“This isn't where I left you, my lily.”

A shiver ran up and down the slender spine of the Mith’ganni, but she stood her ground. With an effort, she reached out to the Ether. It’s warm, comforting yet deadly power trickled slowly towards her; it felt like it was behind a log jam. Unsure of what to do with the two companions next to her, she held off on casting.

“No matter,” He moved his body so his cloak shifted behind him. A long, fluid sword appeared in his hands, and he glanced back at Kaimelle, “I don't think a thanking is in order for letting her roam free. So rather, I think I'll just cut you to pieces and save my supplies with feeding these slaves.”

Keys appeared in the she-elf’s hand. The bearded human whispered to her as he hurriedly readied his crossbow, "See if you can get the door open."

And let those people out? People who are unarmed, starving, and desperate for salvation? Only if you’d like to see several dead innocents.
“I’d rather not,” Kaimelle whispered back. She wanted to say more, but her exhausted brain was unsure of how to tactfully convey her thoughts. Her mind was already filled with the ice blue eyes that were bearing down on the party. She raised her empty hand and called on the Ether.

OOC: Color spray towards the bully! Mage Armor next, and then… see my Q&A post. If what I’ve put up doesn’t work out, let me know, and I’ll… come up with something.

Koriss ran through the chamber they initially entered at a full sprint, his bound feet finding every stable surface int he cluttered room as he ran. Only once did he look back to ensure that Nick was behind him.

Something is wrong... the Lady is in trouble...
OOC: I intend to run, using the sounds of speech and upcoming battle to guide me. When I get to the combat I guess it'll be From Every Angle. I'm hoping to run in and launch a jumping thrust into his back if possible.

As Tobias and Kresimir toko to the new passage, with their sole freed prisoner following in tow, the large warrior had hoped to see her and others returned to the light of day without incident, yet his anger still sought to be quelled, his blade thirst for blood.

When they entered the new wing, with more captives held before them, and but a single man stepped forward, Grimm's lips curled into a appreciative grin. Here he was, a man of confidence with an aura of skill about him that was almost palpable. As he chided Kaimelle, Tobias held his crossbow aloft, and Kresimir let his large two handed sword drag along the stonework as he took a step forward, awaiting the 'click' that would start his charge.

(So.. await Tobias' crossbow click, Charge. Give it Everything you Got then Press The Advantage", "Support Party Member: Flanking", and "From Every Angle: Find Blind Spot" for starters)

Tirmut 6th, 1022
Scarwood Forest.
Northern Alcana.
Arrangement for battle with an unfamiliar ally were made with haste as the black cloaked man bore down on the trio standing before the heavy cell door. Tobias readied his crossbow, attempting to maneuver for a shot around Kresimir's mighty frame, while the Gano himself drew his great two-handed sword and took a step forward to meet their enemy head-on, man to man.

But the stranger's long strides carried him too quickly across the cold stone floor, and in the dull torchlight, his licking sword blade seemed almost akin to the dancing flames in its fluidity. A snarl upon his lips, he cut off all the space needed for Grimm to spring his powerful legs into action, and unleashed a quick stroke, which was met with a shrill ring of steel on steel across the length of the Gano's heavy sword blade. A twist of the wrist changed the angle of his sword, however, and brought it to bear faster than the big man could react. Sharp pain lanced down his powerful arm as the razor edge caught him high on the shoulder, but gritting his teeth, he refused to show that he was hurt.

Shoving with the pommel to give himself some breathing room, Kresimir wound up and unloaded a powerful overhand sword swing, aiming for the head, but he found his sword cumbersome to use in the crowded area, and the tip of his blade clipped the stone ceiling overhead, slowing his attack just enough for the man to sidestep the heavy chop. A small eruption of brick shards sprayed into the air as the attack, more a smash than a slash, fractured a stone underfoot.

While the tight quarters made it challenging for Kresimir to use his large weapon, it also made ganging up much easier against one solitary adversary. His sidestep had carried him right into Tobias' reach, who, having responded to the unexpected rush by dropping his crossbow to the floor, had sword in hand, and took advantage of the proximity to throw a horizontal slash. The mercenary's reflexes were truly uncanny, and his sword seemed almost made of smoke in the way it appeared in the way of Tobias's strike, but taking a step forward and to the right to set up a flank, he managed to draw the edge of his blade across the man's hip, and was rewarded by a faint grunt of pain from the man in black.

