Tales of Faerun

[FreemasonGamer]

Rameses spared a slightly arched brow towards Leif's odd little insinuations before following the others out of the Shifting Sands tavern. While he did contemplate speaking with the leader of their group—Rhaine—the genasi instead focused on returning to Jarl at the stables of Maerlar. Upon seeing the unnatural space the stable-hands and other mounts had given his snoring camel, Rameses laughed happily before whistling sharply. "Come now, Jarl! Now is not the time to be sleeping in!" He chided to his steed as the great white camel groaned irritably before standing tall.

 

Excited to return to the road with a company of his own, Rameses quickly checked what supplies were strapped onto Jarl's large saddle, which sat outside his stable. Nodding in approval, the genasi patted the camel's neck before beginning to equip him with their gear. "Be happy, old boy! We're heading back west!" Rameses said enthusiastically to Jarl, who seemed to be ignoring him entirely. After a moment, Rameses glanced over at the others of their group as they began to equip their steeds as well. "Think we might make some friends on the way back, Jarl?" he asked quietly, patting the camel's neck once more. Suddenly, the relative peace at the stables was interrupted with the loud spit of a grudge-holding camel and the disgusted yelp of his unsuspecting fire genasi rider.

[Diamondragon62]

Codswell chuckled a bit, " Your ride doesn't seem to pay you much mind. Why is this?" He dismounted the steed he had bought and walked over war of the camel and digs through his sack for something for the camel and pulls out some feed and offered it to the camel.

[AurianaValoria1]

"Better not be looking up my skirt," Abby quipped before walking right past Leif and out of the inn. She had no steed, and she did not plan on riding with Leif again; instead, the halfling half-dragon made up her mind to jog alongside the horses, intending to make use of her trained endurance.

 

Once everyone was gathered and ready, Rhaine began to lead them along the road north towards Rauthil. It was a lesser-traveled road, off of the main trade route, and so at times the path completely disappeared into the shifting sands. As such, their progress was slowed somewhat, and the gathering storm clouds, rolling in from the sea to the west, rumbled ominously at times, threatening to dump their load of rain upon the travelers. Far above, Argyros could be seen weaving in and out of these clouds with ease, seemingly unfazed by the stormy winds and crackling atmosphere.

 

The sand eventually transitioned into dry, sparsely vegetated earth as they reached roughly two-thirds of the way to the next town. Evening began to fall before they could see Rauthil's walls, and so they stopped to make camp just off the road as the sun began to dip below the horizon. Conall assisted in pitching the tents, as usual, while Rhaine and Zorica helped wherever needed. Abby stayed out of the way, watching with yellow-green eyes as she tried to think of how she could properly get back at Leif...

[FreemasonGamer]

Rameses wiped away the camel spittle off his chest with his left sleeve, glancing down at Codswell as he attempted to feed Jarl. The great white camel also glanced down at the odd little halfling before taking a sniff at his handful of feed; Jarl then exhaled deeply, scattering the small amount of feed from Codswell's hand. Shaking his head and shrugging his shoulders, Rameses said before climbing onto Jarl's saddle, "Jarl doesn't care about most things I have to say. Isn't that right, Jarl?" Once sitting proudly in his familiar seat, Rameses had to duck to avoid bumping his head as Jarl lumbered out of the stables.

 

~

 

Following Rhaine and the others of their party as they began their trek to Rauthil was quite simple and almost peaceful for Rameses and Jarl. The company was appreciated, even if only occasional small talk occurred among them. As the stormy weather circulated over the desert sands, Rameses felt little concern; there was an old wise tale he discovered in Calimshan that having a camel as a mount bettered one's odds of survival in a sandstorm. While this was entirely false, Rameses felt the tale to be sentimental in regards to Jarl. When the sun finally met the horizon, the genasi dismounted his towering steed before constructing his small tent; meanwhile, Jarl simply sat down next to Rameses' tent.

 

Finally situated for the evening, Rameses ate some of his trail rations before beginning to tend to his blades. He hummed happily as he sharpened and polished his completely mundane iron longsword and dagger, both of which were weathered and marked with use and age. "The roads go ever on..." He hummed quietly to himself with a faint smile, a nostalgic expression resting on his bronze features.

