Rainbow:
Dee'rina Harnon was feeling distinctly annoyed with her best friend for making her ride through thunder storms. Huh, she was a Pegasus, not your run-of-the-mill flying horse! (There is a difference!) she thought to herself, carefully shielding.

Then she had to use that spell to become human, a winged human, at that, and it was pretty annoying to be in her Royal Highness's shadow the whole time! She could really be annoyed with Rainbow some times!

When they were talking, she noticed Xenon, and he wasn't even a horse! (Mmmm that human spell _could_ come in useful after all!) she thought, raising her, now pegasi, 'eyebrows'. She quickly offered to go and speak to the dragon. She'd had enough of acting mentor to Rainbow.

-*-

:Hello dragon-child,: Dee mindspoke the dragon, noticing the gold-tipped wings, as Sable and Ynys invited her to come along. :I'd be glad for you to come along as well. We are both winged-ones, and may have a lot in common.:

She left the dragon, Erelan, to think that over and went into the stables to get her tack and ask someone to put it on her as she guessed Rainbow would be too busy!

Angie:
Ynys saw the group make their way out into the rain, hair swiftly becoming wet and tangled. With a mind grimace, she wondered how her own flowing mane and tail would fair.

(Vain creature. First the hooves, now the hair. Gods, Ynys, and 'Blade was supposed to be the odd one!)

The Troll-mage made his way to Sable and she stepped to one side as he drew nearer.

:Greetings to thee, Erelan,: Muranog mindsent with a deep bow to the wet, bedraggled dragon. :And to thee, Ynys,: with a nod. :Sable and I would be honoured if you would accompany us and the others on this quest, Erelan. I believe the others are preparing and shall be ready to depart soon. Would you join us?:

Ynys nodded back at the Troll. After all, trolls were notorious creatures. One did not treat them lightly. Looking behind the large Troll's back, she saw 'Blade making her way to the stables, her cotton attire becoming completely wet in a matter of seconds. (Poor mage. Lucky for her, I brought extra clothes. Luckier still, I brought oilskin.)

-*-

Shadowblade made her way to the stables as soon as Etain got back with her pack ready. (Thank the Gods that Ynys had the sense to bring a pack with her as she Walked, else I wouldn't know what to do with the bow and arrows. I couldn't possibly leave them behind.)

Bowing briefly to Solarin and Muranog as she passed them to get to Ynys, who stood patiently to a side observing the conversation between the elf, the troll and the dragon, 'Blade Sent to the Unicorn. :Ahh, Ynys! What a sight for sore eyes.: She grinned as the Unicorn whickered in amusement, blue eyes twinkling with laughter.

:You, oh poor rat of a creature, ought to be happy that I'm here. Your change of clothes is safe and dry in that pack lying in the corner, along with your herbs and poisons, and the rations and weapons you might need, and that flute you carry around with you all the time.:

:Thank you Ynys.: She stooped down to collect her pack, checking the stuff packed inside. (Travelling attire, leathers, oilskins, poisons, herbs, flute, mail, flint and tinder, rations.…) The mental checklist ran on and on until Shadowblade was sure that everything she was going to need was in that pack. (Argh, it's going to be hell to carry, but at least, now I have a holder for that bow and quiver.) 'Blade could _hardly_ expect Ynys to bear the pack. The unicorn came as a friend, not as a beast of burden. 'Blade would have to walk herself, unless she was injured too badly.

She hid the knives that she had brought with her all over her person – down her collar, up her sleeves and in her boots. In addition, the weapons that Ynys packed went on her belt. A poison dart became a pin, elfshot was secreted away in her flute, and a silk sash that doubled as a noose secured her pack to her back.

:Any more, and you'll look like a turtle,: Ynys Sent with a hint of amusement.

:Fine, Ynys. Joke about it. Why don't you help me carry this?:

:Okay. Loop it around my back with the silk.: The unicorn looked deep into the elf's eyes.

(She's not joking. First time she ever volunteered to carry my pack.) Just then, 'Blade stiffened as she Felt another mind brush against hers.

:Ola, sweet lady of blade and shadows. It is Xenon, the one for whom your passion burns. I hope perhaps I might ride with you as you travel. I would pay all mind to warming your back, and surely the ride would stimulate our imaginations to consider other pleasures as well....:

He had cut off before she could reply. Her eyes narrowed. (Damn the man. His jokes are testing my limit. I'd rather lie with an adder than see him win at this game of wits.)

Ynys looked up at her friend. :'Blade, look past your dislike for the mage. I sense more to him than meets the eye. I sense grief and loss. It would do you well to remember that he too may experience the harsher emotions.:

:Ynys, that worm should just...:

:Shhh. I believe he lost someone a long time ago. And I sense that maybe the jibes are meant to cover up his true feelings.:

'Blade kept her mind shut. She refused to say anymore about Xenon. (Maybe Ynys is right. But maybe she is wrong as well. I don't think the latter is true, but so many things are not what they seem these days.)

With that thought in mind, Shadowblade finished linking the pack onto Ynys' back. Carrying the bow in one hand so that her other hand was free to grip her sword as soon as she let her bow fall to the ground, she turned and walked with the unicorn to the main entrance of the inn before leading the unicorn into the mainroom and its warmth. (I suppose we plan moves first. It would be easier that way.

Femmy:
Agalein went to her room to get her belongings. There was nothing much, really. Only two sets of clothing and other usual travelling things. There were some packets of poisons, of course; she wouldn't leave without those. Other packets contained seasonings. She liked to catch food on her journey and then cooked it herself. She hated dried foods. Then there was the flute which she carried to accompany her if she got lonely on her journey. The soft sword she already wore around her waist, hidden under the belt. She preferred using her fan, but an extra weapon was always useful when facing a deadly enemy.

She wondered what her teacher would say to this – if her teacher knew at all what was transpiring, or if she even cared. NoName, that was the answer when Agalein asked what to call her. Always secretive, always kept to herself. She wasn't sure if anybody in the Citadel knew about NoName. Her teacher came and went as it pleased her; there seemed to be nothing that could hinder her way. Why she took Agalein as her student, Agalein didn't know. The kind of magic that she learned from NoName was different than any magic she knew. No spells, no incantations. Only manipulation of energy. In return for giving Agalein lessons in magic, NoName asked that her student didn’t learn other magic from other teachers. At that time, Medivh hadn't involved her in his affairs, let alone teach her anything. Agalein gladly took the offer and she never regretted it for a second.