With room having been cleared before her, Kaimelle dipped the fingers of her spirit into the vast resources of the Ether space, and felt the warmth of it fill her. Such a remarkable feeling...so much power at her disposal. She was able to fight back now, to help her new companions, and she knew just the thing to do. Thrusting a slender hand forwards, the Mith'ganni fanned her fingers and unleashed a spectrum of bright colours that momentarily lit up the corridor in a flare of red, blue, orange, green, and yellow. The flare of vibrant hues splashed into the face of the mercenary, and a cry of alarm escaped his lips. His free hand shot to his eyes, and for a moment, his sword lowered. Just enough, she could see, for the big Gano to take advantage of. No longer would this man push others around. Not when people could push back.

The lowered guard lit up in Grimm's eyes like a signal beacon, and he reset himself to make sure the walls and ceiling would not interfere with him a second time. Rather than extend his arms like a man splitting a stump, he drew more upon the power from his hips, twisting and keeping his arms in for an awkward strike that would be able to be defended with ease – were one's eyes functional. The blow connected low and inside, well beneath the now-clumsily wielded blade of the mercenary, and the force of it carried him into the brick wall with a thud. The inefficient use of the blade was unlikely to hew the mail worn beneath the man's cloak, Kresimir reasoned, but a hit was a hit nonetheless, and everything counted when lives were played with like cards and dice. Stepping to take up the opening presented by the stumble, he and Tobias were rapidly building a vicegrip around their headstrong opponent.

Keeping himself on guard against the random swings cast about by the unseeing attacker before him, Tobias attempted to rotate behind him, but with the wall now cutting off his main avenue, the only other option was to sneak in front of Grimm – a very hazardous mistake, lest the big man attempt a follow-up assault. Using caution rather than chance, he took a step forwards for momentum and struck forth in an outward blow, but his timing was inaccurate, and the sword blade rent not flesh nor mail, but merely some of the fabric of his black cloak.

Rationality settled on Kaimelle's thoughts as she watched the mercenary's struggles in the wake of her colourful blast. She had felt the back of the man's hand before, and it was likely that he would seek vengeance upon her for the explosion of lights she had created in his eyes and head. Protect herself from harm so that she might be better able to fight back against the bully. Careful practice had long ago taught the woman how to weave the mystic strands of Ether into a protective coat, and a swirl of gossamer-thin threads of blue light spun themselves around her body, surrounding her in a silhouette resembling the armour worn by Grimm and Tobias. Security washing over her, the slender elf took a step back, maximizing the space between herself and the swordsmen before her.

*****

His ritualistically bound feet filled Koriss with frustration. While they had long-since allowed him to slip in and out of crowds under the appearance of a street urchin, they were greatly inhibiting his his mobility. And from the sounds echoing through the storeroom, it sounded like his friends would be in need of his assistance as soon as he could deliver it.

Spitting a curse, the Raslan's awkward hustle just wasn't as quick as he needed to be. What if Kaimelle was in danger? Surely she was. It was his duty to keep her safe. He had told her he would do it when he first released her from her cramped prison. Irritation at his people's cultural marking fuelling him onwards, the overly long spear looking ridiculous when compared to his compact frame, the halfing realized with mixed feelings that Nick had opted to match his pace. Whether it was a good or a bad thing, he didn't know. Surely the cleric had his own reasons, but that would have to come later.

Dire situations always made things seem so very dramatic; rushing across the storeroom floor literally felt an eternity, although realistically, maybe half a minute had passed him by. Still, he wasn't quite there...

(OOC: Irritation of the major sort. Had update entirely finished, and computer decided to NOT give me a low-battery warning. So, I have to re-write Jozan and Chess's parts. But now its too late at night and I have two double shifts approaching, so I'll try to do them after work tomorrow or Sunday. For now, the original players have got something to at least read over.


Nicholas: 17/23 – Bandaged bicep on shield arm.
Koriss: 9/15 – Bandaged wound, broken nose (Reset).
Tobias: 19/31 – Bandaged shield arm.
Kresimir: 18/38 – Bandaged left flank, injured left calf, sliced right bicep.
Kaimelle: 20/20 – Battered and bruised. 2 EP used. Mage Armour in effect.

Koriss is an effective two rounds away from joining the party. Not much he can really add to this part, unfortunately. Still toting the plundered spear, which is much too large for him to easily use.

Sorry to Jozan and Chessic for the delay. Will try to rewrite your parts ASAP.

And to all who have been patient with me; I apologize for these delays. My time is almost always spent at work these days, and often with a minimum of three open-to-close shifts. Not my idea of a good time. At all. Thanks for being patient!)

How far ahead of me did they get!?! The halfling thought as he ran on, desperate to get to his elven charge before any moreharm could come to her.

(OOC: So... yeah... still running... and going to do the same thing I said last time once I get there.)

