Adventures of Caelereth

Outside the town, where the road leads to the next city and and then the next and onward still to where no men had yet made footpaths through the wilderness and the desert and the snow, the morning was aging lustrously. It had matured from its gray lassitude of Firstflame into effervescent radiance of Lightthrive, and brightened with each passing hour (much to the dark elf's dismay). The winter sunlight dove upon the land, drinking the dew from the pale yellow grasses and scanty leaves.

Though the light swam through the air like dolfolk through sea, the chill added its solemn air to the hiemal day--all the more so to offset the ebullience of the refulgent morning light, like a thin shadow that casts a shade of grey upon all things.

Under the light and in the chill, Melspath road slithered like a river southwards toward the forest of Thaelon--or rather, to the westernmost forest of Thaelon, the Már'cál'ethrón. While much of the eastern portion of Thaelon was known for its beautifully mysterious inhabitants--light elves and wisps--the Már'cál'ethrón was notorious for its ill omens and evil spirits. More than a few poor souls had disappeared in these woods, and there was a great deal of conjecture as to its unearthly residents.

Though the gelid gusts and grabbed many leaves from their branches, the forests of Thaelon seemed always thick, and so was, too, was this with the Már'cál'ethrón, for a traveller upon Melspath might easily see the fragments of night caught in the canopies--fragments that may have raged to free themselves from the quagmire of the wood before succumbing to fate at the breaking dawn--and now lying limply in the tree branches, like insect carcasses in a spider's web. The swamps and darkness, though, were but a meager few threads in the forest's web of dangers.

Willing, it would seem, to face the dangers of the Már'cál'ethrón were a group of travellers thrown together more or less by chance. Hailing from lands both near and far, from a mix of races and backgrounds, they had all been brought upon the road snaking away from the city, unknowing of what lay before them. They moved at a moderate pace toward the wood, on foot.

Seeming to casually lead group was an elf--and though her face was partially hidden by her hood, which seemed to throw no shadow upon her fair complexion, and her ears could not be seen, any who had ever known of elves could not have questioned her race. Even in the slight adumbration of her lithe form by the movements of her robe as she walked, and in the graceful ease of her gate, and in the mystical yet slightly aloof air she assumed, there could be no mistaking her as an elf.

She walked aside another elf with black eyes whom she addressed as Quáel: "For how long have you had these visions? How often to they occur?" she was asking solicitously, her voice musical and kind.

As they walked deeper into the forest, Irid felt the tension drain out of her system. As usual, she did not know how tense she was while in a human town until after she had left it behind. The smell and feel of such a crowded place always overwhelmed her. No matter what might hide itself in this part of the Thaelon forest, at least the trees did not crowd her the way humans did. She did not feel a menace coming from the trees themselves.

Still, there remained something of that tension, because she had still not been able to tell the rest, except for Alyr, about her condition. First not everyone had been there, and then when they were Quael  had come down with some sort of vision - sent by Keeshaunka, whoever that was. A strange name it was, in any case. At least she was not the only one with problems, though at least Quael retained a sense of self during her visions, as far as Irid could tell.

She wondered when the best time would be to tell the others. The longer she waited, the more difficult it would be to actually say anything, until it was too late and she blacked out, catching everyone by surprise. That would not do. She would have to say something soon.

There was a light clip-clop of hooves as a cart moved along the forest. A donkey pulled it and a young man - there was a poise about him that could not be called boyish, despite his lack of height - led the donkey. Nobody else came with it, and from that and the young man’s dress - a dark blue cravat and a smart, earthy-green, wool jacket with a matching waistcoat - one might well draw the impression that the travelling cases which sat in the small cart were his. A short stick was in his hand, and he murmured as he walked, before breaking out into what sounded like the last lines.

“And hope that someone gazing in
Will see what hidden lies.”

Certainly, after that he stopped and walked in what would have been companionable silence, had he had a companion other than the forest to share it with, until he caught sight of the small and rather motley group ahead. When he did, he pulled out his handkerchief and whisked a monocle from his waistcoat pocket. Polishing it briefly, he soon stopped and screwed it into his left eye.

“Interesting. A disproportionate number of cloaks, I think, considering the weather. At least two rather sensitive to the cold, perhaps?”

Regardless, for now the brief glimpse through the trees was past and he continued in silence until he rounded a bend and found himself face to face with them.

“Good morning, Sirs and Misses all.” he said politely, stopping his donkey and nodding affably to the cloaked leader with the gait of a young woman, “To what do I owe the unexpected pleasure of company in the Thaelon? And the company of such a group, too?”

This was home. At least very much like home. Forests were not always the same but they had a certaijn feel to them. This was turning out to be a great day for travleing a nice sun yet not at all to hot.

Gilith heard the question asked by Rayne. he found the elfs visions to be unerving but oh well.

Then Gilith saw the lone man with donkey and cart aproach them “Good morning, Sirs and Misses all.” He said then continued. “To what do I owe the unexpected pleasure of company in the Thaelon? And the company of such a group, too?”

Gilith gave a small bow more of a head movement then anything yet it gave him an excuse to steady his sword in case he had to draw it. He did not know if he was supposed to release information about their journey so to be safe he did not.

He responded "And a good morning to you to. We are simply travlers about the road on our own bussiness."

From behind them, on the road leading to the forest, Alýr heard the quaint tread of a hoofed animal and the turning of the wheels of a cart. She noted it, but paid it very little heed--for, after all, Melspath was a road, and travellers were not unheard upon such. This one, however, greeted them convivially:

“Good morning, Sirs and Misses all. To what do I owe the unexpected pleasure of company in the Thaelon? And the company of such a group, too?”

She turned her head briefly to look upon the speaker, and smiled subtly (a smile so faint that it seemed to vanish into the spirituel air perennially upon her) to see that it was a young gentleman. His smart dress and monocle detracted little from the effect of so few years passed upon his brow. Her indigo eyes sensed something in him, though his years were young, though she could not quite identify the feeling or place its source.

The elf glanced to Gilith, who seemed to speak cautiously to the young man: "And a good morning to you to. We are simply travellers about the road on our own bussiness."

Alýr turned back to the young man, and supplemented Gilith's answer with her own: "We are also on our way into the Thaelon Forest. Do you go in alone? It can be rather treacherous road."

This traveller seemed so green, and while he had cart and donkey to perhaps expedite his journey through the forest, she could not help but concern herself with his safety, for this part of Thaelon could be quite hazardous (for more reasons than one). And particularly if his path and theirs should meet together within the shadows of the Már'cál'ethrón, with what she possessed and with those who pursued her... she worried for him, though with her calm disposition, she did not show it: there was no hint of it in the graceful ease of elven footsteps, nor in the gentle gleam of the indigo eyes.

"For how long have you had these visions? How often to they occur?" Quáel gave a short laugh that had no hint of happiness in it whatsoever, "They come and go as he desires." He being Keeshuanka, but Quáel assumed Alyr could figure that out for herself. When she was about to answer the second question, a young man, well dressed with a cart and donkey approached.

“Good morning, Sirs and Misses all. To what do I owe the unexpected pleasure of company in the Thaelon? And the company of such a group, too?"
"And a good morning to you to. We are simply travlers about the road on our own bussiness."
"We are also on our way into the Thaelon Forest. Do you go in alone? It can be rather treacherous road."

Quáel absorbed the words as they were spoken. She and the rest of the party awaited the responce of the young, lone traveller. 

Termat pushed the donkey back a little way in order to gain an uninterrupted line of conversation before he remembered his monocle and, taking it out of his eye, stowed it safely in his waistcoat pocket. Absently straightening his cravat he replied.

“Am I going into it? I certainly didn’t intend to, I meant to be coming out of it - although I should probably have taken the road you came from, then, rather than the one you took. It appears I am going in after all. However, I note - who could miss - that your party contains a number of ladies. I hardly think it would be chivalrous of me to turn back without offering to continue with you through the forest. As you say, it is a treacherous road.”

As he spoke he briefly surveyed the group, noting as well as the superfluity of capes the strange preponderance of weapons and the mixture of backgrounds.

“Also, I have to confess, you seem to be on a far more interesting journey than my own - I travel only to Nyermersys, and I’m afraid the trip has been rather dull since Churican - and I hope you’ll not take it amiss when I ask to join you? I may not be as overtly warlike as some of your band, but at least now I know which end of the sword you hold.” He glanced at his right hand wryly before looking up.

“You seem well-prepared for danger, anyway, so I doubt my meagre martial prowess would win you over; but I won’t take no for an answer. Actually, that’s not true. I would take no for an answer if you gave it, but I’d really rather not. I’ll simply offer my help - anything I can aid you in, please ask - and leave it at that, Miss. -?” He broke off with a quizzical look and a hint of carefree amusement in his face, moving his hands slightly to invite a reply as the cart trundled quietly along the road.

Today promised to be a very wonderful day, if not for the dark, creepy forest looming up ahead and the various noises coming from every corner, hole, and bush the forest had. For the first few distance from the city, it was pleasant; the sunlight playing on the forest floor and the chirping of birds upon trees above their heads. But as they go further in the sounds died down, followed by the din of hidden creatures of the woods. Jarrox took his weapon, a massive maul made out of black iron and crafted by the dwarves, and held it in both hands as he walked carefully. His bow would have been useless in a forest, where bandits and other nasty creatures can use the greenery for cover. David, however, appears to be unperturbed by the sounds of the forest. He was skipping around the psyrpent, occasionally sniffing a plant and going to a nearby tree to mark the area as his territory.

He glanced towards his employer and saw her talking to the crazy elf from earlier, the one who started trembling and shaking awhile ago. The psyrpent kept a wary eye on the crazy one, for no sane person acts like that. But his employer appears to trust her, and so the psyrpent let it go at that. She knows what's best for the group anyway, not to mention she is a mage. Mages, according to what he knows, are capable of reading other's thoughts.

Their path was blocked suddenly but briefly, by a strange traveler going through the forest accompanied by a donkey. The stranger, who appeared to be wealthy with all that trappings he wears, was talking with Alyr. Jarrox looked on with suspicion. Here is a traveler alone in the woods, with no companions except a pack animal, who suddenly appeared and offered his aid to the group. Nothing makes sense. Instincts tell him to leave them alone; it's not his concern. But loyalty to those who have been kind to him dictated otherwise. They soon continued the journey, this time with the stranger accompanying them.

He gripped the shaft of his great maul with both hands, followed the purple eyed elf and the wimpy looking stranger but maintained a distance.

Alýr smiled at Termat. He certainly had a whimsical air, a element of silly but good-natured sarcasm to his gestures and tones, but he seemed to her a child. His face was clean but she could not tell whether the hair he might grow upon his chin would be his first. His eyes seem to glisten as one unaccustomed to danger. Besides the scar she noticed upon his hand, which he glanced at upon mentioning his knowledge of swords, his skin seemed an accurate reflection of his younger years--which seemed even smaller in her advanced elven age.

"I think, my good sir, it would be best for you to continue the road to Nyermersys. If you take the road back through Voldar, there should be another heading north through a well-worn path in the Warnaka Mountains. You should be able to reach the city in little time."

She moved like an easy wind as she spoke, gliding as elves often do. They had passed into the borders of the Már'cál'ethrón, though the trees were still merely sprinklings in the land they traveled. The shadows were stretching for the small group of advanturers, but could not reach them yet with the trees so bare with the gelid season, and so dwelt down the road, waiting.

So, too, seemed to be waiting a shadowy figure on the path. Far off, where the forest's light shade darkened into an obscuring twilight, someone stood on the road. Who it was, she could not see, for the shadows masked it almost completely, but Alýr recognized the shape of the man whose demonic companions had attacked them in the inn. She stopped, and stared, fighting the feeling of horror. Behind him, she thought she saw the faint adumbrations of others, but they were only there for an instant--in the next, they were gone, and the road was empty.

The elf turned to Termat, her indigo-eyed meeting his in quiet and firm concern: "For your own safety and ours, turn back and continue on your road. Let our dangers not be yours. I thank you sincerely for your offer, and wish you luck on your journey."

She then continued walking into the shadows of the Már'cál'ethrón, where she was beginning to understand the dangers that awaited them.

Gilith waited content to let Rayne do the talking. She told him that it would be best if he left. Gilith agreed for the most part. If their mission was about speed or moderate secrecy as small a group as possible would be best.

Yet unfortunately for Gilith he happenend to glance in the direction that Rayne did. He saw the strange shadowy figure appear. He tightened the grip on his sword considerably after he saw it dissapear.

He called after Rayne saying "wait a minute. If we are being followed then wouldn't it be dangerous for him to go on alone. If he was seen with us i'm almost positive that he would be captured and tortured to death for information. I don't know if this is a better idea but it might be safer for us all if he came with. At least until we reach the nearest town or city."

He was nervous about that figure though he didn't know exactly why.

The path ahead, where the figure had stood, was now clear of any form, and yet it seemed to Alýr that the shadows breathed a blacker darkness than before. She heard Gilith call out to her, and she turned to meet his

"Wait a minute. If we are being followed then wouldn't it be dangerous for him to go on alone. If he was seen with us I'm almost positive that he would be captured and tortured to death for information. I don't know if this is a better idea but it might be safer for us all if he came with. At least until we reach the nearest town or city."

The elf sighed, glancing ahead to the path ahead. "They have all the information they need," she said, her voice like a melody. Then, in a note that sounded almost like despair, she added, "They have everything they need..." ... and the note shone softly with the hesitant alacrity of persevering hope... "... except the box." Her fingers lightly touched the place in the folds of her robe where the box was hidden, so slightly and so subtly as to go almost unnoticed. She recomposed herself, and glanced again into the youthful face of the traveller. "No, if they decided to capture and torture him, it would be for their own pleasure and sport."

She paused for but a moment. "Yes, I suppose you are right, Gilith," she conceded. Here she addressed the youth: "It might be better for you to join us after all. Tell me, good sir, what is your name?"

A figure had seemed to occlude the path ahead, deepening the shadows even of the Már'cál'ethrón and causing an incredible reaction on the part of the petite elf - elf, because no human could move with such preternatural grace or, more concretely, have such deep purple eyes, and petite despite the fact that she had a good few nailsbreadths on the young Avennorian; elfin delicacy was perhaps the root of this perception. In one so seemingly restrained and peaceful, however, the sudden start and the fear that kindled in her eyes - belying the calm, concerned, and sincere voice in which she had exhorted him to have a care for his own safety - struck Termat like shouts of hopeless despair.

He remained silent for a short while, until the elf - whom his mind insisted on thinking of as a young woman - took the advice of the broad-shouldered man with the bow - Gilith, it appeared - and recanted her refusal: “It might be better for you to join us after all. Tell me, good sir, what is your name?” Rather rich, he thought in mock offense, considering she missed a hint as broad as day to tell me hers.

“My nominal appellation -I’m sorry. I couldn’t resist. My name is Termat Geirskun; and now it appears that you have the advantage of me, Miss - ?” In a mock-conspiratorial tone, he continued: “I think, in the circumstances, you could probably just introduce yourself. I doubt we have any mutual acquaintance hanging around.

“No, glancing over your companions leaves me with none to address as my excellent good friends. Worse, however, than that - a condition I’ve lived with for what to me feels like an age, but to an elf is probably no more than an evening gone - is the distinctly morbid tone that this conversation has taken; it appears I’m now to join you not for your well-being but for my own. Probably more accurate in any event, but it implies that you fear more than the forest. The trees are treacherous, indeed, but I doubt they - what was your charming phrase? - ‘torture for their own pleasure and sport’. ”

He idly brushed his fringe back from his forehead. It needed cutting and another serious brushing.

Alýr caught the slightly offended tone in the young man's voice. It was true that in the discussion over whether or not to include the traveller in their journey into the forest, she had not given her name. She had assumed it wouldn't be necessary to share it--for after all, she had assume he wouldn't be joining them. Part of her still wish they didn't have to--not out of acrimony for his mordant tone, but out of concern for his greenness.

How she was suppose to feel in response, though, was lost on her. Though she had at least mildly ruffled his feathers--should could not help noting how full of pride and passion young humans are!--she had no notion of how to respond, and in her typically airy elven manner, seemed to float above it, like the wind above the tussled grass.

"My name is Alýr, though most humans call me Rayne. I apologise that the subject of discussion should so quickly fall to the tenebrous and morbid though the day is generous of sunlight. It has been a dangerous journey, to which many of my companions have born witness. Much has been lost of sacrificed thus far." A flash of a shadow across her eyes--or was it merely the wind through the canopy throwing wayward darknesses across an otherwise luminous face? It was only a moment, and when her eyes again fell on the young man, she smiled as though to balance out the passing shadow. "I hope you'll not take too much offense of my concern. Regardless of your prowess in battle, to which I can certainly not attest, I'm sure your company will be valuable. We should continue on our journey, though, if we hope to make headway through the Már'cál'ethrón before evening falls."

Gilith was not one for fancy words. Nor did he care to listen to them much. As it was he didn't catch much of the conversation. He simply wanted to leave this place as fast as possible he was still a little daunted about the shadow like figure.

When the conversation was ended he began to wonder how well this Termat could use a sword. He would have to ask him sooner or later so perhaps in a while when they stoped to eat or anything else.

Irid had listened to the conversation erupting between Alyr and the newcomer. She was not sure if it would be smart to take him, but then she was not sure if it was smart to take herself, so it was up to Alyr. She moved forwards a few paces, eager to enter the deeper part of the forest - the sooner they entered that, the sooner they would be out of it. It was then that her progress was halted, when in the distance she could see a shadowy figure.

A growl escaped her lips, as it had before when she had sensed the demonic creatures. Her body tensed, ready to spring to action should it prove necessary. A blink later and there was nothing more to be seen on the road, and Irid came back to herself. Without realising what had just happened - not even remembering that she had seen the figure - she turned around to see whether the young human would be coming along with them.

Gliding above whatever hints of his mental mock discontent had come through to his words, the elf gave her name and swiftly moved on the serious nature of her journey - a journey which it appeared Termat had been successful in joining in the name of whim and chivalry. Biting back the sudden temptation to make any one of a myriad of bad puns about rain that sprang to mind, he restrained himself to continuing the conversation and moving on purposefully towards the deeper shadows of the forest.

“How unfortunate you are, that you cannot attest to my prowess in battle. I can, and meagre is in fact a horrible overstatement. My company should be better; we’d be getting along very badly indeed if my conversation were worse than my sword work. At least conversation is something I’ve done before; my sword still sits unused in my case - thus far thankfully, though if your journey is as dangerous as you say I may have to start being a little religious again, because my guess is that swords will be needed. As to myself,  I am as old as I look, as strong as I am, and not as clever as I’d like to think.

“Anyway, the forest is waiting; as you say, let us pick up the pace and hasten one end or the other - whichever it may be. I hope I shall meet your - indeed, our - companions later on, but I’ll no longer monopolise you. I’m sure the leader of such an expedition has many concerns beyond satisfying the curiosity of an upstart Avennorian - although I would just like to say that any heavy loads can quite easily ride on my cart. I promise I sha’n’t run off with them.”

Having said this, Termat urged the donkey on a little and drew the cart level with himself; from the case nearest him he withdrew a small writing desk from which he extracted pen, paper and ink. With an oddly faraway look in his visage - or was that merely his ordinary abstraction? - he proceeded to write a few lines in a legible though untidy hand as he walked; after a quick line through part of it and a taenish-scratch correction, this is what it read:

Like a zephyr from across the seas;
The scent of pollen on the summer’s breeze;
The jewelled hoarfrost of the winter’s first freeze:
Understatedly radiant,
Calmly vivacious,
And utterly compelling.

It gave Gilith a good feeling to be moving towards the forest. Or rather he simply felt good to be moving in the first place. Even if it was towards the strange shadow figure. Either way they would face their danger rather than shirk on the edges of it.

Going over to Termat who apparently hadn't any experiance with a sword he said

 "So you have sword. I know you described your skill with a blade but would you mind showing me what you can do when we next stop."

He didn't know exactly how good this man was with a blade but judging by their enemies over all appearence he would have to be better.

As the young man drew his quaint little cart level to himself and pulled out a writing desk, Alýr regarded him with distant curiosity. What a queer individual! But she turned to glance back at Quáel and the rest of the group, who plodded along quite quietly. Perhaps it was the ominous weight of the forest that pressed their voices into silence, or perhaps they, like her, were listening. By now, the forest had grown up all around them, with the eerie croaks and buzzes and rustles that came from the canopies and nearby swamps.

The sight of the figure ahead on the road had troubled Alýr more than she betrayed. It was him--while the figure had been far of and obscured by shadow, the aura he had cast was undeniable. It was then that she felt something in the air, as though they were on the cusp of something. She glanced around her, but saw only her companions and no one else, but someone was near.

She glanced to Gilith, quickly pulling out the box she kept in the folds of her robe and dropping it discreetly in his pocket so quickly and so casually as to almost go unnoticed between any besides the two of them. She then whispered to him: "Tell no one you have it, and do all you can to protect it."

The words had barely left her lips when all around them, from through the shadows between the trees, emerged white, almost-ghost-like figures, with eyes red and brooding and eyes dark and sunken. The figure that had appeared almost as an apparition on the road ahead now appeared again, far closer than before, though not so close as the figures who were coming nearer and nearer, enclosing them, each one's eyes fixed on a member of the group.

Then, all at once, they attacked.

---

[Please check OOC before posting]

"Sure" He wispered back. He didn't know why his employer entrusted him with this but it didn't matter. It only matterd that he was paid to protect her and her property and he was going to complete the job.

Yet he wondered again if there was more to this adventure than just a single job. It involved forces he had no comprehension of. It was he decided a cause he would gladly die for.

