Baldur's Gate : The Sword Coast Chronicles : NWN2 Persistent World

VIII: Silver Glance

Another thunderclap rang throughout the forest. A bird landed near Deacon - holding on to a flower with its thin, stubby beak. It reminded Deacon of the swallow that had landed in his windowsill earlier that morn. And... was that Deacon's daffodil it was holding? Before Deacon could think more of it, the swallow took off with beating wings - dropping the flower in flight - as if startled by something. Something that stirred on the other end of the clearing. A shadow. A sound. Then - suddenly - Deacon caught a gleaming in the corner of his eye. It was the reflection of sunlight; as if caught by a mirror, or - No! Metal. A silver glance that grew stronger as a thundercloud rolled up overhead, meeting with the sun and ultimately engulfing it - creating an eerie bright pale light that crept across the clearing.
It stood no more than ten meters away - in the poor cover of a bramblebush - a foul, grinning monster. The remnants of cold morning air turned into vicious steam as it drew breath and snorted heavily, savouring Deacon's smell within its nostrils and upon its sickeningly yellow tongue. A thick muckus ran from its fleshy lips; dripping down like the raindroplets from Deacon's hat. It revealed an irregular row of sharp teeth. Then it held up its iron blade.
"Orcs." Deacon exclaimed under a deep sigh. The small bearded fellow slid down Mumblebark's (the oak) root and stood between his animal friends and the vicious creature. Then more appeared in the western edge of the clearing. One drew closer from Deacon's left - a spindly and sinewy Orc wearing nothing but a beige loincloth and holding a short wooden spear topped with a stone head - another came from Deacon's right - a short and stocky Orc, covered in course hair and wielding an axe the size of an adult badger. Nibbles chittered and looked worried.

"Indeed, Nibbles. They match our numbers."

---



The leftmost Orc let out a high-pitched shriek, causing many crows to fly up from the trees surrounding the clearing. A particularly large rook - near bald and weathered - refused to budge. It sat calmly on a large gnarled branch and peered down at the Orc with unforgiving eyes. It cawed angrily as the gaunt and sinewy Orc looked to its master in the centre, before it charged forward towards Deacon. The Orc's legs were long and spindly - Deacon could see its bones almost protruding the flesh. The creature looked malnourished and maltreated, as it was covered in open wounds and poorly treated scars. There was a look of fear and obedience as it looked over at its master. Deacon had a look of pity on his face for a moment, which quickly made way for disgust, as the gaunt Orc was now charging at him in rage and in hunger.
The skinny and gaunt Orc was still charging as Deacon looked over at the large master by the bramblebush. Clearly it had sent this poor creature to probe Deacon's strength - or lack there-of. Deacon would not give in to the master Orc's curiousity. Instead he lifted up his staff. The humongous rook turned its head and eyed the Amber stone on Deacon's staff. Then it took off. It swooped down, due to its massive weight, but soared up quickly after the heated air from the clearing hit the underside of its wings. The Rook lifted up. Then the large Rook struck down on the sinewy Orc. Peck. It hit the Orc on the top of its head. Peck. Its sharp and long beak hit the Orc in the eye.
The poor savage screamed in pain. Gnaw - Nibbles caught the Orc's left leg and pulled the Orc off its feet. The rook swept in once more, running its sharp talons across the poor Orc's back. The beast lay screaming, before scrambling up to its feet and 'turning tail', heading back into the forest. It dropped its spear.

"Nrhan'g nohhapho! Little ahnr - Filthy servant of Elvenkind! Murkilar will feast on your flesh, tear every bit from your pathetic bones!" The fat and large Orc down the centre raged. "I think not, servant of Gruumsh. Your try at terror and fear will not find foothold here." Deacon stated in return. "Remove thyself from the Misty Forest and head back to the moors that so gracefully welcomed thee amongst bog and filth!"

Long have been the time since Fhaeo, the newly Akh’Aegis, had made any public apperance in the village, some might even have began to suspect him to have left permanently or some ill fate befallen him. Yet one morning he strolls into the village, whistling a merry tune to himself.
Those who know him well would quickly spot that his physique looks slightly different, while anyone who have heard of him would ask themselves where his trademark shield have gone. Gone is also his heavy armor of irontree bark, leafs and roots, replaced by one of fine elven make, the material appearing to be some exotic metal.

Moving through the village, he makes his way to the training area at the far back and, to many curios eyes watching him, unbelts not one, but two warhammers, his trademark weapon. With a devastating flurry of attacks, he dances in front of the training dummy, striking blows that make the wood crack and splinter.

Chest heaving and sweat rolling down his face, he stops the furious assault after almost a full minute, staring at his work for a few moments before turning on his heel and walking towards the home that he and Raven share. As he walks away the training dummy crumbles to kindling.
"Might have to get that one replaced," he mutters to himself with a smile on his lips.

It is near midday before he re-emerges from the home. His fine armor replaced by his green leather tunic. Making his way through the village, he picks up on everything that have happened lately and eventually seeks out Mendel, a slight frown on his features as he approaches.
"Brother," he offers a nod of the head in respect, "What is this I hear about Ithilwen? How can I be of service?"

Listening to Mendel's words, Fhaeo nods slightly and glances around the village to take in any changes that might have come over the place in his absense. His attention return to Mendel at the suggestion he seek out Ithilwen and make preparations to avenge Andariel. "I will go speak with her right away then. I will also keep the training mission in mind."

He starts to turn away to seek out Ithilwen, but stops only halfway through the motion, turning back to Mendel. He looks at him for a moment before speaking again. "You have noticed the change that have come over me, so I think it only fair that I explain what have happened." He smiles to Mendel before he continues, glancing out to the village once again as he start to speak.

"You no doubt remember the training that I often spoke of before my absence. This is the result of that training. I have, with a bit of help from a friend with whom I share a connection that I do not quite understand myself, spent a full day preparing for a transition from who I was to what I wished to become." He turns slightly from side to side to let Mendel get a better look at the change to his physique.

"In the end I had to give up some of what I was in order to become something else. Intense meditation and a ritual led by my friend, while Raven oversaw it, let me reach into myself and start a series of changes." He pauses to take a breath of air and let Mendel digest the words, continueing only after he see Mendel recognize the truth of what he is telling him.

"It have taken several tendays for the change to be complete, but the result is now that I am equal parts strength and finesse where before it was only strength. My mind is also sharper and I am better at solving problem as they arise, rather than just charging forward with my shield held high." He smiles at the last bit of self-irony and pats Mendel on the shoulder.

