Revenge is a Dish that is Best Served Cold

[Justin Silverblade]

Justin thought for a great while, his face twisting to the whim of his thoughts. As the group threw around their initial thoughts he wondered about the competency of the good King Millas.

 

Finally, Balladore began to ask for a vote, and the time came to ask for Justin's say.

 

"Well," he started, "I'm not sure. I've only a measure of the skill of the group by our last adventure with that, squid, tentacle, thingy. I don't know how well, or-" here he looked at Jheric and Balladore, "even exactly how you fight. But we don't exactly have time to spare, and, if their team is anything like the guards the led them in here... Well I could beat 'em all with one hand tied behind my back. So if you magic, uh, user/caster guys can do all that again, I say fight."

 

Justin took out his sword, and gave it a couple practice swings.

 

"Time is of the essence, so I say let's go for it. Let's fight'em."

[Gyrfalcon]

Jheric sat back and considered Bhurin once again as he looked into the fires of his eyes. Jheric had always know that Bhurin could be dangerous, just as they all could... but he didn't know that the winged man had these reserves of power and belief in him. We learn something new about each other every day... Jheric thought to himself.

 

Suddenly, as Justin finished speaking, Balladore pointed at Jheric. "Your vote?" he asked.

 

Jheric blinked in surprise, not having expected to be called on so quickly. He ran through the pros and cons, and decided...

 

He decided that *anything* was better then going through that gods-cursed forest again, and with a druid and himself providing magical support, and the others to keep them safe, whatever fight they would have to go through would be over quick.

 

Jheric nodded to himself, then looked at the rest of the group. "Let's fight. Though I do have to wonder... who or what will be the other team? And will we have to kill them?" Jheric's voice was steady, only a slight undercurrent of excitement coming through in it as he thought of the upcoming battle.

[Ozymandias]

Elsewhere, someone cursed the good king. He seemed the sort highly resilient to diplomacy, this observer thought. The diplomacy of the mouth, anyway. He might make things ugly.

[Guest Balladore]

In the hall, where they were meeting, Balladore waited and watched as the others cast their votes. He thought about his wife... sweet Aurora. She had been so innocent, so... undeserving to die ... why? Why did she have to die?

 

Why? ... the question rang over and over again in his head... Why? Why? Why? Balladore felt his knees going... he looked around for a chair to collapse into, but there was nothing. He caught himself with his staff, and rested on it until his strength returned...

 

He kept thinking, though... Why? Why my sweet, loving Aurora? She didn't deserve this... Mossflower and Lutra didn't deserve this... and, though it doesn't matter... I don't think I deserved to feel this way, either. What have I done? What did she do? Why?

 

Balladore's eyes filled with tears, and his strength left him again. He collapsed this time to the floor, and burst into tears. He sobbed and sobbed, over and over... but the question remained.

 

Why? Why? "Why?!" He suddenly burst out through the sobs and tears, without intending to. "Why... why?" he said, his breath ragged from crying. "Why?"

[Gyrfalcon]

"Why?" an unexpected voice said to the side, and Balladore looked up, fighting to hold back his tears, grief swinging to rage at the unexpected and unwanted interruption.

 

Jheric stepped closer to Balladore, an emotion that he shows rarely now on his face- sympathy.

 

"You ask why, good druid? Because we humans, and all other species, are imperfect. We fear, we hate, we grasp for what is not ours, and we kill. Because of that, there is war."

 

Jheric stopped, and sighed.

 

"I've heard of war being called a ravenous beast, that reaches out and kills to feed its hunger. How true that seems, yet it ascribes a sentience to war, as if it chose its targets and slays them for a purpose. Yet, the loss of your wife... that served no purpose, Balladore.

 

I... I know that I can offer no words of comfort, no insight into what goes on beyond the veil of death... all I can say is that I wish this had never happened, wish you were still happy, your wife alive, your children safe. I would trade all that I have seen and experienced since following you, for your happiness. I guess the only words I can offer are these:

 

I'm sorry."

 

Jheric quickly, almost unobtrusivly, brushed a tear from his cheek and disappeared down a side corridor, to leave Balladore to his grief. He didn't know if he had helped or hurt... only time would tell.

[Ozymandias]

The others looked at the stricken druid in open concern. Bhurin closed the distance between them with a single long stride and was just about to put a concilatory hand on his shoulder when they both stopped short. A simple "Ribbit" had cut the silence like a knife. Out of reflexive curiousity, the party looked down at Balladore's feet, where the noise had originated. The frog sitting there eyed each of them in turn before turning itself around to face Balladore. "Ribbit", it said again. It seemed expectant.

[Guest Zephryin]

The forest is dark...and peaceful. A night owl hoots, searching for an unwary dinner, scurrying along the ground.

 

A far-off sound... Hooves...

 

The thunder of a madly galloping thoroughbred crashes through the brush, accompanied by the beast making the sound. Atop it's back, a stout, cloaked sillhouette, with a massive war sceptre strapped next to the saddle bag, hunches foward in the saddle, trying to goad every bit of speed out of his mount. He weaves through the trees, searching for the highway...