Though the Ranger was deep in thought but he was not caught unaware. He saw the ghost figures before they attacked. He was already on edge from the shadow figure and Termat causeing him to almost never let go of his sword. So when the strange creatures attacked he was completly ready. He drew his sword instantly and instinctivly stepped in front of his employer to sheild her from any attack. One of the figures lunged at him. He had no idea what it could do to him but he wasn't willing to find out.

He swung his sword with both hands at the creature. He hit it before it hit him but then it exploded or so Gilith thought into a white vapor.

He couldn't see, Couldn't defend himself, couldn't defend his employer, he couldn't even swing his sword for fear of hitting his allies.

Yes he was disoriented but he was not defeated. He quickly jumped to the side and then came slightly backward out of the terrible cloud.

Now he could see now he could fight and at least they could be killed.

Another figure lunged at him. He avoided it narrowly. Then it swung again and so did Gilith. They met an inch away from Gilith's head and again the abamonation eveloped him.

He was angry not frightened but angry. He again waisted precious seconds disentangling himself from the cloud like thing. When he did he see his employer. Once again he moved to protect her and the others as he had gone off the road by at least 3 peds.

The fact that the female elf who had accepted his offering of foods had collapsed was quite disturbing on it's own. The look that Rayne had given him soon after had 'I need to talk to you, but not now,' written all over it - that means it must be quite serious. Despite this, Ridgen found his mind wandering off to whereverland when they met the young human that offered to accompany them. Instead of acknowledging the man's presence, though, the elf's thoughts were focussed on the... thing they fought earlier. It appeared further up the road a moment ago - who knows what it could be up to.

The situation was disturbing. Very much so. Enough to put the magician on edge - certainly more than enough to make sure he always had one hand on the Deathfrost. That was a good thing, too, because soon enough, they had a number of ghostly creatures charging at them. Ew.

"You little things need to spend some more time in the sun," Ridgen commented, drawing his rapier in one swift movement. He could do that much properly. These things didn't look very nice, hopefully they aren't very strong, either.

A thought passed his mind. Could his employer fight? Should anything happen to Rayne, that could spell a lot of trouble for them. That cannot do. He sho- well, maybe after taking care of these little ghostly things, because they happen to be rather eager to uhm... tear out someone's throat. Yeah.

"Little impatient, aren't you?" the elf said as he sidestepped a creature's opening attack and responded with his bread and butter magic/sword combination - a little scattering of the target's attention (Distraction) followed with a well-aimed stab - through the creature's heart. That was easy. The mist that resulted was very annoying though. Stepping around it, Ridgen found himself being confronted by another ghostly creature. And another. Fortunately, fighting two easily killed things at once was not beyond the elf's abilities.

The things did not last long. After one or two thrusts from his sword, they burst into that irritating mist - again - with an odd popping noise. More ew.

In the commotion the elf soon found himself standing next to his employer and the newcomer. "Irritating, aren't they?"

Termat was just stowing his desk away when the burly woodsman came up to him and began to ask him about his skills with a weapon; he seemed concerned about just what Termat would be able to do. As he was about to answer, and while the case was still open, Alýr moved closer to them and whispered briefly to Termat’s interlocutor; holding his tongue for a moment, Termat began to straighten the contents of his case. His sword was on the very top of this one, and he placed his hand on it with the intention of showing it to his new acquaintance.

All of a sudden, the group was surrounded by strange pale figures with a demonic bent to their countenances and a malevolent mien to their actions. Gripping his cutlass tightly, he glanced at his new brother in arms and, in the moments before they were attacked, he said, “Well, it appears you’ll not have to wait until we stop. Shall we say that if I survive, I was good enough for now?”

As soon as he had spoken, the strange white figures were upon them. His companion did not reply - there was no time - but rather began to move with trained grace; however, Termat could not watch for long, as he had his own foes to deal with. One bore down on him with a grimly hellish look in its eyes; with no time to bring his weapon to bear, Termat ducked his shoulder and drove into the attacker’s sternum. Although the slim, pale being did not fall over, it staggered just long enough for Termat to bring his sword swinging around - and at that precise moment one of the other ones exploded in a cloud of white vapour at a sword-stroke.

Although he could not see, Termat felt his blade connect with something, and was understandably relieved when no retaliatory strike came hurtling out of the blinding fog. By his hand he felt the rough wood of the cart, and leapt up onto it and above the cloud. To his front stood Alýr; puffs and clouds of white smoke marked the demise of more foes at the woodsman’s skilled hands. Another of the strange figures was directly ahead of them on the path, heading right at the apparently defenceless leader of their mission - or perhaps, Termat realised, at him. The being had not yet reached the cart, and so with a young man’s fitness Termat leapt from the cart and with a young man’s foolishness stood face to face with the thing. As Termat swung his cutlass - The easy thing about cutlasses is that there’s no need for much skill, he thought - it lunged for his throat; but as Termat moved to his left to swing it lunged into thin air and onto the blade.

Pulling out a cloth from a pocket inside his jacket, Termat proceeded to clean the strange residue of their unearthly foes off his sword and wipe his face and hands distastefully. He became aware as he did so of yet another elf standing beside Alýr and him; this elf was speaking.

“Irritating, aren’t they?”

“Hugely. It’s all over my jacket - and your sword, by the looks of things. And my blasted cravat; that was freshly laundered, you vaporous beasts!”

Before a final decision was made regarding the young man, the group was suddenly surrounded by figures, white and very ghost-like, though their eyes were an eery red. They seemed to have come from nowhere, earlier there had been nothing there. Drawing her daggers, Irid regarded them. For a moment they were just standing there, watching, but as if on an invisible signal, they attacked.

Irid focussed on the spectre closest to her. Despite his ghost-like appearance, he seemed solid enough - at least she could not see through him. As he came closer, the elfess brought down her weapon in an arch, aimed for his arm. It did connect, but the consequence was not nearly what she had expected - instead of blood and perhaps a yelp, the figure burst into a white cloud, obscuring her vision. Taken aback, she raised a hand and waved her dagger back and forth - the vapour seemed unhurt.

She stepped back a few paces to try and clear her vision, and collided with another of the ghostly figures. It reached cold fingers for her. Quick as a flash, another dagger came down, and the same thing happened, envelopping her in a white cloud. What in Ava's name were these things? They were not quite as strong as the demonic creatures they had fought in the inn, but they were so annoying. She was getting disoriented from turning around too quickly and getting more and more vapours around her. Somewhere in the fog, she could hear a comment about how annoying they were.

She knew that she would have to find a way to avoid actually hitting the spectres. So long as she did not hit them, they seemed to keep their solid form. But how did  you fight something without hitting it?

The psyrpent snorted in anger at the new figures assailing the group. He had killed menacing creatures before, but he had not encountered anything like the ghostly beings he now faced. These things seem to disperse their body upon being hit, as some of the people with him had demonstrated. He had no time to ponder their existence though, as the rest of his companions began taking up battle positions to combat these unknown threats.

David must have felt the same too. He laid back his ears and bared his teeth, showing a  row of fangs that can literally tear the jugular from a person. His form is capable of taking down opponents larger than him, but the psyrpent would not allow him to engage these things. The safety of the dog is one of his concerns, as well as keeping the wooden box intact. But boxes can be replaced once destroyed, and unfortunately he only had one David for the rest of his life. He motioned for the dog to run and look for a hiding place until all this is over. He would cover the dog in case some of these beings decided to follow him. The dog looked at the psyrpent intently, trying to decipher his command, and as a loyal hound should he darted off to obey the snake-man.

Then without warning, one of the things lunged at him.

But the psyrpent was waiting for the perfect moment to strike. He lifted his hammer above his head then swung it downwards with a massive force. stones that were caught in the impact were shattered and the ground where the blow landed slightly shook. He looked up and saw the thing literally burst into a smoky substance, and all he got for his effort were cracked pebbles and an aching side from exertion. He winced in pain and held the flesh wound, while using the shaft of his great maul as support.

The fog released by the creature is most unsettling. He was nearly blinded by it, and the psyrpent kept a battle-ready position in case more start to home in on him. Then he began to feel uneasy, as if he was forgetting something.

David!

Jarrox panicked. He was so taken up with the vapor creatures that the thought of looking for his dog had slipped his mind entirely. He spun around, trying to find the direction his dog had fled into.

Commotion constricted the air around Quael. All around, white vapor was being sent into the atmosphere, obscuring everyones' vision. Red, glowing eyes were all that could be seen through the fog, and in an instant there were a pair staring right into Quael's.

The ghost-like figure swiped at her face, but Quael got her sword out sooner, and slashed at the head of the monster. It seemed as if the figure was solid, but once struck by the sword it evaporated into a thick white smoke. As predicted the clould of fog clouded Quael's eyes and she could see virtually nothing.

It took much waving of the arms to get rid of just a miniscule bit of the smoke, but after it dissapeared Quael found herself dangerously close to Gilith, as he was swinging his sword. She wasn't sure how many of the creatures were left, but she couldn't see any of the other party members fighting at the moment.

The vapours rose and twisted and thickened. It was as though a dozen sudden fogs were blooming around them, obscuring more and more the scene and sounds. The words spoken seemed to get dimmer and dimmer--fainter and fainter--and the fog grew thicker and thicker until no member of the group could see anything.

The cloud-blindness was but temporary, though, for after a moment, the vapours began to rise and thin. They seemed to ascend into the canopies, and up farther still to where the leaves shut out the brilliant rays of the sun. The fog retreated, backing through the forest until it was gone. And the forest itself seemed to be exactly as before, with its shadowy, mysterious airs and noises, and the dense thicket and crowded trees... only for every member of the party now found him or herself alone in the wilderness.

By some strange sleight of hand, by a peculiar magic, each member now stood by himself or herself in the midst of an unknown wood. The others had all but vanished, and not even their voices could be heard.

Alýr looked about her with confusion, the hood of her robe falling back to reveal the locks of her silver-tinged black hair. As she turned to look for her companions, she was all at once caught by a form that set a blade upon her throat and, with his other hand, pressed her lithe body back against a tree before rummaging through the pockets of her robes.

She recognized the dark hair and pale complexion of the man who had attacked her in the inn--and escaped. He was dressed in black, from his black leather boots, to his black breeches, to his black coat with its high color. His eyes looked almost black, save now, when the anger in him made them flash crimson. Through the dark curls on his head seemed to be the beginnings of black horns--though they were well hidden.

"Defalgren..." the indigo-eyed elf said in almost a whisper, startled, though his presence seemed not to surprise her. She did not struggle against his dagger at her throat or his rummaging through her pockets--not only because he was far taller and stronger, but because she seemed to fear no harm or discovery.

"Where is it, you damned reflection!"

"You won't find it," she said, her voice strangely calm. "Remove the dagger. As long as you haven't the box, you cannot use it. You know you cannot afford to destroy me."

"Insolent wench!" he screeched, and withdrew the dagger only to, in rage and frustration, hit her hard upon the cheek, causing her to stumble from the blow. He spoke through his clenched teeth: "The sacrifices I have made, the trouble you have caused--and when at last I seemed to have it, you have given the damn thing to someone else's keeping."

She glared up at him, her lip bleeding from the hit, but her eye steely and strong. "I will do everything I can to stop you. I tell you I do not have the box, though I know who holds it."

"As soon as I find it," he began, grinning with malicious vengeance, "there will be no reason left to let you live."

Alýr searched his eyes: "Where are the others?"

"Spread across this forest. You may know who has the box, but I know where all your companions are."

"You will never find it," she replied.

From out of his dark sleeve, a strong white hand darted to grab her by the neck and draw her close--his lips practically on her neck as he spoke: "Keep in mind, shadow, that there are many things I could do to you without killing you." As he spoke, his hand grew tighter and tighter about her neck and she struggled for air. "Do not forget where you are." Tighter and tighter--and at the moment before the faint, he released her, and she stumbled back upon the tree, gasping for the sweet air.

She glanced up, but by the time she did, it was too late. He was gone.

Irid turned this way and that as the vapours rose and thickened. She could see no more of the pale figures, and none of her companions. She had no idea anymore which way was north. At first there had still been the voices of the others, but after a while they were silent. Just as she was about to call out, the mists rose, leaving her somewhere in the forest, but not on the road anymore.

What just happened? Had she blacked out? On the one hand, she was alone, which might suggest she had, it would not be the first time that she left her companions behind in that state. But on the other, the sun high overhead seemed to still be in the same position as before the attack, and she was pretty sure she had been conscious throughout. Perhaps she would learn later what had happened - for now she would have to try and find someone, anyone.

The trees around her suddenly seemed more threatening, now that she was alone. And she was used to living in a forest, but this one was just not the same as her home, somehow. Hitching her pack on her shoulders - at least she still had that - she sheathed her daggers, which she still had in her hands, and started walking, careful where she walked and trying to remember what she knew about this place. She hoped to find someone soon.

Gilith once more pondered the events that had transpired. He could think of nothing to do in a situation like this that didn’t have a consequence. First there was the box. He had no idea what it was nor what it could do, he only knew it was important. He thought about looking inside of it but decided against it as it was given to him by his employer and she was a mage which would mean this would likely be magically trapped.

All of these thoughts however were put to the side as he saw a small clearing not much but at least it was a little bit of something. Though he would have liked to keep moving he knew that he couldn’t pass up an opportunity like this. He set down his pack and took off his cloak.

He spent the next ten minutes gathering different sized branches of wood and whatever stone he could find. Then he dug himself a hole for a fire. He needed to clear a spot where the grass wouldn’t be set to flame so he dug a roughly large hole.
When he was finished he set down his kindling and looked inside of his pack for his flint and steel.  When he found his tinder box he pulled out some of his spare cloth and a flask of oil. He dipped the cloth in the oil then at certain spots he put the oil on some of his kindling and larger branches. When he finished he had half a flask left so he put that away in his pack.

Then he lit the fire by striking his steel against the flint. It lit easily and he blew on it and added branches until he had a semi large fire going then he added leaves from the forest as they gave off a lot of smoke.
He built himself a small shelter rigging his two cloaks above him and using three tightly placed trees he was able to make an acceptable shelter.

He didn’t know the way out of the forest so he drank none of his water but did however put on some of the bacon he had brought with using his pan and skillet. This was of course going to attract things but that was his objective anyway so he may as well go all out. From his shelter he could see the fire and his pack would fit with him. It was open a little to much on the one side as it didn’t have a wall. But he needed to see.

His next thoughts were to where he could find a stream if one was close by good he would purify it later. But for now he lay down his bow and stuck five arrows next to him as well as drew his sword. Then he waited for his bacon to be done. When it was he took took one off the pan with his knife and left the other four peices cook a while longer.

Just as he finished his first peice however he looked up to find red eyes staring at him and a growling from the shadows.

Gilith leaped out of the way of the deadly fangs just in time. AS the demon wolf creature a redish greyish wolf with  overlarge fangs and claws as well as a hiena like face. The ranger jumped backword into his shelterish structure. This was a terrible move for almost every reason but one. His sword lay there next to him. The unholy creature lunged once more and once again Gilith avoided death narrowly by attempting to stab the creature. He was unsuccesful as the wolf simply slid under his blade. He turned his blade sideways now holding the wolf creature back but barely.

The wolf almost tore through his neck and would have to if it hadn't been for the dagger he neatly slid under the ribs of the creature.

He took a deep breath and went for his bow. He was completly unnerved from the attack but was not about to lethis gaurd down. This turned out to be pretty wise as when he looked back he saw another demonic creature charge him.



he shot his shoulder then leg then his side. It was all very fast and accurate yet it did nothing to stop the creature. He dropped hi bow and swung his swordsplitting the skull of the maddened creature. Even then it still wrigled for another ten seconds before dropping. Blood was splatterd all over Gilith. Not on any f his things but it was annoying enough. He needed something to calm him and instanly he was about to reach for his whiskey.

Unforunatly this was interupted by the appearence of another strange creature. This time a man.

"Give it to me." he said simply.

"Give you what" Gilith responded. Knowing perfectly well what he wanted.

"Fine" he said without emotion "give it to me now or shout it out as my pets devour you I do not care but I will attack you all night until I get the information but first a present.."

When he said this he threw his dagger. It hit him righ in the shoulder and split one of his meddle studs. After that the wolf lunged at him.

AAAAHHHH!!! he screamed as he was hit and it became louder as he battled the wolf cutting up so much more of his flesh. He couldn't win the battle it seemed he was to slow compared with this thing. He only kept him at bay with his sword until he kicked the now dead fires hot coals into its face. When the demon howled with pain he plunged his sword into the ground and stuck the wolf there even as it tried to kill him with its dying breath.

Ahhh! he screamed again as he pulled out the blade which dissapeared when he did. He was now covered in his own red blood as well as the black blood of the demons. Of course the demon man was nowhere in site.

But after he restarted the fire ate all of the cooked bacon and poured wiskey both on the wound and down his throat he did feel a bit better.

When he was done with those things he bandeged his torn arm. Nothing to bad but really painful. Su he put yharle and miyu in it along with some bandages and then simply waited with his sword drawn.

Irid stopped walking suddenly. There had been a movement up ahead, caught just in the corner of her eye. Was it someone from her party? She did not think so, they would not be quite so furtive, even if the forest around them was a bit disconcerting. Hitching her pack higher on her shoulders and then taking one of her daggers - just in case - she went on more cautiously. She felt that something was about to happen, and the anticipation was a palpable weight.

And then it happened. Seemingly out of nowhere, a form was suddenly standing before her. His curly hair just barely covered two horns. The shock of seeing him so suddenly, even when she had been on her guard, combined with her usual reaction on seeing the demonic creatures that had attacked them in the inn, sent her sense of self spiralling away, to be replaced by another consciousness. She bared her teeth, growling low at the figure approaching her. She still had the dagger in her hand from her precaution before, but it lay there uselessly, as if she had forgotten it. Her elfish ears moved and twitched, almost like a wolf's, to warn off the invader, though he seemed unperturbed.

"Where is it?" he said, though she did not understand the words - all that she heard was sounds, and not pleasant sounds. Crouching down in an aggressive position, she growled again, a warning growl - come closer at your own peril. Her golden eyes showed a feral sort of intelligence, though all traces of sentience were gone. Apparently exasparated with her reaction, the figure moved a step closer, repeating his first question with more urgency, nearly shouting. "One of you has it. Tell me where it is, and I might let you live." His step was one step too close for her, and his tone too aggressive. With the logic of a wild creature, she attacked before she could be attacked. And not with the dagger that she was holding, no. In a move that the demon could not have foreseen, she flew at him and bit him in the arm. She did not let go once she had hold of him, either, instead sinking her teeth in and holding on for all she was worth.

A curse, though she did not recognise it as such, and then she was suddenly flying backwards with a pain in her chest where the demon had hit her. She had underestimated his strength again, though in this case she could not really be blamed, as she did not actually remember the previous fight. She landed against a tree, knocking her head in the process. She did not know any more as darkness engulfed her, and she lost all form of consciousness, whether wolfish or elfish.

Thick fog enveloped the psyrpent again, and when it lifted his companions are nowhere to be found.  He looked to his left then in the other direction, carefull not to shift his position. In this fog one can easily lose his direction, and he needs to go towards the path his dog ran off to. He walked carefully, crouching every now and then looking for signs of his lost dog. He chopped a notch on every tree that he came across, using it as some sort of a guide in order not to get lost. For every pause he made he peered at his surroundings, watching for any signs of wild animals that could suddenly attack him.

The light rustling sounds of dead leaves accompanied the psypent as he slowly made his way towards the direction David ran off to. He walked some more, and it seems that the deeper he got into the forest, the fog gets thicker. He came to a small stream, with some smooth stones around it. He cut a notch on a nearby tree, then knelt beside the stream and took a long sip. It was cool and refreshing, but unfortunately he can't stay. He had to find his dog as soon as possible.

"The elves won't appreciate your act of defacing their forest."

The psyrpent quickly stood up, hitting his head on a low hanging branch of a tree in the process. He snarled and gave it a quick rub, then readied his maul. A pale humanoid figure appeared a few peds before him, wearing black clothes from neck to feet. "And they loathe your kind," he added.

He looked as if he was hovering a bit off the ground. He came closer, and the psyrpent clutched his hammer all the tighter.

"They hate your kind simply for being lizard-folk. Well, I think we can come to a compromise." The demon sat down on one of the stones, his movement fluid like that of the river itself. Jarrox growled ominously, but kept his guard. The demon snorted in return then spoke once more. "I see you're not one for idle talk. Very well. Give me the box, and with it I'll kill all the elves for you." The psyrpent shook his head slowly. He knew full well the meaning of trust and loyalty -- and he won't imitate the treacherous ways of the elves.

"Oh, and did I mention, I know where your dog is? He could be with you right now, if you choose."

The psyrpent's crimson eyes widened for a moment. He would readily give the demon what he wanted, but unfortunately he had no inkling on the location of the box. He was getting desperate in looking for his dog, and the only person he knew that carried the box was Alyr. At this time the demon's offer was very tempting.

"Female knife-ear..."

The demon approached him with inhuman speed and slapped him with force. "Do not toy with me, snake! She does not have it!"

Jarrox staggered backwards a little bit, then faced the demon angrily. He swung the heavy maul sideways, but the demon evaded it with the same inhuman speed he employed earlier. "Very slow -- typical for a snake-man." The psyrpent attempted a psionic attack, but it seems like the demon was unaffected by it.

"Hah! Hide it if you like, but I will find it. I'll let you off for today -- maybe kill you later. And what's with the glare? Constipation?" With an insulting snicker the demon disappeared, along with most of the fog.

The psyrpent knelt down, rubbing his side where the dagger wound was located. It acted up after swinging the maul. From the distance he heard a loud bark, and a few blinks later David appeared. The dog got tired of waiting and decided to sniff him out. Seeing his friend unharmed seemed to lift a heavy load off him, and he sighed in relief as David went to his side and sat down, waiting for his master to finish whatever he is doing.