Kaimelle watched the dance unfold around her. She knew that this man’s skill was excellent, and it pained her to watch her two new comrades be foiled so easily. Brick shards exploded into the air as the Gano’s sword hit the floor.

Focus…focus!
The bearded man slashed and made contact, the force of his swing carrying him to the side. The way was clear. The Mith’ganni’s moon eyes glowed brighter as she reached towards the Ether. It was more difficult now to exercise restraint; she was so tired and there was so much offering itself to her. Focus!
Blind him. Her slender fingers fanned out before her as she let the Ether flow from them. Colors shot down the hallway and into her tormenter’s eyes. His hand flung up to shield them from her spell, and the Gano took the advantage. The three of them struggled in combat, and it occurred to Kaimelle that they might fail.

Protect yourself. The elf shrouded herself in the Ether, adding a little more defense then the ragged and torn clothes she was wearing. It felt warm against her skin, and was a comforting thought as her mind wracked with options.

Hurt him. She knew the spell she wanted to cast would hurt him, even though he was engaged with her comrades. If only she could keep a hold of the Ether long enough to do it.

---

OOC: Magic Missile! Yup. For two rounds. ^_^

Tirmut 6th, 1022

Scarwood Forest.

Northern Alcana.
Where it had once been a quiet realm of woodland creatures, tranquility, and the primal forces of the Great Nature, Scarwood Forest seemed to be a hotbed of activity in the past month or so. Kiirnon had almost lost track of the passing of days. Constantly on the lookout to maintain the order of things within the ancient trees and boundaries of the region, the cross-bred elf had found himself pressed harder to keep an eye on things.

The hidden roads and trails of Scarwood were under his continual watch. It was Kiirnon's duty to maintain their safety, to ensure that they were usable to any who required them. His place was not to necessarily decide who was entitled to their earthen ways; merely that they were guarded. The sudden influx of men in black, adorned by a grinning skull emblem upon their garb, had caused him some unease, but the mixed-blood warden merely kept his distance and maintained his prescribed duty. But that had changed when these strangers began making raids upon the road that lapped around the forest's boundaries, returning with captives and plundered goods.

When and where the opportunity presented itself, one of Kiirnon's arrows found purchase in the back or throat of one of these mysterious aggressors, and it was child's play for the wildman to dispose of the body and return to his hiding places. There were enough bogs and burrows within the stoic walls of Scarwood to ensure that the missing figure would never again be found. And as such, Kiirnon would return to his place amidst the branches and leaves, waging his slow war of attrition against the much larger and organized group that had arrived upon his domain.

It hadn't taken long for him to track their position to the old ruins of Taihedge, where he had discovered they had quickly set up encampment. And while not arranged for defense, per se, one man could not hope to assault an entire group and survive. He had watched the way these strange men operated in their raids. Individually, it was easy enough for Kiirnon to snipe one and pounce upon the corpse before it was noticed, but in groups were where their prowess for coordination with one another showed as clear as crystal.

This day, though, the cross-breed had noticed something different.

His return to the bordering shadows of Taihedge had led him upon a trail belonging not to the uniformed men of the encampment. These tracks were different. Rough and hasty, and one pair that was so misshapen that it was hard to identify their creator. But, they led into the stony ruins, and from what he was able to spot, battle had come in their wake. The bloody streaks left from weapon blows, as well as heavily disturbed undergrowth and trodden earth, told him what had gone on here as clearly as if he'd seen it himself.

But, the fact that a fight had broken out paled beside the bigger picture; it was a fight that could be won.

Elation filled Kiirnon's breast as he scanned the area for more clues. He had seen the black cloaked figures go in and out of a trapdoor in the ground somewhere, though what they did down there, he was highly unsure of. However, due to the lack of noise and visible presence of any newcomers, it was likely that they had gone below ground.

Sticking to the shadowy bits of tree and wall, the elf crept in, sneaking in from the northern edge of Taihedge. Careful eyes, the sort possessed only to a thief or a sniper, picked through the irregular terrain of the ruined site, making sure not to blunder in upon a hidden sentry or to leave himself too much in open ground.

Rounding a corner, he spotted the crumbled corner of wall he knew contained the hatch to whatever kind of cellar lay beneath the brick flooring of the ancient building. But the elf's trained senses caught motion nearby, and he pulled his cloak about him, ducking to a close-by shadow. Reasonably sure he hadn't been spotted, Kiirnon assessed the situation.

A pair of shadowy human shapes were hurrying in the same direction he had been going. Sheathed swords hung at their waists, and hoods were up, concealing their faces, though by their gait and stature, it was easy enough for Kiirnon to identify them as males. They passed within a few yards of his concealed position, seemingly oblivious to the elf's presence, and he allowed himself a peek to see where they were going.