"I will seek out Ithilwen and then see about planning a training mission so you can see the changes in me for yourself." He says before offering a respectful nod of his head and turning to seek out Ithilwen, whistling a merry tune as he goes along.

Early in the morning, having hear Ithilwen's tale the day before, Fhaeo emerges from the home he and Raven share. Clad only in simple breeches and a thin shirt, feet bare, he perform a series of exercises to stretch his body and keep it limber. Looking out over the village as he goes through his exercises, he cannot help but smile as he see the rays of the morning sun pierce through the trees and canopy setting grass, bush, wood, stone and metal alike alight like diamonds as it plays it in the the layer of morning dew covering everything.

With a smile he finishes his morning exercise and rolls his shoulders before allowing himself to relax with a sigh that forms a small cloud of thin fog from his exhale. Taking a moment to savor the surroundings he turn back inside the home, emerging a minute late with his armor and warhammers in his embrace along with a few tools and a set of fresh clothes. He carries himself and his belongings to the waterfall and up to the small pond. There he sits down and begin to clean his equipment with great care while he reflects on what Ithilwen and others had told him.

Later, as the minutes turn into hours, his mind turn to the task of setting up training missions in preparation for the retribution against the White Dragon and, hopefully, he muses with a wry smile, avenge him without further casualties or injuries too grave to be healed. He goes over various locations in his mind and eventually settles on a few places that might suffice, each one more difficult than the last. "They are going to need to be tested before they can be pitted against the beast," he mutters to himself as he settles on the location for the final training mission.

Two hours after he began, he finishes cleaning his equipment and sets it aside along with the tools he used to clean it. Sniffing his shirt, he winches at the rancid smell and start to pull it over his head. He stops as a thought flitters through his mind and a smile form on his lips. Standing up he does a running start and leaps out over the waterfall to dive head first into the pond below making only a faint splash. A few seconds later he emerges from the pond, water draining off his body and clothes as he walks up to top of the waterfall again.

Realizing that it might not be long before the rest of village is awake, he quickly changes out of his wet clothes and spends a few minutes to dry himself by rolling in the short grass. Then he dresses and moves to a nearby bush to wrench the water out of his wet clothes. Picking all of his belongings up he lets out a shrill whistle and walks towards his home. He emerges yet again a few minutes later, having donned a his armor and put on a pair of boots and strapped his warhammers into his belt. Outside he is greeted by a wolf of dark-grey colors. He ruffles the wolfs fur behind the ears a bit and motions for it to follow. "Time for a patrol, Teesa. Then we will see about drafting those training missions." He smiles as he walks out into the Misty Forest the wolf at his side.

Fhaeo wakes early in the morning and goes through his morning ritual of exercises while enjoying the scenery presented to him by the village in the rays of the morning sun. After his exercises are completed he goes to one of the crafting areas and set to work on replacing the training dummy he demolized a few days back. With his sharper intellect, honed through intense study and training in the past months, it doesn't take him long to recreate a training dummy, finishing an hour before midday.

After carrying the training dummy to the training area he picks up two lengths of wood from the ground, remnants of the broken dummy. Using the lengths of wood as simple clubs he tests the durability of the one he crafted by taking a few swings at it. Satisfied that it will not fall apart he picks up the rest of the remains and deposits them with the rest of the firewood. "One task done, two more remain," he says to himself as he goes to the Council Hall. Once there he begin to draft the training missions he thought up the previous day, having given them some additional thought.

Having already settled on where he wishes to conduct the training missions it doesn't take him long to put them on paper. First he drafts up a trip to the nearby Serpent Hills with the goal being to slay the dragon residing there. Then he goes on to draft the second mission, also a repeat mission, one that previously failed due to unforseen circumstances and untimely death among the group - the Frost Keep. Finally he draft up the most dangerous mission - a twofold mission to the Greypeak Mountains, the goal to pit everyone against the Fire Giant King there and, if there is still fight left in the men and women under his command, the Balor. "Might as well stop by and say hello to an old friend," he mutters with a slight grimace as he rubs at his chest.

Stepping outside the Council Hall, posters in hand, he waves a ranger over and hands her the posters. "Put these up in the village." She reads through the poster, looking at him with wide eyes as she reaches the bottom. "Spread the word as well," he says confidently and nods for her to be off. He smiles as the ranger walks off muttering to herself about 'impossible odds' and that the new Ahk'Aegis 'surely must be jesting'.

After a stop at his home to share lunch with Raven and speak of the upcoming training missions he goes in search of Andariel. He stops by the tavern first, emerging a few minutes later with a canister of hot tea and two cups. He approaches Andariel with a warm smile on his lips as he spots him. "There you are, the village snowman," he grins to him as he sits down beside him, "how are you my friend?" While listening to Andariel's answer, he pours a cup of piping hot tea for the both of them, handing one to Andariel.

Not yet having had the chance to meet up with the Archmage at his request, Fhaeo returns to the village in the afternoon and approaches one of the rangers asking for the whereabouts of the Archmage. Hearing that he is not present at the moment, Fhaeo moves up to the top of the waterfall, taking up position at the vantage point where he can see all of the village. While he waits there, he busies himself with tending to his armor and warhammers, cleaning some of the grit and dirt off them.

Nearly two hours pass before he spots the Archmage arrive in the village and head for the tavern. As he makes his way down from the vantage point above the waterfall one of the rangers approach him, stating that the Archmage requests his presence in the tavern. With a nod he thanks the ranger for the message and continues to the tavern. As he step through the doorway, he notices the Archmage sitting at the table on the raised dais and moves toward him. "Archmage. You wanted to speak?" he states as much as asks as he steps up to him. The Archmage, looking rather upset, perhaps even a little angry, greets him and goes on to ask a series of questions.

The questions the Archmage ask mainly revovle around Ithilwen and what it means to be a Dharashan. He also asks what actions Fhaeo would take to ensure the safety of both the village and those who call it their home from any outside source that might wish harm upon them, particularly over-zealous paladins. The Archmage's demeanor changes several times over the course of the questions, while Fhaeo remains perfectly calm and answers each question as best he can. As they part, nearly an hour later, the Archmage looks more at ease, though Fhaeo looks a little concerned from the many facets to the Archmage he have seen in such a short time.

