Anthem

[Vanessa]

Behind Alric there was a soft rustle of feathers as Mara landed her roc.

 

"That was amazing!"

 

Her voice was clear and light, seeming only one step short of laughter and full of enthusiasm.

 

"Can you do that everyday, or do you need to rest? Does your power come from a god or is it inside of you?"

 

A flood of questions poured from her, before she realised what she was doing. Blushing slightly she apologised and held out her hand.

 

"Sorry, sometimes I get a bit carried away. My names Mara. I'm a roc rider."

[Solivagus]

Xavier fought hard against the weariness that was threatening. Never before had his mind been so overwhelmed. The ease at which the visions had overwhelmed his defences was humiliating! The anger that this thought brought helped sustain him, and he found enough energy to send out a casual probe, picking up the background thoughts of the people around him.

 

He discovered several strange minds, including...an elf! His sudden intake of breath was like the hissing of a serpent about to strike. Purposfully he sent his probe deeper into her mind-and was blocked. An image appeared in his mind, a warding attuned specifically against him. Angrily he withdrew and scanned the room for thoughts of the other occupants.

[Finnius]

The Middle of the Desert

 

A stone outcropping juts into the early morning air, above parched sand and grit the color of an over-ripe lemon peal. The stone is the shape of a giant tooth, large enough for the group of cloaked individuals which currently occupy it's top to stand comfortably. There are five of them, wrapped in black cloth and dusty leather, staring out into the distance where a thin line of green is broken only by a wide brown dot, low to the ground. The wind kicks up a thick wall of dust, which blows over the group, coating them yet again. The one on top of the rock, on the point of the tooth, so to speak, covers his eyes and waits for the dust to pass. After it does, he turns to the other four.

 

"Do we really know what we're doing here? The blue-eye is young and inexperienced. He has very little spark in him at all, and only one real talent. To send him after the stone is... risky at best." The four look at each other, consider the one on the point. There are mumbles of disapproval, mumbles of dissent. "But, still, he's our best hope. He is not of our blood, and can approach the temple safely..."

 

One of the four moves closer to the one, reaches out a black-gloved hand, claps it over a shoulder like knotted steel. "We've been over this already. Are you going to make us stand out on this gods-forsaken rock all morning again, or will there be an actual point this time?" The one on the point stares at the line of green, stares at the low brown dot.

 

"No. There is a point this time. There always was, you were just too dense to see it. Watch." He points to the line. A moment drifts by, the only sound the rustling wind, the only movement four black cloaks flapping around bodies. Then the moment is gone, and the sky above the brown dot explodes with lightning. White lances dart down into the brown, again and again. The one on the point lowers his arm and turns to the other four. He unwinds the black cloth that conceals his face, revealing a strong jaw and dark, hard eyes. "The gods themselves hurl their might even now at the cursed city, and we are made witness. You before me represent the ruling clans of the Sayaftal." He nods to each in turn, starting the farthest down the rock and ending with the one who had so insolently laid hand on him. "This is a sign. We have the approval of the gods. Inform your clans that we make war with the dawn, in two days." He turns back to the clashing storm, and dismisses the other four with a wave of his hand. "My harbinger has done his job well..."

 

The near-Desert, closer to Eelix

 

"The storm of the gods... exultant..." The rain pelts into the desert, precious water drains into the thirsty earth, gives a shock to the fragile balance of life in this dry soil. If there were anyone besides the one individual who stands, arms outstretched to catch the rain, present here, that person would notice that the outstretched person was slowly lifting off the desert sand, hanging in midair. They would notice that the man was reflecting sheets of water off of himself, letting it touch his skin momentarily, then rolling it back off into the sand. That person would also notice that he begins laughing, and then flickers in and out of time, in and out of reality for several moments. That person would then notice the man speaking, promising power and wealth, glory and gold to some unseen figure, an 'Aiden Serradin.' The person would notice the man lurch for a moment as two shining arcs of silver seem to pierce his shoulders. They would see him grimace, grin, and pull the twin knives out, then solidify once more, and drop to the desert's floor, without the cloak he was formerly wearing...

 

Luckily, there is no one else in this place; no one to tell of what has gone. The man grins and wipes the blood from his shoulders, bare against the raging storm.

 

The Remains of the Tavern

 

The rain clears, admitting early morning sunlight, dawning on an unreal-seeming scene of carnage.

 

"I am Alric. I believe introductions are in order."