Leaning around the remains of the wall that hid him, he saw that the trapdoor in the ground as actually missing from its framing, and all that remained was a black hole in the cobbled floor. Something had definitely transpired here. But, the pair of figures were headed for it, and with haste. Such haste that they had left their backs exposed to him, which meant a number of possibilities for the crafty trailman.

(OOC: Okay. Here comes Chessicfayth. Basics to this: you've got a hiding spot near the trapdoor, with two Corps mercenaries between you and it (Though you wouldn't know their organization, beyond that the black and skull seems uniform) Sneak. Attack. Watch. Take your pick of what to do. Sorry the intro is a touch lackluster, but being out of practice, plus listed obstacles that hit me in the meanwhile, made this more a get-going post to FINALLY get you in with this. Welcome aboard!)

Kiirnon weighed his options carefully. Just because the battle could be won, didn't mean it would be won. He didn't have long to think. If he ventured down there, and the battle was lost, the forest was lost. Even if he managed to get out, they would hunt him down, knowing then who they were up against. He shook his head. His lone campaign was not enough. The forest was rapidly being thrown out of balance, and was no longer safe. This was likely the best chance he would get to drive these people away. He prayed to Mallien, waiting on the two figures to descend.

(((OOC: Kiirnon will follow them and observe, doing everything possible to avoid detection. In the event he is detected by these two, he will Keep his Distance with the bow, trying to take them out as quickly and quietly as possible, failing that, he wil Be Discretionary..... on a side note, should he manage to get one close (or rather, one closes in) and is the last alive, he will attempt to Take Him Alive)))

The awkward space and their foe's skill frustrated Tobias to no end. The lack of time in the company of the Gano and the elf maiden also showed in their lack of coordination in battle... it was a test in patience for one used to military tactics and discipline.

But the ex-templar continue his attempt to press the advantage -- their enemy's blindness was a perfect opportunity that Tobias hoped not to lose.

The soldier tried to manuever to the side of his opponent and with a reverse downward stroke (or thrust...whichever works best with the space) attempted to sever the man-in-black's leg at the knee.

[OOC: Forget what all the combat terms are... but Press the Advantage while trying to out-manuever him. I liked your image of Grimm and Tobias like a vicegrip on the man. ]

Tirmut 6th, 1022
Scarwood Forest.
Northern Alcana.
Even though it seemed much longer than it had been, the dark hours spent in the cramped confines of the dungeon had drawn out into an incalculable span of time. Avellin was used to spending his time out on the road, wandering from place to place and sharing his compilations of epics, tales, and poetics. While it had been more out of preservation than the chance at a new road, the refugee train that had fled from Dauran Elm to try to reach the Scarwood camp had provided a new destination, with new people to bear witness to his talents.

Though the dangers of travelling unsafe roads in such large numbers were evident, none had anticipated the raid that had been launched from the depths of the forest. Hammering into their group like arrows into a tree, black cloaked men had unleashed chaos among the already fearful men, women, and children. Scattering and taking flight without any sense of order, people rushed around Avellin, leaving him trying to determine exactly what was going on.

His reflexes kicked in just in time to make him drop his head beneath a sword stroke, and the half-elf backpedalled away, trying to maintain his balance. Centred in his sight was a grinning skull mask, covering, leering at him from beneath a raised black hood. The image shook him slightly, grabbing his attention. Likely what the thing was supposed to do...

Still, Avellin's nimble footwork allowed him to evade another strike launched against him, but the sole of his boot slipped on something on the grass. Whether it was dew, or perhaps spilled blood, he did not know, but the back of his head collided with something hard on the ground, and the next he knew, all was fading to blackness.

He awoke with some kind of sack tied over his head. Breathing was not impossible, but the air inside was hot, and the half-elf felt stifled. Branches raked against his body, and the smell of forest was strong to his senses. Somebody was dragging him along forcibly by a rope that bound his wrists together. His belongings had been stripped away from him, leaving him with only the clothes on his back.

This was not the kind of journey he had expected.

He wasn't sure how long it took, but the bag was finally pulled from his head, and he was shoved into a small prison cell, along with a handful of others that had evidently been captured from the village people. No light, save what filtered in from a torch burning outside the room, and even that was dimmed heavily when the door was closed with a thud. Now, all that shone down to the dusty stone floor was what came through the viewing aperture at head-height in the woodwork.