Accompanied by Deacon, Fhaeo lead the group of rangers, diviners and arcanists through the portal stones in the village and into the High Moors. Everything is rather quiet as they make their trek towards their intended goal - the Serpent Hills and the Yuan-Ti inhabiting the area. Occasionally a few Hobgoblins stray too far, but are qiuckly filled with arrows by the rangers Celendul and Raven. A lone Wyvern even have the bad fortune of crossing the group's path, no doubt hoping for a Hobgoblin sandwich, only to find a group of well-armed and well-trained Elves and a singular Gnome instead.

The spirits of the group are high as they approach the trail that will take them from the High Moors and into the jagged hillside known as Serpent Hills. After a brief respite and a moment to share a simple meal, the group is ready once more to follow the trail. But first they need to prepare themselves to the challenges ahead. The air crack and sparkle with displays of power, both arcane and divine, as spells are cast, wands triggered, scrolls read and potions imbibed. Soon after the group is ready, and at the command of the Ahk'Aegis they move out as a single unit with those prefering to fight toe-to-toe with their enemies at the front, the rangers in the middle and the arcanists and diviners taking up the rear. Deacon, the merry sprite that he is, wanders back and forth among the group, hightening their spirits as they go, his wise words a source of comfort and clarity.

The group moves with great speed and skill as it leaves the trail leading to the Sepent Hills. Arriving at last, Fhaeo orders Celundel to take point and lead them through the hills, relying on his sense of direction and ability in reading the surroundings to take them to the Yuan-Ti and eventually the underground complex where one of the great Black Dragons makes its lair. For a group as skilled as the one now making its way through the canyons, the Yuan-Ti prove to be of little challenge and they fall in great numbers before the group. Almost at the entrance to the underground complex, the group encounters the body of a Tiefling. For a while they discuss whether or not to raise her or take her somewhere else for others to find, until the voice of Deacon seals the matter and they move on, leaving the body behind, "Deacon knows this one ...Not exactly good company."

Entering the underground complex through the cave opening, the group quickly make their way through the tunnels and corridors filled with Naga and other serpentine creatures. Even these mighty enemies prove little challenge for the group, their sense of teamwork and how to best compliment eachother growing with every skirmish they engange in. Arrows fly, swords slice, hammers pound and magic crackles as serpent after serpent is laid low. Soon the group finds itself before the ominous doors that lead to lower floor where the Dragon makes its lair. "Prepare yourselves, a large battle awaits us," Fhaeo commands and then watches as the rest of the group begin to prepare for the battle ahead. Soon after, with a few smiles at Deacon's interest in an underground root, the group is ready once more. Fhaeo pushes the doors open and rushes in, followed by the rest of the group.

A mighty roar greet the group as they rush across the broken stone floor. With thunderous steps the Dragon meet their charge. As arrows, swords, magic and hammers strike at the great Dragon, it bellows another large roar that shakes the entire cavern, threatening to bring the Elves to their knees. But not a single one faulters. Relying on and gaining strength from eachother's presence. With great blasts of arcane energy the Archmage Kael and the First Mage Ithilwen strike at the Dragon, tearing off chunks of scales and striking the soft flesh beneath. Arrows from Celundel and Raven are quick to find those vulnerable spots, while Kai and Fhaeo strike at the Dragon's underside and legs, dodging fangs, claws and tailswipes, even scoring the occasional painful blow to the Dragon. Meanwhile, Deacon darts among the group, lending his aid wherever it is needed, keeping the others alive despite the grave odds.

With one last painfilled roar, the Dragon collapses. The fight was long and arduous, but the group were triumphant. Cries of victory and mirthfilled cheers fill the caverns as the group celebrates their victory for a few moments. Then the reality seems to snap back to them and they remember where they are. Quickly they take whatever they can carry from among the Dragon's hoard and begin the treck back home. Few serpents cross their path as they make their way out of the complex, and the few that do, are felled before they can hiss out the words "Intrudersss!" As they near the exit, the group encounters the corpse of the Tiefling again, along with that of an Elf that some recognize as Seldruin. Once more the Tiefling is left behind, but Fhaeo picks up the fallen Elf and carries him out of the complex, protected by the others in the group.

Soon after the group emerges from the complex and the fallen Elf is raised. Words of worry are shared of their kin and how he might fare after his fall and resurrection. Although the training was a great success, finding the body of a dead Elf put a damper on the mood of the group. Soon after they make their way to the nearby boat and pushes off into the river, letting the stream carry them all the way back to Boareskyr. From there they start the short treck back home, a few leaving for other errands, the training of the day complete.

Finally... The dark wizard was staring towards the fireplace in the far corner of the room as he heard faintly the sound of heavy boots well outside the Tavern door. The soldier must have been somewhere between the river and the entrance itself, but he could already hear him distinctly, his senses much keener since he returned from the dead. After more than one month he does not show his face here, the minimum I could do was to make him wait a couple of candlemarks... He chuckled mirthlessly, then he became dead serious as he anticipated the conversation to come...

"Archmage. You wanted to see me?" Fhaeo's demeanor was composed, a warrior's calm in front of the battle. The Aegis had no idea what this was about, but he was sure the muscular elf was worried under his blank mask...Good... he thought with a terrifying smile as he kept staring into the flames. "Indeed, Akh'Aegis. Tell me...Who are we?" He kept the surge of irritation he felt out of his words. Barely. Fhaeo thought for a moment, then replied coldly "I will tell you, if you lower those flames...you risk burning the whole place down". Kael could not believe his ears, and turned around with a surprised expression:I am not sure what I am more surprised of...this fool thinking I take orders from him, that I do not have my powers under complete control, or that it would take me any more than the blink of an eye to incinerate this place...amazing.... His lips curved into a sardonic smile as he quickly masked his expression: "Why, of course...".

"We are isolationist Elves of the North, striving to live closer to tradition an-...". He barely listened to the rest. One nail on the coffin.... He gripped his fists as he asked the next question: "And your title? What does that mean, Fhaeo?". Still calm, although slightly taken aback, the valiant warrior replied: "I am the shield of Dharasha, sworn to defend the village and its denizens from every threat within or without". His lips curled into a bloodless smile.Ah...that's what I wanted to hear, yes.... "So, in light of this, how do you explain the feelings my bat familiar conveyed me, in regard to your treatment of our First Wizard? Did you imply we are better off without our sister, and that she should take her problems elsewhere? Is this how you protect us?".