 

Blurred words reach Finnius' ears, blurred images of people. Searing pain tears through his dislocated shoulder. The nomad reaches up and grabs the joint, braces himself against an over-turned table...

 

Her voice was clear and light, seeming only one step short of laughter and full of enthusiasm.

 

"Can you do that everyday, or do you need to rest? Does your power come from a god or is it inside of you?"

 

There is a snap, and the bone pops back into place, bringing with it a sense of calm, and a clarity reserved for those moments of intese physical pain.

 

"My name's Mara. I'm a roc rider."

 

Roc? The word swirls around in the air for a moment, finally catching in Finnius' ear. He immediately pulls the black cloth back around his face. He squats down to the floor, where a distinctly inhuman body lies bleeding. He looks up to Shanna, as he retrieves his curved blade from its lodging in the creatures hide.

 

"This," points the nomad, "is a Stormrider. They are symbols of great change among my people, normally revered and usually peaceful." He flips the corpse over, and points to a small blueish jewel embedded in the thing's chest. "This is a Sayaftali mind-jammer. Very useful, but very much dependant on the strength of the user. They take years of training to even begin to be useful. Whoever put this on a Stormrider was a master." He looks back up to the barmaid, a sardonic grin spreading across his face.

 

"Now, why would a Sayaftali master be interested in a simple barmaid... I think we very much need to speak."

[Katzaniel]

Shanna looks around at the group of people: the elven roc rider, the man called Alric, the two travellers she had met but minutes before all the excitement, and others yet unnamed. She knew nothing about any of them, but they were all looking at her expectantly.

 

"I'm sure that I don't know the answer to that, Mr. Finnius. All I know is that you come into this bar with your friend there, and the next moment I'm being attacked. I'm not blaming you," she adds quickly when his eyes narrow at her comments, "certainly you saved my life and I'm thankful for that, but surely you know as much or more as I."

 

 

Edit: Realized that Shanna doesn't know Sliver/Aiden's name yet.

Edited May 3, 2004 by Katzaniel

[Solivagus]

Written as one. May our words bring the light of justice to the game (written by Richard and Ness, dedication solely by Ness).

 

Xavier’s eyes narrowed as he saw the entire company of people concentrating on Shanna. His eyes glinted as they fixed on Mara, and he gently reached out with his mind. This time he did not probe, he influenced. The thought he sent out carried scents and images of the elven land Mara called home, along with an insidious promise that she could go back. Slowly, imperceptibly, Mara's mind drifted...

 

Mara looked with childlike wonder at the land of her childhood. The smell, the sights, the sounds-it was all so real! Joy suffused her being as she re-experienced the glory of life. Slowly she turned around, and came face to face with her father. A snarl was painted in his usually stern yet kindly face. His eyes, usually calm and serene, were now blazing with fury.

 

"How dare you consort with that witch hunter!" His voice, normally perfectly controlled, now bordered on the lines of insanity. His hand lashed out, and Mara whimpered in fright under the shock of the blow.

 

"Please father, he's just a friend!"

 

"You are no daughter of mine!" Her father snarled back, before whirling away and storming back towards the manor house.

 

"Father!" Mara tried to call her father back, to apologise, but it was too late. Tears flowed freely down her cheeks, and her heart felt like it would break in two.

 

Suddenly there was a faint blurring in the air. A black form appeared in front of her, hooded and cloaked. The roughly hewn face of Heinrich stared at her from beneath the cowl, piercing blue eyes seeming to see into her soul.

 

"This is not your place." His voice, full of hidden power, seemed to reach out across a vast distance. Before Mara could ask what he meant, he spoke again, just one word. "Leave." Gently he passed his hand in front of her eyes.

 

Mara left the illusion with a jolt, saved once again from Xavier's cruel tricks by the defences the Witch Hunter had secretly placed around her. Her eyes, wet with tears but blazing with rage, focused on the Xavier's face.

 

"I will remember what you have done, Dream Assassin. Some day I will have my revenge!"

 

Xavier's answering laughter was full of contempt. "Soon the Witch Hunter will be unable to save you child, and then I will feast upon your dreams as I have your fathers." With those last words, he turned back to Shanna.

Edited May 4, 2004 by Solivagus

[Finnius]

The Remains of the Tavern

 

By the time Xavier turns back, Shanna and Finnius are already speaking softly in a corner. The desert man appears to be questioning the barmaid, his face growing longer with each passing moment. Eventually he holds up his hands and begins drawing symbols in the air. He studies Shanna for a few moments, and then reaches behind himself, pulling out a small pouch.