Looking around to make sure she didn't forget anything, Agalein then went outside where others were also making preparations to leave. The storm was still raging outside - no doubt, it was Xenon's doing. Agalein sighed irritably. He knew how she liked wearing white. This kind of storm would make her dress dirty in no time.

She walked over to Xenon. "Can you do something about this rain? Oooh... maybe... make it stop?"

Typo:
Erelan caught sight of the pegasus approaching through the mud, and turned away from Muranog as she finished her pledge. The creature was beautiful, fairly glittered in the night, and the muddy green dragon gave herself only a half-moment of childish envy before she squashed the thoughts down into a very small ball and threw it back into the darkness of her mind, where she would hopefully never see it again.

:Hello dragon-child,: Dee mindspoke the dragon, noticing the gold-tipped wings, as Sable and Ynys invited her to come along. :I'd be glad for you to come along as well. We are both winged-ones, and may have a lot in common.: With that, she turned and walked toward the stables.

(Child? Oh, curse the banding! I'm going to figure out a way to dye my wings solid if it turns me purple!) Erelan sighed mentally and tucked her wings neatly to her back, where the golden banding didn't show. The pegasus seemed friendly enough and she was right - they did share the sisterhood of the sky. It had been a long time since she had shared the lonely blue with anything but birds, bats and the occasional winged serpent. Looking away from the people beginning to mill about the stables, she turned her attention back to Solarin.

:There have been man councils. Things have been changing for our kind, dragonkin Erelan. We go to seek out the power-hold of the dark mage and destroy it if we may. I know not what brought us all here... but I sense the hand of someone far greater than any of us at work.:

Erelan listened cautiously to the elf's words, crouched slightly so that he wouldn't have to crane his neck to look her in the eye. She nodded slowly as he finished.

:Few of my people know what goes on in the world outside their aerie. They are content with their dreams, but Aristide... my teacher and I… have pledged our wings to the learning of the world. It is often uncomfortable, but it is Truth, and I would not abandon it.: She looked over as a tiny, black-haired woman emerged from the stables with two spirited-looking horses, and moved back gracefully from Raven, so as not to spook the animals. From a distance, she Sensed this one as human, though at first glance, she too seemed elflike, and moved like one trained to fight. Erelan inclined her head to the woman with something like a smile in eyes that had lost their sparkles of glowing gold and returned to a relatively calm and warm hazel. :Greetings, Lady-of-the-Blade. I am Erelan of SeaCliffs.:

Another approached from the door of the building as well, drawing her attention away for a long moment. This one smelled and Sensed of both human and elvish characteristics - both, and not quite either, as was true for so many halfbreeds. What made her dig her talons just a touch harder into the mud, was his magic - the mage-stripe through his hair and the shield he nonchalantly constructed to keep off the waning rainfall were like carriage lamps on a lighthouse. Erelan didn't need her eyes to tell her that this man was very powerful indeed. He was powerful and perhaps dangerous - she was not empathic enough to judge a person's motives, and a casual Sensing told her only that the mind behind that sphinx-like smile was neither all evil nor all good.

(This one will be an enigma, then,) she thought privately, her tail tip twitching just slightly as she continued to watch the stranger out of a corner of her eye. (I will study him carefully, as a guard dog may watch a circling wolf. Dangerous he is, but dangerous does not necessarily mean evil. If it is only the mark of a predator I sense... I've shared that bond with worse. We all must stay alive.) She stood in the damp darkness and prepared to follow the others.

Darvoso:
Sofaltis gazed at Rainbow for a bit, letting his fantasies and emotions run on a leash. (It's been so long since I've had any sort of company. Now why did I have to meet someone like _her_ here. Ah well,) went the thought train. Somewhat like a circle, it kept downspiraling.

"Greetings, cousin," Zeke bowed, gracefully. "May I sit down? You have one of the best views in the room."

Not really noticing Zeke until _after_ he sat down, he tore his attentions off Rainbow to look at Zeke for a moment, before every instinct in his body told him to _run!_ He held off the instinct by the sheer fact that, as of yet, Zeke hadn't been more than friendly too him, and he had no _reason_ to distrust this man, other than the fact that he was an Elf.

(And I'm a half-breed. Wonder how long it'll take him to notice that and hate me for it,) came the dispirited thought. (Come to think of it, the same holds for Rainbow... why do I even bother. Wintersky was at least a half-elf. Or, as she called herself, half-human, and she understood, and she loved....) He quenched _that_ particular thought before it even started, with an odd thought as to why even the mere presence of elves could get his mind in an uproar. He just nodded in a confused sort of way to Zeke, hoping that his previous attentions on the bard, and this elf's attentions on the same, rather attractive, bard, kept him from noticing the fact that all he wanted to be nowhere _but_ here.

Then the half-elf came over and nodded to the elf sitting at his table, and that made his mind run in even more frantic circles.

(Could they perhaps know each other?! It's not like that half-elf has to worry about getting raped. The aura of power coming from him like a wall tells me he's at least an adept class, and just the way he _slinks_, not walks tells me that he's a sneaky little devil. At least _some_ of us got to have the benefits of a good upbringing,) he couldn't help but think a bit resentfully at Xenon's retreating form. (And he looks like he's coming with this little parade. Oh joy.)

Then he realized something. While he was nursing his own thoughts, it seemed like some of them were packing, much the same way he made sure he did when he realized adventure was at hand, but they seemed to be getting ready to leave!

(What is wrong with these people!! It's late night, it's raining... why don't they stay here, rest up, and _then_ go harrowing off into danger? All-powerful this group may be, but lacking common sense, most definitely, unless they're just getting ready to leave, the same way he had, packs readied and the like. And it figures that if one of them has a dragon around, the others might have intelligent mounts – in fact, I _know_ that troll has one. When I was up in the troll country, all of his folk had these intelligent sheep, or at least, that's what the _bastard_ of an elf who caught me told me before I managed to run away.) He continued to watch the little interplay, hoping to catch sight of the princess again, or perhaps any sight of any of the expedition members, for a chance to join, or at least ask. (Foolhardy to think that they would _need_ my help, but I can at least ask. That way I'll have satisfied my wanderlust, and have had one of them come to me for the asking. I don't want to start off this little adventure seeming like the little boy I must truly _seem_ to be, to someone like Solarin, whom I know has lived at least four centuries or so, and some of the more _wild_ rumors have it at around six. Even so, my mere thirty years compared to his....) He sighed again. (It will be more likely that they'll dismiss me for the little boy I am. Well, luck and hope be on my side....)