Edited April 30, 2015 by FreemasonGamer

[josh900]

With something of a cackle Leif moved back up to his feet and followed everyone out. There he found Zaph laying atop of the stables, much to the dismay of passerby's. "See? He just gets moody and fakes running away every now and then." He explained as Zaph turned his head up in the air in a huff.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah, get down here so I can saddle you ya big baby."

 

"So who's the kid and who's the adult?" Azuris muttered under his breath.

 

"Well neither of us should be without adult supervision for extended periods of time soooo... we're both the kids." Leif answered happily.

 

Turning away, Azuris let out a sigh. "Are we an adventuring party or a babysitting ser- HEXOL GET YOUR HANDS OUT OF THAT!"

--------------------

 

When the group finished their travels for the day and began to set up camp, Leif had expertly set up his rather luxurious looking tent rather quickly, and was lounging around the fire as the others set up theirs.

 

Having finished with his own, Lucas approached Leif and looked over to his large tent. "It's kinda...big..don't you think? Your tent I mean."

 

"What can I say? Noble life made me soft." Leif shrugged.

 

"Noble?"

 

"In name only, didn't get any perks or anything, just a looota extra crap that got forced onto me."

 

"That why you're out here then?" Lucas asked as he sat down. "Get away from it all?"

 

"Not really." Leif shrugged. "Just can't expect a war dog to be a house pet is all. We start getting an itch to bite, find we can't sleep on our comfy, feather beds, five star meals don't sit in our stomachs right, and worse, one day you go for a jog and not even half an hour in and you're out of breath and hurting. And that's only half of it." He explained.

 

"I see."

 

As the two talked, Zaph walked around the campsite, until he came across Rhaine. Looking at her wings, he trotted up next to her, sat on his hind legs and spread out his wings as far as they would go as he held his head up high with what could be considered a smug expression if one could see the subtle movements of the Griffon's face.

 

"Really!?" Leif called out. "You're doing that? Nobody cares who's wings are bigger ya doofus!"

 

Zaph answered with an angry hiss at Leif then looked to Rhaine and made an assortment of chirps and squeaks.

 

"He's making fun of you now." Leif said to Rhaine. "He always does this, if it's got smaller wings than him he's gotta hold it over their heads. He's an ass like that.... sorry."

[AurianaValoria1]

Rhaine’s mouth formed a thin line as she watched, unimpressed, at the griffon’s antics. She replied flatly to Leif’s explanation, “It is quite all right. A trivial thing to be obsessed with, and of no concern to me.” Then, the Doomguide addressed the animal itself as she turned to walk away, “I think there are more important things you could worry yourself with, my feathered friend. Wouldn’t want to be like some humanoid males who find pleasure in comparing sizes of other…parts…now, would we?”

 

While Leif was preoccupied with talking to Lucas and Rhaine, Abby hatched her plan. In her walking about the camp’s environs, she remembered she had nabbed an egg from a hen’s nest about a week before, intending on cooking the thing at some point. But it never happened…and between the extreme changes in temperature from Zaph’s flight, it had surely become thoroughly rotten by now. With a wicked grin, she carefully took it from her pack, glanced around to make sure no one was watching, and snuck under the back of Leif’s luxurious tent. Quickly examining the interior, she smiled to herself as she knew just where to put it. Moving swiftly, she thrust the egg under Leif’s fluffy pillow and then snuck underneath the back of the tent again, pleased with her handiwork. That would give him a nice surprise when he lay down to sleep that night…

 

Argyros, who had returned to his elven form, gave Abby a strange look as she strutted towards the campfire, but said nothing. He found the half-dragon girl rather endearing, and it was almost comforting to have another of draconic blood with them. He smiled, hoping to find a good friend in the jovial half-copper sometime in the near future.

 

=======================================

 

After a few days on the road, Weyland was more than ready to lie down and sleep for the second half of the week. He didn't even bother setting up his tent just yet; instead, with the chill of the desert's dusk beginning to set in, he volunteered to go get some firewood.

 

No sooner had he passed the treeline then he felt a teasing presence in the back of his mind, and then Dri appeared beside him, smiling.

 

"I figured you'd want some company." She shrugged, wrinkling her nose. "The last few days have been too boring for me."

 

"Sitting on a horse for days on end is so much fun, though!" He protested. She giggled, which would normally be an odd thing to hear in one's head, but he was used to it by now. Once he saw that they were sufficiently far away from the camp, he slipped her a kiss.