 

He rummages around in this for a moment, finally pulling out a small blue stone, which looks similar to the one embedded in the Stormrider's carcass. Shanna immediately takes this, as well as more hesitantly accepting the large knife which the nomad removes from the belt at his waist. It is at this point that the two turn back to the rest of the group, and Finnius speaks in his gravelly voice.

 

"Well... what an odd gathering this is... Seeing as introductions are in order, my name is Finnius. I am here on behalf of the Sayaftali clan Blue-White-Blue. My appointed task is to recover an item of some importance. Any who aid me are welcome, and will be rewarded. Be aware, however, that your lives will be in danger. In any case, I strongly suggest we relocate this before that storm swings back around. Either we go deeper into the desert, or away into the forest. The choice, for the moment, makes little difference to me. I leave that to you."

 

He settles back, sitting on his heels and waiting for an answer.

[Solivagus]

"My name is unimportant." Xaviers voice was thick with an underlying tone of contempt. "You may simply call me "sir". My fees are reasonable, considering my talents."

[Vanessa]

The sheer tone of Xaviers voice forced Mara to grit her teeth to keep from lashing out at him. "Don't be fooled Finnius. The price he charges is far too high, as my father found out to his horror. His name is Xavier, the elves that are my people call him the Dream Assasin."

 

She turned her fierce gaze back to the blind man. "Why are you here anyway? Seems a bit of a coincidence, you turn up at the same time as trouble!"

[Solivagus]

Disdainfully Xavier ignored Mara. "This item, Finnius. Is it a gem? Is it red?"

 

(OOC: apologies for the short post, right now I can't think of anything else to say. I'm shocked by the luck Ness is having with the dice

Edited May 5, 2004 by Solivagus

[Merelas]

Alric shifted uneasily. There were those here who were against each other, and it wasn't his place to save them. "Dream Assassin?" That must have something to do with psionic powers. Quickly, before the man could tamper with his thoughts anymore, he threw up a ward against psychic attack. As an afterthought, he extended the ward to cover Mara the Roc Rider also, and stepped forward.

 

"I am Alric... some would call me an Archmage. I weild magic, but I'm definitely not the most powerful of verdants. I believe I can be of some help to the party. I believe a system where we divide any loot we may find would be the best route to take... Seeing to the fact that there is some dispute about this one," and here he pointed to Xavier, though he did not know his name, "and the level of powers he wields."

 

Edit for a spelling.

Edited May 6, 2004 by Merelas

[The Big Pointy One]

After retrieving his throwing knives from the wall, Aidan picks up a chair and returns to sitting in a relaxed position. Silently, he examines everyone in the room, measuring them up in his mind, seeking out their physical traits. It was something his mentor had taught him to do, years ago, when he was finally of a skill level to use it. Above the conversation, he speaks up,

 

"The forest, or the desert... either is of little consequence to me. Keep in mind, however, that I am a ranger, and my skills lie within the woods. I'm certain the elf here would be surprised by my deftness. Regardless, I too itch to be leaving this place. I'm a traveler, not a city man. Oh, and my name is Aidan. Some address me by Sliver, but it's an old thing, of older times."

[Katzaniel]

"And mine, for those who just arrived, is Shanna. I am sorry to say that my skills are few; however, I can cook and I know something of healing wounds. In the desert there is nothing to cook or even eat, so I too would prefer the forest."

[Merelas]

Alric slowly nods in agreement with the others... "I believe I would prefer the forest as well. Verdant magics are easier to work when there are plants nearby to manipulate," he says.

[Finnius]

"This item, Finnius. Is it a gem? Is it red?"

 

Questions cut close to home, too close for comfort.

 

"Yes. A small red gem, easily concealable. Very dangerous, though."

 

Names are given, and votes cast.

 

"All right. Forest it is. If no one else has anything they'd like to do here? Then we leave." And he pulls himself upright, dusting himself off a bit and stretching.

 

A few hours later

 

The open road, as there was one on this side of Eelix, was comforting. It was an odd group of people drawn together, with a decidedly... green bent. But that was really no problem. Alric could be useful... Aiden has been useful... Shanna will be useful... Finnius files away his thoughts, puts his companions into their seperate positions in his head. The road is long, and they walk for the better part of the day, stopping to make camp in the evening. A fire is built, and food is prepared. Around the fire, conversation begins. Explanations, about storms and gems, and the strings of fate that tie people together.