Caiata:
Looking up to the moon, Delane smiled softly, the blood and soul of her most recent victim still dripping from her lips. (We have very little time in this place,) she thought to herself. (Soon the villagers will awaken and find what We have done; this little trail of death and destruction We have left behind Us, and trouble far beyond Our capabilities will follow that.) She looked back down to the body slowly withering away beneath her and smiled.

(Oh, Father, what a shame your loss will be to the village, and what a lovely picture We have painted of you in your death. The town will be shocked to find out your true perverse nature....) She chuckled in a low, silken voice, the thoughts of the evil she had just spread filling her mind and ears like a sadistic symphony – music only she could appreciate in its entirety. The moon continued to sink dangerously close to the horizon, its lower half now obscured by the deep purple mountains in the distance, the light almost completely dead from the shade of the thick trees in the forest. Yet another reminder of the urgency with which she must move.

Collecting her things and placing them in her pouch, she wondered for a while over where to go. Somewhere far away, for sure, where her kind, and more importantly her name, would be unknown – a land across the ocean perhaps, or even farther.... Closing her eyes reverently, she drew a quick runed circle around her in "good" Father Alaide's blood - an ancient and outdated ritual, but one she still performed out of sheer habit and aesthetic value. She murmured a soft offering to the Pyerkind Dark One Sardiek – her mentor and guide in these days, now that his grandson Salio had passed on – as she rubbed her hand over the opalescent moon-drop pendant she wore around her neck only for such special occasions.

Silence engulfed her as she stopped speaking – even the chirps of the nocturne life and the whispers of the wind through the trees dissolving as she stretched her mind impossibly far, searching for anything – for life or for death – for magic – for a beacon to call her to her next location, just as the beacon of Father Alaide's impossibly bright soul had drawn her here.

Her mind wandered for just a moment from the magical task at hand. How sweet he tasted, this "holy" man with the unspoken desire - no, need - for a fulfillment he could not find in his spiritual teachings... The richness of his shattered morality... oh, how it went down so smooth, enhanced with his fear of what was to come after death - his Heaven or his Hell. She recalled the thoughts his fragmented mind he had transmitted to her upon his dying throes, as she sat back and drained his life. The battle had been so intriguing to watch, as he had wavered between ecstasy at finding the satisfaction he had searched so hard for in his God, and the wrenching sorrow that he could betray that God as he had....

Delane shivered once and refocused her thoughts, gently tracing her black infinity-shaped stigma with a finger to further concentrate the magic. Father Alaide's body shriveled further now, the muscles and flesh contorting once, violently, before dissolving completely.

Stretching out over infinite space and time, Delane's mind searched. A war-struck village... (pain, death, agony and sorrow....) The tides of space rippled to her thought, but nothing promising showed upon the second look at the tiny town nestled in the glades of some far-away, unnamed land. (Continue.) The birth of a gifted child... (excitement, hope and yet reserved fear, awe and yet repulsion....) Delane continued to search almost desperately for the right place to travel to next, knowing she was out of practice and nearly out of power.

(-Magic!!! -) The sharp blue scent and the familiar tingle at the back of her head told her it was rather powerful magic – possibly even Dark like hers. Concentrating on this place, she fell to the ground with physical exhaustion as she tried to catch some details. (-Blood, tears.... Darkness, coldness... This place is called 'Citadel'...) Moving her mind a bit to the future along this thread of reality... (-Magic again, less strong, but definitely bright... identification: some mages indeed, a few stronger than they can handle... identification: dragon... identification: pegasus....)

Delane opened her eyes to see the moon slink slowly down behind the mountains, the sun just a brilliant orange-warm sliver to her left, and for a moment she glittered in the sunlight, her silvery body dissolving slowly into a cool mist. Closing her mind to all else, she let the bright auras and the even stronger tingle of the Magic fill her thoughts, surround her thoughts, transcend her thoughts and embrace her thoughts. The cloud that was once Delane shimmered again in the wan sunlight and then slowly faded from view.

(Wonderful. A place of strong magic, near to a group of creatures magical in nature. Such a ripe palate for Our kind of... fun,) the mist thought. (There is certain to be Greed, untamed Desire, and Lust here that We can feed upon.... And if not, We shall merely make Our own, no?)

A village awoke early that morning to bloodshed the like of which none had seen before. Seventeen lay dead, apparently of their own hands, and the Father Alaide was nowhere to be found. A dark Curse had seemed to fall over the town, a trail of decayed and withered plants leading off into the suddenly looming and not-so-picturesque forest. For those brave enough to follow, the path ended in a circle of blood-red tinted mushrooms – a Witch's Circle indeed, in the center of which was a patch of grass so decayed it looked to have never truly existed. When one man stepped forward onto this patch and reeled back in a pain he could only describe as indescribable, the rest fled in terror and spoke hushed whispers of a mysterious beauty, known only to them as The Dark One. Yet another legend began, hand-in-hand with another century of decay and stagnation, and most importantly... everyone believed.

Adrienne:
Aliaya felt frozen. She awoke to find that the cloak and blankets no longer covered her. Groggily sitting up, she reached around and felt for Dak, and found him little more than an arm's length away, snuggled up in the cloak. Ruvan was still asleep and had not noticed the cold yet, snugged up against her body as he was.

(Good. No screaming baby at least.) She leaned over towards Dakorillon and was unable to wrest the cloak out of his grip. (I guess I have to actually wake him.)

Out of old habit, as she touched his arm, she whispered soothing words into his mind. :Dak, wake up; it's Aya, wake up:

Dak's eyes popped open; Aliaya could see clearly as her eyes adjusted to the dark. (Oh, no! What did I just do? All this time I haven't even given a hint that I could touch his mind. I probably frightened him, and now he'll leave us!)

Dak awoke as a gentle voice caressed his mind. (In my mind?) He snapped awake, tensing, disorientated and waiting for something to happen, trying to steel himself against the pleasure/pain that was sure to come.

"I was just trying to wake you," Aya whispered into the silence. "You - the cloak - it's cold," she began to stutter, afraid he would leave her and Ruvan alone in the wet and cold.

Dak relaxed, realizing where he was and that he had rolled away from Aya and Ruvan and taken the cloak with him. (Was that Aya? No, she would have shown she had Mind Powers already. She probably spoke aloud and I thought it was in my head because of sleep), he rationalized to himself, but the thought crept in, (because I want it so badly.)

Aliaya breathed a sigh of relief. She had completely pulled out of even the slight contact of "listening" mode she had been in with him since they had first met so she couldn't tell what he was thinking.