Here, Avellin had frittered away his time in the company of a dozen highly frightened peasants. The only one who had managed to keep semi-calm was a young girl, perhaps twelve years old, who sat near an old man on the stone bench that rimmed the room. Her black hair was slightly disheveled, and her skin was dirty from the chaos earlier, but something about her presence leaked comfort to those present in the room. He, at least, could feel it. Something about her soul, for lack of a better description of it. She sat in silence, but the air about her was akin to being in a temple to one's revered deity. Peaceful.

Every now and again, a bucket of water was shoved into the room, along with some hard bread, and sometimes some withered fruit. Though jailed, sensibility still remained in the minds of the captives, and larger portions were given to the old and the young. Those who were fitter selected the smaller morsels. This was largely the only activity they experienced coming from outside of the cell for an indeterminate amount of time, until the sounds of unfamiliar voices drifted through. Avellin's trained ears told him that there were humans out there, and an elf of some variety. But the voice of one of the men was filled with contempt, and it was only a fleeting moment before the sounds of steel being drawn from scabbard hissed through the air. Before the poet, or any of the others in the cell, had a chance to rise to their feet, the sounds of battle split the air.

*****

With the advantage seeming in their favour, the group carried on their assault with a renewed vigour, seeking to strike down their single adversary as quickly as possible. With three against one, the odds were clearly one-sided, although Kaimelle could see that the effects of her colour barrage were beginning to wear off, based on the way that their opponent's motions were becoming more deliberate, rather than uncoordinated. Just how effective, they were to find out, as the man's eyes regained their focus, watching Tobias sidle around for a flanking maneuver, and responded with a somewhat unpredictable attack directed not against the ex-Templar, but against Kresmir.

Still bearing his greatsword in an uncomfortable position to deal with the previous situation, the Gano was in no real position to be defending, though still tried his best to raise the blade up to parry the rapid strike launched from the man in black. Rising upwards, the flowing blade caught the big man full force beneath the arm, drawing a deep growl of pain from the brutish fellow. When the blade withdrew, it was painted heavily with crimson.

With an astonishing burst of speed, the man butted his shoulder against Kresimir's weakened body, shoving him further off-balance, and unloaded a fluid overhand swing resembling a windmilling motion. The blade dropped like quicksilver, and parted the protective metal that encased the warrior's chest. Both Tobias and Kaimelle heard the sickening rending of bone, the crack produced by the splitting of Grimm's breastbone, and a torrent of blood rushed forth to rain to the floor. A dull groan escaped his lips as the mighty two-handed sword fell from his grip, clattering to the floor with a resonating clang, followed immediately by the heavy frame of its wielder.

Heaving a satisfied sigh, the mercenary cast a look at Kaimelle, grinning that dreaded smile she was so accustomed to. “Much better now. That's a fancy trick you've got, lily. A wonder you never showed me these before.” He took a step towards her, but rapid footsteps from behind caused him to turn on the spot, his sword raised up to defend a likely attack from Tobias. But the ex-temple knight, infuriated by the falling of his friend, had aimed low rather than high, and his slash went unchecked to hack into the man's thigh. Though slightly higher than he'd initially aimed, the blade bit deep, and a cry of pain sounded through the hall. At that moment, Kaimelle, stunned by the downing of Kresimir, was able to collect herself.

A touch into the great pools of Ether, and she made manifest the effect she was looking for. Producing two glowing spheres in her hand, each the size of an apple, and buzzing with energy, she hurled them forth to streak through the air. Like angry fireflies, the twin orbs left a slight orange streak in their wake, and burned a pair of holes neatly through the back of her tormentor's cloak. He flinched under the strike, affirming that they did, as she had mentally wished, hurt him.

The energy still within her, Kaimelle repeated her spellweaving, this time in her other hand, and again, the Ether seamstress pitched a duo of orange globes at the man, one striking his free arm, and the other on his sword-arm shoulder. Almost at once, he menaced Tobias with his sword point to create room before balking away from the soldier and instead reversing his motion to attack the Mith'ganni.

“Insects!” He roared, his sword flashing in to open her midsection wide but for a defiant sound of metal on metal, and a quick shimmer around her delicate form to deflect his weapon away from her. A look of confusion crossed his face, and she exhaled a trapped breath, thankful for her magically created armour.

Easing the weight from his injured right leg, the man in black decided against challenging the arcane barrier a second time, and threw an awkward reversed swing at Tobias, which, while still bearing strength despite the angle, was easily deflected with a counter swing. The clash of steel erupted in the corridor, and Tobias, blade already high, attempted a shot for the head, but found his own sword neatly turned away.