Still calm and unflinching, the warrior replied blankly "No...that is not what I meant. I just observed, that should her condition manifest, some overzealous paladin or any like-minded individual could think w-..." he stopped listening as he controlled another fit of rage. I hope he realizes valor, friendship, blood and good looks still do not mean safety when you're too stupid to live. Stupidity is a capital sin when dealing with me...and I am the executioner... "Did you not say we keep to ourselves? What do we care of outsiders' insinuations?" The soldier, unfazed by the mage's words, replied: "It could mean potential threats to the village. It could give the impression elves are evil, tainted and involved with necromancy". Fair enough, he thought coldly, One step away from "stupid enough to deserve extinction" phase....

"Did it ever occur to you, that the cabal known as the Coven of Darkness is formed almost exclusively by our kin? Also, do you expect me to believe paladin orders are a threat? If you are so worried about them, I will deal with the matter, should it arise...". Fhaeo took a deep breath "For the Coven, I know it now. As for the rest, you should cons-". The Archmage raised his bloodshot eyes to meet his gaze as he interrupted him "Are you meaning to say Dharasha is more important than the Dharashans? What if your wife were at stake? Would you be so ready to claim the same?". Fhaeo's calm cracked ever so slightly. "That is not what I meant. You are twisting my words". The arcanists' dark gloved fists gripped once more, as a trickle of force cracked the massive wooden table beside him If I lose the unsteady grip I have on my limited patience, your words are not the only thing I will twist...

"Tell me I am wrong, Fhaeo, and tell me you are not ready to abandon one of us that has a problem for some sort of "greater good" notion, because that is not what I came back from the Dead to defend. That would actually disappoint me extremely, and nobody wants that..." The massive elf replied confidently "I would never abandon any of us, Archmage. And whatever threat will come, I will protect us. All of us. Even from ourselves." Kael smiled coldly Very convincing...you may live. For now...don't make me regret my kindness... "Thank you, Fhaeo. I feel much better now. I will see you later for the training...but first, I need to find our sister before nightfall...otherwise, all will be lost..." And pray nothing happened to her in the meanwhile...

He stalked away in a whirl of black robes, a dark cloud of silk gliding towards the exit leaving a thoughtful Akh'Aegis behind him, looking concerned.

Circle of Light

"Now, Deacon!" A dark robed mage yelled as a vaporous shadow appeared. "Yaaaah!" Deacon came running out from the underbrush - his tiny feet a whirlpool of rapid movement - lighting a series of small spherical stones with his magic as he ran by them. The circle of light closed around Kael, Ithilwen, Mendel, Grimm and the others that stood quietly in the centre of a large circle. Deacon leaped into the circle as well - just in time as shadows began to engulf the entirety of the clearing around them. It crept through the trees and tall shrubs and prevented any daylight from reaching the earth. A thick, black murky fog. Many small forest creatures ran in fear.
"Uh-oh! The shadow is not trapped within - but we are." Deacon spoke as the shadows grew stronger and started to creep closer to the stones of light. The shadows had trouble reaching them within the circle; but for how long they did not know. A great Nightwalker materialised infront of the circle and several lights suddenly dimmed. "The circle..." Deacon warned the others. "...we must- " Before Deacon could finish his sentence, the dark robed Kael stepped out from their sanctuary of light and charged at the shadows. He vanished under an onslaught of dark claws and long black talons.
Deacon sighed out loud, then rose his little gnarled staff up in the air and conjured forth a powerful weave of light. "Sunburst!" Deacon cried out in ancient Espruar - and the clouds overhead parted and several great rays of light shone down where Kael stood. Being hit by the light, the shadowy creatures appeared to be in pain for a moment - giving Kael some much needed respite to rejuvinate his wards - but the shadows recovered quickly and continued to batter the mage - his wards lit up and dissipated quickly.
"What is happening?" Ithilwen looked and sounded distraught. She was blindfolded, yet the bright lights still seemed to cause her some pain, as if the fabric of the fold could not stop the light from piercing into her soul. A soul beset by darkness. "Where is Kael?!" She cried. "Where is he?!" - Deacon tried to comfort her, but was too distracted to make a convincing case. "Worry not, dear Ithilwen. Everything is under control and- " Deacon's words were again cut short by another yell: "Now! Come forth from your cover and attack the shadows!" Mendel cried out to the hidden force of Elves up on the northern ridge. The Elves charged down and joined the fray. Among them were Nai and Elethineth. The stones of light were all but gone and those that stood within its failing circle now too rushed out to meet their shadowy enemies. Several more Nightwalkers appeared to fight the group. Battle was joined: The Dwarf, Grimm Oathbreaker, charged headlong into the walkers with his powerful weapon and iron determination. WHAM!; A shadow came crashing down as the Dwarf had hit it full-force. Mendel moved quickly and quietly through the fighting, stabbing the dark creations left and right, always on the move. A hint of light reflected in his blades before they disappeared into the black mass of two Nightwalkers. The Nightwalkers fell to the earth and turned into a thin vapour. On the far end of the field, Elethineth and Nai fought with a ferocity rarely seen. Their attacks sent several shadowy creatures screaming to Myrkul's wall! Deacon tried to stay as close to the remaining stones of light as he could, but ultimately darted off to provide aid where possible; casting healing spells and throwing endless barrages of magical missiles at their foes. A shadow hit Deacon with its mighty and razorsharp talons, sending him soaring across the forest floor. Before the shadow could stomp Deacon, a ferocious wolf and frenzied badger threw themselves upon it - tearing it apart.




The shadows began to fade away, as their dark manifestations were struck down by the group. As they vanished, it became clear that Kael had fallen to the darkness. His battered remains lay silent on the forest floor - blades of grass covered in thick red substance. Several carried him away to the village, to where their the priest Luthien resided. The rest stood deviantly to face the humongous Nightwalker, which appeared to be the very embodiment of the shadows. A dark essence incarnate. It was tall, darker than the darkest darkness, and loomed over them like a foreboding churchtower, with its voice like the slow ringing of a large and broken bell: "Come, Ithilwen. Join me!" It began to speak with a booming and dangerously beguiling voice. Luring her away from the group and the remaining light. "I will join you in return for Kael's life!" She answered, having removed her blindfold, she now stared directly at the shadowy creature.
Deacon spoke up: "That would be unwise." The little mage rose his staff overhead and a great barrier of light shot up from the earth, forming a powerful wall between them and the shadow. The shadow seemed unamused and appeared to be waiting for Deacon's magic to run its course, after which it could have its way with them. Deacon threw up several more walls of light. "We must leave this place before 'tis too late. Quickly now, take Ithilwen and escort her up to the village!" Angered by the loss of their comrade and irked the desperation of their ordeal, the rest of the group did not seem to want to budge. Finally though, as Deacon's walls of light finally faded and the shadows lunged forth at them, a slow retreat was set in motion; up over the northern ridge and back into the safety of the village. All the while fighting off shadows.