Quáel was surrounded by the annoying vapors once again. But this time it was different, because once the fog cleared away, she was in an unfamiliar part of the treacherous forest. Not that any of the forest was familiar to Quáel, but now something else was missing, the entire party.

She was left alone, surrounded by nightmarish visions that she created in her imagination of the dark, overshadowing forest. Long, cackling faces began appearing on the trunks of trees. They began taunting her, but Quáel had to get her bearings, she took a breath, and tried to find her way back to the party.

Quáel didn't have any orientation while in the depths of the forest, being intimidated in a forest, that was a foreign feeling to her. But this forest wasn't like others, it was infested with dark creatures that Quáel had never seen before.

There was a source of light coming from somewhere in the distance, a small clearing could barely be seen. A fire, that could be good, or bad, thought Quáel, well there was no point in sitting around. She went towards the clearing, as she got closer, her foot steps and all movements became minimal and silent. Quáel hid behind a brush and saw a shelter, fire, and a man.

Gilith?. . . Is that you?

"Quael!" Gilith said stopping his sword midswing. "I thought I heard some one coming!" After a sigh and another drink of whiskey he said "your lucky you said something."

Gilith took a breath leaned against a tree and said "You better be able to use that sword of your cause we are in a mess of trouble."

He thrust forward the skin of whiskey. He was not much of a drinker and he thought that the skin was far to full.

"trust me if you drink a little now it will help for later."

Quáel looked at the skin full of whiskey, she never really drank much, it wasn't in her nature.
Sure, I wouldn't usually accept, but this forest makes it almost necessary to drink a little, if you don't want to go crazy.
She grabbed the skin, took an abnormally large gulp, then handed it back to Gilith, Thanks
It seemed Gilith had gone through some ordeal while he was alone in the clearing, What happened to you?
Then she noticed the dead bodies, wolves maybe, she wasn't sure, Quáel awaited the response of her companion.

"These Damned beasts attacked me!" He said as he nudged the head of the demon creature.

"I met another demon as well. He gave me this shoulder wound."

Every word that he said was said with hate. "Of course theres going to be more of them."

When he said this he looked at a spot where he heard some thing move.  Out of the shadows came a growling demon creature.

"Quael draw your sword!"

Instantly Quáel drew her sword, she was not a stranger to this "game." She was a skilled fighter, and wanted to prove she would be useful for the days of battle that would surely come.

The beast launched itself directly at Quáel, she had just enough time to make a defensive manuver with her sword, but the strength of the beast sent her flying back.

Immediately the demon wolf made a second strike, mouth wide open, ready to sink its teeth into the female elf's flesh, and it did. A line of bite marks covered Quáel's fore arm, warm blood was leaking out of the open wounds.

This time Quáel struck quicker than the beast, she was angry, and stabbed right through its heart, if it had one.Within about 5 seconds of quivering and trembling, it took its last breath, and fell silent.

She looked over at Gilith, she was quite shaken up, but somehow suppressed a smile. 

It all happened very quickly. A second ago, Ridgen was conscious of both the human and his employer's presence. Then the mist thickened... and he ended up in the middle of nowhere. Completely separated from the rest.

The elf took a while to adjust to his surroundings - yes, he was still in the forest... but no, he had no idea where he was. The elf's brow creased into a frown - for the first time in ages. Perhaps he sho-

"Do you have it?"

A question. From the most unexpected source. Behind the elf stood the demon that had survived the mess at the inn. He looked pissed.

"You look pissed off," Ridgen said bluntly. There was no doubt that it would-

"Answer my question!" Predictable.
"What question?"
"Do you have it?" the demon was getting more and more irritated. It was what the elf had intended, and he knew it.
"What, my virginity? Yes, so don't tou-" the magician's dry humour was cut off by an angry voice - most definitely not for the last time.
"THE BOX! Do you have the box?!" the demon was closer, this time. Ridgen had to step back a little to keep a proper distance.
"Ooooooh. That. Yes, I have it." A lie. He had three boxes. Neither of which is the box that the demon was after.
"Give it to me... and I will think about sparing your life." At this, the demon drew a dagger threateningly.
"Ew. No. I'm not about to lose my vir-"
"Give me the box!" This is fun.

"Alright. I'll give you the box." From the inside of his coat, the elf began to procure a black box - a little black box that came with the pocketwatch, to house it - and when it almost came into full view of the demon, just before the box was shown to be very obviously fake, the elf pulled the most basic trick up his sleeve - scatterred the water ounia that makes up the demon's attention. Then he ran for it.

It wasn't too long 'til the demon caught up to him, though. Which wasn't a good thing, as far as Ridgen was concerned.

"I'll kill you, just you wait!"

Uh oh. He be mad. Well, angry. "If you want it so badly, take it!" With that, Ridgen chucked threw the lookalike box at the demon's face, at the same time pulling the distraction trick again so that the box would definitely hit the demon in the face.

After a while, it became apparent that the demon-man-thing had either lost the elf or had given up the chase. That was good. Ridgen took this time to survey his surroundings - nothing too significant here. He should get going and find the others soon.

Gilith would have helped Quael out but he was a little busy fighting off another of the demon creatures.

It came from the side and chomped down on Giliths ribs. His armour saved him from beeing a meal but e felt the claws of the creature rip through his aromour and sink into his flesh. He kicked off the best smashed it's right front leg wih his sword.

This however was not enough. As the creature jumped at Gilith he dodjed it's attack. But the beast knocked the sword from his hand.

Again the beast lunged for his throat and this time he was very close to killing him. But Gilith drew his dagger and plunged it into the top of the beasts head. He was still taken down how ever.

It was a pain to get up but he was able to. After another drink of whiskey he poured more on his wounds by now to his releif he was drunk. "Quael come here I'll need to look at that arm.

Ya you know what, I'm not really sure that you should look at my arm. . . you seem a little, ahhh, tipsy.

Maybe I'll just pour some whiskey on it, and bandage up myself. Quáel knew how to do that much at least, and she wasn't sure that Gilith was totally sober at the moment.

The tissue around the wound started to become swollen and inflamed, it was becoming infected. She was eager to get hold of the whiskey so she could pour it on the wound, but reluctant to let Gilith do it.

She was awaiting his reponse, hoping he would just let her do the work on her arm.

"Ahaha! Quael thats a nasty bite an no bandage and spot of boose is going to pair that up." He handed her the whiskey and took out some bandages handed those to her as well.

Then he took out some of his Yharle and Miyu. "The berries lessen the pain and the leaves help you heal. Apply all that I give you and if the bite went down to the bone tell me i'll fasten a splint."

True he was drunk but he would fight better without the pain and stress hounding him all day.

He took his own advive however and applied the same things to his wounds. His arm he put in a sling as it bled and hurt far to much for him to leave swinging.

"All when your done we need to leave I can tell there will be more of them soon."

Quáel applied all of the necessary medications and healing products to her arm, after a few minutes some of the redness and swelling was eliminated. She handed the stuff back to Gilith, Thanks, and I agree we need to leave before more of them come, and we need to try and find the others.

She was glad that she had found at least one familiar person, but now to find the rest. Quáel wiped the blood off her sword and placed it in its sheeth. She was prepared for anything, well she thought. What else lurks in this forest, she really didn't want to find out. Well let's clean up and head out, shall we?

Aye we'll leave nothing much here we need to stay for. The fire was out by now so no problems there.

Gilith then tried to step and almost fell. However he caught a tree before he did.

Damn!  

He was about to smash his sword against a tree until he found a branch he could use as a crutch. He smashed his sword against it and it gave easly. He grabed his cloackes and gathered his cooking gear after all was said and done he got up with his make shift crutch and saw Quael put her sword away.

"Don't put your sword away yet Quael we still have a world to go." He gave off a smile and began to limp away from  their camp like area.

The mage was walking towards his nightmare now. He did not know why but he decided to go back to where it all started. His masters grave was near Ximax. He would travel there at least once more before he engaged in his battle with the demon who cursed him.

With these dark thoughts running through his mind he hardly noiced hat he had entered a forest. It brought back some memories of his. Most he would have preffered to not remember. But try as he might he was still haunted by those memoreis.

Then e almost laughed at himself. You who are supposed to become the most powerful mage to walk this earth afraid of his own mind Ha!

But now he stopped there was a strange figure up ahead. An elf by the looks. He was sure that she was no simple travler as she had the look of a creature that doesn't know what to do in a situation that you must do something in. Or so he thought. But perhaps she was simply waiting for an opportunity. But perhaps she could offer him something in return for help.

When Roy reached her he extended a skeletel hand and said with some slight sarcassam. "Wonderful day isn't it."

The forest seemed to have grown lighter since Defalgren had vanished away, and yet, for the indigo-eyed elfess, darker shadows seem to fall over her heart. She sat at the base of the tree against which she had stumbled after the demon had stolen her breath, and it seemed almost as though it had curved protectively around where she rested. She had felt faint, then: the feeling of distant senses overcoming those that perceived the wood around her. At last she was composed, the chaotic winds weaving like threads back into an easy current, and yet she remained seated at the base of the tree, her magical perception reaching out around her. While she had regained much of her strength, she still found it difficult to read the car'all of the forest and separate out the familiar composition of her companions, scattered as they were and with so many living car'alls about her.

One, in particular, seemed to be approaching: human by the balance of ounia, and yet the xeua about the fire ounia were limber and strong. When she saw a robed figure coming up the road, she had no doubt as to his vocation, and yet she was dubious as to his character, for dark influences hung about him like a shawl. He approached her an reached out his thin white hand to her: "Wonderful day isn't it."

She smiled, and there was a light around her like the halo of the moon. While possessing the delicateness of the elven form, with her slender ears and slight frame, her eyes reflected magical prowess, and her manners were poised and airy. She took the offered hand, though she seemed almost weightless, like a zephyr merely pressing his palm. When she spoke to him, her voice was like song: "Indeed, good sir. You'll forgive my forwardness, but you are a mage of fire, and I am in need of a light--a brilliant flashing light, for my companions are lost in the wood. If you will create it, I will lift it. I can pay you for your service."

Her eyes, shimmering pools of indigo, never left his, and shone with the sincerity and gentleness.

"Of course, it would be my pleasure."  Roy responded in styrash.

He loved his magic yet he did not cast it for no reason as the gift was only truly glorious because of the result. So even if he had not been offered something he probably would have done this anyway.

He lifted his staff to it's maximum height. Then a strange thing happened, he smiled and a slight shudder ran through him.

He felt the burning stones presence as he concentrated. He become lighter everything was clear. All of the pains of the day left him.

He increased the all ready high influence of fire ounia within the burning stones car'all. Then he increased the properteis of light within the fire ounia.

This was all that needed to be done but he wanted more.

He increased the properties of light even more far beyond what he normaly did. It was a bright terrible light. It was actually a little to hot so he had to lower the propertie of heat within his light.

"It is done my dear lady would you have it any brighter."  He responded in styrash still smilling.

"Ah," the elfess smiled to hear the styrash words the mage uttered, coloured as they were with a Tharian accent. Her own fell mellifluously from her lips, like a soft wind: "Styrás qué én soorosím fá styrashís." [You are a speaker of Styrash.]

Alýr watched in expectation as the mage removed the burning stone. Her eyes alighted on it, as though her gaze were a feather, careful and light. It seemed the mage approached his art with much dedication, for such items were rare and hard to come by. Watching him cast was like watching that seed of dedication blossom into skill, for he skillfully ignited it with radiant light. The elfess shaded her eyes with her sleeve as it grew more intense.

"It is done, my dear lady. Would you have it any brighter?" she heard the mage ask her, his eyes seeming to glow with the fire his magic brough him. She perceived a dark joy in pallid mage as he cast his spell.

"Avachás qué én ohím, náh bolláns iuí ú án rethá'karathé," she replied. [You created a bright light, but we will know within the time that is nearing.]

She closed her eyes and carefully began to increase the influence of wind: xeuá that illuminated the properties of earth dulled to ahm, like fires brought to a smolder, as the properties of wind grew every stronger. The burning stone began to lift, as though light as air, above the trees, its light pressing forcefully into every shadow, like a beacon that the elfess hoped would guide her companions.

Gilith had just began to travel with Quael. He was glad for the companion but was feeling a little hopeless as to finding his companions.

At least he felt that way until he saw a strange light floating in the air. His hope rose like the light when he remembered that Rayne was a mage. "Quael this way!" Of course this was unneccesary as he could only limp towards it and Quael could probably see the light as well.

After a few minutes of travling he was almost there. He was thankfull that he had those miyu berries and that whiskey or this would have been a lot more painful. When he entered back on to the road he saw Rayne and a strange red robed man in concentration. He stood there not saying anything as they were probably making the light.

Jarrox walked through the forest once more with his hand firmly holding the collar of his dog. He peered through bushes before going out in the open to prevent a surprise assault on them. With his injuries acting up again he was not in top condition and it might jeopardize his attempt to defend themselves should a wild animal decides to make a snack out of them. He need not worry though, as David is capable of defending both of them. But most wild beasts hunt in packs; facing all of them at one time can be very disastrous.

He was cutting another notch on a tree when a very bright light caught his eye. It was shining far above the canopy of trees, prompting the large psyrpent to climb the same tree in order to have a good observation of the object. Normally he would find a clearing in the forest to take a look, but he'd heard of stories about forest wisps and how they lure explorers to their doom, and he's not about to add themselves to their list.

Climbing up the tree was harder than he thought. First of all, the most of the branches are thin and will not support a creature of his size. The lower branches are the thickest and were able to bear his weight without snapping. However he was not able to see through at all. With that he threw caution to the wind and climbed higher, hoping that the trunk of the tree would be strong enough to carry his weight.

At the top he saw a most peculiar sight; a small globe of light, nearly similar to that of the sun. However this one was of a different color and it was flashing. It must be one of his mage companions, or one of the wisps. He looked at the thing intently, pondering if he should go to its location when one of the branches broke off under his weight. The psyrpent lost his balance and he went crashing through the tree's foliage and straight to the ground with a huge thump. Luckily the smaller branches slowed his fall or else he would be riddled with broken bones.

He sat up slowly, rubbing his butt before standing up. He called David to follow him and went off to the direction of the light.

Gilith wait! What if that ball of light isn't a beacon, but a trap?

But Gilith was already hobbling as fast as he good towards it, what could Quael do but follow. All of a sudden a giant black mass, much like a shadow, shrouded Quáel's vision. Once it dissapeared, a new shape appeared before her eyes. One of the demon, human, creatures was right in front Quáel, nose to nose.

Give it to me. These words were spoken in a harsh whisper, that was very demanding.

Hehe. That's all Quáel could do, laugh, because she had the power, not the enemy. She kept her eyes at the steady stare that the demon was giving her.

Don't, play games with me. This was said with frusturation and anger. When the elfess didn't respond, he slapped her across the face. It hurt, but she held her ground with intensity. Her face was tingling and felt like it was on fire, but still she stood boldely against the enemy.

Quáel pulled for her sword with one swift, sweeping motion. But right when the blade should've hit the demon's flesh, he was gone. Wow, thought Quáel, these guys are like trying to catch smoke with your bare hands, it's nearly impossible.

A bright light illuminated the forest as the beacon rose into the air, a freakish mix of fire magic and something more. Freakish, yes, but wondrous as well. This was obviously no wisp. It was a signal - either that, or a trap. Knowing full well that following the signal was a better idea than wandering around aimlessly, Ridgen headed off in the direction of the light. If it was a trap, so be it. He'll spring it and talk his way out of it, like he normally does.

It was both a relief and disappointment, though, when the search revealed that Rayne and someone else, presumably an ally, turned out to be the perpetrators. Oh well, it's best to leave them to their task.

Termat looked around in no little confusion. He stood alone in the featureless centre of the forest with his cutlass in his left hand.

“Well.” He lowered the cutlass to his side. “ ‘Not a sound there was of any human heart’ indeed. ‘Nor speech, nor breath, nor step’. Now what?”

“Now,” came a refined yet rasping voice from behind him, “you give me the box.”

Spinning sharply on his heel, Termat brought his cutlass up to a level position pointed directly at the source of the voice - a tall, thin, almost emaciated man leaning against a tree. He had an aura of danger about him, and a wolfish, predatory cast to his face. His voice, when he laughed, was sardonic and scornful, and the glint in his eyes became a sinisterly gleeful gleam at the petty act of defiance.

“If I were you, human, I’d not try to hurt me with that toy. If you give me the box willingly I’ll let you return to your friends unharmed, but if not” - he gestured expansively - “the forest is wide and I am powerful. You could wander for a very long time here and none would ever find you until one day another traveller trips over a skull lying by a cravat pin. He’ll wonder briefly who you were and how you died so very close to the path, and then he’ll take your pin and give it to a sweetheart to wear as a brooch, or sell it at his next stop. And your story will be over.” Termat slowly lowered the cutlass but kept a tight grip on it.

“The box? Just what do you want with a box?” His right hand had gone to his pocket and he stood with his eyes fixed firmly on the stranger.

“Give me the box now or I promise that you will regret it. I will get it eventually, but if you hand it over immediately I’ll not flay the skin from your back or break your hands and feet before leaving you here.” Real venom had come into the man’s eyes as he spoke. “If you were wise, you would know it is not well to anger Defalgren.”

“I shall keep it in mind. I have many boxes; I’ll gladly give you one of them. I daresay I have too many, and I mustn’t be stingy with my way out. Here, have this one. I keep my monocle in it sometimes.” So saying, Termat withdrew a box from his pocket and held it out. “Take it. ‘Please, Gods, let me not be mad,’ I think.” The strange man, easily a head taller than Termat, glanced at the box before letting out an angry hiss.

“Fool!” He struck the box from Termat’s hand and with a vicious backhander struck the boy across the face. While he was reeling from the blow, Defalgren dealt a violent blow to his abdomen and, as Termat fell to the floor, kicked him contemptuously. “You will rue this day, human. Look over your shoulder in future; one day, I shall be there.” Once again, Termat knew nothing but blackness.

Termat raised himself to his feet. He did not know how long he had been unconscious for, but nearby was his cart, the donkey grazing peacefully, and in the distance as he rose to his feet he could see an orb of light rising into the sky. Nothing in the forest could render him as much harm as the strange man with demonic powers, and that man could find him wherever he was. On the off chance that the light was that of a friend, Termat straightened his waistcoat, checked his watch as an automatic action, and began to navigate the forest with his cart.

At first it had been clouds—a mist, a fog, a haunting that had obscured their vision and separated them all in the forest. Now it was shadows, creeping along the edges of the trees and canopies, moving like snakes through the branches and along the forest floor, which had no hint of light.

Remis cursed to himself that it had been convinced to this forsaken wood—though he could see well in the dark. His brown eyes saw the corpulent oaks, gorging themselves on the swampy sustenance of the fertile earth, and the vining shrubs that skulked darkly along the ground.

He did not much care to reunite with the group, more concerned with escaping the wood and finding his gryph, Abal. He felt comfortable here in the darkness; in some ways, it reminded of the home from which he had been exiled, though there existed here an inscrutable mystery that tempted him to look over his shoulder from time to time.

It must have been hours searching—for a road or for the trees to clear, and still he was lost. He grumbled to himself and trudged on. Despite his cautiousness, he didn’t hear the footsteps of the demon behind him. He sensed something and turned to find himself looking at a dark figure with the whisper of horns in his curly black hair. Remis's eyes narrowed distrustfully, but the man seemed to be searching him with his eyes. It was a moment before either of them spoke.

"You don’t have the box," said the demon man.

Remis didn't say anything, and the man smiled almost cruelly.

"She doesn't trust you--that wretched elven woman. And why should she?" he smiled, taking a few steps to the side. His manner was easy and casual, his tone and movements, degage. "A dark elf, from one of the most wonderfully bloodthirsty tribes, who still holds to a belief in Coor, the dark god."

Remis spoke curtly and coldly: "What do you want?"

"Nothing, but to remind you that you and I are not so different. Look at me. Tell me that you don't notice something familiar. We may come from different worlds, so to speak, but you and I both believe in the power and glory of destruction. I require nothing from you, but if you believe, like a true dark elf, that death is ultimate worship, then be my eyes and ears within this adventurers party. Earn their trust and help me obtain what that wood elf holds."

"What is it?" Remis asked.

Defalgren laughed. "She hasn't told you? You owe her no loyalty. It is a box, which contains an orb with the power to link to the netherworlds, and through that link, summon demons to this world. Think was dark power and destruction we could cause! A fitting means of worship to Coor."

Remis glared. "Why should I help you?"

"Why should you help her?" Remis did not answer. It was a valid question. The demon noticed his hesitancy, and went on: "I ask nothing of you but to watch and see. Think about my proposal, and your loyalties. I will visit you again, when the time is right. Until then, dark friend."

In a flutter of shadows, the demon was gone, and Remis was again alone in the forest. He could not ignore the demon-like man's proposal, for he had spoken persuasively. He had little care for this group of misfit fighters and warriors, but he was not one to be mocked or betrayed, and had little trust in the horned man. His pondering was disrupted by a light that swam in through the trees. It was close, and as he followed, he found the road to be much closer than he had originally thought. He noticed the dark-haired wood elf farther off, but stayed partially in the shadows to hide his sensitive eyes from the light.

A deep rumble echoed through the forest. 

“Hmm, it’s got enough boom but not enough flash, or fire.” Tak rushed back to his wagon and rummaged through his bags. "Let’s see…more Saltpetre.  Yes, that should work.”  Tak filled a small glass vial with a mixture of Chymicals, a trade gnomish secret with a little twist. “Careful, careful…ahh too much Brimstone, lets pour some of that out…” Tak examined his vial closely, one eye closed, and very carefully added in a small burning stone before sealing the vial.  He dropped this vial into a larger vial filled with a Gnomish fire solution, corked the whole thing and ran back toward the small clearing he had found and took aim at the scorched stump.