(He doesn't seem as if he's going to leave. He hasn't gone running out – maybe he didn't notice?)

"I'm sorry to disturb you." She shivered from the cold.

(Love and Luck, Dak. She's freezing and you're jumping at old memories.) Dak moved back towards Aliaya.

"Sorry, dearheart, I didn't mean to steal your cover. I've shown myself to be quite ungallant," he said with a dazzling smile that begged for forgiveness, while it warmed her toes. He spread the cloak out over her, Ruvan, and himself, making sure more went over her and Ruvan.

"It's okay," she smiled. "Sorjo used to steal the covers all the time." Dak hesitated in his movements.

"Sorjo? Your husband?" he guessed. (Why do I feel surprised? Someone as pretty as she would of course have had a husband, and the baby a father; she's no common two-bit like the kind you usually companion. But where is he?)

Aliaya shifted uncomfortably. She stared down at her wedding band. Numbly, she nodded.

"If you don't mind me asking, what happened to him?" Dak's protective anger rose up within him when she didn't answer right away and seemed to be struggling with sadness and pain. "Why did he leave his wife and son alone? Where is he?" He stopped himself, realizing his voice had grown louder. (What are you doing, Dak? Look at her. You're scaring her and you sound like some raging monster having its dinner stolen.) He reached out to reassure her.

(There, there, little bird.)

Aliaya cowered under Dakorillon's rage. It had been rare for her to witness anger. She shrank from his touch. To Dak's eyes, she seemed to fold in upon herself. And she was. Her mind kept circling the question, "What happened to Sorjo?" to which she could only say "I don't know."

(What have you done, you clumsy oaf?) he thought to himself, seeing her very real fear at his anger, but that thought's voice was overlaid with another's voice, intruding into his mind unbidden, summoning memories – memories better left buried. He was brought back to the present by her answer, her voice barely audible above the rain.

"I don't know."

(She doesn't know?) Dak's mind conjured possibilities of what might have happened to Aliaya's husband. (Maybe bandits, or raiders. Could have been dragons, or disease – no, idiot, she would have known disease. Mage?) So entranced in his own thoughts, he almost missed her explaining words.

(What do I say? What can I tell him? Not the truth, but I can't lie either.) She came to a decision.

"A year ago, my home was raided. I and my children hid while Sorjo and my father and some others fought. After some time, I searched my home, and when I did, only the dead and my father were there. Sorjo was not among the dead." She paused, her voice catching. "In all this time, I have never heard from nor seen Sorjo. I don't know where he is, or if he is dead or alive." Another pause. "I left my home knowing those who attacked would return."

"What about your father?" Dak hated to continue her painful memories, the far-off look in her eyes attesting to real pain, (or well rehearsed lines,) he thought with suspicion, but he wanted to know what family Aliaya had left.

"He died that same night." Aliaya remembered how it felt to hold her father and feel him die. "It was horrible," she said more to herself than to Dak. Tears formed and leaked from unseeing eyes as she gazed at the past.

Dakorillon reached out again and this time took Aya into his arms. (Poor, poor little bird. You're much too tender to have seen such death. Let me take it all from you. I should never have doubted your sincerity.)

Aliaya curled into Dak's arms, comforted. Speaking aloud the cause of some of her pain had helped ease it.

(I could stay in these arms forever,) she thought longingly. (Strong and gentle and supportive.) She could hear his heartbeat – slow and steady – and feel warm, smooth skin beneath her cheek where it rested against his bare chest. (Sorjo's chest was different – a thick mat of hair covering it.) Just then, Ruvan cried, noting belatedly that he was cold, as babies tend to do.

Reluctantly, Aliaya removed herself from Dak's comforting arms and cradled Ruvan to her, sending him feelings of warmth and happiness and love.

(She still loves him,) Dak thought to himself, shivering a little in the cold both outside of him and inside. (Time to remember knightliness not how nice she felt in your arms, Dak, my boy. Oh, to be Ruvan right now....) Dak curbed his rampant thoughts and covered them over again. Tucking the cloak and one of the blankets around her and the babe, he took the other blanket for himself so as not to repeat the same mistake.

(Never make the same mistake twice, Kory,) intruded rudely into his thoughts. He closed it off quickly, and turning his back against hers, he stared out into the night, watching and trying not to remember.

After Aliaya had calmed Ruvan and he returned to sleep, she could still feel many emotions of unhappiness and struggle. Knowing the only person who could be feeling that way was the man who lay with his back to hers, she turned from being the comforted to the comforter.

(The words of your thoughts are only slightly louder than the words of your body,) she thought to him, but not projecting to him. (Now, I comfort you when only a moment ago, you comforted me.)

She considered "fixing" his thoughts so that the pain he felt now would not ever be so intense again. That was part of her gift; to alter people's minds. She had only used it once – to scramble some bandit's minds that had come upon her in the night. She was not going to allow herself to be raped and have her and her son killed. It had been with little remorse that she had acted in the manner she had.

(Too bad I can't fix my own pathways. It would be easier than all this crying. But now it is not your troubles you dwell on, but Dak's.) She decided not to alter Dakorillon's mind. It was not fair to do to someone without them understanding what was being done. (A little pain keeps us going. If not for my mother's death, I would never have survived what happened to Sorjo, to my father and to Rayna.)

Again making sure Ruvan was quiet, happy and asleep, she tucked the blankets more securely around him and carefully turned over to face Dakorillon's back. She slipped her small hand beneath his head, her fingers brushing through the soft, fine hair, like watered silk, as she had longed to do since they had first met. She wrapped her other arm around his chest so that he was cradled against her shoulder and chest. She thought of speaking to him mind-to-mind very soothingly, but decided that might scare him too much. So she used a more subtle method of infusing soothing emotions into his mind. Unless a person was skilled to notice someone was doing it, usually they thought it was coming from themselves.

(I am sorry I brought pain to you,) she thought to Dakorillon, again not projecting to him. (I will repay your kindness and make up for the pain that has been caused by me.) She wished she knew which of her words or actions had caused it.

Dakorillon finally succumbed to Aliaya's comforting, feeling protective and protected, and they both fell asleep, emotionally exhausted. The night passed quickly from that point.

Seashimmer:
Seashimmer left the room trailing behind most of the others, wondering what she was going to do. (Well, you wanted something interesting, didn't you? Something adventurous, something you could learn from. It's hard to change habits that come down though the generations. So why not go?) On the other hand, this sounded dangerous, very dangerous. Her magic was all defensive – or at least that was all she would use it for – and tramping off after a strange mage – (who I didn't even know about until today; how do I decided who's telling the truth? If anyone is...) – so that they could... what? Kill him? The elfin warrior said that it was only to find out if he was truly evil... what then? She felt rather like she had stumbled into the middle of a war without even knowing what the sides were – (which, I suppose, is what it is....)