 

Good firewood was sparse and hard to come by, so they were wandering out in the trees away from camp for a good half an hour. Darkness fell almost completely, but the two of them kept up their teasing anyways. At one point Weyland walked face-first into a tree because he was too busy watching her and dropped a few logs. They both laughed.

 

Weyland decided that it wasn't wise to stray too far from camp, so they didn't go any great distance. But it was enough.

 

"More lambs to the slaughter, then?" A voice asked, rich but undeniably malevolent.

 

Weyland dropped the wood and drew his blade, but it was too late. His head felt as if it had been lit aflame and the world fell away. Both of them fell to their knees.

 

=======================================

 

As Conall patrolled around the outer perimeters of the camp later that evening, after most had gone to bed or were tending to their equipment, he thought he heard an odd noise that emerged over the din of night insects…a mixture of a muffled cry and a whimper that sounded as if it were…inside of his mind? Instantaneously alarmed, he moved cautiously in the direction of the noise, armored feet brushing softly against the dry grass, a hand on the hilt of his shortsword. As his thoughts ran from one to the next in rapid succession, mostly hypotheses on what the source of the noise could possibly be, he suddenly remembered something…

 

…Dri. Her amulet. She could project sound mentally. And the sound did have a feminine tone to it.

 

Fearing the girl was in trouble, the paladin broke out into a jog, electric-blue eyes scanning the darkened acacia trees and sparse bushes until he suddenly saw a flock of nesting birds flap past him with desperate squawks. A flash of azure illuminated the night ahead in the shape of a sword...and he knew that sword.

 

“Weyland? Dri?” Conall called out, slowly pulling his blade from its sheath.

 

Meanwhile, Nawen stood near the edge of the camp, keeping an eye out for anything out of the ordinary. What happened at the oasis left her feeling uneasy, even if the attacker made no move against them afterwards she was positive he will show up again.

 

Focusing her attention to the camp, she noticed that Dri and Weyland were missing. As she was about to approach the others and ask if they'd seen them, she noticed something else. Conall, who was patrolling the outer perimeters of the camp, drew his weapon, and so she quietly went to him, her own hand resting on her blade in case something dangerous was nearby.

 

"Did you see something?" She whispered as she got closer to the paladin.

 

Noticing Nawen come up like a shadow next to him, he nodded, gesturing with his blade as he murmured, “The birds have flown in a panic. Something’s over there and I don’t think it’s friendly…”

 

=======================================

 

Silithus tilted his head and grinned as he tore his way through their minds, uprooting everything he could. Their memories in particular were.....very entertaining, to say the last. So much pain hidden deep down, just waiting to be dragged, screaming, right back up to the surface.....

 

........and then he thought, why stop there? Why restrict agony like he'd found just to its owners? Why not share it? After all, from what he'd see of these two, they shared quite a lot. And shared trauma forged the closest of bonds....

 

Weyland gasped in pain as the wretch plunged deeper into his mind with horrifying glee, dredging up emotions and memories he thought he'd recovered from. He growled and tried to reach for his blade, fighting through the searing of Silithus's presence in his mind, but then the searing flashed white-hot and he was out of it again, paralyzed on the ground, holding his hands to his temples and writhing, squirming.

 

Dri fought through the pain, trying to hold on to her own mind, trying to think of something, anything, that might get the two of them out of this, give her the edge she needed to save them, but she couldn't hold on to the thought as memories forced themselves into her mind...memories that weren't her own. She lost all perception of the real world as Silithus forced her to live them, one by one. Being dragged, screaming, into the woods, with feline claws tearing at her legs, the burn of a whip as it shredded her skin. What was seconds in reality felt like forever as Dri lived the memories themselves, not simply flashes of them. She panicked and screamed out of a mouth that wasn't her own as she was pulled further into the unknown, forced down the rage-induced urge to fight back against the sting of the whip. Then she was trapped in her own mind, pounding on the walls to get out, to take control of herself, as the skull of a girl caved in under her hands as her fist came down again, and again...

 

Weyland lost his last, lingering grip on reality in an instant. One moment he was aware of the whistle of an arrow and the snarl of a wolf, and the second all he could hear was muffled screaming and haggard breathing.

 

The ropes burned and cut into his ankles and wrists. His arms and legs hurt, too, from being bent wrong so long. He was scared. Why was the bad man here?

 

He was a shadow in the candlelight as he knelt down in front of mommy, with something shiny in his hand. Mommy tried to get away, but he grabbed her and the shiny thing blurred across her neck. In the candlelight he could see the red as it seeped into the floor.