“This time it should be perfect!  Ready Buttons?"  He glanced over his shoulder at his pony, Buttons, who was busy pawing the ground, looking for something to eat.  She paused, looked up at Tak, and snorted.  “Yes, yes, ten paces. I know, I know.  Stupid pony thinks it knows more about explosives and geology.  Well, here it goes!” Tak readied his wrist-mounted sling short and let his new concoction fly. 

A black-cloaked figure snatched the vial out of mid air. 

“Hmm…what a quaint little creature you are.  I wonder what this little thing could do…” He held the vial in his hand and inspected it carefully.  “Interesting very interesting.” 

Tak flicked his wrist, which let a Super Fragsent roll into the palm of his shooting hand.  “I didn’t see you there.  Are you in need of a fire mage?  I just so happen to be the mightiest fire mage in this forest!”  He snapped the fingers of his free hand, sparking his spark gloves. 

The black-cloaked figure laughed so hard he nearly doubled over.  “You are no mage.”  He snapped his fingers and two red-eyed beasts appeared behind him.  He looked at the beasts, then eyed Tak, “Yes, these should do.  I do not know why you are in this forest, but I’m afraid you have terrible luck.  You will die now, but don’t worry.  I’ll take this little concoction with me.  I’m sure I can put it to good use.”  As quickly as he appeared the figure vanished, but the two creatures he had summoned growled and crept toward Tak.

“Buttons run!”  Tak shouted, in a fluid motion sparked the fuse for the Fragsent in his hand.  He counted the fuse and eyed the beasts.  “Not a mage huh? And leaving like that, how rude.  Well, I can still make short work of your stupid pets.”  Tak loosed his shot between the creatures.  It exploded right between them, sending burning shrapnel into both creatures, which exploded, in a fine mist.

With a grin, Tak turned to his pony, “I’m more of a mage than he is…Buttons…where did you go?”  The pony was nowhere to be seen. “BUTTONS!  WHERE ARE YOU?”  Tak heard a whinny off to his left and went to find her.  “Buttons what are you doing over here?  I said run but it was for dramatic effect. You should know that by now.  Wait, what do you have there?”  He peered over to see Buttons licking the face on an unconscious woman. “Hmm…an elf.”  Tak walked over to her and saw the very light, very subtle condensation from her breath. “You want me to bring her to town don’t you?” 

Buttons snorted.

“Ok, ok, we’ll take her to the nearest town.  I should report that strange angry man to the watch as well.  But I can’t carry her.  You know what to do.”  Tak waved at Buttons to bring her back to his cart. 

After a few minutes, and some re-arraigning of Tak’s cramped wagon, the two of them had managed to fit the giant (compared to Tak) elven woman into his cart and into a relatively flat position.  Tak readied Buttons to travel and said, “Now, let’s get going.  Yah!” And they both headed back toward the road.

Irid woke up to the creaking sound of a moving cart. That was... odd. Had she been placed in Termat's cart for some reason? But no, when she opened her eyes, it seemed that this one was somewhat bigger, though still too small for everything the owner tried to get in there - and she was taking up a lot of the space. She stayed still for a while, trying to figure out where she was and what had happened. A glance outside the cart convinced her that she was still in the forest. In a forest, anyway, and judging by the way the trees grew close together still in the Már'cál'ethrón. Had she gone wolf? No wait - she had found herself alone in the forest, all her companions gone. And then... everything was black. Obviously, something must have happened, and she had no recollection of it. That did not bode well. Had she been wolf to the owner of this cart? Possibly, but not probably - if she had, she would not actually be inside it.

Using her keen sense of smell as well as her ears, she tried to make sense of the mysterious cart owner. The vials and tubes surrounding her had a sort of acrid smell about them that she did not entirely trust. More than half the things she could see, she did not recognise. She wondered again where she had landed. She heard someone mumbling to himself at the front of the cart. Or to someone else? A quick glance in that direction convinced her that he was quite alone. And quite small, with a pair of goggles in front of his eyes.

She was now quite convinced that this personage did not pose any threat to her - if he had not wanted to help her, he wouldn't have gotten her into the cart. She tried to sit up, and felt the pain in her chest. No, definitely something had happened, a pain like that did not happen on its own. But what? Little use wondering, she would not find out. Turning to the cart's driver, she examined him for a moment. Except for the goggles, the predominant feature was his nose, which was bigger than any she had ever seen. A gnome, judging by his size, but there was something slightly odd about him. Scooting closer - there wasn't actually room to stand up - she said: "Hi."

Tak was plotting a course of action.  He needed to get to a town, the closest being Voldar; however, wasn’t the best of news to Tak.  Tak had accidently set a guard on fire while fiddling with the mixed ratio for “Abngor and Tak’s Super Flammable and Sticky Solution”.  Tak was having problems opening a vial of gnomish fire.  The guard came by and offered to help, unfortunately for him, the vial slipped out of Tak’s hands and slashed on the guard’s boots.  The details were still a little fuzzy to Tak, but he may have accidently struck a spark, igniting the boots and the guard.  No one was too injured, but the guards ‘escorted’ the gnome out of the city with the clear indication that he shouldn’t return any time soon.

But what else could he do? The woman in the back was unconscious, he could manage to keep her comfortable, but she needed to see someone who was trained.  Maybe if he bought the guard a new pair of boots it would make everything better. 

Then there was that strange man, who now had a vial of Tak’s experimental explosive gnomish fire.  Tak knew the damage potential that vial had and he was worried to say the least.  He could take her south to a smaller town like Cemphiria, but he didn’t know the extent her injuries.

“Should have become a Physician.” Tak muttered to himself.   No, he would need to take her back to Voldar. 

While he was working out excuses and some theatrics to get into Voldar, Tak noticed a bright light rising above the trees.  Tak let his plans and schemes wander to the back of his mind while he studied this light.  It had to magical, but was it friendly?  After his run-in with the black hooded figure, he had no idea.  Maybe it was this woman’s friends looking for her.  They would certainly draw attention to themselves.

“Hi”

“AHH BY THE GODS!”  Tak screamed, turning to see what that was and lost his balance, falling out of the cart.  He grabbed a bag of sparkfire off his belt, readied his slingshot, and slowly peered back into his cart.  “Oh, it’s you.  Glad to see you’re feeling better.  Don’t sneak up on me like that!  Thought you were another one of those demons.”  Tak put his weapons away and climbed back into the wagon. He stood up on his seat to make him just barely taller than she was sitting down, put his hands on his hips and said, “I am Tak –The Magnificent!  Fire mage extraordinaire!  And your rescuer.”

A few moments to catch her breath, then Quáel notices balls of light and flashed concentrated in an area far off in a clearing of the forest. Hopefully this was a good sign, but she wouldn't know until she looked.

It took a little bit of stepping over large roots from old trees, finding small paths here and there, and trying to avoid the sudden heaviness of the dark forest to get to the source of the commotion. When she got to the clearing, she found recognizable faces. Although Quáel is a force to be reckoned with, she quite willingly admitted that she was beginning to get a little timid while travelling in the forest alone.

Alyr and another were the reasons for the light, casting some sort of spells maybe, all that mattered was Quáel was surrounded by people she knew, people she was beginning to call friends.

Irid regarded the gnome as he pulled himself up to his full height - after nearly falling off his perch at her greeting. Her first impression had been quite correct - what an odd character! His nose did not come into full effect until he was facing her, and combined with the goggles, it made his face look all eyes and nose, and very little mouth - comparatively speaking, of course.

"I did not mean... to startle you. I apologise. I would not... like to be a bother, but I seem to have... lost my friends - you did not happen... to see them, by any chance? There were some elves and some humans..." As she talked, she rubbed absently over the soreness in her chest. It was giving her difficulties to breathe. Just then she glanced outside, past the gnome's goggled head, and saw the bright light above the trees. They seemed to be quite close, and coming closer - the pony in front of the cart seemed to know what it was doing without the gnome paying it much attention.

"On the other hand, I have a feeling we might find them there." She added, pointing at the light. As she moved, she felt the pain in her chest again. What in Ava's dream had hit her so hard? She wanted to check it, but she was not sure how the gnome would react to her pulling off her shirt right in front of him. Perhaps she should defer until later. Instead, she asked: "Would you mind terribly dropping me off with them, if it is not too much of an inconvenience?"

"I did not mean... to startle you. I apologise. I would not... like to be a bother, but I seem to have... lost my friends - you did not happen... to see them, by any chance? There were some elves and some humans...On the other hand, I have a feeling we might find them there." She pointed toward the light.  Tak noticed her flinch when she moved, she was hurt more than he thought. 

"Would you mind terribly dropping me off with them, if it is not too much of an inconvenience?"

"Well, I suppose there is better than Voldar.”  Tak sat back down.  "Yes, we’ll go to your friends.” He said to her, before saying to himself, "Though someone should still inform the authorities about that strange man in black with the explody creatures.  Stole something very dangerous.”

Buttons plodded along toward the light, and as they got closer.  Tak kept an eye out for anything that resembled trouble. 

And trouble he found.  A small group, of elves and humans, nearly a dozen, and one giant lizard.  Most of them looked like they could toss poor Tak as if he were a small pack.  Having run into bandits on more than one occasion Tak immediately assumed the light was a trap and these people would try to kill him and buttons.  Try being the key word. 

"You should take cover, it was a trap. Looks like there are bandits ahead.  One of them is a giant lizard!”

He readied his sling shot and grabbed a flask of Abngor’s Super Sticky Solution (dyed a very lovely shade of woods rose) from his belt.  Tak thought about using a fireflower, but decided to see if they would chase him first.

Irid's attention was grabbed for a moment by the mutterings of the gnome, who said something about a strange man in black. She did not remember what had happened in the forest, but chances were present it had something to do with the same people who had attacked them in the inn. One of them had escaped, and had he not been wearing black? She was not sure, but Alyr would be interested.

Lost in thought, she almost missed the moment that Tak the Magnificent tensed up, then told her to hide while grabbing something from his belt. She almost wanted to laugh when he mentioned the giant lizard, except she was quite sure that laughing would hurt. Instead, she grabbed the hand which was holding... whatever it was, something with a rosy colour. "I don't know what that is, but you don't... don't need it right now. The lizard is one of my... friends." Even she herself was not sure whether that last pause was due to her shortage of breath or something else. "He will not harm you. Unless you throw... that at him." Letting go, she made her way out of the cart. A jump down to solid ground left her gasping for breath and pressing a hand to her chest. When the pain subsided a little bit, she went around the side of the cart, going slowly to avoid renewing the pain. She saw Alyr not far away.

Looking at the funny little gnome, she told him: "I think you should... talk to my employer. Tell her about... the man in black." With a glance she invited him to come along with her. As she approached the other elfess, she saw in her indigo eyes the faraway look that she had come to associate with the use of magic. She wasn't sure whether to interrupt her, despite her race's affinity being unfamiliar with magic herself. With narrowed eyes she noted that not all the group had found the light yet. She wondered if they were still coming.

Termat was not in the best of states. The direct route to the light he saw floating above the trees had passed through what seemed like a ridiculous number of pools that lay half-concealed under thick moss and rotten logs, and more than once he had sunk to his ankle before he realised that he would have to lead his cart the long way around. He had eventually reached the firm ground just to one side of the road, and there he sat down on his cart, removed his sodden socks and shoes, changed his trousers for a clean pair and pulled on dry socks and a pair of smart but sturdy new boots. Once he had finished, he looked again at his watch; shortly after noon. He hoped that he would find the party soon - at least, in time for lunch - but rather than leave all to chance he pulled out a clay bottle of wine wrapped in cloth and, after pouring a glass of the pale liquid and taking the edge off his thirst, stowed it safely in the side of the cart.

The donkey waited patiently.

Fiddling with his cravat, Termat stepped out of the trees and walked across the few remaining peds without incident - until he reached the last paces, where he once again put his foot straight in a patch of hidden, stagnant bog. The boot was not quite as waterproof as he had been assured, and he felt a trickle of water making its way in, but the trousers did not show the misfortune and it was looking incongruously dapper - far more so than he had any right to be - that he finally stepped onto the path and began to trundle along to the rest of the group.

Most of them appeared to be around - although Termat hadn’t fixed them all in his mind well enough to be sure - but one of them was bearing a staff and had an intense look of concentration on his drawn face - a face and a staff Termat felt sure he would have remembered.

As he walked down the path towards them, he saw another cart pull up by the group, with a tired and pained looking woman looking out - whom he recognised vaguely from the earlier stages of the journey - as well as an impressive person too short to be human - whom he did not. Regardless, Termat led his cart to the edge of the group before stopping the donkey and taking out the bottle. He turned to his nearest neighbour and proffered the bottle.

“Would you care to join me? It’s very refreshing.” As he spoke, he began to fill the glass he held.

After passing through a few itchy plants and thorny growths later, the psyrpent found the source of the light. It was not a wisp thankfully, but his employer and a human mage. He went closer and saw that most of his companions are present. He sat down on a patch of moss covered ground and rummaged about his bag for some salve that can mend the scratches he sustained from passing through some thorny plants as well as the itching sensation he got from those rather suspicious leaves he brushed by.

His dog sat down beside him, his fur riddled with burrs from walking through some thick bushes. The psyrpent reached out and patiently removed all of them before tending to his own needs. Once finished, he took a leather skin, uncorked it, and drank some of its contents. He also reached into his bag, pulled out a piece of dried meat and gave it to his dog.

The cream started to take effect, which made the psyrpent a little comfortable. he leaned against a tree, waiting for the call to move out.

"He will not harm you. Unless you throw... that at him." Irid said, staying Tak’s hand before hopping out of his cart. 

“So, the lizard is your friend?  Interesting.  I wonder if he would let me study him.  I may not be much of a biologist, but the stuffy old gnomes back in Goltherlon would kill to see this!  I wonder if I can collect some scales…” Tak muttered to himself as Irid and walked around to the side.

"I think you should... talk to my employer. Tell her about... the man in black." 

“Ahh I almost forgot about him!  Do you think she knows who he is?  I do need the flask back.”  Tak hopped off his cart and followed the elf. “Buttons, stay!” He caked back over his shoulder.

The elf was already half way over to the other cart, Tak needed to jog to keep up with her. 

Tak climbed up on top of the other cart and waved“Hello Miss.  My name is Ptergub Takigmin – The Magnificent!  You can call me Tak.  This elf here,” Tak gestured toward Irid “said you might know who that man in black was?  Angry man, summoned strange creatures with red eyes.”

Tak lacked a sense of discretion and everyone who had gathered could hear him.

“He took something of mine, very dangerous.  I would like to get it back. Do you know where he is?”

From a nearby small clump of golden bell bushes a quavery old female voice said, "what do I need to do to get some sleep around this place? The talking, the flashes, the noises, the light, all of it is too much for me."

As it seemed unlikely that the bush could speak, it could probably be surmissed that this was from a person. And sure enough, there were trappings of a person around the clump of golden bell bushes. Those trappings included a pair of sandles, a staff, and the odd pouch here and there.

A wizened old face, smeared with mud, and with hair that was unkempt emerged from beneath the bushes, and this was soon followed by the rest of her body, a roughly spun dress covered her from her neck to halfway down her lower legs, and her wrists. Her hands were stained with mud and green. The green could have been folliage. She didn't smell none too good either, and she seemed to be cross eyed.

Reaching down, she picked up her pouches and tied them off her rope belt. She then slipped her sandals on her feet and picked up her staff, and she said, "and now you've gone and woken us up, haven't they dearest?"

She turned and spoke to the air next to her.

"Well," she said, "what do you lot have to say to dearest and myself?"

 The orb of light shone brightly, like a call through the forest that had only a shadow for an echo, hardly noticeable amoung the shades that moved and wavered like curious ghosts among the trunks and boughs of aged trees. The indigo-eyed elf stood below the beacon, whose dazzling rays stretched through the thick canopies, and though the light shone brightly, there was something about her birthright that did not make her seem out-shone.

The robes of her lythe figure rustled in the wayward breezes that came round to see the source of the light, the two figures who stood beneath it, the elf that stood watching. She looked for movement from the wood, and at first, it was only those haunting shadows that seemed to heed the call of light; then, slowly but surely, figures emerged: Gilith down the road, and Remis not far off... then Quael, too, and Jarrox, and all her once-lost companions. She watched with relief as they one-by-one stepped out of the forest, perhaps a little worse for wear (with the notable exception of Termat), but alive. She, too, bore the mark of her own attack: a cut in her lip where Defalgren had hit her, and a slight discoloration on her cheek.

Alýr watched with some curiosity as Irid appeared with a short figure--a gnome. The elf smiled ever-so-slightly, being endeared toward Santharia's Little People. She watched patiently as he climbed upon the cart to address her close to eye-level. "Hello Miss," he said boldly, "My name is Ptergub Takigmin – The Magnificent!  You can call me Tak.  This elf here said you might know who that man in black was? Angry man, summoned strange creatures with red eyes."

The elf's brows furrowed with concern as the gnome spoke: "He took something of mine, very dangerous.  I would like to get it back. Do you know where he is?"

The elf shook her head slightly, the tendrils of her dark hair brushing her cheeks, and her voice was calm(ing) and almost musical: "I know the man of whom you speak, dear Tak, but not his location. He has been..." here her eyes glanced at her companions... "... everywhere this day. What of yours did he take?"

Her eyes fluttered briefly in the direction of Gilith. His gate and expression told her he still had the box. She wasn't sure what her dark-cloaked pursuer had stolen from the gnome, but she was certain that it could be no more dangerous than that box.

All at once she heard an old female voice arise from the brush not far off: "What do I need to do to get some sleep around this place? The talking, the flashes, the noises, the light, all of it is too much for me and now you've gone and woken us up, haven't they dearest?"

Alýr tilted her head slightly as she looked at the figure: a wizened old woman--a beggar woman perhaps?--had lifted herself up and seemed to address herself to one who was not there. She then turned to the group: "Well, what do you lot have to say to dearest and myself?"

The indigo-eyed elfess spoke with gentility and care: "I apologize, for we did not realize you were here sleeping in the forest. We shall move along soon, so as not to disturb you any further." She regarded her with some hesitancy. Rarely was she taken by a living car'all suddenly--though in a forest like this, where so much is breathing in shades of ahm and soor, and with a woman whose car'all matches the composition of the brush with startling similarity, perhaps it was no wonder.

Gilith hobbled slowly for he was tired now. It had been a long day and those beasts did not die easily but he was alive and so was Quael. Waite were was she?

Quickly he looked back into the forest and saw that she was somewhat behind him. That was good he did not know if he could fight anymore today.

When he came to the gathering spot he chuckled and felt considerably more amusement than he would have sober. Though of course he was not quite as drunk as he would have liked he was a proffesional and could restrict himeself.

But at the site of the gnome he broke out into a smile. It was a funny sight. Someone so small so determined and holding such strangest objects.

Though he did not feel quite as good as he had for the past few years he was alive. Though he did probably look more dead than anything with his blood stained clothes and his torn armor not to mention his crutch and sling! He still haad a job to do he must protect his employer and her propertie.

So he dropped his crutch as he could walk without it but still ever so slowly made his  way to his employer with his hand clutched on the handle of his sword.

"I beg your pardon Ms. Rayne and I promise it won't happen again." He said smilling.

As he said these words he tilted his head side ways slightly and gave a slight wink to his employer as his thumb brushed against the place were the box was hidden.

Yes most of the companions were here yet some were not. Perhaps they suffered worse luck than his. Or perhaps they are just far away. He did not know but he was content to follow his orders.

The mage watched as this elf's companions came one by one. Some of them looked perhaps useful others out of place. Some even laughable. But this was intersting perhaps he could gain from this. For some reason this elf was desperate. She hired far to many people and to different people to be casually traveleing. Some of them were even injured significantly. Almost a sure sign that something was following them or something they had.

Many people were talking to the elf. A Short creature whom he felt as if might be annoying later. A tall broad shouldered man whom... waite what was that. Perhaps barely percepted by most but there was a strange thing that he did. Nothing more than a slight hand movement an eye twitch and a small head rotation. Most would not see unless they were ment to but few things escaped his dark perception these days.

Though he loved his magic he did not like useing it needlessly. He did not wish to quit but if everyone was here than he knew he should. He turned towards the elf and simply waited for some sign that everyone had been gathered or killed.

The itching is back again and strangely it feels as if it's not his scales that are irritated, but rather under his scales. He tried scratching it in a futile attempt to relieve it. Not until a part of the scales on his arm became loose that he realized something. He let out a pained groan, one that he only makes when confronted with intellectually challenged people.

He's molting!

By Churas' staff, why does it have to be in the wrong place and in the wrong time? Apparently he did not brush against an irritating plant. Plus snakes are immune to itching due to the protection provided by their scales (That swindler who sold him that anti-itching cream better start hiding). It was merely an early warning sign. Psyrpents molt from time to time, especially the elders, and wearing the skin of an elder is done by his people when attending formal occasions. Serpentfang looked around for a nearby bush, one large enough to conceal him as he molt. He stood up quickly, motioned his dog to follow him and ran into a tree-like bush. He dove into it but came running out as a huge bird came pecking at him.

Jarrox waved his arms frantically around his head, trying to get rid of the squawking terror. After a few pecks later he lost his patience. He looked straight at the bird as it was aiming for his eyes and blasted the twit with psionic energy. The flying pest dropped on the ground, dazed and trying to get its bearings. By this time his whole right forearm's scales are dangling. Afraid of being seen by his companions, the psyrpent went straight to the bush with his dog standing guard outside the makeshift hiding place.