At that moment, two sets of hasty footsteps could be heard rising in volume, approaching from where the group had come. Koriss, fuelled by worry for Kaimelle, had pushed his bound feet to carry him as fast as they could, and had finally arrived, Nicholas in tow, to see a most unwelcome sight.

The sounds of battle had left him trying to piece things together in his mind without actively having a visual. Now he saw the true effects of what had transpired. Kresimir lay on the cold stone floor, a growing pool of blood expanding around him. As far as the Raslan could tell, Grimm's breast had been rent wide by a blade.

Kaimelle had been backed into a corner at the end of the short hallway, and a man in black, his own figure bearing a number of weapon marks, was facing off against Tobias. He couldn't tell exactly who held the advantage here, but by the fallen body of Kresimir, it didn't look like numbers were playing a big part here.

Driven as he was to keep the Mith'ganni safe from harm, it didn't look as though he'd be able to blindside the bastard who stood between himself and his charge. But he couldn't sit idly and do nothing. Dropping the oversized spear with a clatter and producing a knife, Koriss maneuvered around Tobias, and came in from a wide angle, attempting to slash the back of the knee. His dagger found no purchase on the man in black, whose sword point kept the halfling from getting into an ideal position, but the movement worked well enough to sweep around him, and the little man was able to sneak past and get near Kaimelle.

Nicholas, who still bore the shield pilfered from the Browyer family vault, stepped in and raised the heavy slab up beside Tobias, leaving his morning star at his waist, but seeking rather to assist the ex-templar the way he had previously found himself doing so. That extra bit of protection to cover Tobias's side would go a long way in helping win this fight.

But their cunning opponent had something else in mind, and he raised his free hand to his neck, fingers diving beneath the collar of his mail shirt to produce a small object on a fine chain.

“Four against one?” He observed bitterly. “These odds are too much for me...” A slight clink of something being crushed in his hand could be heard above the heavy breathing of the combatants, and a crackling blue aperture shimmered into existence immediately behind him, seeming almost a part of the brick masonry of the hallway. Tobias, unsure of what exactly was happening here, but due to his background, knowing full well this was some kind of arcane craft, feared his chance to avenge Kresimir might be slipping out of reach, and lunged in with a thrust aiming for the man's heart. But his sure-aimed attack parted only air as the mercenary literally fell backwards and vanished into the crackling azure window. A brief moment later, it closed into nothingness, restoring the hallway to its dull glow of torchlight.

Their enemy driven away, though more through strength in numbers rather than strength of arm, the group had been reunited. But their valiance came at a cost, for Kresimir lay bleeding out, his large form looking fragile as his lifeblood ebbed away.

A loud clang erupted as Nick shrugged off his shield, stepping forward to the Gano's supine form, and closed his eyes in prayer. Placing both his hands over the gaping wound, the cleric chanted the familiar words of healing to repair the tremendous damage done. But no glow encompassed his hand. No warmth emanated from his skin.

“I called out to the Librarian.” He whispered in dread low tones. “But nobody answered.”

(OOC: Long update. Long overdue. Here's the breakdown:

Nicholas: 17/23 – Bandaged bicep on shield arm.
Koriss: 9/15 – Bandaged wound, broken nose (Reset).
Tobias: 19/31 – Bandaged shield arm.
Kresimir: -1/38 – Bandaged left flank, injured left calf, sliced right bicep, wounded right flank, split breastbone. Heavy bleeding.
Kaimelle: 20/20 – Battered and bruised. 4 EP used. Mage Armour in effect.

Yes, Kresimir got critically hit twice in a row after the Colour Spray effect wore off. He is now bleeding out on the floor. Tobias scored a decent, if slightly off-target hit, and both castings of Magic Missile struck home.

Koriss managed to maneuver around the mercenary to get beside Kaimelle at the door, creating a Tobias/Nick – Merc – Koriss/Kaimelle sandwich in the hall. He, however, has fled the scene through use of an item (As all could see) producing a magic portal.

Kaimelle: Spellcraft = Recognition of a Dimension Door.

And as you've guessed... Nick is all out of spells.

On a slightly happier note, let's welcome Jozan1 to the crew. First chunk of that intro is for him. Feel free to backwrite what you choose; that was mainly just a bit of filler leading up to his imprisonment. While he has no gear on him, standing at the aperture of the door will allow him to witness the entirety of the ordeal going on in the hallway.

Game on.)

The halfling stares after the dangerous mercenary for a few moments, trying to make sure that he wouldn't return to stab them all in the back.

He spun around, his eyes searching Kaimelle for any measure of wounds. "Are you alright my Lady?"

The adrenalin slowly faded, yet he knew they were not yet safe. After waiting for an answer he sheathed his dagger and turned to the rest of the group.