 

Damn those scurillous, little goblins!, Zephryin thinks to himself.

 

If not for them, I might have caught the party before they left.. At least I know the little pests have fled from here.

 

Without warning, a rope snaps up, across his path, nearly knocking him from his horse. Cursing and gasping for breath, he recovers and rights himself. Turning, he sees a band of the little, green-skinned marauders, rushing towards him from the trees, scimitars drawn...and a very disheveled, miserable-looking one picking himself up, out of the dirt, apparently the one holding the rope. Instinctively, he unhooks his sceptre and prepares to battle...

 

OOC

I'll try to add more later, my mind is kinda, well, *pphhht* right now.

[Guest Balladore]

Balladore looked up at the frog, and started to brush it away. Then he looked more closely... wait a moment...

 

"Is... is it just me, or is there something strange about this frog?"

[Ozymandias]

Turning again, it fixes his gaze with one eye.

 

"Balladore," it says aloud. Around the group, eyebrows go up, and Balladore finds his mouth dropping open slightly, despite himself.

 

"You all heard that, too?", he asks the others. Nods of assent answer. Paying the reactions no mind, the frog continues to gaze intently at the careworn druid. It speaks again.

 

"Life is not fair, Sir Druid. Nor is it just. The only things that are are our decisions, if we so choose."

[Guest Balladore]

Balladore nods slightly, and then stops to think... he had been right! No frog he'd ever studied had those peculiar markings on the forelegs... perhaps...

 

Watching the frog carefully, the druid slowly pulls out a small pouch that he carries at his belt while questing for occasions just like this, and opens the drawstring at the top of the pouch. Balladore dips his hand inside, pulls out a handful of something, and sprinkles a sparkly-powdery stuff down onto the frog, and watches. His re-transformation powder usually worked on things that didn't have their normal form, but it could just be a different breed of frog... talking, no less...

[Guest Balladore]

Ozymandias the Elder posted,

 

The frog blinks once, then vanishes with a muttered "Bugger".

In its' place sit a lily pad and a small piece of parchment containing the frog's coversation written in full. Balladore watches in surprise, having guessed the thing's true nature, but not expecting to recognize the handwritng on the parchment as Ozymandias'.

Balladore posted,

 

"I thought so... though I had thought it was a human that had transformed itself... but Ozymandias? What's he doing? And why?

 

"Well... I suppose we shall know in due time. We must proceed, however... I believe that King Millas grows impatient. We are decided unanimously, then, that we will fight."

 

Without another word, the druid wipes his eyes, apologizes briefly for his little... breakdown, and they exit the chamber silently, single file, with Balladore in the lead, then Justin, Jheric, and finally Bhurin.

 

OOC: If Foe becomes active again, I will edit this to include him at the end of the line

 

IC: They walked into the viewing chamber of King Millas, once again, and as if they had rehearsed it, Balladore stopped in the middle of the floor, and those in line behind him filed in on either side, Justin to his left, Jheric to his right, and Bhurin on the far right.

 

"Your majesty King Millas, with your permission, we have decided to fight whatever it is you should decide to pit us against. With your permission, we would like to begin immediately, so as to make as good time as possible."

 

"Whaver yous wantsa. We all go to the biggy stadium, and yous fights while we's watchey. Meanwhiley, big chiefy war guy set up teamy. Go, go, stadium!" said the overfat King Millas, and an escort led the group to a large collesium that had obviously not been built by this generation of lazy people (from what they had seen of the overweight population of Millas' territory), as it was far to advanced architecture to have been conjured up by *them*

 

As they were led into the arena, they saw that the stands had already been filled with people. There was the average amount of noise coming from excited people about to watch a sporting event, and the companions were very nervous as to what was about to happen.

 

They scanned the group, and conversed a little before the fighting began...

 

As they talk amongst themselves, the companions note that the crowd has suddenly gone quiet, and look as though they are listening to something.

 

"Shh!" says Jheric, attempting to hear whatever it is that the fans in the audience are listening to. The group becomes silent as well, and they hear an announcer with a deep, bass voice shouting out above the crowd.

 

"... and now, for your entertainment, our very own King Millas has prepared for us quite a treat! A band of ferocious, dastardly outlaws have been taken from prison and set in the arena before you! Look at them!" The group looked around, expecting to see the men they were about to fight... unfortunately, they realized that they had been re-named outlaws.

 

"That traitor! He told us we would just have to fight! He never said anything about being outlaws!!" yelled Balladore in a rage.

 

"We'll deal with that later, Balladore... now we must fight for our lives. Calm yourself... deep breaths..." said Bhurin, being as wise and diplomatic as usual... but this time his words fell on deaf ears... he had trusted King Millas, and his trust had been broken...

 

Stupid... stupid, stupid, stupid. Way to go, Oh wise and mighty leader. Balladore thought to himself. His rage merely increased, and he paced around the arena, waiting for the oncoming attack.