Inside he saw what the bird was defending; a nest with five eggs in it. His appetite told him to swallow the morsels, but he'll have to do that later. Plus he owed the mama bird an apology. He took off his hauberk as quickly as he can and got down on all fours. Then he began wriggling a little, rubbing his belly every now and then to loosen and split the scale cleanly for his new form to come out. The brille, or the transparent covering of his eyes (snakes have no eyelids to protect their eyes from dirt, thus the need for this transparent scale) became cloudy, but that is a normal procedure for a snake that is molting.

A few seconds later the whole-body scale started coming off, revealing a brand new skin. Like the former, it is black with white speckles, the only difference is that the new scale is more lustrous and shiny. It is a beautiful obsidian color, and he would probably get a good price selling the old scale to leather merchants. His asking price had to come later though, as it would take him perhaps several more minutes to get the whole thing off him.

*OLD WOMAN*

The elfess spoke to the old woman, saying, "I apologize, for we did not realize you were here sleeping in the forest. We shall move along soon, so as not to disturb you any further."

The old woman considered the words of the indigo-eyed elfess, and then once again looked to empty space again, "what do you think, Dearest?" The woman paused for a short space of time following that question, as though she was listening to someone.

"I agree," the old woman said, and then looked at Rayne, "I am sorry for snappinng earlier. I was awoken suddenly and that always makes me and Dearest unhappy. I was having such a nice dream too. Dearest and I think we should travel with you. These roads are dangerous and travelling in a group is safer than travelling with just Dearest for company. I can help. And besides, Dearest is such a talker. I can barely get a word in edge ways when Dearest starts to talk. Talking with the rest of you is much nicer."

The old woman watched as Gilith came up, "and besides I am a healer! I can heal those of your party who were injured in your fight with those things that attacked you."

*JULIETTE DANTE*
Juliette stumbled out of the forest and up towards the rest of the party a few minor cuts here and there showed that the marauder had her own encounter with some of the foe that had seperated them. The tall thin man confused her in his demand for 'the box'. She had no box, but he seemed insistent that she hand it over to him. He went in a flash and she was set upon by some of his lackies. Her cutlass-work was quick and she survived the encounter because her foes mindlessly attacked, if they were used to fighting together, the story could have been different ... much different.

She fixed eyes on Rayne, and the old woman, and nodded to the elfess. Making no comment, she stood silently, watching and waiting for what would happen next.

"I know the man of whom you speak, dear Tak, but not his location. He has been ... everywhere this day. What of yours did he take?"

“Gnomish invention.  It’s very technical, you don’t have the math.  But it is VERY dangerous, I must find it.”  Tak took a moment to ponder his responsibilities regarding his little invention.  He decided that, as its creator, any and all damages it unleashed would be his responsibility.  “I have resolved to travel with you.  You seem to know this man, and I do need my device back.  Besides, everyone could always use an accomplished Fire Mage!” Tak waved his hands in the air as he sparked his gloves and tossed two small pouches at the ground that sparked, popped, and smoked a sickly Lýth’bél yellow.

Before anyone could respond Tak hopped through the smoke and ran back to his cart.  “Buttons, change of plans, we are going with them.  Norong'Sorno will have to wait.  I should have enough burning stones to last a very long time anyway.  Wait here until we are ready to go.”  Tak ruffled up Buttons’ mane and hurried back toward the others to hear the plans, and to look for the lizard. 

Tak looked at the group and debated who to ask about the lizard.  There were a few people battered and bruised, a human looked hurt fairly bad but Tak couldn’t begin to guess how bad.  Most of the others were worrying over the injured.  There was a pale, sick looking man standing in a scowl.  Best not to bother him at this point in time.  Then Tak’s eyes fell upon a rather strangely dressed young man.  He was sipping something next to a donkey and Tak decided that this man must be second in charge, and would definitely know where the lizard ran off to.  After all, why else would such a young human dress so fancy and be in the company with so many mercenaries if he weren’t conveying a sense of social hierarchy.  Tak walked over to him and said, “Excuse me, have you seen a lizard around?  I’m trying to collect some samples.”

Gilith now stood in the place where so much seemed to be going on. First there was trhe gnomish creature whom was describing something about math and danger he did not pay much attention to that. Then there was a strange rusteling ahead of him as the serpant creature they brought with dashed away.

After these things registered to him he took more notice of the old woman whom claimed to be a healer. With Rayne already preoccupied with so many other things he decided to see if her saying she could heal him was actually true.

"Ahhh sure you can try to heal me." He began to unwrap the bandage around his shoulder. Then when he was done he took about a second to get off the sleeve of his bloodstained armor. It came easily as it was only half on and very loose. He would have to get that repaired when he could.

Though these normal thoughts were instantly pushed out of his mind when he looked at the wound. It was not infected due to the alchohal he put on it (Which almost hurt more than the actuall blow itslef.) But when he looked at his bandage it was very bloody. Red blood his blood. He pulled it off delicately and whinced when he saw it. It was a broad blade that hit him. So the cut was very long. It was also very deep. His armor saved his arm as it still hurt like mad but was able to be moved.

When he removed the bandage the yahrle leaves and Miyu berries juice fell off of the wound. So what he had more. But was this woman just going to make things worse.

Ha he thought she couldn't make it much worse if she tried. Fortunately for him the numbness on his side was wearing off so he could stand almost normal. Unfortunately for him the pain soon returned with the balance. He leaned against a tree and put almost all of his weight on his good side.

"Be very careful now miss. I know you might know what your doing but please don't touch it to much."

He didn't trust this woman ( talking to herself was slightly making things worse) He did however not have any reason to distrust her. If she was good he would let her look at his side if not then... well he would cross that bridge if he came to it.

FIRE MAGE! Invulnatery his ball of light magnified perhaps twice in brightness for a moment only though. That was perhaps one of the worst things you could do to make the mage angry. He who had given everything for his magic a true magic user could not stand by as he listened to this gnome spout lies and defile his art.

He figured it out when the gnome through the strange thing at the ground which created smoke.

Fire mages didn't create smoke without fire! That was wind magic. This small and incredibly stupid creature may have just sealed himself to a terrible fate. What made Roy pause however was the mention of burning stones. He craved these rare peices and would go to great lengths to get them. Perhaps he could let it slide once. But if ever he caught the gnome saying that again it wouldn't be a good site.

When he regained control of himself he wandered over to where Tak was. All the while he  still concentrated on his ball of light and making it shine he said.

"So you say you have burning stones eh? I might want to buy some of those seeing as how you can't use any of them." The last words beggining with seeing were uttered in an angry amused sort of way that tried to tell the gnome he knew and he better knock it off.

But then he pulled a shiny red gem from one of his puches and asked "Will this cover it?"
He did not notice the man he was talking to but if he had he probably would not have paid him much attention anyway.

The dark-haired elfess, a soft breeze twining through her rippling robes, glanced up to see Gilith, and was struck by his appearance: the blood stained clothes, the torn armor, and--she could tell--some alcohol in his system. Clearly, with wounds as he had, he needed them to dull the pain.
 
"I beg your pardon, Ms. Rayne and I promise it won't happen again," said Gilith. The apology hardly found her heart amidst the worry that seized it. She went to his side as the old woman piped in again.
 
"I'm sorry for snapping earlier," said the old woman before inviting herself to join. The indigo-eyed elf smiled courteously, distrait over the state of her companion. The old woman's mind was clearly a little unhinged, but nothing in the raggedness of her appearance or the dirt across her wrinkled face spoke danger. And besides, with a group such as this, the elfess felt in no danger whatever from the poor old woman.
 
"... and besides I am a healer!" she proclaimed, looking at Gilith. "I can heal those of your party who were injured in your fight with those things that attacked you!"
 
Alýr looked at Gilith, almost questioningly, as though asking him if he was all right with this course of action. The woman did not look quite in her own mind; that did not mean she could not be a healer, as she claimed. There was a natural closeness with nature in her, and such spiritual propinquities often engendered skills in the healing arts.
 
Just then, the elf's attention was once more turned by the voice of the gnome: "I have resolved to travel with you," declared Tak. "You seem to know this man, and I do need my device back." Alýr opened her lips as though to speak, to warn the gnome about the dangers, though she realized that the diminutive inventor before her likely would not give a tarep's tail about the dangers. "Besides," he went on, "everyone could always use an accomplished Fire Mage!" There was a spark and the pop of pouches and yellow smoke.
 
Alýr gave the gnome an endeared smile, despite herself (her worry still swayed strongly to Gilith and his condition). The gnome's cár'áll, to her, was a map of his life; all the places he been and the things he had done spoke in the soór links and listened in the ahm. The influences shone themselves in the scattering of ounía, the balances and the conversations between the elements. Did he have a penchant for fire? Yes--the fire ounía in him was strong. Was he a mage? His xeuá sang a different song.
 
Before she could respond, he walked off, apparently in search of the lizard. She saw Roy flare. Like his element, he was fiery, and in response her own cár'áll seemed to flare. She was weakened; it was true. Any sudden and strong magical movement would debilitate her, but she could still make one, and she was no trifle of a mage. However, as Roy calmed, so did she, and what she overheard of Roy's words made her calm, though wary.
 
She turned back to Gilith, who was pulling the bandages off his wound--a deep gash in his shoulder. The alcohol was fading from his system, and he leaned against the tree as the pain inched back. She came to his side, her eyes looking at the wound. No, looking through it, for her eyes seemed distant, like there was something she could see that others could not: the flowing influence of water in the blood, the fire ounía fading out as the heat from the wound melted into the cool forest air, the weakening of earth, the wildness of wind... and so many broken xeuá.
 
"Come, sit down, Gilith," She said, her voice liquid with worry. She glanced at the old woman. "Perhaps we might heal him together? I fear I may lack the strength to heal the wound entirely, but perhaps together we can."

Termat was leaning on his cart sipping slowly at his wine when he was approached by the impressive-but-diminutive person he had noticed earlier. An amused half smile - not a new feature of his face, but one that had been dimmed by the rather unpleasant journey through the hinterland of the forest - regained its full force as he watched him cross the distance between them purposefully; a fellow cart user, Termat felt at once a kind of deep and meaningful kinship between them that transcended all bounds of race or class to become a perfect harmony of spirit - that is, his mind went soaring off on what could no longer be properly called even a tangent and he wrenched it back onto the sane and narrow just in time to hear his new companion’s words.

“Excuse me, have you seen a lizard around? I’m trying to collect some samples.” Termat bowed slightly, respectfully.

“Yes, Sir. The psyrpent? He was around just a moment ago but -” Termat looked around in some perplexity “- he seems to have vanished; I’m very sorry. Perhaps he had to dash off into the trees. Urgent call of nature, maybe. But no. I couldn’t direct you to him. I’m sure he’ll turn up sooner or later, Sir. Our illustrious leader, Miss. Rayne, may know more than I, but she appears to be busy; would you like a glass of wine in the meantime? It’s very nice indeed.” Gesturing to his bottle, which lay in the shade of his case, Termat glanced over the assembled group, and noticed the drawn man approach and address his newest companion - a companion whose name, Termat remembered, he hadn’t quite caught when he announced himself. He cast a reprimanding glance at the interrupter, and continued speaking.

“Sorry, Sir, how rude of me. I’m Termat Geirskun, utterly unimportant and only here because I thought it would hardly be chivalrous to let a party with so many ladies in it pass through the forest without accompanying them to do my little all. You are Mr. Takigmin, is that right? Or did I mishear ?” Did he come across as overly pretentious? Perhaps. He’d already said it anyway, so with great philosophy he resigned himself to the judgement of his interlocutor.

He didn’t give the newcomer a second glance.

He did, however, notice the dishevelled old woman who had emerged and was now engaged in treating the burly woodsman who had earlier - how much earlier it seemed - asked to evaluate Termat’s skill with a blade. Termat made a mental note to make a point of the fact that he had survived, which he had branded sufficient to prove he was good enough to survive the recent events - a rather circular train of thought but somehow and in some ways perfectly reasonable and sufficient. He only hoped the woodsman would survive his ordeal, which appeared to have been far more taxing than his own. Other than that strange denizen of the forest, Alýr was also tending to the injured warrior, and the rest of the group was now appearing in the last dribs and drabs from the woods.

Termat lamented the fact that he didn’t actually know the group well enough to be able to tell when they had all arrived, and unleashed the donkey to allow it to graze.

Ridgen was assessing the situation in an almost unnatural silence. It wasn't like him, to go over situations like that, but the fact that some of the stronger members of the party (Rayne, Irid) are now injured was a great worry. There are those who made it out relatively unscathed, surprisingly - like Termat, Jarrox and himself, but still... He couldn't shake a thought sitting at the back of his mind, even as he noticed that there were three new additions to the party. Even as Jarrox dashed off into the brush, as the man named Termat offered everyone a glass of wine. Even as he noticed the globe of light intensify to twice its normal brightness, as this un-reclusive gnome introduces himself as a fire magician - something the elf doubted very much.

Silvery white eyes swept over the area one last time, and, having found nothing but the fact that all party members are relatively safe, stared off into the distance. But not for long. In that brief period of time, the elf's mind quickly ran over everything that he could remember happening within the past five minutes to make sure that there really was nothing wrong. Nope. There was nothing he should worry about.

The thought was pushed out of his mind (and came back, only to be ignored) as the blue-haired elf remembered Termat's offer for wine. Why not? A little drink once in a while isn't bad.

"Mr. Geirskun, is it? Would you mind sharing some of that wine?" Wait, he did say wine, right?

"Come, sit down, Gilith," "Perhaps we might heal him together? I fear I may lack the strength to heal the wound entirely, but perhaps together we can."

At this Gilith smiled. True he wished this pain would recede but he had a job to do and he had already been paid so he intended to do it right.

"That is very kind of you Rayne but if you do not have much of your magic left you should keep it." He said this bluntly but hopefuly not insultingly as he saw what she did with Irid's  hand which was quite impressive.

But he did go to sit down when she asked. Though it hurt he tried to keep a limp from his steps as that would perhaps heal normaly by itslef.

"I don't mean to be rude but if you could save your magic for yourself or a better cause I would feel better. For ya see if you were to be attacked-"

At this Gilith looked at Rayne's face and frowned for someone probably the same someone who had attacked him must have attacked his employer. He knew there was not much he could have done but so far he was failing in his job to keep his employer out of harms way.

"As it seems you have then I would feel quite better if you had something to protect yourself. For if you were ta die then I would have failed."

"Let us see what this (he almost said old) woman can do first eh?"

Truthfuly he would have felt considerably better if Rayne had done it as he trusted her more than the old woman but oh well he was not one to be picky.

“Yes, Sir. The psyrpent? He was around just a moment ago but he seems to have vanished; I’m very sorry. Perhaps he had to dash off into the trees. Urgent call of nature, maybe. But no. I couldn’t direct you to him. I’m sure he’ll turn up sooner or later, Sir. Our illustrious leader, Miss. Rayne, may know more than I, but she appears to be busy; would you like a glass of wine in the meantime? It’s very nice indeed.”  Termat gestured toward the bottle of wine. The man was very long winded, Tak was trying to be polite but kept fidgeting with the vial of pink goo. 

“Sorry, Sir, how rude of me. I’m Termat Geirskun, utterly unimportant and only here because I thought it would hardly be chivalrous to let a party with so many ladies in it pass through the forest without accompanying them to do my little all. You are Mr. Takigmin, is that right? Or did I mishear?”

”Hmm, wine?  No, no wine for me.  Need to keep my mind clear so I can perform my magics, in case another of those beasties shows up.  The name is Tak – The Magnificent!  I like your jacket.  It could use more red...but I think it looks very distinguished.  Are there many pockets?  You could always use more pockets.”

Tak would have gone on more; however he was approached by the very sickly, sour looking man (looking even more angry) that Tak had noticed earlier. 

“So you say you have burning stones eh? I might want to buy some of those seeing as how you can't use any of them." The man seemed very upset, but Tak couldn't figure out why for the life of him.  Maybe he stubbed his toe walking.  Tak was going to respond, but then the man pulled out a very strange looking red stone from a pouch. ”Will this cover it?"

”Ohh what do you have there?” Tak snatched the gem out of the man's hand and began rolling it around in his fingers.  He adjusted his lenses to get a better look, removing the colored tints and pulling out a jewelers loop.  ”Of course I can use burning stones.  I'm a gnome. he said, still examining the stone.  ”I don't know why you would be interested.  Much too tall.  Burning stones aren't toys you know, they can be very dangerous.” Tak glanced back up and looked the man over before adding, ”Especially in untrained hands.”

Tak pocketed the very strange gem and said, “But, since you can pay for some, you can have some!”  Tak walked back to his cart, assuming the man would follow him.  He rubbed Buttons on the nose as he passed, and began rummaging through his items.  “Now,” Tak said, his head stuck into a barrel, “I don't carry very many of the lighter stones, too difficult to move with that clumsy thing,“ Tak gestured toward buttons, who snorted on cue, “So I hope a pouch of these will do.”  Tak gathered a little more than half a dozen small Drake Eggs into a pouch and handed them to the man. “Here you go mister...what was the name?”

Having received no reply as of yet, Ridgen decided to take a look around and observe. Everyone appeared to be fine, but there was something... off about the situation. Perhaps it was a rustle in the foliage. Perhaps it was an illusion of movement created by the wildlife around them. Perhaps it was the furious ticking of the pocketwatch hidden inside his overcoat. Or maybe it was something much more sinister? Delfagren certainly wouldn't delay in attempting to take the box off them. In their current state, he doubted that they would be able to fight off the demon man and protect the box - as well as their injured comrades - at the same time. There were a lot more things at stake this time.

The pocket watch's furious ticking continued; was it much faster than usual? That was odd. It must be defective. Was the donkey grazing over there agitated? A closer look proved that it was merely irritated at the fact that it had accidentally taken a few stones in its mouth. The plants in the foliage continued to give the illusion of movement, rustling as they were blown about in the wind. Ridgen stared at a particular spot for a moment - was that an intruder? With a hand on his sword hilt, he silently approached, watching intently for something to happen.

No, it was just Jarrox. That was a relief. Ridgen relaxed for a minute, only to tense up again at the sound of something else, at the sight of a demonic form darting from cover to cover. There was no way that they could fight here. The agitated elf went over to where Alyr, Gillith and the old lady were sitting. Or standing. It did not quite matter. They had to leave, now.

"We should get on the move now. We've stayed in one spot for a bit too long, don't you think? Oh, and I saw someone move through the brush. He looked a lot like that demon guy." Hushed, urgent words. Yes, it was about time that they were back on the move. "We should move the injured over to Tak and Termat's carts so that we may be able to heal on the move. Let's go."

Roy was feelings were confused now. At first he had thought this gnome a danger to his art. By perhaps going around and purposefuly or not making fire magis look stupid. Which would loose them respect and worse fear.

But upon taking another look at this small creature he found no reason to beleive that anyone in their right mind could mistake him for a mage. So all in all he was willing to tolerate his annoying moments(which seemed plentiful enough) so long as he did no real damage to the fire mages reputation.

As he was pondering this he heard the gnomes response on him not being able to use them. You shall see otherwise little gnome he thought.

Then when he managed to get his burning stones he smiled earily and deposited them throughout various secret inner pockets among him. After this he heard another person speack saying they should leave. He agreed. It was dangerous here as demonstrated by whatever things attacked these people. There was no time to fool around. But what attacked them? It didn't matter if he knew now so long as he found out he decided.

Quáel leaned against a tall, old tree as the remainder of the party filed into the clearing. All looked injured and uneasy, yet the gathering of them all lifted the air a little.

There were others who were joining the group as well, a gnome, an old healer woman, and a sickly, hunched over man with robes and a staff. This man was very curious, from time to time his sleeves would reveal his skeleton-like hands, his face so sunken you could make out all of the bones under the almost transparent skin.

The gnome was a silly little fella, Quáel thought he could bring a smile on faces even when they were down. Termat had offered some wine, and why not, thought Quáel. But just as she was about to approach the finely dressed man, and accept his offer, Ridgen made a point that we have been here too long.

As she awaited Alyr's response, she noticed Gilith had a very deep wound in his arm, probably from the hell hounds. Quáel pushed off the tree trunk, and awaited the departure, which was sure to bring more danger.   

"Let us see what this (he almost said old) woman can do first eh?"

The indigo-eyed elf smiled at Gilith kindly. Her magical energies were fairly restored, but the young archer was right: the healing would weaken her, and there were many companions here who needed to be healed. She nodded gently to the young man's proposition.

Was there a chill in the air? No--it felt more like a shadow permeating in the movements of the wind, scattering it like frightened birds or horses. The slight changes were like a fly about her ear, though her attention was still mostly taken by the man in front of her.

She heard Ridgen approach, and glanced back to meet his worried, silvery eyes: "We should get on the move now. We've stayed in one spot for a bit too long, don't you think? Oh, and I saw someone move through the brush. He looked a lot like that demon guy." His words were soft, but urgent. "We should move the injured over to Tak and Termat's carts so that we may be able to heal on the move. Let's go."

It was then that Alýr let the full weight of the situation fill her senses. Her indigo eyes looked out upon the forest. The rogue breezes that pressed her robes and tugged at the tendrils of her hair were whispering of danger in the woods, pursuading the group to take the path onward. She couldn't see what Ridgen saw, nor hear what he heard, for his senses were more refined than hers, but she could feel something dark in the way the forest car'all shifted and breathed.

"I-I think you're right, Ridgen," spoke the slender mage, and she turned back to her injured companion. "Gilith, are you able to make it to Termat's cart? Miss..." Alýr looked into the eyes of the old woman, realizing she did not know her name, but now was not the time "... do you might healing in motion? I fear we are not safe in stillness."