 

Meanwhile, elsewhere

 

"This is not a good idea, Cada. I don't like it. What if he finds out?" Two figures speak in the darkness underneath a stone outcrop, shadowed and wrapped in black cloth and leather. The man who speaks addresses a woman, arms folded across her chest, leaning against the cool stone.

 

"And what if he does, Brendon? What do you think he'd do? Not even he can take all four of us at once, and you know it..." She shakes her head, draws herself up. "It's about time for a change, anyway. Broken Stone sees this, and will back me when the time comes. They only wait for my word... And he's become unstable, even you can see that, and well... sorry to say it hun, but you're not the sharpest knife in the belt."

 

"You're just ambitious. Blue-White-Blue will accept you if you can make this plan of yours work. Do what you want." The man turns to go, then pauses and looks over his shoulder, concern showing in his eyes. "Just be careful. I wouldn't want anything to happen to you..." He leaves, disappearing into the sand as easily as a fish slips into a stream. The woman is left to herself.

 

She stays under the stone for a moment, waiting, and then slips into the desert herself. All is still, and silent. And then a shadow detaches itself from a tiny crevice, barely large enough for the human form which swings itself down, soundlessly. The form scrabbles across the stones in the opposite direction, farther into the desert, trailing blood from the wounds in its shoulders...

[Finnius]

Explanations, Around the Campfire

 

"I expect the first question most of you have is about that storm. However, the first question I am going to answer is about our, or at least my, quarry. As Xavier so kindly pointed out earlier, it is a small red stone. As a gem, it is nearly flawless, one of the most priceless pieces in existence." Finnius stands from his seat around the campfire, begins pacing as he talks, punctuating sentences with a point of a finger or a nod of his head. "As a gem, it would be worth kingdoms, but to the one who knows its true potential... it is so much more. I should start at the beginning.

 

"I come from the Blue-White-Blue clan of the Sayaftali, an organization of people who live in the desert. We are warriors and scholars, assassins and traders. We formed more than five hundred years ago for one very specific purpose. And that purpose was to contain the Demon Mephis for all time. He was a god, once; a terrible god. When he was finally defeated and sealed away, the blast of heat from his screams of rage killed all the plants within a large radius around his temple. This is where the desert comes from, and only five hundred years afterward is it starting to recover.

 

"Things are different now. Somewhere along the line, the leadership of the Sayaftal was corrupted. My clan knows this, as do certain others. We know this, but are tied by bonds of honor and loyalty stronger than steel." The desert man pauses here, his body slumps to the ground and he looks far older for a moment. "The stone is Mephis' heart, petrified and atrophied, but still alive. Should it be misused, a man could ascend to a god. I believe that whoever has it now knows this, but does not know the full truth. That god would be Mephis, and none other. It would take a mage of unrivaled power to control the Heart without being possessed by it. No such mage exists, I believe. And right this moment, I have no idea where to start my search. I was supposed to find a contact in Eelix, but... in the past."

 

He stands again, stretches. Walks around the circle, slinks around the group.

 

"The reason I said that it did not matter whether we went into the forest or the desert was that my quarry could have gone either way. In any case, if we're on the right trail, we'll know soon enough. When he tries to kill us again. What I suggest in the meantime is that we keep going in the same direction, at least until we find a settlement. For right now... if anyone has any questions, now's the time."

[The Big Pointy One]

Aidan seemed lost staring into the campfires as the stars filled the night sky. Images of gold, silk and far-stretching castles drifted on the edge of mind, tugging at him in a manner he didn't really appreciate. Still, they were appealing, in their own way...

 

"The reason I said that it did not matter whether we went into the forest or the desert was that my quarry could have gone either way. In any case, if we're on the right trail, we'll know soon enough. When he tries to kill us again. What I suggest in the meantime is that we keep going in the same direction, at least until we find a settlement. For right now... if anyone has any questions, now's the time."

 

...Aidan snapped back to reality, and he did his best to empty his mind and focus on the mission at hand.