 

"Mommy?" Weyland whimpered, but it wasn't his voice, it was that of a little girl.

 

The bad man was laughing when he knelt down in front of the girl, and then the shiny thing was cold against her throat. A swipe and then it hurt, it hurt. Why was it so hard to breathe? What was mommy choking on? Why wasn't she saying anything?

 

And then he was somewhere else. Lying on the floor, bigger now, limp, but purposefully so. "Stay here," his father had said, voice thick with fear and determination in equal measure. They pounded on the door, but he forced himself to stay still in this strange new form, staring glassy-eyed at her father. His breath quickened, came through in exhausted gasps, but he didn't flee.

 

Then the door lurched inwards, crashing against the floor. Light filled the dark room just enough for the silhouettes to be visible against the wall as the attackers poured in. The clash of weapons and two of them fell dead in a spray of crimson until Sae'lethan's blades clattered to the floor and he was thrown to the ground.

 

They killed him slowly, with dozens of small wounds. It was stay limp, like he said, or the ruse would be discovered, and he would die too. He couldn't do anything as, again and again, the father struggled against his attackers, and again and again, the slid blades across his flesh, each cut drawing more and more blood. They let him twitch during his death throes, seizing and bleeding, and then he was glassy-eyed too.

 

=======================================

 

Nawen shot a glance ahead to see if she'd be able to spot anything in the dark, and that's when she saw him. The same robed figure that killed Heidi and destroyed the oasis. "Oh no," she said quietly as she looked back at Conall, horror visible on her face, "It's him. The man from the oasis."

 

For a brief moment she stood still, unsure what to do. A part of her wanted to go back to the camp and alert the others, but the camp was too far away. Fully aware that it wasn't the best idea, Nawen took her bow, notched an arrow and aimed it at Silithus.

 

At Nawen’s revelation and the sight of the foul abomination attacking Weyland and Dri, Conall was filled with a primal rage. Before he knew it, it had consumed him, and he willingly gave in to the transformation that was imminent. Pieces of his armor went flying; his blade dropped from his hand, and, in seconds, there was a tall white werewolf standing where the paladin had been mere breaths before. In a desperate attempt to keep Silithus from dealing any more damage to his comrades, Conall dropped into a sprint on all fours, leaping at their attacker with fangs and claws bared.

 

Nawen stepped to the side as Conall transformed into his werewolf form. She had seen him in that form but never witnessed him transforming, but whatever she thought or felt about it wasn't important now. Dri and Weyland were in danger, and there was no time to waste. Quickly, she aimed an arrow at Silithus's ribs, but instead of waiting to see if she missed or hit the target, the drow notched and shot another arrow, this time aiming higher.

 

=======================================

 

A sound? But not a memory...Silithus looked up, and saw only a flash of white before pain exploded in his flesh. Time seemed to slow as Nawen’s arrows whistled past Conall’s right ear and just under his torso; as the white beast made contact with the robed man’s body, he latched on with terrible claws and shining-fanged maw, sinking his teeth deep into the attacker’s shoulder. Nawen’s arrows managed to slip right between Silithus’s ribs and just under his collarbone as the werewolf collided with him, sending him tumbling into the dirt. Despite this distraction, the robed man managed to throw up an Interposing Hand to block a third arrow before Nawen could do any more ranged damage – an arrow which would have struck him directly in the neck had the hand not stopped it with an odd thunking noise.

 

Conall tore at the man’s flesh, shredding his robes with his claws, but his assault did nothing to stop the fiery blast that came from Silithus’s fingertips. The force of it threw Conall backwards ten feet, searing flesh and fur, eliciting a howl of pain from him as the hide and hair of the werewolf’s chest was blackened.

 

As Nawen released the third arrow she noticed that something prevented it from hitting the target. He must have cast some protective spell on himself which made her ranged attacks useless now. Not being able to cast any spells herself, she set aside her bow and drew her sword. Fighting with her blade won't be easy, especially with Conall attacking the robed man and she didn't want to hit the paladin, but she couldn't let the foul man escape so easily, either.

 

With her blade at the ready, Nawen dashed towards Silithus just as he unleashed another spell which blasted the white werewolf off. "Conall!" She exclaimed as she saw the paladin landing on the ground. She wanted to go and check on him, as well as on Dri and Weyland but instead she focused on the attacker, now angrier than before.