She used a small bit of magic to may Gilith lighter, to ease his movement toward the cart, and offered him her arm to steady him.

He listened to the elf's words drinking them in as he pondered them. Of course it would be lickely that the enemy would attack as they become a group once more. Disorganise them then strike at them individualy. Then as they are gathered back together they feel good they get slightly unwary. They need time to heal the wounded, reorganize themselves plan a new plan. A situation in where a group was at its weakest in where an attack would be devestating.

Of course they probably thought of this and have an ambush ready for us and an attack ready for us if we don't move. Or so Gilith thought. He could be wrong but there were not to many options left to them.

"I-I think you're right, Ridgen, Gilith, are you able to make it to Termat's cart? Miss..." do you might healing in motion? I fear we are not safe in stillness."

"Hmm" Then the meaning of the words sank into him. "I mean yes but er... I should probably be ready in case of another attack."

Gilith Got to his feet which felt far easier than it had been to get down with the extra balanced provided by Rayne's arm.

"Ah thank you very much Rayne" He said as he was helped to his feet but trying to put as little weight as possible on the arm that supported him. His gratitude grew all the more as he noticed her pained expression at his suffering. "But.. well what I mean to say is... I don't think I'm in quite bad enough shape to be taken out of action quite yet."

"If the woman (He nodded towarsds the old woman) would like to patch up my left arm very quickly I think I could still be of some assistance after all we have very little time to waiste and it would be best if we looked our strongest For I can still use my sword arm just as well as before. In fact come to think of it I'm feeling quite a bit better." He lied.

Gilith was in pain but the Miyu berries and alchohal had lessend it considerably. If he perhaps had more of either he would be able to walk normally as his side was not in nearly as bad condition as his arm.

He did not want to slow this party down all becuase he couldn't handle a bit of wounds he was after all suppose to be used to this sort of thing. But if he did not get this treated he would not be able to draw his bow for at least a weak so perhaps later he would let Rayne or someone use magic on him. But for now he had work to do so he simply waited for a response or action as he stood as best he could without any support.

When Roy grabbed the stones without saying a word Tak grumbled something about manners and tall people under his breath.

"We should get on the move now. We've stayed in one spot for a bit too long, don't you think? Oh, and I saw someone move through the brush. He looked a lot like that demon guy.  We should move the injured over to Tak and Termat's carts so that we may be able to heal on the move. Let's go."

Tak wasn't entirely sure what was going on, but he started shifting things around in his cart to make way for those that were injured.  But he had to do this very, very carefully.  The barrel of burning stones got rolled over to the back corner, the boxes of saltpetre, torch-ore, kerostone, brimstone, and ghostine in the opposite corner.  He left his bitumen, benza and various alchemical reagents where they were, so long as they were out of the way.  He wasn't sure where to put his other bits and bobs but he stuffed as much stuff out of the way so someone could sit in his cart horizontally relatively comfortably.

Tak re-fastened his failed fragscent launcher to face backward and left the fuse close to him.  He figured if someone were following them, he might as well have a nasty surprise waiting for them.  Tak also thought about prepping a larger explosive, but settled with grabbing one of the winskins filled with Abngor and Tak’s Super Flammable and Sticky Solution and hefted it over his shoulder. 

He raced over to Rayne and Gilith.  “You two go to Termat, I think my cart should bring up the rear and we wouldn't want our fearless leader in the back!”  Tak shifted the wineskin on his shoulder, “Who else is injured?  I need to give them a quick safety demonstration and go over the rules of my cart before we get moving.  Arms and legs inside at all times, no touching the experiments, keep your hands out of the Malthanune, that sort of thing.”

A few instances of wriggling and rubbing later, the psyrpent finally detached his old covering and revealed a new one. He stood up wearily from his previous position, letting the scale slide down his back and land on the ground, raising a small cloud of dust as he did so. He held his left shoulder and swung his left arm slowly, relieving the sore joints he got from staying in one position for too long. Then he repeated the procedure with his right arm. He stretched his back, getting a little pleasure in cracking his back. Finally he jerked his head sideways a little, producing a similar cracking sound in his neck in the process.

He rubbed his eyes, letting it adjust in the sunlight for a few blinks. Then he picked the discarded scale from the ground and held it in front of him. Aside from the stretched forearm part, everything is in good condition. He shook the molted scale a little, removing most of the dust and dirt that accumulated in it. Then he rolled it up and carefully stored it in his bag, taking up nearly all the space in it. A little bit of the scale is showing, and none of the psyrpent's attempts to hide it proved useless.

He stepped out of the shrub, waking his sleeping dog in the process. David immediately stood up and wagged his tail, eager to get going. The psyrpent patted his head and walked towards his companions, many of whom are getting ready to move. He stood a few peds away from them, preferring solitude than being in a crowd of normal humans, squishy humans, and the long ears.

while Roy seemed detached from most of the things around him he was not. Everything he heard or saw which was much as he constantly was looking around he stored in his vast and great memory for use perhaps later. He was not one to get involved in things that didn't concern him but seeing as how he paid a lot for a few things (albeit he was still considerably exited about it) he would need more money. He did not know what kind of person this Alyre was but he doubted very much that she could bring together so many creatures at one one time because of her sheer goodness. No there must be more. Perhaps promise of sans or other valuables were offered to these travelers.

He could use the money but where they going to the same place as he and what were they gaurding. Well he knew they gaurded Alyre but what did she have. Why was she headed towards Xiamax or perhaps near the most magical city in the world. Why she was a mage but also an elf. Not neccesarily the most ambitious of people so she would not probably go through with this hellish journey unless for a purpose. He highly doubted that she was going there to learn as she seemed to know a considerable amount of magic. He also doubted if she was going there to simply extend her power. The elves had their own magic so so she would probably not go out of her way to learn "human magic" she would get her advanced learning with her fellow elves.

All in all this was a most confusing situation to Roy. He could not clearly see what these people were doing here or going to do. But he did know it was strange most of the clues pointed to the fact that they had something and that they needed to do something or deliver something perhaps. Deliver... interesting they might have something. Magic even! well perhaps for the purpose of finding said object and perhaps leaving with said object he could stay with these people for a while. It would be difficult but if he were to earn there trust and make it look like some one else stole the.....

Already before he even knew if their was something to steal his dark yet intelligent mind was already at work attempting to figure out how he could pull off the most brilliant theft.

He stopped mid thought. Before he got ahead of himself he would have to know more. He went over to yet another elf female shorter than normal yet still taller than most. Maybe even with him. He gave of the impression of being shorter than he normaly was because off all the leanong he did on his staff which caused him to hunch
over slightly and lower his head. The head lowering was however a habit he developed in order to keep his face hidden in shadow. Better to have them stare in mystery rather than a strange fixation about his looks he had thought at the time. After a while he began not to care but the habbit died hard.

When he reached her he tapped her shoulder to draw her attention and asked in styrash(he found most creatures liked to be addressed in their native tongues)

"Pardon me I do not know wether you need it but you seem to be in peril and perhaps I can aid your group as you can see but may not know that light was created by me as I am a fire mage. I only need know your destination and the minimal facts about your cause."

His quiet voice was slightly louder and a little smoother than normal. But not to smooth he needed to do this perfect. Not over nor under done but simply in the middle as if this was normal as if he was actually conserned. The last part was easy. He was concerned. Not about this group of course but about what he could get from them.

With a speed and an agility that was at odds with her age, the old woman planted her staff into the ground and then jumped up into Termat's cart ... it was most unladylike, indeed it wouldn't be part of the curriculum at the Goutonch School for Ladies in Bardavos, but it was effective.

"And you said I couldn't do it, dearest," she said reporoachfully to the air just behind her as she pulled up her walking stick.

She looked over Gilith and she tutted to herself, "you are in quite a state, aren't you?" she noted, "but I'm sure I can heal you. Herbs, bandages and a bad smelling and foul tasting potion for you. If you insist on getting into fights with those more powerful than yourself, what else do you expect to happen?"

She reached into a pouch at her belt and pulled out a small green flask with a brown liquid in it ... it had drops of blue in it as well. She placed that at her side, and then pulled out two bags, "Yahlre ointment or Odea powder," she mused aloud and looked towards Alyr.

"The Odea is more powerful, definitely, but it has those euphoric side effects," she said.

"In any case," the old woman said, turning back to Gilith, "you've got to drink this," and she handed the flask over to him, "hold your nose and close your eyes, and take a big drink."

She turned to the air to her left and said, "no, Dearest, it isn't a love potion ... you're the only one for me, you know that."

"But.. well what I mean to say is... I don't think I'm in quite bad enough shape to be taken out of action quite yet," Gilith was saying as Alýr walked with him to Termat's cart. "If the woman would like to patch up my left arm very quickly I think I could still be of some assistance after all we have very little time to waste and it would be best if we looked our strongest, for I can still use my sword arm just as well as before. In fact come to think of it I'm feeling quite a bit better."

At his side, the elfess must have felt like wind--calm, an easy presence guiding him toward Termat's cart. She noticed the young gentleman had let his donkey out to graze. She looked to Gilith: "I doubt if anyone here had not had a run-in with... my old acquaintance," she said with a strange uneasiness. "None of us are in the condition to fight, and you are certainly of better use as a protector if you are healed." She smiled at him with gentleness, for she guessed the motivations behind his insistence.

As they approached the cart, she addressed the young man who's dark blue cravat and earthy-green jacket seemed unruffled in the least. "Mr. Geirskun, we are in need of your cart, if you would be so kind. We should like to heal on the move; the stillness seems disconcerting, and I think we should all be better to carry on. I hope it will not be a bother."

Her eyes were like twilight and her words like a river, and every manner of her movement was like a lyric to the song of nature around them. To watch her and hear her was to experience a dozen amorous opposites melding into strange harmony: Courteousness and assertiveness, calmness and quickness, wisdom and wistfulness--even composure and surprise as she watched as the old woman jumped into the cart with curious agility.

Like a guiding wind, the indigo-eyed elfess helped Gilith to the cart as the woman went through her belongings. She hardly knew how to respond when the woman pulled out two bags and looked at her, but the old woman was clearly speaking more to herself than anyone.

As the woman was going through her various ointments, pastes, and liquids, Alýr glanced back at Ridgen and gestured him over. He stepped over, and she met him a few steps away from the cart. "You are a water mage, are you not?" He nodded. "I wish to teach you a spell."

He looked at her, a bit perplexed, and she explained: "Many of our group have chaos in them; the unstable influences of fire. I do not know when this chaos will become too great a force for their will alone to hold it back. Nor am I certain if I alone will be able to still the floods that may come. I need you to be able to calm the raging car'all, should the need arise."

Ridgen nodded dutifully, understanding. He recalled the way that the psyrpent had leapt across the table to kill that demon-woman back at the inn. "I am ready to learn it, if you need me to."

Alýr smiled. "Close your eyes. Focus on your own car'all." As he closed his eyes, she did as well. Her voice was melodic, almost hypnotic. "You know where the water oun are, how they move, how they shift and change and grow stronger. Listen to them."

Ridgen could locate them, noticing what properties were enhanced, which were hidden--at least, those properties he was used to manipulating. Then, he felt an influence on his car'all other than his own will; Alýr's was drifting into his, like a artful breeze, and he began to notice something illuminating in his water ounia he hadn't noticed before--a part that he hadn't touched, like an undiscovered country. The property illuminated under the skillful work of the elfess, and he felt a calm wash over him. All the chaos around them seemed to dull for him, and he felt at ease.

He felt the will depart and opened his eyes, which shone clear with discovery and comprehension. He looked at the indigo-eyed elf a moment, soaking in what he had noticed and felt of the changes in his own car'all. Then the elfess spoke again: "Now it is your turn," she said, and motioned to Gilith.

Together, they walked to the cart and Alyr addressed Gilith. "Ridgen will cast a calming spell on you. It will make the healing easier as we mend what is broken." She nodded to Ridgen.

At this queue, Ridgen closed his eyes and let out a breath. He focused on Gilith's car'all, reaching out to discover its composure in terms of water ounia. He located them easily, then began searching for the property of calm. He pressed his willpower to activate the property, trying to bring about calmness in his target.

Gilith all the while being led to the cart by Rayne had to agree with her. What she said did make sense so perhaps he should just agree with it and speed things up.
Yet while he was content to let Rayne do as she migt do he was a little weary of the old womans healing... Things for lack of a better word he thought to himself as he accepted the treatments. Hmmm. Some of the names sounded familiar to him but he wasn't sure if they were healing herbs or poisons he was told to stay away from.

"Ah thank you kindly."  He said to the old woman as she gave him the things she said would help. Then as Rayne came back to him and said

"Ridgen will cast a calming spell on you. It will make the healing easier as we mend what is broken."

"Um... sure why not!" He said as someone who decides to just let go and simply except what was going to happen.

Though for a few moments he pondered this strange mission. His employer's were not normally this nice to him. He was accustomed to the "Get up you lazy dog or I'll show you what a real broken arm looks like!"

But not the conceren and smilling of this employer. Sure it made a nice change but he truly was built to be pushed as much as possible. What would happen if he wasn't being pushed. Would he not be able to do the best he possible could. Or would he fight better with the thought. Well if I'm killed at least my employer will bury me.

As he pondered these thoughts he had a sort of amusing blank look that would cause some of his friends to laugh if they ever saw him thinking so hard. Not that they thought he was dumb. Far from it in fact but truth be told Gilith did not like to do much leading or concentrate very hard on something he didn;t have to. He was content to do as he was told rather than to tell those around him to do things.

Then as he saw the elf wich Rayne had told something to approach him he said to Rayne "I have been meaning to ask you though." He paused choosing his next words very carefully. "What in this world or another did we fight? I am going to stay no matter what for I already have a guess at what they are. But I must say I am a little short on the Who and over all why." 

Even as he said this he took up a relaxed look. He leanded a little as he sat, he was no longer nervous, no longer wary, no longer in too much pain.

"I have been meaning to ask you, though" Gilith said as Alýr approached, and her eyes lifted to meet his. The hesitancy in his voice made her prepare for oratory lightness. "What in this world or another did we fight? I am going to stay no matter what for I already have a guess at what they are. But I must say I am a little short on the Who and over all why."

The elfess sighed a little. She glanced around at her other companions, for though it was Gilith's voice who uttered the question, it was likely one many of them had been asking silently. She began with the information many of them already knew: "Those that pursue us seek the box. He who held it before me was killed by them, and since it came to my keeping, I have discovered in the oldest tomes of the Great Library that the object within is a creation of dark inclinations--some conduit that links this world to the netherworld, giving he who possesses it the ability to summon demons to Caelereth."

Though her words spoke of darkness, she noticed the calmness beginning to envelope her companion. Her indigo eyes set upon Ridgen briefly and distantly, her gaze like a snow that falls tenderly in the night--light as down feathers and strangely comforting. She recognized the movement of his will, which passed outside of him like a ghost through the tangled web of carallia around them to find Gilith's, to shiver across the water ounia, and to illuminate in them the quality of tranquility.

She turned back to Gilith, her voice serious and yet peaceful (there was something pleasing in the sound of her voice, like the pleasure of watching the movements of a flame dancing upon a candle): "He who pursues us is a man, though his beliefs have twisted his appearance to half-demon. His name is Defalgren, and he is a powerful Seeker within the True Vision Cult. The Cult thrives in the wild mountains beyond Ximax, and practices demonology and demonic worship--which alters their appearance for the darker and endows them with strange and twisted powers. If they came to possess the box's contents, Caelereth would be beleaguered by the darkest creatures of nightmare, and destroyed by shadows born of chaos."

As though realizing that her tone had grown leaden with solemnness, she added: "As long as they do not possess the box, all is well--but it must be destroyed. I do not know how this may be done, but I hope Ximax will have answers."

She glanced back to Ridgen to find that he had concluded his spellcast--and the results seemed surprisingly effective, particularly for a mage who had but cast the spell for the first time. She invited the Cyhallrhim to come sit in the cart. He seemed hesitant to accept, but the elfess was assertive: "You have drained much of your magical energies. Come--rest, if only for a moment."

To exhausted to fight the graceful elf, Ridgen climbed into the cart and took a seat near the front. He couldn't help but hear the ticking of the watch in his pocket. There was something strange about it, though he was too tired just now to pay it much mind.

Alýr looked up to see if the donkey had resumed its place at the front of the cart, or if Termat needed any help. Though he had offered the cart previously, she still felt a bit apologetic for requiring its use. But the woods were full of fluttering darknesses with evil intentions, and she was eager to be moving.

An elf - another one, though rather different from Alýr - had approached Termat as the apparently self-styled Tak “The Magnificent” leapt away to supply the sinister, staff-bearing, pale man with some strange item called a burning stone. This latest elf had requested a glass of wine - a desire Termat was only too happy to fulfil - but as he uncorked the bottle to pour a second glass, the elf seemed to be taken by a sudden bout of nerves, and, as Termat stood there concerned, his eyes flicked with increasing panic from place to place, before widening with a momentary shock and he moved quickly and tensely towards Alýr, Gilith and the old woman.

Not that Termat was immune to the feelings himself - whether it was just the elf’s nerves, or something more sinister, he felt his hand begin to shake slightly as he held the cork, though the reassuring weight of the bottle kept his other hand steady, and as the elf flicked his fearful gaze over some rustling bushes, and Termat followed his widening eyes, he felt a cold wash of fear begin deep in his gut and rush through his limbs.

As the elf moved off, Termat felt the sense of an all-pervading shadow begin to lessen; his donkey seemed to be less agitated, and his head became clearer. The sun even came out from where it had been blocked by one of the high trees that lined the path, and so in the warm sunlight, Termat settled down on the edge of his cart with a glass of wine in his hand and began to daydream.

It was daydreaming that the others found him, when Alýr, Gilith, the second elf and the old woman approached his cart.

“Mr. Geirskun, we are in need of your cart, if you would be so kind. We should like to heal on the move; the stillness seems disconcerting, and I think we should all be better to carry on. I hope it will not be a bother.” As she finished, Termat bowed his head slightly, made a gesture of assent with his free hand, and replied: “Absolutely. Feel free to put as many people on it as are needed.” He had no idea whether it would take two or five to heal Gilith, but if they sat on the trunks it would be possible to get them all on. The old lady leapt up first, with an agility that gave the lie to her seeming frailty of age.

Gilith followed her into the cart, but Alýr - or did she prefer Rayne? - drew her fellow elf to one side and began to speak to him in a soft voice. Termat was oddly reminded of his own few lines from shortly after he had come across the group - like a zephyr from across the seas indeed - but could only make out the quality of the words. Shortly, he saw the elf’s eyes close, and an expression of peace spread across his pale features; Alýr also had her eyes closed, and a look of patient concentration on her face. After just a few blinks, the pair opened their eyes and returned to the cart, where Alýr told Gilith that Ridgen - presumably the elf - would cast a calming spell - possibly the subject of their earlier discussion -on him. Gilith took it well, but appeared perplexed or hesitant about the path of events, and as his stance seemed to relax, he leant forward and began to ask a question.

“I have been meaning to ask you, though: What in this world or another did we fight? I am going to stay no matter what, for I already have a guess at what they are. But I must say I am a little short on the who and overall why.” Termat’s ears - well, they would have perked up, had they been able to. Instead, he merely looked politely, but with interest, from Gilith to Alýr. The elfess sighed, and began to speak, seeming to pitch her voice so as to be heard by other members of the group than just her questioner.

“Those who pursue us seek the box. He who held it before me was killed by them, and since it came to my keeping, I have discovered in the oldest tomes of the Great Library that the object within is a creation of dark inclinations - some conduit that links this world to the Netherworld, giving him who possesses it the ability to summon demons to Caelereth. He who pursues us is a man, though his beliefs have twisted his appearance to half-demon. His name is Defalgren, and he is a powerful Seeker within the True Vision Cult.” As she moved on to the True Vision Cult, Termat remembered childhood tales and thought with slight amusement that although fairy stories contained many unrealisms, he had never heard one in which the demon fell to the hand of a landed dandy; then he felt a frisson of worry at the same idea.

“The cult thrives in the wild mountains beyond Ximax, and practises demonology and demonic worship - which alters their appearance for the darker and endows them with strange and twisted powers. If they came to possess the box’s contents, Caelereth would be beleaguered by the darkest creatures of nightmare, and destroyed by shadows born of chaos.”

Her doom-laden sentence seemed to resonate as she continued, in a lighter tone, “As long as they do not have the box, all is well - but it must be destroyed. I do not know how this may be done, but I hope Ximax will have answers.”

At her pressing, the elf - Ridgen - climbed into the cart, and sat down heavily near the front; with a brief bob and a smile to Alýr, Termat was beside him.

“Sir - Ridgen, is that correct? Is that a first name? - if you still want a glass of wine, help yourself,” - here Termat pressed the bottle and a glass into the elf’s hand - “if any of you want blankets they’re in the trunk you’re sitting on,” - a gesture - “and if there’s anything I can do to help, just ask.” He smiled again, the half-smile dancing across his face like a waxed moon, back to its customary mild amusement in an instant. With another swift inclination of his head, he was back by Alýr’s side.

“Miss. Alýr, if there’s anything I can do to help, just ask. There should be room on my cart for a couple more, at least, but anything else is no trouble at all either. Now, if we’re moving off, I’ll get my donkey hitched back up; if you haven’t got to do anything, feel free to get a glass of wine from Ridgen.”

Just as the elfess's eyes moved from the donkey to locate its dapper young owner, she found him at her side: "Miss Alýr, if there’s anything I can do to help, just ask. There should be room on my cart for a couple more, at least, but anything else is no trouble at all either. Now, if we’re moving off, I’ll get my donkey hitched back up; if you haven’t got to do anything, feel free to get a glass of wine from Ridgen."