She shook her head to clear it of cobwebs and she began to get some strange looks, standing in the middle of the tavern. Wandering over to the bar, she purchased another glass of wine – (after all, if I do go tramping off through these woods, I doubt there'll be much in the way of drink,) – and sipped it slowly while she thought. She had nothing to pack, no beast to prepare and no room to clear; everything she needed she carried, as always.

(Maybe someday I should learn how to ride... no, back to the topic at hand, Shimmer). Stay or go, stay or go.… (Oh, why am I even arguing about it? If I don't go, it seems like I'm likely to get carried off while wandering around on my own; everyone agrees that this is an unsafe region). Not that she'd ever had many problems; most people let healers alone – (but not everywhere, and you know it... certainly not where you were born.) She sighed, well aware that the choice was really no choice. At least she seemed to have managed to fade into the background; she didn't _want_ attention by a lot of mages – much less a lot of elves. She perched in her chair and waited for everyone else to make themselves ready to go.

Andi:
Darro looked through the window into the warm cozy atmosphere of the Inn. He desperately wanted to enter. He wanted to scream – to _scream_– but he could not. They were strong there, so strong, so powerful, so infallible. He wanted to warn them. To tell them who was here. To tell them who he was. He was.... he was... he was... who was he? Was he anyone? Anymore? Not since... not since... when he was... young? No, that didn't fit. He was never young. He was never old. He never was....

Until now...

That was what this was like. A nightmare. It was ten times worse than that fevered dream where all he felt was fear and anticipation... He couldn't wake up out of this dream. To wake... to wake... WAKE UP! he screamed, but no sound came out.

He wasn't himself – that was what scared him. He was himself – who else would he be? – and yet he wasn't himself at all. There was something inside him. Something that was not him at all. Something that made him do things he couldn't do before. He wasn't in control now. He wasn't doing these things. He... he... who was he? What was he? Why was he? What was that? What were those sparkly things floating around the room he was looking into? They floated and flittered on the wind. He wanted to touch them but his hands wouldn't move. He wanted to ask, but his mouth wouldn't move. He wanted to hear but he could not. He wanted to feel but he could not. What strange, strange, strange, strange....

And suddenly he was wrenched around, his mind reeling, his thoughts congealing, his memories solidifying, and the alien senses were gone.

He was himself again, and all the tormented streams of thoughts were gone from his brain. He had a vague recollection of a sense of otherness, but it was gone. He was only Darro. A thief. A good thief. A damn good thief. He tried to find truth in reality. Was he really Darro? Or did someone just want him to think he was Darro. Who had sent him? He had a vague sense of purpose. Something about a group. A powerful group. A group he was supposed to do something with. Join? Help? Hinder? Hurt? Aid? He didn't know. But what? And when? And how? Nothing was ever clear to him. He sighed and shrank back into the forest, trying to find himself amid the twisted and gnarled trees.

Raven Darkblade:
The dragon nodded slowly as Solarin finished. :Few of my people know what goes on in the world outside their aerie. They are content with their dreams, but Aristide... my teacher... and I, have pledged our wings to the learning of the world. It is often uncomfortable, but it is Truth, and I would not abandon it.: She looked over as Raven emerged from the stables with both horses – (Bless you, shayala,) Solarin thought silently - and moved back gracefully, inclining her head to Raven. :Greetings, Lady-of-the-Blade. I am Erelan of SeaCliffs.:

"Greetings, Erelan," Raven responded. "My name is Raven Darkblade. You needn't fear for the horses - Banshee and Redlegs are growing accustomed to such fearful sights as your kind." True enough, the warsteeds seemed only slightly wary of the dragon, craning out their fine, chiseled heads to whuffle curiously in her direction.

Solarin moved to take the reins of Redlegs's hackamore from his partner, stroking the red dun's sleek, glossy neck. "Thank you for tacking them up, shayala."

Raven chuckled in response. "You don't deserve me, you know."

He laughed. "I don't. So. The rain is petering out right on time, even if the wind is still high...."

"Just as well, since we're leaving soon. I wonder how many of our growing collection of weirdlings are grumbling to themselves?"

He shrugged. "As much as I'd like a roof over my head tonight, we're a danger to the area as long as we stay here. Best to move the big glowing target out of the populated area, at least."

"I know." Banshee nibbled impatiently on Raven's thick braid of hair and the mercenary gently pushed the ghost-grey mare's muzzle away. "I hope we get a move on soon. Seems like some of us are taking our precious time...."

"Not all of us are accustomed to moving on command, shayala," Solarin noted. "Be patient."

Raven sighed, running her fingers though Banshee's mane. "I feel like a sacrificial lamb wandering right towards the altar...."

"Here," said Solarin. "Give Banshee to me. You go through our room to make sure we haven’t left anything we might need behind." He doubted there would be - Raven was extremely through - but it would give his partner something to do. "I'll take the swift ones to have some water before we go."

She flashed a lopsided grin at him, handing over Banshee's reins, heading inside. He led the pair of horses over to a well that stood nearby, pulling up a bucket and offering it to them both. "Come, shayan."

Banshee did not hesitate, but thrust her entire muzzle into the bucket and drank deeply. When she was done, Redlegs took a turn, blowing bubbles after drinking and then shoving at Solarin's shoulder with his dripping muzzle, snorting loudly.

Dax & Adrienne:
Morning brought dripping trees, but no rain. Aliaya awoke, alone in the tent. Immediately, she reached out for Ruvan, but he wasn't there. Willing herself to be calm, she concentrated on another of her abilities. She closed her eyes and followed what she called her "link" to Ruvan. She entered his mind almost fully, only slightly aware of her body under the tent. She looked through Ruvan's eyes and saw nothing but forest.

Lightly, she commanded Ruvan's muscles to squirm just a bit so that she could see who was carrying him. The baby's movement allowed her to catch a glimpse of Dakorillon, smiling down with genuine caring, eyes the color of a summer's eve. Feeling relieved, she retreated from Ruvan's mind, but only until the point where she still had continuous knowledge of him and his whereabouts.