A blow had been dealt. The Shadow had learned that Ithilwen would not be such an easy prize and that the Elves had strength enough to counter its darkness. But surely, this was not the end of it... "It would try again." Deacon thought.

Fhaeo had been away to the south, gathering a few items he needed for the upcoming wedding. His spirit was soaring that day, everything was happening as he had hoped and dreamed for months. Today was a good day, with the last few items procured, it was time to begin preparations in the Glade where the ceremony would be held. Bags in hand, slung over his shoulders, he walked through the portalstones and took but three steps before he could sense it. Something was wrong, very wrong. It was as if the air itself was charged with a saddened energy that screamed out in despair, like the smell of ozone left behind when lightning had struck ground.

Before he had even had the time to start asking himself questions as to what might be the cause of this sensation, one of the trusted rangers under his command came running up to him. "Aegis! It is good to see you back. You must come, quick!" the ranger implored as he moved to take the bags for Fhaeo. "Wait a moment. What is going on, what happened!?" Fhaeo asked the ranger, the sense of wrongness growing in presence as he stood his ground. "I will explain on the way, but please, come with me!" the ranger implored once more before quickly adding a respectful "Aegis."

With a nod, Fhaeo handed one the bags over to the ranger and together they walked through Dharsha while the ranger explained what had happened. All Fhaeo could do was grit his teeth and clench his knuckles so hard they turned white. He didn't ask any questions, didn't comment on anything at all as they walked. He merely listened as the ranger told him everything. As they passed the tavern, Fhaeo stopped and turned to the ranger, extending the other bag to him. "Take both of these to my home, then go find Mendel. Tell him I wish to speak with him as soon as he is able." his voice oddly flat and devoid of any luster at all. The ranger gave him a curious look before nodding once and doing as bid.

Fhaeo watched the ranger go before he himself made his way to the shrine to Rillifane. Once there he hesitated by the doors, taking a deep breath to steel himself, letting it out in a slow exhale. With another deep breath, he pushed the door open and stepped inside, exhaling as the door swung wide. Lu and Ali was not there when he stepped inside, probably off to get themselves something to eat, which made him breathe a sigh of relief, not knowing if he had the emotional strength just then to be confronted with the grief that must be plain on their faces.

Swallowing a lump in his throat, he slowly stepped closer to the comatose Luthien, one step at a time, his feet heavy as if made of lead. Kneeling down in front of Luthien, he took her hand in his, dipping his head to touch the back of her hand. "Forgive me, Cormiira. Luthien. My friend and mentor," he began, his voice a wavering whisper as he fought, futilely so, to hold back his tears of loss, grief and guilt. One by one his tears slowly rolled down his cheeks to land on Luthien's hand as he continued to whisper and pray with his eyes closed.

He did not know how long he stayed like that, minutes, hours, days, it didn't matter. His heart was bleeding and he needed this. He would go to Lady Ele and Ithilwen after, to speak with them and comfort if possible, share their grief if not. When he finally did open his eyes again, he took a moment to steady himself, breathing deep and exhaling long breaths of air. Gently he placed Luthien's hand back on her chest and rose up again, his knees screaming in protest from being locked in the same kneeling position for so long.

With one last look at Luthien he turned around to head outside, only to see Lu and Ali sitting on a bench nearby, a bit of food between them. They must have come back while he was kneeling beside Luthien and he had not heard them. Doing his best to stay strong, as much for their benefit as his, he walked up to them and put a gentle hand on their shoulders. "She will come back to us. If anyone can find a way back, it is her," he said with as much confidence in his words as he could muster. "Still, she will find her way quicker if we guide her by being here with her," he added after a brief glance back to Luthien. With a small, reassuring smile to the both of them, he left the shrine to Rillifane and stepped outside.

Nearly an hour had passed by his estimate of the shadows. "Time to visit Lady Ele or Ithilwen then," he said to himself as he made his way down to the forest floor and set out to find either of them. Letting his feet guide him, not paying any special heed to where he was going, he soon found himself in front of the home that Luthien and Ele shared. "So be it," he muttered to himself as he took a deep breath and knocked on the door.

-Penned by the Elf Kaienrai, sitting outside the abode of the First Mage, reflecting on the events and news he was given.

//edited and reposted below

The figure rose from the mists and shadows whirling low, right above the ground. He was a strange sight, ill attuned with the dark, gloomy landscape of the ghost city: staggering, suffering, thinking, breathing. Alive.

He tried to remember how he had gotten here, and what had happened to him, but the memories were a confused blur of emotions and pain...mostly pain,its dark hooks deep within his pale flesh. A pain so intense it was even more evident now, given its sudden absence. He tried to remember where his robes and equipment were, or his travel grimoire, the most prized of his possessions, but memories of suffering and of triumphant, inhuman screeches were all his ravaged mind could summon of the last...how long had it been?

He was surprised to find his body in overall good conditions, and to be actually able to move properly. He would need it, given the situation: his familiar's bond and, even worse, his gift, had been completely severed. He could not feel the presence of Nightwing any longer, nor invoke the simplest arcanery. Alone in a desperate situation...deep within his mortal enemy's domain...rumors of battle all around him...weakened and defenseless, with only his mind to rely on...he smiled. "Free, at last...You should have killed me when you had the chance, dear friend. I will be back...and I shall be mindful. Make no mistake...".

Turning away from the battle noises and hiding in the shadows (how amusing...) to avoid the occasional walking dead along the way, he headed for the first building looking like a library that he could find on his way towards the city gates. He needed maps...

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

His tunic gashed and matted with blood, he ran towards the lone building, towering on the forest from the high ground provided by a pictoresque rocky formation, as the immense Shadow Mastiff finished off his servant, chopping it to gnashed pieces with growling rage. He managed to get in and shut the gate closed only moments before the deadly hound began pounding on it, his heart racing. He stood there for long moments, leaning with his back against the wall, exhausted. Finally, he had reached the location marked in the scale reproduction of the shadow city and its surrounding forest that he memorized...
He had done so despite the Shadow Mastiffs INSIDE the library, where the model was located...the wraiths guarding the city gates...the perils of the forest...and now, the thrice-damned overgrown shadow pile of escrements which tried to use him as a chew toy. He had done so, despite his ability to weave and his equipment deserted him, and also his supernatural abilities were being less than reliable, often turning against him... "Another wonderful day to add to my recent Seldarine-accursed collection..."