"Heal him if you can. If not, I say we leave him behind. We are on the run. Kaimelle and I cannot support his weight, and if we face another skilled opponent such as he, we can't afford to have our other warriors burdened by such a load. You may not even have time to drop him before you find a sword in your gizzard."

The little halfling thinks for another moment.

"Yes, we must heal him if we can, and bind his wounds as well as possible. If he cannot stand, we will have to trust in his substantial constitution to see him through."

Tobias took quick stock of the situation in the aftermath of their battle. Their foe had more than a few tricks up his sleeve, and the ex-templar knew he would need to be more wary the next time should meet.

The priest's grave words that the gods would not be healing their fallen companion today brought Tobias very much back into the present moment. Korviss was quick to note that having to carry the Grim's dead weight would indeed slow them down... a fair point, of which even Grim would likely agree.

Still...

"Is there nothing to be done?" Tobias asks the priest. "What about the orange salve? And the leaves? Couldn't we used that?"

Turning to Korviss, he said, "Take her," indicating Kaimelle and see if you can unlock the door, and find the girl."

Turning his attention back to the priest, Tobias said, "How can I help, friar?"

"The hero stood, fast and firm, like a mighty oak, pressed upon by unyielding winds. His stance did yet act, like a shield he himself held, for thee young maiden, for which he stood guard. Vast fields, far and wild, all around did stretch. Flowers, colored crimson, swayed in wind in as did a furry mane as fierce and untamed as the beast that wore it. Mighty lion, oh lion, as ferocious as it was.

Fierce fangs, daggers for claws, and a size rivaled by none. When it roared, and roar it did! the gods even listened. The Bhuvathi lion found prey once again. Yet our hero stayed, bravery as strong as sword and armor. This, lion did see. No normal prey, no no! Brave, godly prey, a meal for the ages, but dangerous as ever. Minutes, hours days passed, swaying in the wind. The two both stood, hungry lion and champion of men, both staring into deaths gaze. One would break, will snapping like kindling, slipping first, the other gaining advantedge....."

A long pause filled the dank stoney chambre as Avellin haulted the story midway. The small crowd of children around him seemed to edge closer, enthralled at the story he was telling them.

"What happens next!?" A child exlaimed, but not too loud for fear of the guards.

Avellin just smiled wryly and wiggled a finger. "All of you shall wait, until tomorrow after first meal. Then I shall continue. For now sleep and dream, let your minds wander with thoughts of our hero and the lion, and the fair maiden he guards with his life."

It was all Avellin could do to keep a smile on his face, the dreary bars and horrid conditions everyone was forced to endure was getting to him, and everyone else. He figured as the days wound on people would begin to snap, but one girl seemed to keep everyone at ease, whether they knew it or not. He could sense it at least, something different about her.

Whether she would listen to his stories or not he still hoped he was helping her and everyone else by taking the minds away from the harsh reality of it all. Gods know what they'll end up doing with all of them, and even though he hoped for the best, as every hour passed his fears that the worst case scenario would happen crept to the forefront of his mind.

Some time later, and if Avellin could tell how much later he would really be happier, strange voices could be heard outside the cell. Humans, different than before, and and elf. He decided instead of ruining his faint connection with the voices by rising, he would sit and try to hear as much as he could. Then another voice joined in, an over confident smug sounding man, and then to Avellins surprise, steel met steel as the sound of battle rang out through out the hallways.

Quickly he rose to his feet and ran to the iron barred door, watching carefully through the small window. He watched the whole battle insuing infront of him, his heart pounding and his ears getting hot as the worst for him and the people in the cell seemed to hinge on what this group would end up doing. It seemed their advantadge as they fought, but soon the small hallway became their enemy as one of their number fell with bloody wounds, and almost in a bittersweet timing more friends of this party joined in the Frey.

Outnumbered, the villian fled, leaving only the ringing of hot blood pounding through his ears, and the sight and smell of blood flowing freely permeating through the air. He watched as one friend of the fallen seemed to try to cast some magic, but his acts were fruitless.

Avellin suddently felt a snap, a spark of his own magical flow kick in. He knew how he could get out and secure the safety of the people in this room. It was their only shot.

"Hey, unlock the door! Free these people and ensure their safety, and I can help your friend. I can save his soul, keep him from dying. Let us out and he'll be saved!"

Kaimelle struggled to keep track of everything that was happening; it all moved so quickly. The tormentor seemed to be recovering from her blinding spell, and took his anger out on the Gano. Unable to see precisely what was going on, she did hear the horrible clash on metal, followed by a sickening tearing noise. The red haired man fell to the floor in a heap with blood rushing forth from his chest.

