast now Artanis, let the mending work it's way through. Your still pretty hurt."

He looked up to the man holding the baby, and then watched as he handed it off to Artanis, then went off to help with the water brigade. He could only sit and watch the commotion around him.

" I could get get more potions Artanis, or we could try to get you out of here now. Your call."


( sorry for bad post, on a computer that I need to get off asap!)