Relying on the very special darkvision he acquired after his unfortunate demise and leaning heavily on the Shadow Staff he had picked up in the city's library, the Archmage made his way through the building's bowels, carefully avoiding the traps and finally reaching what looked like an arcane study. "Always my favourite room in the house..." he sighed, taking the furnitures in avidly: a strange fireplace, an inert portal of some sort, and on its sides an alchemical lab and a desk stacked with papers of all kinds, a magic strongbox laying beside it.

A wizard's dream...

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

After a few candlemarks (more? Less? It was so hard to gauge timespans in this place...), he closed the book about "The Devourer" he had been reading with a satisfied expression. "Shovotar, hm? Glad you finally introduced yourself..." he cackled malevolently "and now, let's get what I need to finally repay you in kind for your invite here, and the hospitality offered...".

The strongbox spoke to him as he approached: "The man who invented it does not want it. The man who builds it does not need it. The man who needs it does not know it". "Oh...a riddle...interesting..." he caressed his chin pensively.
"Well, well...hmm...Wisdom!...no, does not fit...If the inventor does not want it, it might be something needed in case unpleasant happenstances come to pass...the one building it does not need it, meaning if an individual still has the power to create it, those "happenstances" did not take place yet...the one who DOES need it, does not know it...so perhaps he is oblivious...or forgot...or..."
He turned slowly towards the strongbox "...or he is dead. A Grave". The box clicked open, yelding him its treasures. Kael smiled, as he realized what this meant, to him and to his people. The time of reckoning was at hand...

The portal suddenly activated, and he hurriedly closed the new, improved grimoire he found in the box, one last ravenous glance to the engraved tortured souls on its cover before letting it slide in one of his tunic's pockets, and to the other treasures laying beside it, then he quickly wove a handful of essential wards preparing for his almost certainly unwelcome guest.

"Ah...so, here is the interloper..." the figure stepped trough the portal with confidence, an arrogant smile on his thin lips. A smile he knew very well. "Well, well...and who is this stunningly good looking individual coming to visit me?" grinned the Archmage. Whoever that was, he was mirroring his aspect. He had ripped people apart for much, MUCH less...

"You dare claim possession of this tower?!?". "Of course I do. Since right now. Do you have any problems with that? Feel free to voice your complaints..." The creature ignored him, as he rambled on: "Your aspect is not the only thing I will take from you, insignificant creature... Did you tamper with my research?" Kael spread his arms, an innocent look on his face "You mean...your primitive babbling on spellcraft? Well, no...I have outgrown children rhymes a few centuries ago..." Anger flared in his doppleganger's face. He must be unaccustomed to good banter, he thought with an inward smile "You arrogant little Prime...I surely know where to send the Devourer first, when I finally control it...". The Archmage grinned "I don't think you'll have the chance, from Hell...and when you get there, tell them Kor'Vain sends his regards..."

And so it began. The creature quickly closed the distances and wove his own version of Black Vise of Grief, following it up with an energy attack. The force prison began pressing on his damage resistance wards, and his quickened Mantle barely absorbed the other weave as he countered with his own force spell. The magic duel was quick and brutal, with offensive and defensive sorceries crashing one against the other.

When it seemed the ancient creature slowly but firmly gained the upper hand, a staggering Kael suddenly stepped towards it and touched it with his right arm. Channeling destructive energies faster than his opponent could weave, he whispered "die...". He could see the surprise and disbelief in the doppleganger's green eyes as life left them, drained by his power. The creature twitched once more, then reverted to its original appearance before melting into the very fabric of shadow. "Well...I cannot really fault you for stealing my astounding looks, when you are, in fact, a revolting tentacled monster..." probably a Phaerimm, judging from its strong magic, or something similar...he did not see very well. He did not care. Now, he had what he needed to protect and avenge his people...He was no longer the prey. He was the Hunter...of Shadows...

He produced a terrible sound that few would associate with a laugh, as the voice inside his mind keep whispering to him:

Kor'Vain...Kor'Vain...

Luthien stood in front of the nightwalker armed only with her holy symbol of Corellon, firmly held in her left hand. In such a desperate situation, with Ithilwen tempted by the creature's insidious lies and everything else seemingly lost, there was only one thing which she could do to tip the balance towards her and her companions.

Had Ithilwen allowed the beast to possess her, everyone - including her unborn daughters - would have perished. Her sacrifice seemed the most logical option. Her mind might have been destroyed, but her body and the daughters she was carrying inside her would have survived. That seemed the best outcome out of all the other potential results of the communion.

As the creature prepared to strike at the elven woman, she held her symbol against it in defiance, channelling all of her faith through it to harm the creature...

but it was for naught, as the creature's talons swiped her, sending her frame crashing against a nearby wall. Luthien felt her mind link with ithilwen fading, and for a moment, her mind was adrift into nothingness...

as soon as she reopened her eyes, Luthien found herself surrounded by the dead corpses of her friends, her wife, and every single inhabitant of the village. The mighty nightwalker Shovotar stood in front of her, triumphant, and roared its anger at the woman.

"FoR thIS defiaNCe I shAll tortURe yOu fOR aLl eternITy, elF!"

Luthien tried to understand what happened in those seemingly brief moments of blackout, but the dead bodies of each and everyone of the people she held most dear were holding her mind and heart in such a grasp that she was unable to think or act. She felt only hopelessness and sorrow, as she looked upon her wife in despair.

"LoOk whAt yoUR defIANcE coST yoU, elF!"

With a quick motion of its massive right arm, Shovotar cloaked the bodies of all of her friends in darkness...and soon after, they were reanimated as twisted undead mockeries of their former selves right in front of Luthien's eyes. It took her a tremendous amount of effort to manage to speak.

"please...I beg you...take me instead but...release their bodies and souls from your grasp. It was I who defied you the most, not them!"

Shovotar just laughed at the priestess' plea.

"nO, FEmAlE...you sHAll suFFer buT remaIN alIVe unTIl thE creATuRes wiTHin You wiLL haVE maTuReD. ThEY shALL be eXCelleNt gatES foR mY leGIoN oF shADes! NoW attACK, mY miNiONs!"

Luthien was far too feeble and shocked to oppose any struggle. The undead forms of Ithilwen, Mendel, Deacon, Shyntvaias, Andariel and even Elethineth lunged at her, mercilessly mauling and devouring her while alive...yet, Shovotar kept healing her through dark magic. Luthien quickly understood that there would have been no release from her torment anytime soon. All she could do was screaming, over and over.