 

"Well, a man's history is his own business, I say. Although I am interested to learn about you and your people, it is not a pressing issue, and I will not pursue it. What I want to know is our enemy. What exactly do you predict we will be facing, and how do I kill it." He cringed mentally as he said that, but Aidan still wasn't sure about anyone else in their party aside from Finnius himself. He had caught a glimpse of the curious man engaging... whatever it was that had attacked them at the tavern. Still, he had been the leader of a few different mercenary groups, and he had learned to gauge people's abilities with but a few careful glances. So far, he was worried, but time would be the true test. He did his best not to let it show, as worry wasn't a good quality in a leader, or one who had assigned himself to watch carefully over his employer. That's what he had decided to do. He was sure the man could protect himself, but it wouldn't do good for the mission to end suddenly because the one who had assigned him his task suddenly found a knife (or worse) in his spine.

 

"Anyways, that's all I need to know. I may not have mentioned this earlier, but aside from a few non-magical conventional weapons, the only real ace in my sleeve right now is this holy sword..." Aidan indicates the two-handed sword on his back, "...I still don't know much about it except that demons don't really seem to like it. Especially when I stab them with it."

[Finnius]

"Well, a man's history is his own business, I say. Although I am interested to learn about you and your people, it is not a pressing issue, and I will not pursue it. What I want to know is our enemy. What exactly do you predict we will be facing, and how do I kill it."

 

"We'll have time enough to talk about my people later... far too much of it, I fear. As for our enemy... the Heart was stolen from the safest vaults of the Sayaftali. The vaults of my clan, actually. No one knows where those vaults are save the highest members of the Blue-White-Blue... and several of those are missing. We assume that one of the missing took it, and either killed or otherwise disposed of the others.

 

"What we are likely facing is a mage of great skill. Great enough to place a mind-jammer on a Stormrider... an elemental being of great strength. Assume that we will be facing enemies more powerful than ourselves. As for the killing..." The desert man shrugs. "Seperating the head from the body, assuming it has a distinguishible one is usually a good course of action..."

 

The conversation winds down, people eventually go to sleep. The night stays quiet, still...

 

A figure perches in a tree, short bow in one hand, knocked arrow in another. The figure motions to another tree, where another figure raises its hand in response, and whistles a sharp bird's cry. The cry is echoed several times, from several different trees. There is a slight sound, as arrows are drawn back. A creaking, as if from tree limbs.

 

The camp is still, sleeping forms lit by moonlight and the dying campfire. Three black-clad forms drop out of the branches as the first arrows begin flying...

[Vanessa]

At the same moment the arrow left the mens bows Maralasoth let out a piercing shriek of warning. Reacting with the speed of reflexes honed to sharpness even in sleep, Mara rolled to the side. The shaft that had been trained on her buried itself next to her shoulder. Mouthing a few choice elven curses she quickly slipped behind the tree she had been sleeping next too, relying on Maralasoth to be able to wake up any members who could still wake.

[Katzaniel]

Shanna wakes up to the cries of the Marasloth, fumbling around in the dark for a moment before realizing that something is happening, and forcing herself awake fully. Realizing that the camp is under attack, she reaches for the knife that Finnius had given her, and an arrow barely misses her, though she notes that it was on the right track before she moved. Obviously these people had accurate aim, and inactivity would be a good way to die. Holding the knife uncomfortably, Shanna jumps forward, finding herself unexpectedly face to face with an attacker.

 

The figure lashes out and in shock, she manages to block his blow. She thrusts wildly and only her unpredictability keeps her alive past a few minutes, but then even that is unable to stop a well-aimed strike at her hand. A fragmented part of her brain reports that the injury is slight, but the rest of her mind screams pain and she drops her knife, reeling backward. She runs into something, a tree she thinks, but then the tree moves and intercepts, driving off her opponent and disappearing into the fight before she can identify who of their party saved her life this time.

 

Shanna grabs at the knife, ignoring the pain that shoots up her arm. She is confused and disoriented, and the only thing that she knows, which repeats itself in her mind endlessly, is that she's useless and will probably die soon. She stumbles against something, a real tree this time, and slumps, dimly watching the fight but not mustering the courage or even strength to rise.

[Merelas]

Alic woke to the screech that he recognized as the Roc’s. He stumbled up in annoyance, and was about to yell, “Mara, keep that damned bird silent!” when an arrow whizzed by his left ear. Silently, he thanked the Roc instead of condemning him, and struggled to his feet.

 

Only to be knocked down again. He had stood straight up into a tree in the darkness, and being the more movable of the two, it had been Alric who accommodated the tree.