The elf's eyes looked into his of dark blue; her expression seemed almost nonplus, strangely innocent for one so wise--heightened by the small cut in her lip and bruise upon her cheek where Defalgren struck her. But whatever it was in his words that engendered that brief shadow of emotion, it fell from her quickly, and she smiled courteously. "We are moving out, I think. Between your cart and Tak's, I think we should hold everyone. Thank you for the offer of drink, Mr. Geirskun, but rest is not yet mine to take." With a smile and small, polite curtsy, she was wind again, moving effortlessly.

"Quael, will you join Mr. Geirskun's cart?" Her eyes drifted to Juliette, whose minor cuts elicited her concern. "You as well, Juliette?" The woman nodded, reticent and sharp, and stepped into the cart to settle herself beside Ridgen.

"Tak, if you have room, perhaps Irid, Jarrox, and Remis might have space on your cart?"

She turned to see the red mage standing there, and she looked at him a moment. There was something dark about him, almost sinister, but she could not help but feel there was something else, some mystery and power in him; she could not tell whether he would bring them benefit or harm, but she felt certain that their paths would tangle somehow, and the woods, as they were, were dangerous.

She approached him with an easy swiftness, as though her feet did not even touch the ground. "Forgive me, sir, for not thanking you properly, but we have not the luxury of time. Let me say that my is Alýr (though many call me Rayne) and that the woods are trecherous--all the more so by our presence--and for you by your aid. I hope you'll forgive me that, but let me at least offer you the safety of numbers. If you wish, you may travel with us. I am sure Tak will have space for you upon his cart. Will you join us, and give me the pleasure of knowing your name?"

When Roy heard the words from the elf Alyre he could barely contain his excitement despite the fact they were being hunted. An object that could sommun demons. This he would require later on. Especially if he wanted to enslave the demon who cursed him. This simple would open a gate to the netherworld and allow him to draw out the wretched creature! Of course he would still have to fight it and enslave it. He did not know how this would be done but he knew their must be way. He had read that there was at least one man who had been able to controll that specific demon. If he could only find out how then he would be able to extract his revenge.

But these thoughts were cut short as Alyre approached him.

"Forgive me, sir, for not thanking you properly, but we have not the luxury of time. Let me say that my is Alýr (though many call me Rayne) and that the woods are trecherous--all the more so by our presence--and for you by your aid. I hope you'll forgive me that, but let me at least offer you the safety of numbers. If you wish, you may travel with us. I am sure Tak will have space for you upon his cart. Will you join us, and give me the pleasure of knowing your name?"

He smiled less darkly than he would have normally. "My name Is Roy Tmofl and think nothing of it Alyre. It is my pleasure to aid travellers such as yourselfs. As it appears we travel in the same direction I would be delighted to accompany you thus far. However I would love to have back my burning stone." He said still smilling as he pointed to the spot in the sky were his burning stone still shone like a beacon.

"My name Is Roy Tmofl and think nothing of it Alyre. It is my pleasure to aid travellers such as yourselfs. As it appears we travel in the same direction I would be delighted to accompany you thus far."

There was something in his eyes that troubled the depths of hers; procellous shadows tangled with the glints of twilight-purple and midnight-blue that made her seem like a suspicious palladium--but only briefly. All at once the nature of wind and mystery retook her.

"However I would love to have back my burning stone."

The fire mage pointed to his burning stone still hovering above the trees, and Alýr glanced up, her arm lifting to shield her eyes from the light. She dimmed it but a little--the xeua about the fire ounia in burning stones are so malleable!--and decreased the influence of wind that made it hover aloft, aided by the natural inclinations of the stone that sought the property of heaviness in its earth ounia. It drifted downwards, and she made it stall before him within arm's reach.

"It is a pleasure, Roy," she said gently. "I will let Tak make room for you upon his cart. Perhaps we may talk more when there is time for it." Despite her hidden curiosities and suspicions, her words were sincere. "For now, I must assist one of my companions." The elfess bowed her leave from the red mage, and approached Gilith again to make sure that the old woman, despite her good intentions, had not accidentally inflicted the poor wounded warrior with any more ailments than he already had.

Irid was not really paying attention to what was going on. She was focusing on taking shallow breaths, as it hurt to breathe deeply. She would need to get someone to look at that, though as far as she could judge there was nothing to be seen. The damage must have been done on the inside. Those were the worst kind of injuries - hard to be treated. Still, Gilith was in worse shape. He needed tending first. In the meantime each of the travellers was assigned to a cart. For the second time that day, Irid boarded Tak's cart, this time around consciously. She looked for a place to sit crosslegged on the floor, wondering idly if Jarrox was even going to fit in here. It was a close call even for her, and the lizard was bigger than her.

The next to enter the cart was Remis. Pale and hooded, he looked about him with a hauteur that Irid did not particularly like. However, he refrained from talking - or sneering, as she expected he really wanted to do - and sat down opposite her. She looked at him, her face clear of any expression. She did not like him, but she did not wish to judge him on appearances only. She was even getting used to the lizard, so she could at least give a fellow elf the benefit of the doubt. However, he was not making it easy, with his silences and his proud bearing, obviously thinking himself better than anyone else.

A sound to the back of the cart alerted her that the next passenger was coming. Her golden eyes turned that way to see if it was the lizard trying to fit himself into the small cart, or if there was anyone else who would come in and break the uncomfortable silence that was building between her and the elf.

"Tak, if you have room, perhaps Irid, Jarrox, and Remis might have space on your cart?"

Tak looked over the group of people assigned to his cart.  It would be a tight fit, but they could probably manage. 

“I think I have space, hopefully they don’t mind getting close.”  Tak looked over everyone again, then turned to Roy. “Roy is it?  Well, come on, you’re just in time for the safety demonstration!”  Tak ran off to his cart, climbed up to his seat (slipping once) and stood up on the edge of the cart.

“Please give me your attention for a short safety demonstration.”  Tak projected his voice as loud as he could in hope that the giant lizard would hear him.  “Keep your arms and legs inside the cart at all times.”  Tak made hand gestures to his arms and legs while he was speaking.  He looked over at the lizard and adjusted his statement, “Tails too.  This is a non-smoking cart, no pipes, torches, tinderboxes, or fire magic may be used while inside the cart.  Unless there’s trouble, but be careful, the things in here are very sensitive to fire. Oh, and watch out for that barrel,” he pointed to the barrel next to Irid, “it’s fragile and full of Malthanune vials.”

Tak was sure there was something he forgot, but he was too concerned with getting a move on. "Well, I think that covers everything, if i remember anything else I'll make sure to let you know. If you have any questions, please direct them to Buttons or myself.  Roy, find some space.  Lizard, hurry up.  Ready buttons?"  Tak hopped back down and sat in his seat, Buttons snorted and they waited to follow Termat and his cart.

He nodded comprehension to Alyre's words then turned to board Tak's cart.

“I think I have space, hopefully they don’t mind getting close. Roy is it?  Well, come on, you’re just in time for the safety demonstration!” Tak ran off to his cart, climbed up to his seat (slipping once) and stood up on the edge of the cart.

“Please give me your attention for a short safety demonstration.”  Tak projected his voice as loud as he could in hope that the giant lizard would hear him. “Keep your arms and legs inside the cart at all times.”  Tak made hand gestures to his arms and legs while he was speaking.  He looked over at the lizard and adjusted his statement, “Tails too.  This is a non-smoking cart, no pipes, torches, tinderboxes, or fire magic may be used while inside the cart.  Unless there’s trouble, but be careful, the things in here are very sensitive to fire. Oh, and watch out for that barrel,” he pointed to the barrel next to Irid, “it’s fragile and full of Malthanune vials.”

Tak was sure there was something he forgot, but he was too concerned with getting a move on. "Well, I think that covers everything, if i remember anything else I'll make sure to let you know. If you have any questions, please direct them to Buttons or myself.  Roy, find some space.  Lizard, hurry up.  Ready buttons?"

While Roy was slightly less ready to enter the cart upon hearing Tak's words yet his new found excitement was over powering his common sense so he hopped into this pyromaniacs cart. Though I suppose hopped is not the right word to use. He with barely any movement so it seemed glided into cart leaning heavily upon his staff. One of his major concerns was at the moment the inability to use magic in this rolling death trap. He thought no more on this as finding a seat had become difficult. He found with little difficulty a crate that would be suitable to his needs. Yet he still needed to put his very long staff somewhere. Dextrously he manuevered his staff onto the side of the cart and laid it down with its head resting on a barrel that he thought would hopefully not fall over. Now that that had been taken care of he  only needed to worry about the large lizard whom would make this tight fit nearly impossible. Oh well he was willing to go farther than this for his magic.

Though he migt be able to occupy himself along this ride if ony he could find the rigt tools. "Tak." Roy said when it seemed the gnome was positioned firmly on his seat. "Do you happen to have a mortar and pestle I could use?"

The Old Woman pondered each of her three items of healing and chose one of them before applying it to the injuries suffered by Gilith. She saw what had happened between Alyr and the male elf, but made no comment. It wasn't for a short while before she said something and that thing was, "an interesting group you've got here with you, mistress elf," she said to Alyr, "Dearest thinks it might be fun and rewarding if we travelled with you for a bit ... at least until the next town. Dearest snores, but we can keep Dearest away from us."

A pause, and then she laughed, a strange barking sound, "you do snore, Dearest ... quite loudly ... its amazing you don't wake the dead." Then back to the group on the cart she rode on, "ok, anyone else in need of my talents?"

"Quael, will you join Mr. Geirskun's cart?"

The elven woman's black eyes glanced up to the indigo-eyed elf as she was address. With a nod, she moved from the tree she had once been leaning against and hopped onto the cart with an graceful leap. She held her bow and quiver close as not to injure anyone, and took a seat between Ridgen and Juliette.

From her new vantage point, she could see the strange old woman at work. How peculiar she seemed, and Quael couldn't help but wonder who she was, and what a crazy old woman like her was doing in the middle of the forest. It seemed suspicious to her, but if Alýr trusted her, she supposed she would as well--though she could not help feeling there was more to her than her appearance let on.


Jarrox watched the squishies get themselves situated in their little carts with mild amusement. He hadn't considered that he would be joining them until his employer said, "Tak, if you have room, perhaps Irid, Jarrox, and Remis might have space on your cart?"

He shot a glance at the smallest squishy's little cart and looked back at Alýr and then Tak. Did they realize how large he was? And there was David besides, who he certainly wasn't leaving behind.

“I think I have space, hopefully they don’t mind getting close," the gnome replied, and Jarroz snorted a little, obviously a bit off-put to be sharing space with the humans and long-eareds. But if this is what his employer wished...

As Tak was giving his dance of a safety instruction, he walked to the cart, observing the various fire-associated knick-knacks in the cart. He snorted again, picked up David into his lap, and crawled in. By now, the others were already in, and it took him some shifting to get comfortable. His tail hit one or two people in his shifting and turning before it was all over, but he finally fit himelf in near the center of the cart and sat quietly, brooding a bit uncomfortably on the lack of space and the closeness of the others. He hoped this was worth it.


As Alýr returned to the cart, she met the kind eyes of the old woman once more, who said: "An interesting group you've got here with you, mistress elf. Dearest thinks it might be fun and rewarding if we travelled with you for a bit ... at least until the next town. Dearest snores, but we can keep Dearest away from us." Before Alýr could speak, the old woman's attentions were again taken by her invisible companion: "You do snore, Dearest ... quite loudly ... its amazing you don't wake the dead."

She then looked back at the cart, "Ok, anyone else in need of my talents?"

Juliette was a little scratched up, but she indicated her feelings concerning the old woman healing her by pressing herself away, into the far corner of the cart, as far from the old woman as she could get. Alýr noticed this as she stood beside the cart near Gilith, seeking the old woman's roving attention: "We would be happy to have you and... your companion... join us. May I ask your name, and the name of your companion? I think you have done us great good with healing Gilith; I believe one of our other companions may need some attention." Her indigo eyes drifted to Irid in the other cart, who seemed to be growing increasingly nervous, what with the psyrpent and the dark elf near her.

"I will lend her my space here," said Juliette, who noticed the directlon of her employer's gaze and seemed eager to be away from the crazy old woman. Alýr nodded her consent to the plan, and the young woman, sword at her side, jumped out of the cart and walked over to Irid in a manner befitting a sailor lass. She gave Irid a insouciant look and said, "We're trading places. You get to ride with the old forest sprite. I'll ride with these... friendly gentleman." Her sarcasm was dry as the Rahaz-Dath, and she shot what seemed like warning glances to the others in the cart.

Meanwhile, Alýr kept a discerning eye on Gilith and his wounds, seeing if the ointments and pastes applied were doing the wounds well; if they were, she could always quicken their effects.

Every thing seemed so blissfully.... inadaquent. Even the old woman talking to herself as she applied strange mixtures of herbs to him did not daunt his spirits.

"Thanks."

He told her. Then he smilled to himself as the ointments did their work which was actually pretty impressive. It was a far greater improvement than his previous worries that he might have been poisoned.

Upon noticing Rayne looking at him and the old woman he lifted his hand and gave the thumbs up to her. With a slight incline of his head. Hopefully she would think that it meant the herbs were working.

If not oh well everything seemed so.... inadaquent. Yes that was a good word.

Irid looked up when Juliette spoke to her. The captain had been quiet since Irid had gotten back, but then so had Irid. She nodded, and carefully clambered back out of the cart - not an easy task, now that Jarrox had also picked a spot. Eventually she did manage to get out, and she walked over to the other cart, occupied by the rest of the group. Clambering into this one was just as painful as climbing out of the other one, and by the time she had found a spot she had to press a hand against the sore spot in her chest to keep it from hurting too much. She just saw Gilith raising his thumb at the old woman who seemed to have joined them. She was not sure why, though it might have something to do with her healing him.

"I think we are... ready to go." she said, looking at Alyr. She spoke in Tharian, keeping in mind that not everybody on the cart knew Styrash. Her golden eyes looked closely at the other elf. She looked... tired. But then, who would not be tired after having been chased so long by demons. She wished there was something she could do to help, but in her present condition that was not really possible. Addressing the old woman, she said: "If you have... something against pain... I would be grateful."

Alýr smiled as Gilith gave a thumbs-up. He looked quite cut up, and blood stained his armour and clothes, but his positivity didn't seem to fail him. She took in a breath and let her eyes settle upon his shoulder, where the ointment had gone to work. Her indigo-eyes drifted a little, and one could see she was no longer looking at the armour, but observing something beyond sense: she could see the balancing and rebalancing of his car'all, the rebuilding of broken xeua, ounia in flux. Her will was a gentle wind pressing into the discrete fire ounia to quicken the healing. It was a delicate process, but she made no mistake.

She pressed away with the sound of footsteps, and at once saw Irid moving to the cart. The breaks in her xeua had grown worse since last Alýr saw her, and the robed elf, without a second thought, increased the influence of wind to make her lighter, and assisted her into the cart. She followed behind her with one easy movement into the cart. She could hear pain in her companion's voice when she spoke: "If you have... something against pain... I would be grateful."

Alyr glanced into the eyes of the old woman. "If you can dull the pain, I can work to heal the wound magically." Her indigo eyes fell upon Irid again with concern, half looking at her and half at the car'all that was twisting, restless against the pain. "The wound is internal. If the pain can be ameliorated, healing will be easier."


Juliette, meanwhile, slipped easily into the cart. She hardly need glance about her at the giant lizard, the anti-social dark elf, the suspicious fire mage, and the strange gnome to know she was riding with half the entries in the races section of the Santharian Compendium. Still, she felt better with most of these brooding characters than with hat crazy old woman, who would no doubt turn her hair green or make her hiccup frogs.

Unwounded, Termat looked with concern on the faces of those who were, though he admired Gilith’s fortitude and the cheery lack of overt concern with which he responded to Alýr’s enquiry. Apart from the two, whose names he still did not know, who were swapping around, it seemed that everyone except Tak, Alýr, and he himself was on one of the carts, including the old woman on his; as the new arrival to his cart arrived, however, their leader mounted gracefully behind her and spoke with concern to the old woman. Both requested for her something to dull the pain; they seemed in capable hands with the old woman.

Termat moved to the front of his cart and quickly hitched the donkey up as he had been shown when he acquired it - it seemed like an absolute age ago - before stepping round to the back to enquire about their position.

“Miss. Alýr, are we about ready to go? If we are, which way?” She nodded her assent and gestured along the path; Termat moved back to the side of his donkey and with a tug on its lead rope started it moving along the path.

When it was going, he stripped off his jacket and walked alongside in just his waistcoat - the sun was rising in the sky, and the day was really heating up; he didn’t want to be walking in all that.

The old woman watched as the dangerous female warrior type moved as far away from her as possible, while remaining in the cart. Her gaze flickered to Alýr and noticed that the indigo-eyed elf was also watching the warrioress. Then she saw the elfess had turned her gaze onto herself and returned the gaze, listening to the elfess speak, "We would be happy to have you and... your companion... join us. May I ask your name, and the name of your companion? I think you have done us great good with healing Gilith; I believe one of our other companions may need some attention." The old woman followed the elfess' gaze over to the other cart where another female elf was, looking very uncomfortable.

Then the warrioress exitted the cart, giving her place up for the elfess from the other cart, keen to get away from her, the old woman suspected, and she watched as the second elfess gracefully, though with not a bit of discomfort got into this cart.

"Oh I know, dearest, she asked for our names," the old woman said, then she looked at Alýr, "yes, you may ask, and I'll give you an answer after I heal your fellow elfess here."

"Thanks," was the simple thing that her first patient, Alýr called him Gilith, said to the old woman and she smiled down at him, "just don't go getting beat up again, young man."

Then the second elfess was speaking to her, "If you have... something against pain... I would be grateful."

The old woman considered that, and rumbled through her things, and said, "yes, I have something for you."

Then Alýr had turned her gaze back to of the old woman. "If you can dull the pain, I can work to heal the wound magically." Her indigo eyes fell upon Irid again with concern, half looking at her and half at the car'all that was twisting, restless against the pain. "The wound is internal. If the pain can be ameliorated, healing will be easier."

"I've got something else in here," she said, even as the carts got underway, "aha, miyu paste, this'll do the trick. I'll just add water, and then ... here we go dearest, a paste. This should numb the injury, and then the magical healing can commence."

The old woman applied the paste to Irid's skin, and said to the elfess, "please let us know when it is numb, that means it is working."

Quael sat in the cart and watched as Gilith was being healed. Well, hopefully being healed, the old woman is very strange, either she's crazy and has no idea what she is doing, or she is as wise as an old sage. As she looks around Quael begins to notice how large the group has become, but the more the better I'm sure, Alyr knows what she's doing.

The strange man, whose name is apparently Roy, seems very interested in what Alyr is saying. He becomes very keen on joining the party, the look in his eyes is unmistakable though, desire burns in his pupil just like the burning stones in his hand. So Quael makes a mental note of him, and begins to stare off into the depths of the forest that surrounds them. 

Irid allowed the woman to put her paste on her chest. She waited for a while before feeling the spot where it hurt most. She had the strangest sensation, where she felt in her fingertip where she touched her own skin, but the corresponding spot on her chest gave no sensation of being touched. It felt like there was nothing there, except that her eyes and her fingers told her that there was. Her breathing was still laboured however. She nodded at the old woman. "It is working."

She turned towards Alyr, who had said she could help. She did not really want to burden the other elfess further, she would need all her magical ability. But she knew that she had little choice. In her current condition she would not be much help at all. If Alyr needed anything, it was healthy people around her. She would have to take care not to get wounded again - even if she did not remember receiving this particular injury.

"We're trading places. You get to ride with the old forest sprite. I'll ride with these... friendly gentleman."

Tak let out an audible sigh.  He needed to give this new comer his safety demonstration.

"Miss Juliette I presume?  Did you hear my safety demonstration, or do I need to give it again?  I think the later, seeing as you're sitting on a barrel of Malthanune vials."  Tak pointed to the barrel Juliette settled upon, and she immediately found another place to sit in the cramped wagon.

"Yes, yes.  Everything in this cart will try to kill me if I touch it.   Can we please get going?  This won't be the most comfortable of rides."  She said, with a hint of a sneer, and turned away from the Gnome. 

"Well then."  Tak said, settling back into his seat.  He cupped his hands around his mouth and shouted to Alyr and Termat, "All set back here!"

Buttons to plodded a course behind Termat's cart, she didn't seem to notice the added weight.

"It is working."

Alýr's eyes met Irid's, and there was something in the indigo orbs that conveyed comfort. After all, they were sisters of a common race, and the make-up of the golden-eyed elf's cár'áll was similar, in many ways, to her own.

Alýr took in a breath and her eyes seemed to go distant as her sight drifted to Irid's cár'áll. She could feel the clockwork of the elf's aura, the tugging of the taut web of xeuá connecting oún after oún. Within this strange and beautiful web, just below the surface, the clockwork was unhinged: there was a break, a place where the fire ounia flared and wind ounia wavered.

The indigo-eyed elf pressed her will into the broken links and strengthened them to soór, into the raging ones and calmed them to ahm. As some ounía dimmed, others illuminated, and the intricate and delicately-balanced cár'áll seemed to stabilise. The painful cacophony eased slowly into a natural harmony.

The airy, foreign will retreated from Irid's cár'áll, and Alýr seemed to return to herself somewhat. Her slender form wavered a bit, as though with exhaustion, but she recovered, and smiled to her fellow elf in a way that thinly hid her weariness.

"Dierás qué én erashím, styréfthé?" she asked quietly, earnestly.

[Do you feel pain, sister?]