"ScREamING iS a fORm of ReLIeF thAT yOU shALl noT hAVe, woMAn!"

The nightwalker waved its right hand another time above Luthien's broken frame. The elven priestess felt her lips sewing against each other, effectively preventing her from even screaming. All she could do was to assist powerless at the sight of the undead forms of her friends still gnawing at her arms and legs and at Shovotar looking at her in...amusement?

"ThIS toRMenT cOUld eND, elF...reNounCE yOUr faITH in YOUr GoD and it sHAlL ceasE! If nOT...YoU shAll SufFEr forEver!"

The pain was too much for Luthien to bear, but despite this, she decided to remain strong in her faith. Being powerless to act or react was the thing which she hated the most above everything else, but with those words, the nightwalker had given her a small reason to keep opposing him. It would have been a very measly and irrelevant thing to do, perhaps, but defying the creature's commands was perhaps the only struggle she could have really put up. She shook her head at the creature, which roared its anger even more.

"SuBMIt, ElF! AdD yOUR torMENt tO mY oWN!"

Luthien shook her head once more, at which point things got...weird? Amongst the reanimated elves mauling at her, she could see the frame of her mother, of her father, and of her siblings. A small idea quickly came to Luthien's mind...her relatives were all in Evermeet, so how could they possibly be there, torturing her? The only answer she could come up with was that everything she was experiencing was, in fact, an illusion. Or perhaps just an awful nightmare born from the shock of being severed so violently from Ithilwen's mind. Illusions can be dispelled, and one can wake up from a nightmare. This gave her a faint glimmer of hope....



Luthien's frame stands immobile and reactionless inside the shrine of Rillifane. From time to time, her eyelids and eyebrows show an extremely faint sign of activity, but judging from their movements, the woman must be having some pretty awful dreams.

The Cleric of Corellon enters the room containing the Lady Luthien. Seeing her dutiful partner Ele by her side, Andariel speaks up.

"Lady Ele, I believe it time to return the Lady Luthien to her charge in the Ardeep Forest. In my prayer of Omen to Corellon, I did see wane the All Father's symbol and a male elven warrior wounded. This is a poor omen my Lady and I believe The Lord All Father's grace is slowly rescinding from the Lady Luthien. It can only be under his light, which shines brightest within the Holy Temple of his name, that the Lady Luthien and what life she carries within her, might be preserved. Let us bring her to his salvation that her charge be returned, Corellon's will be done and the lives to come kept safe."

With this he goes to pick up her body.....

"There is a carriage awaiting, I will speed her there myself and await your joining us once your charge with the Lady Ithilwen complete. I will see her safe until this time, may you find safety for your flock and the Lady Ithilwen till then."

He finishes with a sad but enduring smile, carrying the Prietess in his strong frame for the carriage which awaits them below. The carriage which is meant to return the Lady to the Sanctity of her home.......

...............................................................................................

Andariel looks down at Luthien, now laying gently within the carriage speeding for the Ardeep. Seeing the sudden pained expressions upon her face, he bids the driver to hurry. He checks his magical bag to make sure he has brought the gems and materials to perform the stasis spell to maintain the woman until a more conclusive decision can be taken. Seeing he has everything in order, he whispers, "Gods speed and we will be within the light of Corellon's grace within the fort night".......

Everything was finally happening as he had hoped they would. The very last purchase for the wedding had been made and he was on his way back home. The day couldn't get any better for Fhaeo. Just one more day and he would be standing in front of the Father Tree with Raven by his side. Together they would speak the words and the Elven Bond would be formed between them as husband and wife. Tomorrow could not come soon enough.

He smiled to himself as he stepped down the trail from Thundar's Ride, the bridge at Boareskyr in sight. "Almost home," he thought to himself as he continued the walk down the path. Everything was so peaceful on this day, as if even Mother Nature was holding her breath for the coming celebrations the following day. No monsters had troubled him on his long walk from the human city of Baldur's Gate. That, he surmised, was probably due to the large wolf walking by his side and not Mother Nature holding a hand over him. Most monsters were easily scared off and the bugbears were no different.

"Looks like we will have an easy walk home, Teesa," he said to the wolf as they crossed the bridge. "No bugbears and no bandits to ruin this beautiful day." When he heard the sound of boots scraping against stone behind him, he knew that he had probably spoken too soon. Even as he turned around to face whatever was making the sound, he heard the faint sound of daggers being pulled. "Easy now, girl," he spoke to Teesa when he heard the threatening growl at the back of her throat.

"What is this? An elf caught all by his lonesome on our bridge?" one of the bandits said in a playful, mocking tone. The other bandits around him laughed at that comment, thinking they had caught him unprepared. "You want to live? You pay. Five hundred gold coins and we'll let you pass!" the bandit from before said as he held out his hand, palm open and up. Fhaeo, not in the mood for a fight, pulled a sack of coin from his pocket and tossed it to the bandit, hoping that he wouldn't notice there was only half of what the bandit had demanded. It was all that he left after the recent purchase. "There. Now make room so I can pass."

The bandit smiled as he caught the sack in his empty hand. "You're free to go, elf!" he made a motion with his hand for the others to move out of Fhaeo's way. Huriedly Fhaeo continued on, thinking he was in the clear, when a shout from behind made him break into a run. "This is only half! Matthew!" At the sound of a bowstring being pulled, Fhaeo threw himself off to the side, feeling an arrow flying past him only half a heartbeat later. Planting his left foot on the stone, he pushed himself back to the right as another arrow flew past him. On he ran for the end of the bridge, only sixty feet away.

Behind him he could hear the archer, Matthew, cry out in pain as Teesa bit into his leg. Fhaeo sent a thankful thought to his companion wolf and continued on, knowing that Teesa would not stay to fight, but had only given him enough time to get away. He heard the bow being dropped, striking the cobblestones of the bridge, most likely the archer reaching for a dagger to defend himself with. "Teesa, run away! I'm safe n--" Fhaeo's words died in his mouth as a man stepped out of the shadows in front of him. One had remained hidden just in case something like this would happen! Cursing his bad luck, Fhaeo threw himself back to avoid the double dagger slash from the bandit. Out came his twin warhammers, one sparking with electricity, the other made of a heavier material. If only he could finish this man off quick, he might still make it away alive.