She looked around herself and found the second of her bags – the one that had her few items of clothing. She pulled out a split riding skirt and another shirt like the one she had worn the day before, fitted for nursing. Both items were tattered as if she were nothing but a poor street woman. Only a close scrutiny of the fabric would show that the skirt was made of expensive lambswool, mixed with rabbit's hair. The blouse was only cotton, expensive only because of the cut that had been specially made for it. Noting through Ruvan that Dak was approaching their camp, she hurriedly removed Dak's shirt and put on her skirt and blouse, folding up the soft, bright blue silk that almost matched his eyes.

By the time they reached the tent, she was pulling together her pack and folding up the blankets they had used. Dakorillon entered, wearing the same clothes as the day before – black leather pants and vest with a black silk shirt.

(Elven silk?) she wondered. (He must have given me his only change of clothes.)

He noted her change of clothing. (Oh, that blouse is nearly see-through – it's so worn – and that skirt hugs her waist like I'd like to. Control your self! Remember, she loves another. She doesn't realize what the sight of her does to you.) He put on a formal manner like a cloak to hide his thoughts.

"I let you sleep a bit, my lady. I thought you might need the rest. Ruvan and I had a little walk and discussed the best route to take," he said with another of his infectious grins, at odds with his formal speech. "Are you ready to travel?"

(What's this ‘my lady’? He's been calling me ‘Aya’ with such familiarity since I introduced myself. And even ‘dearheart’ on occasion) Then she recalled the subdued attraction the discussion of Sorjo had caused. Unsure of how to handle this uncomfortable new formality, she simply smiled and said, "Please do call me by my name." She gave no further explanation, hoping he would return to his easygoing self. The daylight seemed to burn away the intimacies that last night's dark had encouraged.

Dak handed Ruvan over to Aliaya with a nod and quickly finished breaking down camp. Aliaya put Ruvan down and walked him out to the Black. She chatted idly to Ruvan, knowing he couldn't hear her, but long months of talking to herself hard to break.

Dak efficiently broke down camp without a word to Aliaya, lost in his own thoughts. (This woman is not who I first thought she was. She has no family –though her husband may be dead or alive. She mentioned children, not child, last night. I wonder if Ruvan is the only one alive or if the others are hidden away somewhere. She has some money. I couldn't help but notice the clink of jewels and coins when I handled her first bag. You'll get your ears boxed for you if you can’t tell the exact amount and kind by touch wouldn't you, Dak?) He pushed the intruding thought away.

(And the clothes she is wearing are costly, though they are old – possibly old enough to have survived a year if taken care of. She definitely is not who I thought she was. Maybe she does have Mind Powers and I wasn't imagining things last night.) That thought brought more than a little fear into his mind and a cold sweat of revulsion, warring with desire, to his brow. (What have you gotten yourself into, Dak, old boy? And to top it off, you still can't seem to resist her – or the child,) he added. (Not that you find it easy to resist any woman.)

He continued with his musings as he packed the last of the meat and fruit back into her bag, adding the piece he had secreted in his pocket last night. (If it weren't for the baby, I'd leave her, despite my vow last night.) But he couldn't quite convince himself, for he still had an attraction to Aya that was unlike what he usually felt towards any woman.

He finished with camp and turned to take the packs over to the Black. He stopped as the sight of Aya playing with Ruvan by the horse made his heart surge. He watched a moment while she lifted Ruvan and let the gelding whuff at the baby. She was so lithe and graceful in her actions – both natural and practiced.

(She's a noble, despite the clothing and her shyness in speech. Her actions show she’s had noble upbringing.) He had had plenty of practice at reading body language to tell.

Once the horse was satisfied, she allowed Ruvan to pat the horse's face while she gave the horse subtle signals of reassurance that only an experienced rider knew. She turned away from the horse and smiled brightly at Dax, her beautiful green eyes sparkling. A slight breeze caught her curly hair; ruffling it only added to her physical sweetness.

He could not resist smiling back at her, brushing his forelock back with his free hand. (No, Dak, definitely not who you thought she was.) He moved toward her. (So find out _who_ she is,) another part of him urged. Then a movement caught the corner of his eye and he turned, dropping the bags and drawing his sword with one fluid movement.

-*-

Kahdreksh watched the stupid elf man from the thick bushes where he lay. (Soooo stupid elf man,) he thought, (soooo stupid not see Kahdreksh, sooo stupid not sense Kahdreksh. Ohhhhhh!) He felt excitement as a woman came out of the little house of cloth. (Soooo stupid live in house of cloth! Sooo stupid... Aiiyeeeeeaaaa! Is baby! Is little thing! Oh is Goooood eating, Is!)

Kahdreksh was amazed at his good fortune. When he had seen the elf man's back he had almost attacked immediately, but twenty years roaming the Kaladh has trained his feeble mind a little.

(If one man here maybe more. And Whoooo owns man?) he had thought. (If man was Medivh's man he would not attack, oh no oh no! To do so was to suffer so much of the pain yes it was, yes it was!) And then, to his joy, just as the man reached the little house of cloth, the man had brushed his hair back... and ears showed through.

(Elf man!) he had squealed to himself in his mind. (Oh this was good it was! Elf man's were all ok to eat in the Kaladh. Medivh Savar say so and let him eat elf man's when he want. Ohhhhh goood Medivh Master. Ohhhhh nice Medivh Master.) He had begun to scan the elf man with joy as his mouth watered, the scent of elf man so very strong to his keen senses.

Kahdreksh waited patiently as the woman let the baby touch the horse. (No fair!) he thought. (No fair feed baby to stupid horse! Feed baby to Kahdreksh! Kahdreksh hungry oh yes. Don't want have to dig in horse belly to find sweet baby food.) Kahdreksh tensed to spring, unwilling to allow this to happen.

(Kahdreksh would run sooo very fast, hit the stupid woman thing while the elf man was across the camp... maybe kill it for later, the woman thing? And then take the baby thing faaarrrr farrrr into the Kaladh to eat as Feast!)

The half goblin, half demon – a black form the size of a man and of the most fearsome demeanor – raised in a half crouch that was its usual running posture, and sped very, very, very fast across the thirty or so feet that separated it from Aliaya and Ruvan. Its sickly white and green fangs flashed in the sun as it charged, a low grunt of effort like a wild boar's emerging into the morning air.

:MY KING!!!: sounded loud enough into Aliaya's mind to cause her to drop to her knees in pain, clutching her son to her. As she fell, she saw a claw swipe through the air where Ruvan would have been, had she not fallen. Hunger emanated from the beast and a sense of foulness, and she realized its aim was Ruvan.