“Much better now. That's a fancy trick you've got, lily. A wonder you never showed me these before.” His cruel smile widened as he took a step towards her. Her mind buzzed with panic; she only seemed to see the sword in the man’s hands, and smell the blood from the Gano.

That’s me. I’m next. I’m next.
Her tormenter turned on the spot to engage the Slyn, who looked infuriated. The mercenary’s cry of pain as he took a blow to the thigh snapped her out of her reverie.

Rideygo, 1012 …”You are not helpless!” Leanna had screamed at me. She doesn’t understand. Does she not see the fear in these humans for those who wield Ether, and what they’ve done to them? She tells me that it’s within our right to defend ourselves. Our argument was long and heated. The blood from my nose ruined both my dress, and hers.
From the Memoirs of Kaimelle Tir’Anoron Part I

Determination reentered her mind, and she thrust her hands forward, into the Ether. Two balls of energy filled her palms, humming excitedly with deadly power. She hurled them one after another at the tormenter, and his reactive flinch told her that she had struck true. Kaimelle thrust her hands forward again and two more orange balls of energy filled them once more. She flung them forward, this time hitting his two arms.

“Insects!” He whirled towards her and his blade came into contact with her midsection. Light danced in front of her eyes momentarily, and again she was protected from his blow. He restarted the fight with the Slyn, and Kaimelle looked to the Gano. His blood slicked the floor, but he still seemed to be alive. At least, his chest was moving.

Like two hawks in the night, the Raslan and the Holy Man came swiftly into the corridor out of the darkness. The Raslan looked almost ridiculous with a spear four times his size hefted under one arm, but he quickly discarded it in favor of a different blade. He circled around and placed himself between her and her tormentor. The Holy Man came into position to help the Slyn, and the man in black suddenly thrust his hand down his shirt.

“Four against one?” She couldn’t see his face, but it sounded sour, “These odds are too much for me...” His arm shifted, and a portal opened up just long enough for him to fall through. The bearded man’s last swing met nothing but air.
The Holy Man wasted no time in dropping his shield and attending to the downed Gano. His eyes closed meditatively for a moment before his whispered, “I called out to the Librarian. But nobody answered.”

The metallic smell of blood filled her nose. A sudden rush of sound met her ears as the adrenaline from the battle began to wear off. She leaned against the wall, attempting to ground herself to something as she felt corridor closing in on her. Her head pounded with pain. So tired…
"Are you alright my Lady?"

Her glowing eyes looked down to the Raslan’s.

“Uuma dela, Ai’Aratoamin,” she said to him with a faint smile. Her hand gestured to the fallen warrior before them, “Worry about him.”

Discussion began as to how to handle the Gano. The Raslan’s cold logic made sense, but Kaimelle felt like it was the wrong decision after everything he had done for her. The Slyn’s frown seemed to echo her thoughts.

"Is there nothing to be done?" he said to the Holy Man, "What about the orange salve? And the leaves? Couldn't we use that?"

The Mith’ganni placed a cold hand over her eyes, hoping it would help her focus on the present, “If you have herbs, it should bring him around long enough to get him to walk. Binding his chest with a cloth or a shirt wouldn’t go amiss either.”

“Take her," the Slyn was saying. She moved her hand to see that he was speaking to the Raslan, “and see if you can unlock the door, and find the girl." Something ground into place, and she realized the absurdity of being rescued by people she didn’t even know, who didn’t care who she was as long as she was set free.

“Kaimelle,” she said to the Slyn, “I’m Kaimelle. Come, Ai’Aratoamin. Let’s liberate some prisoners.” They hadn’t moved far from the locked door, and she inspected it to see there was any trace of the Ether on it. The commotion they had caused with the man in black had apparently roused the prisoners inside. Someone stood just to the inside of the door and began pleading with them as they contemplated the door.

"Hey, unlock the door! Free these people and ensure their safety, and I can help your friend. I can save his soul, keep him from dying. Let us out and he'll be saved!"

Annoyance trickled through the Mith’ganni’s senses, “We would unlock the door and save you even if you couldn’t save our friend. No one deserves to be locked up in this hell hole.” Her glowing eyes penetrated through the bars into the cell inside.

No one…

---

OOC: Um… spellcraft check to see if there is any magical, er, traps or anything else connected to the door? ^_^

With a nod the little one moved to the lock, checking as always for any sign of a trap that might hurt him or the woman he had chosen to protect.

Finding none he went to work on the lock with all haste, trying to tune out the pleads of those inside so he could focus on the delicate tumblers.