The dagger-wielding bandit in front of him feinted low, then reversed his attack and struck up high, another feint, before driving his off-hand in towards Fhaeo's midsection, hoping to catch him off-guard. Fhaeo recognized the feint, however, and deftly parried the first attack, ducking under the other and planting his right foot behind him. As the real attack came for his midsection, he simply spun away from it, turning a full circle on his right foot and coming around with a counter-attack that sent the bandit skidding backwards to avoid the heavy swing.

Foregoing any finesse or attempts at trickery, like the feints the bandit had done, Fhaeo put his training to good use. Blow after blow rained down upon the bandit, who, although a head taller than Fhaeo, was a lot weaker and not quite as well trained. He was quick, however, easily avoiding the first few blows made by Fhaeo's heavy warhammers. One, two, three, four times he managed to twist himself out of harms way, until a glancing blow clipped his right shoulder while he was twisting away. Had it been the heavier of the two warhammers, he would have suffered only a bruise, but this was the one spitting electricity. The bandit jerked as the jolt ran through his body, temporarily causing his muscles to spasm. It lasted only a heartbeat, but it was more than enough for Fhaeo to take advantage of. With three powerful blows he shattered the bandit's left arm at the shoulder, broke four of his ribs and drove the final blow into the spine above the waist, paralyzing him while he died from the blow to his chest.

The timing was perfect. Even as the bandit fell to the stone, crying in pain, Fhaeo turned around to meet the other two who had left their archer friend behind to deal with Teesa. A quick glance over the advancing bandits told Fhaeo that the archer was losing, already on his back with Teesa's powerful jaw closed around his dagger-wielding hand at the wrist. Dismissing the archer from his mind, Fhaeo turned his attention to the advancing duo. One was wielding a large sword in two hands, by far the most dangerous. One hit and Fhaeo knew he would be dead or too injured to fight on. Having made his choice, he set into a defensive stance, parrying blows from the bandit with the huge sword while backpedaling to keep the other bandit, also wielding two daggers, within his sight.

Steel rang on steel as he parried each of the heavy blows. There was no finesse or attempt at trickery from the brute. It was pure strength against Fhaeo's own strength, training and, hopefully, quicker reflexes. He knew that he would eventually have to attack the big brute, but he couldn't find an opening that wouldn't leave him open to attack from the one with the two daggers. So he moved in a semi-circle, slowly turning himself around by using the full width of the bridge, until his every step backwards brought him closer to Teesa. If only he could get her to flank one of them, he could focus on the other. So he continued his slow defensive backpedaling getting closer and closer to Teesa and the dead or dying archer. A quick glance over his shoulder gave him an estimate of how far away he was. Only forty feet and Teesa would be on his side. He hoped the archer would be dead by then.

Thirty feet. He was almost there! Just a few more steps and he could end this fight and get back to preparing for the wedding. Twenty feet! He was close now. Fifteen feet! A loud cry of pain from the archer stabbed through his ears, followed by a wet tearing and crunching sound. He didn't have time to see what it was, but he knew it meant the archer was done for. That meant that Teesa could help him now. Just a few more steps! Apparently the sound had startled the duo advancing on him, as the one with the two daggers was suddenly a step behind his companion with the big sword. He might not even need Teesa afterall. With a quick step to the right, bringing the big brute between himself and the dagger-wielding bandit, Fhaeo avoided a powerful overhand attack and struck at the big sword. Then he struck it again, pushing it further to the brute's right side. He knew the brute would try to compensate on his third hit, so he pulled it up short, never striking the blade, but instead ducking under it as the brute overcommitted to compensating. As the blade swung above his head, Fhaeo went on the offensive.

With one blow, perfectly timed with the apex of the brute's swing, Fhaeo shattered the brute's left kneecap, sending him stumbling to one knee as the momentum of the swing carried the brute left, with nothing to lean on. Up came the right warhammer, the heavy one, meeting the brute's head as it dipped down from overbalancing. With a sickening wet crack, the warhammer connected, crushing the man's skull and breaking his neck. To anyone looking on from a distance, it would have looked as if the man simply swung to his left and fell, freezing midair for half a hearbeat before continueing his fall to meet the bridge with a thud.

"What a typical mistake to make," Fhaeo thought to himself. Only poorly trained men flinched at the sound of death nearby and these bandits had been no different. Only it wasn't a mistake. It had been a ruse played by the duo, as Fhaeo learned even as he stood up straight again, scanning for the dagger-wielding bandit. He couldn't see him anywhere! Although one had died for it, their ruse had worked perfectly. With a sharp cry of pain, Fhaeo arched his back as the bandit plunged his dagger in between two plates in his armor, the strike so deep that the hilt struck against the fine mithral plates. Gasping for breath, his lungs filling with blood, Fhaeo managed to pull himself free of the blade, desperately hoping to finish the the bandit off in a spectacular show of martial prowess.

Even as Fhaeo turned around to face his attacker, a dagger penetrated the mithral plates and plunged into his gut. Bleeding from two deep wounds already, Fhaeo knew that he was losing. Not even his cape, enchanted to regenerate any wound, could keep him alive through an assault such as this. "Tehh-sah! Run!" he ordered his companion, hoping to at least spare her from the same fate. Teesa hesitated, standing with the severed hand of the archer in her mouth, the hand still clutching a dagger. "R-Run!" Fhaeo shouted, blood spluttering out and running down his chin. Fhaeo allowed him a small, soundless sigh as Teesa ran, the hand still in her mouth.

Another stab at his chest from the dagger-wielding bandit made him cry out in pain again. He tried to lift his warhammers up to offer at least some defense, but the bandit just batted them away and stabbed him again and again until his chest was nothing but a bloody mess of holes. Staggering and dying, Fhaeo took one step backwards and then another before he crashed into the stone railing of the bridge, overbalanced and tipped over, plummeting to the depths of the river below.

His last thoughts before he hit the water was of Raven. He thought of her smile and her laughter; of the joys they had shared and the promises they had made to eachother for the life they would build together. He cried as he fell. A single tear, not for himself, but for Raven and the pain she would go through when he failed to show at their wedding. "Raven. I'm sorry," he whispered with a bloody gurgle. Then he hit the water and knew nothing more.

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

Some time later, after the bandits had moved away to recover and regroup from their losses, a lone wolf, carrying a severed hand in its mouth came padding back to the bridge from the trail leading from Soubar. It had heard the splash earlier, it had seen the state of its master. It knew what had happened. Laying the severed hand, still clutching a dagger, on the muddy bank, it sat down on its hindlegs and threw its head back. A saddened, bone-chilling howl echoed through the hills that night as the wolf cried for the loss of its master and, above all else, friend.