---

Dierán: v. : feel
erásh: noun (m): pain

The psyrpent shifted his weight uncomfortably in the cart. The bumpy road is not helping alleviate the pain caused by the wounds he sustained from falling down the tree. He let his dog sit on the floor of the wagon, keeping a wary eye on him in case he decided to sniff around the cart. There are a lot of dangerous looking containers on one side, and he cannot afford to have him ingest some of the substance. The cart was wobbling a little and he felt that uncomfortable, foreign feeling again. He was used to walking beside wagons, not in them, since he was often assigned as a caravan guard. Another jolt and he hit his chin on the shaft of his maul and accidentally bit his forked tongue.

He muttered a muffled curse, stuck out his tongue, gave a quick glance at his travelling companions, and looked down on his tail. It was tucked between his legs with the spikes rubbing and occasionally jabbing at his ass and legs. Not wanting to talk to anyone, he decided to remove the dried mud and some tangled vines that are wrapped around it, while keeping the sharp protrusions away from his butt.

Irid closed her eyes as Alýr worked her magic, turning her focus inward. Though she was no magician herself, she tried to make Alýr's task easier by not fighting her influence. As such, she felt the soothing effects of the magic quite consciously. As the other elfess retreated, Irid took a few deep breaths - something she had not been able to do since she had woken up in Tak's cart. The freedom of just that little act was incredibly relieving. She felt sure that when the old woman's paste had run its course, she would not feel a return of the pain, even if her body still had the last bits of healing to do by itself.

"Dierás qué én erashím, styréfthé?" Irid opened her eyes when Alyr addressed her thus. She smiled reassuringly at the earnest expression that met her eyes. She made a small gesture that expressed her gratitude. "Néh, unsíti erásh. Arná iú erán zeián."

[No, the pain has left. I am able to breathe again."]

The old woman looked around the cart that she was on, and then over at the other one. She looked away, and said, "Yes dearest, time is wasting and we need to get underway, particularly if they are to do what they need to do."

She looked at Alýr, and smiled again at the indigo eyed elf, then the old woman began to talk. She spoke loudly enough for her voice to carry to everyone, but she wasn't shouting, and to gnome, elf, human and psyprent it was as though she was speaking in their native tongues, "you must get along, get out of here. Where they were, more will follow. Two are coming to meet with you. One is powerful, but limited, and the other has a power. You, mistress Alýr have worked with the latter, and probably the former as well. I was called to your group, not because of your powers, but because of some things you carry with you. One of you has a time piece on you, and one of you have a ruby. In healing lady Irid and archer Gilith, in the acceptance of me by guider Alýr even in the avoidance of me by warrior Juliette, I came to a realisation of why it is I was drawn to you. I have to give up my essence so you can continue."

Tears stained her cheeks as she said that, and she sank to the base of the cart. "I will no longer know Dearest, and I know my death is not far off. But I will do what I can  to help you on your way."

"What sorcery is this," Juliette demanded from the other cart, "look around us, the trees, the animals, we are moving too fast. Stop the woman! She's going to kill us all!"

And sure enough, the ponies and their carts were going much quicker than they should have beyond some kind of power that was unknown to them all. It was quite fortunate that no one was nearby while they were in the forest, as they would have seen nothing more but two streaks heading through the forest as ponies and carts and their crews moved much faster than elf, human, psyprent, gnome, dog or pony had ever gone before.

A distance that should have taken hours to traverse seemed to be over in mere minutes, and the travel had dropped to a more sedate pace as soon as they exited the forest and were in eyesight of the gates to the city that was their destination.

The old woman seemed to be little more than skin and bones as they reached the edge of the forest, and she was nothing like the woman who was muittering about having her sleep disturbed. Her eyes now appeared to be those of a mad person, and she looked around at them, incomprehension in her eyes. She was, however reaching at her neck, at the necklace she wore, which had an emerald in the middle. She looked at Irid, and held the necklace to the elfess, and said, "here, take this. Promise Martje you'll not let her down." The grasping of the emerald for some reason seemed to fill the old woman, now revealed as Martje, with renewed vigour.

The necklace was nondescript, the emerald was small, and seemed to have a protrusion on it, it was likely not very expensive, and it seemed to be of a poor quality and cut.

"Promise me," Martje said again, pulling herself up to her full height and looking at Irid intently. Martje let go of the emerald, and said, "here I leave you. These woods are my home. I was born here, I lived here, and I will die here. Farewell. Reflect upon what I told you."

Remis and Juliette watched the old woman get off the cart and hobble away, no longer muttering to her 'Dearest', and seeming to be less and less 'there'.

Tak watched everything pass by so quickly he wasn’t sure what had just happened.  One moment they were traveling at a brisk pace, and the next everything, the trees, the road, was just a blur.  This woman was talking to him in Gnomish from a cart away and Juliette started screaming something about killing us all, and Tak’s stomach felt like it had been left three fores behind.  By the time it all ended Tak’s head was spinning.  He fell out of his cart, stumbled a few places, and heaved into a bush before falling backward and passing out.

Though Roy was no stranger to magic. This sudden speed was still a little bit of a surprise to him. So much so that when it happened he fell onto the floor of the wagon knocking over at least three barrels or boxes of something. There he lie in his small spot of utter chaos cursing under his breathe. When his hands found his staff he picked grabbed hold of it and picked himself up. His hood had come down and his normal air of mystery was replaced by one of confusion. What just happened? Where were they? What had that old woman done?

He did not know but as soon as he possibly could he would be getting of this cart. Tak's vomiting did nothing to help his own stomach. But somehow he managed to keep down his food. Little though it was.

"Whaaaa!!!" Was the only sound that escaped the large warrior as the cart speed forward faster than seemed possible. Though Gilith was very well balanced do to his time spent aboard the rocking ships of his home he found this entirely different. As a result he fell to the ground with a loud "oof!". "I'm fine!" he said as he quickly got back up and adjusted his gear.

Irid paid little attention to the surroundings - a glance was enough to tell her that if she did, she would start thinking about it too much, and that would leave her lightheaded and nauseaus from looking at the blurred world around them. Instead of looking at what the woman was doing, she firmly closed her eyes, so that she would not have to see anything. Still, the motion of the cart forced her to open her eyes, as nausea crept up anyway. Determined not to look at the world, she focused on what the woman looked like. She did not even pay attention to Gilith falling over, staring only at the woman. As the minutes ticked by, she looked more and more drawn, as if her very being was draining away.

And then suddenly they slowed down again to a more natural pace, and they had reached the edge of the forest. Again Irid banned thoughts of what exactly had happened firmly from her mind, since she would never find out. She was quite certain that whatever the old woman had done, it was not Ximaxian magic. She did not know enough about any other magic to know for sure if this sort of thing was even possible. Maybe she was a witch?

Her next action surprised the elfess. Why would she choose her to give her necklace to? And what exactly would she be promising? But she was so insistent, and she seemed to have given up so much, that she felt there was not much of a choice. At her second question to promise, the elfess nodded and closed her hand around the jewel, since it seemed so important to the woman. "I promise." she said, still unsure what exactly she was comitting herself to. How could she avoid disappointing Martje if she did not know her expectations? What had she meant with the two who would meet them? As she clutched the emerald in her hand, she looked after the woman as she hobbled off, back into the forest. She had left behind more questions than answers.

When Irid could no longer see the woman's back, she turned her attention to the necklace in her hand. What was so important about it? Not its value, it was not the best made piece of jewellery she had ever seen, nor was the emerald very big. And yet there must be something more to it than meets the eye. She remembered how the old woman - Martje, she reminded herself, the least she could do was remember her by her name - had looked somehow more alive as she touched the necklace. And yet Irid could not immediately feel anything special about it. Not knowing what else to do with it, she hung the necklace around her neck, which was after all what it had been made for. She figured that would be the safest place to keep it without losing it. Taking the emerald, she hid it below her clothing, which was where Martje had kept it as well. It lay against her chest, though she could not feel it - the effects of the Miyu paste had not yet worn off, so there was still a whole patch of skin where she could not even feel her clothing, let alone a small jewel.

The cart went up and down over roots and bumps in the path. But it soon became a very soothing motion, sending a wave of drowsiness over Quael. She hadn't quite notices the fatigue before, now it was very apparent. Quael started dosing off, closing her eyes, and nodding herself awake. But two things kept her eyes wide open after that: when she closed her eyes for the fifth time an image of Keeshaunka played on her eyelids like a movie screen, the second thing that kept her awake, was Gilith falling out of the cart.

Quael changed her thoughts, so as not to think of Keeshaunka and torture. It wasn't too difficult, for in this forest no one thought stayed in your mind for long. 

As the old woman turned to her and smiled, Alýr sensed something strange, for it was clear that this strange old woman was not as she appeared. Her words were heavy with prophesy and gravity, and the indigo eyes upon her were like pools, rippling quietly with the comprehension of each solemn utterance. As the tears rolled down the cheeks of the old woman, the elf felt her heart grow heavy, and the light upon her face shone with compassion.

"What sorcery is this?" Alýr heard Juliette shout from the other cart, "look around us, the trees, the animals, we are moving too fast..."

The slender elf turned to see the trees rushing past, each shadow blurring into a single darkness behind the trees. Faster ad faster they went, and suddenly Alýr felt breathless. She took in a breath and felt herself lose her body a moment. She stumbled back briefly, and to her true eye she saw darkness and chains and demonic alters. Husky voices met her ears and a sick cold crawled over her skin. She took a breath and retreated into a memory of song, and her heart trembled a line:

"Artanté énh aelién shatóría énh mór valanajthián iuá
é án silarná'ór'sae'llanías fá án entiná'jeinís..."

["White wings bless my deep dreams
With moonlight music of an ancient time."]

To those upon the cart, she must have almost seemed to flicker--or did she? No, not a flicker, but something else. It was as though she was present, but wasn't, like a beam of moonlight temporary obscured by a passing cloud. Eyes closed, the wind flooding around the dark strands of her hair, she almost looked as though she might vanish all at once. Then, as the cart slowed, she seemed a bit more real, and she exhaled. Her eyes opened again in familiar shades of indigo.

Alýr watched the woman, Martje, hand a necklace to Irid and then step off the cart. As she vanished slowly into the distance, the indigo-eyed elf looked after her, then turned to Irid, looking at the emerald curious, trying to escape the things of which she had been reminded.

Everything went by in a blur. A tired Ridgen stared out through his one good eye, as the carts sped by the forest, too tired to notice anything amiss. Even as everything else sped by at an incredibly fast speed, he dismissed it as his own fatigue affecting his perception of time and space. He was sure that they were moving at normal speed until Juliette's panicked exclamation made it clear that it wasn't just his fatigue - they were, in fact, moving at impossible speeds, and moving over great distances in mere minutes instead of the hours that it would normally have taken them.

"What sorcery is this? Look around us, the trees, the animals, we are moving too fast. Stop the woman! She's going to kill us all!"

"What sorcery is this" indeed. What kind of magic would allow them to move through space at such an insane speed? Was she a wind magician of some sort? That question was never answered, nor given voice, but there was really never any need to. All that mattered now was... actually, what did matter? Getting away from whatever it is that they were running from? Just plain getting to safety? It's not like anywhere is safe.

Out of the corner of his eye, Ridgen saw the old woman take off her emerald necklace and hand it over to Irid. A small ticking sound began to give itself some voice, but it was drowned out by the sound of the old woman's - Martje's - voice. Something about the forest being very important to her, and then hobbling off to someplace else, seemingly fading away into the foliage.

These events were curious indeed.

"So... where to now?"

Another sharp jolt sent the spikes up his ass, sending out a sharp pain in response. The psyrpent's brief girly squeal of pain was completely left behind by the cart as it hurdled forward with an unnatural speed. He held onto his dog with his legs, for fear of him being swept away by the sudden fast movement of the cart. David appeared to be enjoying the trip; his tongue was dangling at the side of his mouth with a dopey look of amusement on his face. Trees became a green blur and the objects outside the cart appear to be shrinking in a rapid rate, caused by the speeding cart as it traversed the area.

A few slow and careful movements later and he got used to the travelling speed, but as soon as he was able to the cart quickly jolted to its normal speed, sending the psyrpent forward. Luckily he was able to hold onto the side of his seat, or he would surely be flung towards the driver's seat. But the maul beside him was not secured in any manner, causing it swing forward and hit the psyrpent's head. Another squeal escaped his lips, with the same girly tone as the one before it. This trip, without a doubt, will involuntarily improve his singing skills.

The cart stopped moving, giving the psyrpent enough time to jump out of it and get a few breaths of fresh air. What the hell happened? He was still feeling woozy after that trip and the hammer blow. He used the maul as a support, leaning over it like an old man. He was happy to be standing on solid ground again, and not flying through the forest at breakneck speed. David got off the wagon too, jumping and prancing around the psyrpent. Obviously, he enjoyed the trip.

All of a sudden, they began to speed up. Termat wasn't quite sure how it was happening, but soon he realised that running - or rather, being almost dragged by whatever extra-natural force was propelling them along - at such a pace beside his cart was exhilarating, if also terrifying. Whoever had done this, he reflected with a calmness of mind that, all things considered, was probably a fairly irrational response to this turn of events, had clearly not considered the fact that he was alongside the cart rather than safely within in. Wondering why he was so calm about the fact that he was going so fast, Termat realised what it was. They were moving so fast that his mind refused to accept the idea that they were, in fact, moving at all, and instead insisted that they were stationary within a blur of scenery - nevertheless, the wind was strong enough that Termat was glad he had removed his jacket. It wasn't large, but at this pace would probably have billowed to such an extent that he would have looked like an earthy-green and woolly bat. As it was, his snug waistcoat kept to worst of the wind off his torso, though he could feel the gales whipping his hair.

As they whistled along at their breakneck pace, Termat heard a female voice shouting in concern.

"What sorcery is this? Look around us, the trees, the animals, we are moving too fast. Stop the woman! She's going to kill us all!"

That was probably true, but rather than yelling in sensible terror or scrambling to get inside his cart, or even both concurrent or consecutive - any of which were logical responses to this summary of their situation - Termat simply laughed. It was a single peal of unadulterated joy, such as he had not felt for a long time; this was a far cry from his home in Manthria, with a grieving sister and two young children of a deceased but callous brother to be responsible for; this was a far cry from the false condolences of his sister's intolerable suitors. There was a wild ecstasy in this moment, a novelty that frightened but mostly thrilled, a sense of mortality in the utter recklessness of their speed that was nevertheless bound up with a vitality so strong it seemed immortal, and in that moment he laughed for joy, laughed because there was no other response, laughed because to laugh was to buy into that moment wholly, entirely, to grasp it with both hands and make it a part of himself.

And as suddenly as they had started, they stopped. Termat straightened his waistcoat and turned as he heard the old woman speak once more - but now she was emaciated, papery skin stretched over a feeble-looking skeleton.

"Here, take this. Promise Martje you'll not let her down." She pressed a pendant on one of the women in Termat's cart before continuing: "Promise me; here I leave you. These woods are my home. I was born here, I lived here, and I will die here. Farewell. Reflect upon what I told you." Having said her piece, she dismounted and began to walk towards the trees, towards her death, it seemed. The recipient of the emerald - so it appeared to be - hung the chain about her neck, brushing her dark hair out of the way to do so, and tucked the gem itself away, looking a little perplexed.

Termat looked about him, drinking in the new sights and absently opened his watch. The slight resistance of the spring; the shifting of his finger to catch the lid as it opened; the brief glance down to the elegant hands on their mother-of-pearl face; the little scratch on the edge of the glass that just caught the light; the warm weight of it in his hands; the reassuring softness of the metal, nestling in his palm; the satisfying click of the lid as he closed it with a single finger and returned the timepiece to his pocket; all were achingly familiar. The smallest hand had barely moved.

"Are you alright, learned one," the red haired young man asked his travelling companion.

"I don't like being roused at firstflame," the midlde aged man at his side grouched, "I don't like travelling on foot, and I don't like being away from the Academy and Misty."

"Ah, so yes, you are alright," the red haired young man replied, and then laughed, "can I ask you another question?"

"Of course, Master Hardin, it does make the travel go quicker," the older man replied, "what do you want to know?"

"I really don't understand why you can only control earth, learned one. Why can't you control air, or water, or fire?" the younger man asked.

"Learning magic is a lifetime of study, and in that lifetime you get taught how to recognise, caress and control the parts of one of the four elements. I was most interested in the element of Earth ..." the older man said.

By now, the pair of them were in sight of the two carts and their crews of tired adventurers.

The younger man looked at the carts and picked out Rayne almost immediately.

"They are here, Learned One," the younger man said to the older man, then he ran up to the carts, "Rayne!" he called out as he did so.

Rayne would, of course, know him as Deklitch Hardin, Dek for short, a researcher for the compendium. The keen indigo-eyed elf would also undoubtedlyrecognise Dek's older companion as Tenvin Jolith, one of the arch mages of the School of Earth from Ximax. The arch mage was Avennorian by ancestry, and was relatively young for one in his position.

Dek looked at Rayne and her companions, he noted that there were some injuries amongst the group that seemed rather an unusual group ... humans, elves, a gnome and even a psyprent. This would prove somewhat interesting, Dek thought to himself, undoubtedly they had their own story to tell, and Dek wondered if theirs were as eventful as his own journey. The sea trip down, the near explosion in academy when Dek touched something magical that he shouldn't have touched, the even bigger near explosion that occurred when Phlegah learnt he was in Ximax and tried to leave without letting her know he was there, and then the meeting between him and the orcess which proved to be almost as dangerous to his health as the other explosions that had almost taken place, when he said she wasn't able to travel with him.

"I needed to find you Rayne," Dek said, "and Arch Mage Jolith joined me on the journey. The Arthyron and Blue Druids found something that concerned them, and they sent me to Ximax to get it looked into. The magi there were also concerned and said that it was something that you were dealing with, so they sent me to find you. They said they believed you would be around here somewhere. Strange things happened on the journey. We had fine weather all the way down to Ximax, and the captain said we made better speed than he had ever made on that trip. That trip, Rayne, it just took us three days. And would you believe that we left Ximax yesterday morning on foot, and we arrived here today. Arch Mage Jolith tells me he had nothing to do with our fast travel, and I'm certainly not magical. Nothing happens if I wiggle my nose, nod my head or snap my fingers. As you know, Rayne, I'm clueless when it comes to magic."

Dek took a deep breath at that point, and said, "well, I'm rabbiting on, sorry, I am just please I reached you and we are all safe. If you go into Cemphiria with us, we'll show you to the inn rooms we've got booked in this city, and we can talk about what is going on."

During the prattle by Dek, his older companion reached them and once Dek had finished, greeted the indigo-eyed elf fondly and said, "Alýr, I am so pleased to see you again. You have been missed by the magi of Ximax since you last graced our towers with your presence. Your lectures on the 'Fabric of the Dream' has caused much discussion and debate amongst our students and teachers. I look forward to discussing Dek's presence here with you further. I believe it has impact on your own mission. But lets get out of here first."

"Rayne!"

Alýr glanced up, distracted and distant for a moment, as though she were lost--but the feeling was brief as she found herself looking upon the familiar countenance of Deklitch Harden, her fellow-researcher and good friend. She smiled joyfully, and the radiance about her face seemed to brighten just a little; the clouds cleared from her indigo eyes and a glisten returned to them, like starlight to a twilight sky.

"Dek!" she called affectionately, and she stepped off the cart like an easy wind to embrace him warmly, setting a kiss at his cheek as softly as a summer breeze. She glanced up to see his companion: Tenvin Jolith, Archmage of the Earth School, and her smile was her greeting. Tenvin seemed to smile, in spite of himself, for the elf had a calming presence to him.

The indigo eyes returned to the young researcher as he began to explain his fantastic journey from Ximax to here, outside Cemphiria. She listened curiously; it seemed that at the same time celerity had descended upon their own party, it had also descended on Deklitch and Tenvin. They had both been accelerated across spaces in a brief span of time. Whatever forces they were now dealing with, they were powerful.

She mused on this as Dek took a breath, for he had nearly told the entirety of the journey in one breath. "Peculiar," she whispered to herself, and glanced back toward the forest. Martje, though, was nowhere to be seen. This mystery was a tree blossoming before them, and yet of all the questions blooming there, none had ripened into fruit of knowledge. She looked back to Deklitch as he continued:

"Well, I'm rabbiting on, sorry, I am just please I reached you and we are all safe. If you go into Cemphiria with us, we'll show you to the inn rooms we've got booked in this city, and we can talk about what is going on."

"That would be lovely, Dek. We have come a ways, and though our journey through the wood, like yours, was somewhat accelerated, it has not been uneventful."

She turned to Tervin as he approached. She had known the earth mage for a very long time: Decades ago she had found him when he, a Gifted, cast a spell that made his father's boots too heavy, effectively cementing the poor man in one place. Tervin had been just a boy when the elf had felt him pulling the threads of the fabric, and had brought him to Ximax for training. Tervin had been there ever since.

"Alýr, I am so pleased to see you again. You have been missed by the magi of Ximax since you last graced our towers with your presence. Your lecture on the 'Fabric of the Dream' has caused much discussion and debate amongst our students and teachers. I look forward to discussing Dek's presence here with you further. I believe it has impact on your own mission. But lets get out of here first."

The elf nodded; there was something solemn and wise about the way she did so, and Tervin's bushy eyebrows furrowed a little. He looked into her indigo eyes, but she could feel him exploring something strange in her. She let him; she would not hide a secret she knew he would see, as one who knew her, and had known her for so long. He seemed to catch his breath. "Y-you're..."

There was a soft shake of the head from the elf, and her dark hair fell wistfully across one eye. There was something suddenly sad in her smile. "Let us discuss it later."

Tervin seemed greatly troubled, but nodded his consent. The group, carts and all, headed into the city of Cemphiria.