 

"Whats this?" called the announcer, "There appear to be some bounty hunters looking for our outlaws! If they won't go peacefully, they must be sentenced to... DEATH!"

 

The crowd roared in approval, and the so called "Bounty hunters" entered the ring. First, there was a standard fighter, dressed in chain mail and carrying a round shield in his left hand, and a short-sword in the other. Following him there was a ranger, with standard studded leather, a longbow, and a quiver of arrows. Next entered what appeared to be a cleric, but Balladore couldn't really tell for sure... some kind of a magic user, anyway, since she carried a staff. Finally, there was what was, unmistakably, a fellow Druid.

 

In anticipation, Balladore twirled his staff; he might have messed up getting them into this, but he would be damned before he made a mistake in the way he got them out.

 

"Form up! Jheric, by my side! Justin and Bhurin, frontguard! MAKE READY!" called Balladore, already beginning a slow, musical chant and performing the complicated steps of a spell... when he completed the spell, and the entire group was blessed, and the druid quickly began casting another. This time, lightning blasted down onto the battlefield into the middle of the opposing group's formation, scattering them...

[Gyrfalcon]

Jheric felt a flash-burn of anger, and contemplated tossing a fireball right into the royal balcony, but quickly overruled that plan and his anger, forcing himself into the calm so neccessary for spell-casting. There would be time enough to deal with King Millas, and his treachery. Now, it was time to fight for survival.

 

Jheric eyed the opposing group, and noted that it would be an evenly match fight- perhaps too evenly.

 

Druid canceled Druid, and the Cleric could cast enough defensive, protective, and healing spells to negate much of what Jheric himself could do, unless he could deal out enough damage quickly enough...

 

Justin matched the fighter of the other side, and actually had an advantage with his longer weapon and better armor. Bhurin gave the group the advantage of air, but the ranger canceled that advantage by making it too risky to take flight...

 

"FIGHT!" Roared the announcer, and Jheric stepped up to Balladore's side, and spoke a single word, activating a spell sequencer he had prepared before the fight. In a heartbeat, Jheric was surrounded by a ward that would turn non-magical arrows, and a magical layer of stone had formed around his body, shifting with his movements, proof against nearly all physical attacks, but only the first five struck.

 

Jheric acted just in time, the missile ward saving his life as the ranger sent a deadly series of arrows at Jheric. Seeing his target protected, the foe instead took aim on Balladore, only to be defeated when Jheric stepped in front of the chanting druid, his ward stopping this missile as well.

 

" En'Vishu" Jheric said, and five energy darts raced from his hand to strike the ranger, causing him to recoil in pain. Then, he became much to busy to fight, as lightning appared from clear air and blasted into the group, disrupting the cleric's chantings, but not before the enemies glowed with the blessings of whatever god or goddess the cleric worshipped.

 

Justin and the enemy fighter charged across the field, both attempting to break past the other and attack the vulnerable spell casters, to tie up their magical abilities in physical combat. Yet at the same time, they sought to prevent the other from achieving his goal. The end result was that they fell into a fierce personal duel in the middle of the field, Justin quickly starting to take the upper hand. The ranger again tried to launch an arrow into Balladore, but once again, Jheric foiled him, this time returning fire with an enchanted dart that pumped acid into the ranger's leg, dropping him to the ground in agony.

 

With the archer down, Bhurin quickly took to the air, passing over Justin's melee, which grew more interesting as the enemy druid summoned a wolverine to support the fighter.

 

Oh wonderful, a summoner... Jheric thought to himself, falling into his chanting. As he did so, he noticed three things- Balladore was moving a bit closer to the other group probably to get into range for another spell, his skin now looked like the cragged and hardened bark of an old, powerful tree, and the ranger was getting up again.

 

Can't he get the hint and stay down? Jheric thought as his voice rose to a crecendo.

 

As a bear took form next to the wolverine, who had forced Justin onto the defensive as it coordinated its attacks with the fighter, a shadow fell across them all. The ogre looked down at the bear, then slowly looked up as the massive brown bear reared up on its hind legs and snarled, towering another two feet over the ogre. Compelled by magic, the ogre stepped forward and landed a heavy blow on its chest with his club. Not impressed, the brown bear lashed back with its claws.

 

The wolverine lunged forward, but then fell, frozen stiff, no doubt the victim of Balladore's druidic magic, paralyzing its muscles magically. However, then it was Balladore's turn to stiffen, and Jheric noticed that the sounds of combat had become muted.

 

A sphere of silence! Bhurin had better deal with that cleric soon... Jheric thought, taking a step back to make sure he was outside the sphere's area of affect. Thinking of Bhurin, he looked up to see Bhurin preparing to swoop down on the cleric... and then looked down to see the stubborn ranger aim carefully up at the large flyer.

 

Oh no you don't. Jheric thought as he extended his hand. " En'Vishu" he said, and another burst of magical darts hammered the ranger's arms, and his arrow went sailing into the air, missing Bhurin completely.

 

We need one of them down, and soon. Jheric thought, summoning a band of goblins to match a pair of wolves from the enemy druid.