 

Alric growled a curse before climbing out from the tree a ways, and then spreading his hands and muttering a few words. In between his hands (palms facing eachother) was a globe of light which he threw up into the air. Snapping his fingers once it got to an acceptable height, the globe exploded, and particles spread throughout the area, shedding some light on their situation.

 

Quickly, Alric assessed said situation. He looked around, and saw around 10 men with bows dressed in black. This was not good. He could see a few members of their party spread out around the area, but didn’t know what they were doing—some fighting, and some, he noticed, cowering.

 

It’s best to have one left over when it’s done with to question, he thought to himself, and so he acted the best he could.

 

Sighting the nearest of the attackers, he faced him, stomped his foot, and with that motion, performed what he called a “ground and center.” This was the act of throwing a line down into the earth, and drawing power from nature itself, which flowed directly out of the ground and into his body. There were limits as to how much power one could use in a consecutive amount of time, but other than his own personal limits, he had mana aplenty. That was the grounding effect, but centering was his own mental preparation to cast magic.

 

As he centered, he closed his eyes for a moment, and cleared his mind of everything except one goal—

 

Defend and protect the party, he thought, and opened his eyes again. Quickly, he brought up both hands to his chest, and formed a triangle with his two thumbs and index fingers. Slowly, he pushed the symbol outward towards the man he had been concentrating on. In the white, shimmering light, he saw the vines move. Erupting out of the ground at the man’s feet, and tossing clods of dirt as they did so, twin vines wrapped around the man’s legs, and his waist, and finally up to his neck. The man was effectively paralyzed.

 

Now Alric manipulated the vines, and they tipped the man backwards until he lay on the ground, covered in convoluted, winding threads of greenery. This all happened in a matter of seconds, and Alric turned away. He looked again for another man, not intending to spare this one his life.

 

Watching one of their assassins knock an arrow and aim for the one called Shanna, Alric panicked. Quickly, he attempted to stop the shot in the best way he knew how.

 

“Norre tremble ie do mir!” he shouted, and at the last he stomped the ground again, gesturing towards the arrow as he did so with both hands. Instantly, he felt heavier, and a sense of the additional gravity that he had created, and the arrow strayed enough to skid along the ground. Alric could barely lift his arm enough to make the cutting gesture which cancelled the spell. Instantly after he did this, he felt himself lighten, and he moved with far more speed now.

 

Near him, an assassin was charging, bow over one shoulder and a small dagger in the other. Alric sidestepped, and the man went sprawling by him, onto the ground in a heap. Realizing that the man would be back on his feet shortly, Alric ran to a nearby tree and clutched a sizable branch.

 

Lend me a limb, friend!

 

Alric jerked, and the limb came free. He staggered backwards, but didn’t fall. He examined the branch with as much time as he was able—it was straight, with a few knots in it, but it would do nicely. As the attacker charged him again, Alric waited. He tensed, and held the branch with both hands. Timing the exact second when he would need it, he acted. Thrusting the branch outwards, he felt the limb connect with the black-clad man’s jaw, and send him reeling.

 

Alric turned, and saw the other members of the parting fighting for their lives just as he was… and it was then, in that moment, that he realized that an arrow was sticking out of his thigh.

Edited May 23, 2004 by Merelas

[Solivagus]

At the sound of the Rocs screech Xavier's form had shot rigidly upwards, the effect of the abrubt departure from the Plane of Dreams. Fortunatly for himthis also had the effect of avoiding any arrows that had been trained on him. Cursing the bnlindness that prevented him knowing who was attacking, he resigned himself to using the most basic of illusions. He quickly formed an image of himself asleep on the ground, at the same time pulling the darkness of the night around himself, making him invisible to the archers. His self protection assured from any directed fire he allowed his mind to drift from his body, searching for a pair of eyes that he might borrow...

[The Big Pointy One]

The roc's cry would have woken Sliver up, if it were not for the fact that he was already awake, staring into the sky through the treetops above. He was irked that he didn't know more about who they were facing, and even more so that a mage was behind it. It always seemed the worst trouble was always linked to some mage of inappropriate power. But then again, such was the life of an adventurer such as himself. You learn things from experiences like these. That's what Sliver kept on telling himself.