"NO!" she screamed in voice and mind, forceful enough to stagger Dak, who broke out of his confusion and began racing over. Instinctively she rolled over, placing Ruvan between her and the ground, securing his body beneath her own so that no part of him showed. The beast swiped at her back and arms, trying to get to its wanted meal, shredding her already threadbare shirt and digging deep furrows across her back. She screamed as she felt the fiery agony of ribs breaking in the onslaught. Her emotion reached Ruvan and he began to scream in fear beneath her as well. Fear and pain stimulated her to action.

Kahdreksh was surprised when the woman creature avoided his first attack and he screamed his rage as she folded down over his prey. He dug his claws into her back in anger and drew back to kick her head in....

The Black's eyes were white ringed with terror, but he was a better trained warsteed than even Dak knew. The woman had let him whuff the baby and he knew them. The thing was just _wrong_ somehow. He spun as the monster drew back, and let loose with both rear hooves in tandem as he had been trained to do.

Kahdreksh screamed with frustration and pain as the Black connected directly with his side and chest, knocking him back and down onto his back. He quickly regained his feet, rolling back and up, gritting his teeth in agony and screaming in rage that his prey should so defy him. Already his wounds were beginning to heal as he prepared to charge, all thought gone from his mind except for the desire to rend and kill.

Dak saw the Black step over Aliaya and Ruvan to pose a defense, teeth bared and ears back as the demon thing rolled to its feet. There was blood all over the place from Aya, and he, much like the demon, saw red. He stepped into its line of attack – to the front and side of the Black.

The demonspawn paused as his mind cleared enough to see the elf man there before him with the bright blade of steel. No it would not burn like Cold Iron... but it would hurt.... and it would not heal so fast. He hated men – especially elf men things, with their shiny steels and prickings, and he bellowed his rage to the morning sky.

Dak's sword danced a lazy dance of steel death, winding and turning, and he saw the demon thing’s eyes follow it, and he saw its fear. He also saw the goblin ears and fur, and the distorted features and the eyes burning with demonic power... all within the slowed motion moments granted by the Fey which had come over him. He began to dance forward, carefully stepping in perfect balance toward the demonspawn, his sword and now his dagger continuing a dance of bright steel.

Kahdreksh heard the screams of his prey – now down on the ground – and, roaring in rage, began to circle away from the elf man and his blades, hoping for an opening to his prey. He gnashed his fangs in frustration as the elf man began to drive him away. He spoke, unsure if the elf man could understand him.

"Gives us me the little food one and I's will goooo," he moaned and growled. "Shareses pretty elf man. Don't be sooo greeeedeee uurrrrrrr." He cut off in a growl as the steel came close.

Dak knew that Aya was probably bleeding to death behind him. He knew, in the calm clarity of the Fey that this must be over soon. He stepped lazily to one side positioning himself to lunge and betting all on his skill.

"Then take it, darkspawn," he said. (If you can, you pit of foulness,) he continued in his mind.

No thought of failure entered his mind as the Fey burned clean and sure, making all clear as church crystal.

Kahdreksh did not think to believe or not believe the elf man. The blood of the prey was too sweet to his senses to allow for much else to enter besides hunger, greed and rage. He leapt at Aya, claws set to deliver a neck-breaking blow – faster than thought – past the elf man, determined to have his prey and be gone in an instant.

As the beast leapt, Dak spun in a move timed to fit with the leap of the beast – like a tailored glove to a prince’s hand. His sword entered its back, piercing the heart before it even reached the end of its leap, and he dug his dagger into the beast's neck as he clutched the foul thing to him in a grotesque parody of a lover's embrace.

Kahdreksh screamed as he was snatched from the air, agony splitting his back as the sword pierced his neck, and heart, right through to his front. He was cut by the elf man thing clutching his back. Only in the house of the Master had he ever felt such agony. He did not notice the streams of demon blood that sprayed out over his prey. His roar turned to a gurgle as he thrust himself and his hands back in a life or death struggle with elf man and steel.

Dak could do nothing but hold on as the foul claws dug furrows of shrieking agony into his shoulders and the back of his head. The stench of demon's blood was, itself, nigh overpowering, and he choked for a breath of air. He kept his grip on his dagger and tried to make a fatal cut to the thing's neck amidst the slippery burning blood. He grunted as he felt ribs break when the thing landed on top of him and his back crashed into sharp stone. He used the last of the calm of the Fey and strove again for the killing slice that should finish this madness. He waited as the creature rolled to the side, straining every muscle to hold his grip on its back... and then the moment came and he drove the blade deep into the side of the beast's neck – blade to the fore – and ripped it out through the thing's neck. He felt the demonspawn pull free of his grasp. Then he, in turn, struggled to his feet, only his blood drenched dagger remaining in his hand.

Kahdreksh felt the horrid horrid burn of the steel in him. As he rolled to the side he felt the knife sink deep into his neck, his own movement assisting it in ripping and tearing through more of his flesh. As he rose, he felt the elf man fall away, and he tried to pluck the stinging burning steel from his chest. He clutched and clutched at it, trying to pull it free, but he could not. He saw the elf man get up, and he tried to get away just long enough to get the sticking brand OUT.

He finally – by instinct as much as thought – reached behind him, and his claws found purchase on the hilt. He knew not what it was, but in bestial fury and pain he ripped it up and out, stunned and surprised by the renewed agony in his chest as it came free. Never had he felt such pain as now, and his eyes were dim, smarting from the red burning blood that was in them. He saw the elf man approach and backed away a bit. Then new agony split through his senses as the Black's hooves connected to the side of his body, knocking him several feet through the air to land in a collapsed heap.

As Dak struggled up he saw the demonspawn vainly trying to pull the sword from its chest. He clutched his dagger in a firmer grip and slowly advanced, the pain nearly unbearable now that the Fey had left him. Then he saw the thing rip itself further open as it pulled his blade out of its back, and heard its renewed grunts of pain. Suddenly something flickered from the side of his vision and he heard the sick thud as the Black connected with the beast's side once more, knocking it several feet further away to the edge of the clearing. He reached to pick up his discarded blade and fought the grayness trying to overtake him, but still he rose and advanced on the beast.

Kahdreksh had had enough. He fled, gibbering and bleeding into the wood on all fours. He knew he was soooo bad hurt and nothing but pain filled his mind... nothing that is but pain and RUN. He stumbled and ran into the quiet of the morning, off into the depths of the Kaladh.

Dak changed his course, struggling with each step, and fell to his knees beside Aya and Ruvan, dropping his bloody blades beside him.