 

Silithus was bleeding profusely, and yet there was still a wicked smirk on his face as he laughed, laughed at the damage he had done and that he had received. There was nothing but evil in his blank, diseased eyes, nothing but pure twisted glee on his deformed face. It enraged the drow ranger all the more, and with lightning speed, she moved forward for a crosswise slash with her blade straight to his abdomen. The sword cut deep, and her vicious follow-up strike would have been fatal had magic not enshrouded the robed man’s form at the last second.

 

=======================================

 

Marie sat on the fringes of the camp, keeping to herself, as was usual for her. A flash of something caught her attention and she looked up sharply, catching the faint glow of blue somewhere in the distance, in upwards of fifty feet away. It looked familiar, almost like the lightning enchantment on Weyland's blade....

Watching it like a hawk, Marie grabbed her bow and slid up to a crouched position silently, taking a few uncertain steps forward.

 

"Marie?" Arland asked, looking at her strangely from beside the campfire.

 

The flash and bang of an explosion, combined with the wailing of a wounded wolf, needed no explanation. Marie disappeared into the bush towards the battle, already nocking an arrow. Arland's startled curse was drowned out by the sounds of battle as what was a quiet struggle in the dark suddenly became far more conspicuous.

 

The instant Marie caught sight of the robed monster from the oasis, she took aim and fired, aiming for his chest. Her arrow flew true, but it shattered against a translucent black mass long before it reached its target. Growling and firing another arrow yielded the same effect, but just as she turned to flank the magical wall, there was a flash of light and she was thrown off her feet. She hit the dirt screaming; her eyes felt like they were on fire.

 

Argyros, alerted by the screaming and sounds of distant battle, roused the others who were asleep or occupied, drawing his own bow and knocking an arrow. Rhaine, Zorica, and Abby followed the direction of the screaming to glimpse Nawen kneeling protectively over Conall’s white werewolf form, which had been severely burned by a fire spell of some sort, Weyland out cold on the ground, Dri writhing in agony, and Marie - the source of the wailing – laying in the dirt, clutching at her eyes.

 

"I'll rip you apart for that!" Arland roared. He brandished his swords, blades awhirl with flame. The translucent hand tried to keep him back, but he swiped at it with both weapons, and their enchanted nature allowed the blows to do harm. The hand disappeared and Arland hit the ground running, charging at the wretch with a vicious snarl etched into his features. Just as he was closing in, Silithus lashed out with telekinetic force, and he was hurled backwards almost thirty feet. He hit the ground and rolled, stopping suddenly when he slammed into a tree, taking Sybille's legs out from under her as he went. She fell to the dirt hard, but got right back up and kept running, deciding that checking to see if her brother was alive now just meant they were both to attack.

 

Rhaine instantly recognized the mauled, bloody figure as that of the same foul man who had attacked them in the oasis. She snarled and brandished her blade, green flames coming to life along its length, “You! Come back for more, have you? You must have a wish for death! And I shall grant it!”

 

Silithus was reluctant to discontinue such a battle. So much pain, both received and inflicted....he felt like he'd never belonged anywhere more. But he couldn't hope to face the entire band of "heroes" at once, and it wouldn't do to have this be the last time he received a treat such as this. He grinned, wheezing, and kicked himself off the ground into the air again, his Overland Flight spell having a long ways to go before ending.

 

"I've already left my mark." He said, as he suddenly went airborne. But again, it wouldn't do for him to just leave it at that. Might as well show them how much he appreciated their company...

 

Annette was right behind Sybille, but even seeing the fireball coming she couldn't find cover in time. But she was worried for her friend, who would take the bulk of the blast, as she was right in front of it.

 

"Sybille!" She cried, but the warrior was already reacting. She grabbed Annette and tackled her to the ground just as the fireball hit....and nothing happened.

 

"What in the hells?" The warrioress hissed. "Why isn't it-"

 

Then it exploded.

 

Silithus waited until he could make out many potential rescuers as they made their way towards the site of the battle. When they were as close as he thought they would get to the glowing spark on the ground, he released the seal on it, and the flash was bright even fifty feet in the air, lighting some of the foliage on fire. Then he turned away and flew off into the night, going as fast as he could. He needed a chance to heal this bite or he would bleed to death, as he recalled when he was dazed by a wave of fatigue. He nearly lost focus on his flight spell and plunged to the earth far below.