 

So, it was thanks to his training as a woodsman and a ranger that he was able to hear the assassins surround the camp. He recognized each and every birdcall, and the strange pattern to it, but he feared not move at the risk of putting the camp at danger. He had to time it just right... but then the roc cried out in warning. At least it worked. Out of the corner of his vision, he noticed everyone moving as quickly as possible. Of course, by the time an arrow zinged into where he had just been lying down, Sliver was kneeling, empty bow in hand as an arrow of his own flew back into the branches where he guessed the assassin had moved to. He had guessed right as he heard a strangled yell of pain and the thumping of a body hitting the ground next to a tree. He had no time to check for corpses though as he swung around to the back side of the closest tree. He didn't have any sort of elven night-vision to assist him, and he wasn't sure what sort of abilities these assassins had. Still, he figured, it was better than giving them the advantage of an open area. Deciding height would be another advantage, he quickly bound into the lower boughs of the tree he had ducked behind. He nocked another arrow and let it fly into an assassin who had jumped down from whichever tree he/she had been in. With a fleshy-sounding thunk, the arrow found its mark between the assassin's shoulder and collar. The momentum pulled the shoulder down and the assassin tumbled a bit, picked himself (herself?) up and kept on running towards the camp. Sliver would have tried to put another arrow into him/her if it wasn't for the fact that he noticed another one still hiding in a tree about 20 feet away. He was pulling back an arrow, assuredly aimed at one of his party members. Still holding his own bow in one hand, Sliver flicked his wrist and three thin darts (which were nearly invisible in the night) flew straight and true and stung the assassin in the wrist just as he had gotten the arrow fully nocked and pulled back. Not sparing another moment, Sliver nocked and released an arrow of his own in a smooth movement and smiled with grim satisfaction as it went straight into the assassin's neck and halfway out again. He readied another arrow and surveyed the scene as a white light poured over the camp...

[Solivagus]

The roaming probe that Xavier had sent out latched on to a mind, curiously sharp and alert but seemingly much more basic than the typical human mind. Quickly he found the optical centre, and was shocked by the sharpness of his borowed-sight. It came as a further jolt of surprise when he realised who's eyes he was using-they were the eyes of Maralasoth. He had never realised he could manipulate an animals mind in the same way he could a humans, and he stored the information away to experiment when he had more time. Right now he had vengance to take!

 

The Rocs eyes easily penetrated the darkness of night, seeing each of the assasins as if they were lit up with thier own personal light. Quickly but with skill Xavier wove his illusion. In an instant images of each of the members of his group had flashed into being, many hundreds of figures moving swiftly in the night, converging on the assasins. Though the imaginary weapons did no damage, the attackers were unable to tell which of the forms approaching them were real and which false. Xaviers laughter rolled scornfully across the clearing.

 

"Fall to your knees assasins, you are outmatched!"

 

As the words left his mouth he readied himself for another series of images that would send the attackers fleeing...

[Vanessa]

Mara scowled at the Dream Assasins tone of voice and choice of words, it seemed far too much as if he was just asking for trouble. The illusion was impresive though. Using the images that Xavier had created as cover she moved out from behind the tree where she had taken shelter and retrieved her bow. Her sharp elven eyes allowed her to see the enemy forms without any problems, and she smoothly drew, targeted and released in one movement. The arrow struck the chest of the assasin, the power of the elven-made bow knocking him back. Quickly she drew another arrow and sighted another enemy...

[Merelas]

Alric was tired. He had not only been woke from a deep sleep and the first actually pleasant dream he'd had in a while, but he now had several wounds which were weighing him down.

 

And now there were multiple versions of him running around and whacking at things with the tree limb... as if he'd be so primitive. The illusion distracted him from fighting his fully real enemy, although the numbers of said enemy were decreasing quickly.

 

Alric decided that a bit of rest and respelling would be best, so he withdrew from the fray for a few minutes. First he performed his ground and center again, making sure that it would hold firm and calm him enough to work his magic. Having done that, he set to the more painful of tasks. Grasping at the arrow that was burried about an inch deep in his thigh, which hurt him to move, he hesitated. Taking the tree branch which he'd plucked earlier, he cleaned the bark and obtrusive objects off of an area about in the middle of the branch, and placed it in his mouth... he didn't want his screams to give him away.

 

He clutched the arrow then, and his teeth clenched as he felt pain from even the mere grasp of the thing. He locked his jaw into wood, and jerked.

 

And even though he had braced himself, he still wasn't ready for the pain he felt in his leg. He collapsed suddenly, and the wood fell from his mouth. Unready for what he had thought would've been relatively minor, he screamed again.

 

He had a feeling he was now given away.