(No time to pass out now, Dak my boy,) he thought. (Your pain comes later... if there is a later. For now, it is their pain that must be assuaged). He reached towards his belt, reaching for that small green bottle – the one given him but days back by that mage... the mage he loosely and only with the greatest hesitance labeled a friend. He pulled the bottle from its pouch and struggled to get the cork stopper and seal off. (If you failed to give me a real potion of healing, Xenon, you poor excuse for a living creature, I swear I will rip your marbles off and feed them to a raven).

He nearly smiled at his mental folly towards one he always made _very_sure to show the utmost respect to, as he finally got the top off the bottle. Each motion ripped his shoulders in agony and he could barely breath from pain. As he smelled the sweet scent which wafted from it he felt a strong desire to take this himself and know an end to his pain.

"Oh Lord and Lady give me strength!" he cried, forcing his mind away from these too-sweet thoughts. With the last of his resolve and strength, he poured the full contents of the bottle into the wounds on Aya's back, and pulled the baby from under her. He clutched Ruvan to him with a hand. Then, his strength fully spent, he collapsed beside them both, knowing no more.

Dax:
:Oh, ho.: Zora interrupted Zeke's scrutiny of the bard, without giving an answer as to whether of not she wanted to share the bard and half-elf. :Your table companion isn't happy with your company. Perhaps the amulet isn't as good as we thought?:

:Impossible. Surely the dragon, if anyone, would have noticed. No it must….: Zeke broke off as he started listening to the half-elf's internal thoughts. He could only hear them because he was so near and the half-elf was nearly shouting.

(And I'm a half-breed. Wonder how long it'll take him to notice that and hate me for it,) came the dispirited thought. (Come to think of it, the same holds for Rainbow... why do I even bother. Wintersky was at least a half-elf. Or, as she called herself, half-human – and she understood, and she loved....) He finished with an odd thought as to why even the mere presence of elves could get his mind in an uproar.

(Poor guy,) Zeke thought, (I know what it’s like to be hated by everyone around you. You know, we have a lot in common.)

:Don't go trying to establish yourself as a bosom buddy, Zeke, you wouldn't know what to do to not drive him off. You are a clumsy oaf when it comes to anything except women, and that is a truly generous statement on my part to say that you are not an oaf with the women as well. Look at you, drinking from a mug that belonged to someone else, without a thought to who might see such churlish behavior,: Zora thought scathingly at him.

Zeke was so wrapped up in Zora's chastising that he didn't notice the other half-elf until he was right at his elbow.

:Well hello my two soul'd fiend... I mean friend. I am Xenon, Necromancer and Demoner, oft called the Twilight Adept. I have an errand to attend to and might find your services useful. If you will attend me without, we could discuss terms. And a grand eve to you as well lady soul. The offer is, of course, extended you as well.:

:A DEMONER!: Zeke nearly changed. If Zora hadn’t been in control of their body, he probably would have. :Service, he wants service! What are we going to do?:

:Silence!: Zora answered. :He seems a pleasant enough fellow. He is talking of a trade of services, not a binding. You are such an innocent, naïve, fool sometimes. Why did I have to be one of the Succubi who give birth to a second soul?: Zora finished, more to herself than to Zeke.

Xenon gave them just a touch of his smile, letting his eyes glitter with promise. Then he moved from the wall and with a nod to the half-elf, lathered generously with a friendly smile, he strode across the room.

(Oh, thank the Lord of Luck and Lady of Love that he's gone.) Zeke breathed a sigh of relief. (Hey! he's talking to _MY_ girl!)

"I'll wait for you without lovely one; my conveyance will be nigh...." In quiet tones and with a look of hunger and promise Xenon nodded at the bard.

:Well, I like his style, but I don't think going along with just him is a good idea, yet: Zora mused, mostly to herself. :Slip into chamber pot room so that I can change.:

:Zo-ora:, Zeke complained, :we just did get somewhere nice, and now you want to come out. What about all the work I did?:

:Just go, now!: Zora commanded. :I want to be back before the delicious half-elf leaves.:

Zeke stood with a smile and nod at his reluctant companion and walked into the chamber pot room, shutting the door behind him. A ripple of change lasted as long as the blink of an eye, and standing there was a beautiful human woman - ebony hair, a lush figure – well-caressed, by her choice of gypsy-style clothing which was bright and gay – dark green eyes, and dusky skin, softly promised desire-fulfilled in their touch. She brushed her fingers through hair that gently curled under, falling to her buttocks, then smiled with pleasure.

(Soon all eyes will be upon me, all conquests mine....)

Zora opened the door to the chamber pot room and exited to the common room, sliding into the chair next to the little half-elf ranger. Her voice, a husky contralto, caressed the words, "Hello, stranger, you new around here?"

Angie:
Shadowblade leaned against Ynys' flank, tightening the sash that held the pack on the white unicorn's back. :You'd never believe how grateful I am right now.:

:You had better be grateful. Unicorns do not usually carry packs.: Ynys winked slowly at the elf.

:I'm sorry about this. Sometimes, I believe that I'd be better off minus the Court connections. No more packs filled with clothes to lug around. I believe that the clothing I need would fit in a _small_ pack very nicely. And the rest I could carry on my pouch.... Come to think about it....:

Ynys rolled her eyes as 'Blade unpacked her pack again. This happened almost every trip. 'Blade filled her pouch with as much herbs and poisons as possible, leaving the rations and one set of breeches, a tunic, and a sword belt in the much lighter pack. She slung the bow and the quiver on Ynys' back, securing them with the sash. She arranged her mailshirt under her tunic and belted on her blade before she slung her pack on her shoulders.

:All ready.:

Ynys tossed her mane, laughing. :You only resemble a turtle. Take off that mail and stuff it in your pack. Or... are you really sure you need that mail?:

:I have to wear it. The beasties would be sure to attack this group, moving target though it may be. Better that there will be at least one wearing chainmail, to stand in front of an attack, with more chances of surviving than a sacrificial lamb.:

:Odd logic. It's your back.:

:Thanks for the encouragement.:

:No trouble.: The unicorn's mind voice coloured with amusement. Shadowblade slotted her flute into a compartment in her pack, ignoring the unicorn. She fingered the flute for a moment, sinking into memories of a forest by a village that Medivh had conquered. (One more reason to go after him. I never knew what happened to the child.)

Shaking herself out of her reverie, she stepped back and tried a few steps to shrug the pack into place, ignoring the curious glances she was getting from Erelan and Solarin.

:We had better be making our way. The rain does not look like it is lessening, and I’m beginning to feel restless.:

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