 

Meanwhile, Sybille's body shielded Annette from most of the blast. The shockwave sent them both rolling through the grass, with the Grey losing the grip on her maul as she went. They landed beside each-other, having landed uncomfortably on some thick tree roots.

 

"Ow." Sybille spluttered, half laughing and half wincing. "I think I hit my head on my hammer. And there's no way I'm not burnt after that."

 

Zorica and Rhaine both had been blasted off their feet as well; they had not been as close as Sybille and Annette, but they were close enough to feel the heat, and they were knocked to the ground as Silithus gave them a parting gift. Abby, with her monk’s swiftness, had managed to avoid the blast entirely, and she stood by with her mouth hanging open, “Who…was that?”

 

Her question was left unanswered as Nawen’s voice yelled out, “Conall is hurt badly, and so is Marie! We need healers!”

 

Rhaine scrambled to her feet, shaking off dirt and pebbles as she jogged over to where Conall’s white form lay. The werewolf, having no strength to transform back, merely lay on his back and whimpered in agony as the black burns on his chest continued to sear him, his flesh mangled, and the distinct smell of singed hair filled the air. His body shuddered violently, and his blue eyes glazed over from shock…

 

With Silithus's spell having ended the instant Conall tackled him, Dri had laid in a daze for the entirety of the fight, disoriented and confused. She furiously tried to work out what was happening. The fireball detonated with enough force to roll her over a few times, but it was far enough away to have not caused any real harm. Beside her, Weyland was out for the count, holding his head and gnashing his teeth.

 

"That didn't happen to me!" He muttered to himself. "That's not me! None of these are me!" Tears streamed down his face as he squirmed. "Which of these are mine?!?!"

[josh900]

Zaph squawked angrily at Rhaine's comment, finding the comparison to humanoids rather insulting. He ran off and took flight as Leif chortled at the display. "Aww, I don't think he liked that."

 

As the attack became noticeable, Lucas and Azuris both followed Rhaine and the others in an attempt to give aid. Their efforts were quickly squashed by the delayed fireball, the blast of which knocked them both flat on their backs, gasping for the air that was knocked out of them.

 

As this all occurred Leif stayed by the campfire, watching with an intrigued expression. "Well that certainly is a thing that's happening there." He said before witnessing Silithus's retreat. Deciding to deal with this in a pragmatic way instead of running off into the dark after some threat that he knew nothing about, Leif chose instead, to begin cooking dinner.

[FreemasonGamer]

Rameses had just finished tending to his weapons when he noticed Jarl pick his head up and peer into the night; the fire genasi figured Jarl had been disturbed by the other members of the group or by some of the desert's many night-dwellers. However, the camel never ceased peering ominously into the darkness that shrouded their campsite. Soon, Rameses felt increasingly anxious as more and more of his new-found adventuring associates frequently disappeared into the night. Suddenly, the faint noises of a nearby confrontation followed by the mournful, pained howl of a wolf alerted nearly everyone in the camp that something was very wrong.

 

As the others took up their weapons and rushed towards the fight occurring outside the camp, Rameses did the same as he gripped his longsword with his right hand and his dagger in his left. The flashing lights of magic and enchanted weaponry briefly illuminated the scene as the genasi and the others advanced as swiftly as the could. Before he entered the fray, Rameses muttered a quick, "For Tempus."

 

Rarely did Rameses ever call upon his deity before a fight—as those of Tempus usually thanked him for the fight after it is won—the genasi felt that any battle involving magic would be quite more difficult than the average brawl.

 

Figures flew past Rameses as he followed the others towards the fight, and he recognized the distinct noxious stench of charred flesh and singed fur hanging in the air. Resting on the ground near a horribly mauled robed figure as a wolf-like creature, but it clearly wasn't a mere wolf. Furrowing his brows in confusion, Rameses focused on the robed man himself as his panicked and infuriated companions spat and shouted death threats to figure. Stuck with numerous arrows and torn asunder by presumably the bloodstained beast that lied not too far away, the mage wore an expression of sheer madness derived from agony and pleasure. The insanity that lingered in the mage's sunken-in, dulled eyes struck Rameses in such a way that aroused fear in his heart, a unusual sensation that rattled the warrior of Tempus.

 

Before he could act any further, Rameses saw the incoming fireball cast upon them by the mage; the genasi stumbled backwards, only to find that the fireball did not detonate on impact several feet away. However, the ball of flame exploded into a great inferno mere moments after it had landed, tossing Rameses and his fellows back several more feet. The heat of the blast seared his skin, but the elemental blood of being a fire genasi was Rameses' protection against being too terribly burnt. Tumbling backward, Rameses gritted his teeth and finally came to a stop; he felt battered and bruised from being thrown back by the blast, and a sharp pain radiated from his left arm. Rameses had cut himself with his own dagger while he tumbled across the ground. The disorientation of being tossed about like a ragdoll left the fighter lying in the sand as the mage flew into the night sky and disappeared.

 

Once he finally got his bearings and shook off the daze, Rameses snapped, "Gods-forsaken mages..."

 

Staggering to his feet, Rameses held the bleeding cut on his left forearm before grabbing his longsword off the ground. He looked around at their afflicted, incapacitated adventurers and hissed one of the few Ignan words he knew, "Damnit..." A familiar anger boiled up within the genasi as his crimson szuldur markings flared slightly; what bone did some random mage have to pick with him and his fellow travelers, and what spineless coward of a mage would leave a battle unfinished? Finally, Rameses mustered his voice, which was tense with emotion, primarily anger. "For the love of all nine hells, who was he?!"

 

Seeing so many of them writhing on the ground in pain or simply motionless, his frustration quickly grew. "We cannot let this go unanswered; we have to go and finish that shameless, pathetic bastard!"

Edited July 22, 2015 by FreemasonGamer

[Diamondragon62]

Codswell disappeared into the undergrowth and silently drew his dagger and proceeded carefully towards the fight keeping low and hidden for a surprise attack. He watched for signs. A burning in his head as he felt the memories flood him, but his burning passion pushed him through the worst as he threw off the memories and pain as he did his best to pursue the one who had caused his newfound friends pain. "It was over in a matter of minutes. I'll make sure his death is over in three seconds!" He angrily murmured to himself, "Tymora, give me one clean shot."

[tokyobiohazard]

Aera, who had been loafing around on the edges of the camp, waiting for Lucas to show up for their sparring session, spotted Lucas and Azuris on the opposite end of the camp heading into the forest. She shook her head and set off in a jog to catch up with them. If Lucas thought he was going to get out of this, he was----

Aera froze in place as the forest was suddenly engulfed in a flash of light. Trees flickered with tongues of flame that shot into the sky, only getting worse as the moments passed by. She looked around herself, noticing that most of the party was missing, and the sound of screams and moans emanated from the forest. Hazel appeared from inside one of the tents nearby, awoken by the explosion.

Both of them broke into a sprint for the trees, but Hazel stopped short as embers fell from the treetops and singed her. She looked up at Aera and bit her lip, continuing on with caution as Aera continued as quickly as she could, covering the distance easily and pushing aside burning branches with her hands. The smell of burned hair filled her nostrils.

What Aera saw floored her, but she didn't have time to stare and take it all in. She rushed toward Conall and Rhaine and said without a thought, "I'll carry him out. I don't think anyone else is strong enough while he's in this form."

Hazel, however, upon arriving to the clearing with seared feet and foliage, was unsure who needed the most help, until she spotted Marie, clutching at her face and screaming. She firmly placed her hand on Marie's shoulder, and Marie flinched under Hazel's touch. "Marie. It's Hazel. What happened?"

Marie's voice was shrill, trying to calm herself down enough to speak coherently. "He...some kind of magic, I can't see. And it hurts, they're burning."

As Marie lowered her hands from her face, Hazel gasped. The girl's eyes were clouded over, irises and pupils nowhere to be found. Her eyelids were shredded, there were various cuts surrounding her eyes and on her cheeks, and it was all bleeding profusely. Hazel cast the strongest healing spell she knew, but it was only enough to heal the wounds and her eyelids. Her eyes remained a milky gray. "Does it still hurt, Marie?"

She shuddered. "Somewhat. It's better than it was before. I'll be alright for the moment."

Hazel said, while casting a healing spell on Arland, whose only major injury seemed to be a few broken ribs, "Rameses, I know you're upset, but if you really want to help, see what's wrong with Weyland and Dri! They're obviously hurt, but I can't tell how... Arland, anything that my spell didn't fix?"

"No..." He grunted, gritting his teeth and sitting himself up. "I think you got everything. Pretty sure my bones are back in the right place. Thanks."

Edited May 5, 2015 by tokyobiohazard