Mistic Circle ~ Story

Andi:
Once she figured all the little fuzzies were dead or fled, Etain decided she needed some time to herself. She gave Fea free reign to go wherever she pleased, confident in her mount’s forest-skills; she could find the group later. Right now Etain just wanted to scout ahead and work through her muddled thoughts.

She began by relaxing her mind and body, letting her thoughts pattern the rhythmic motions of the galloping horse. Fea seemed to feel as her rider did; she exerted herself to the fullest extent, running off the excess energy that had been building for so long. Etain lost herself in the whirling yellows, blues, and greens of dawn in the darkest of woods. The whirling myriad of colours had an almost hypnotic effect on her; only years of training kept her firmly seated on the Warmare.

Fea slowed to a slow walk, and Etain drew her thoughts back to her immediate problems. The group. The Quest. Their Mission. Were all these factors in conflict, or did they fit together somehow? (Whoa, slow down. Take them one at a time.)

The Group. Did she trust them? Yes and no. She trusted only one totally, her partner Owain, but he was fearfully absent from this campaign. Where was he? Was he in trouble? (No, the binding would be pulling like crazy, and I haven't felt a tug from it since this madness started. The Group, mia'ra, the group.) She trusted some to an extent – those she had worked with and those her instinct approved of. Solarin, Shadowblade, the Troll and the Dragon she trusted - they seemed sincere in their own personal Quests. The human Raven? She wasn't sure. As Solarin's partner she had Etain's respect, but did she really trust her? But then she carried the Morrigan's messenger and name. Is that a sign? (Well, who do you not trust?) Xenon. (Something about that man just rubs me the wrong way.) Perhaps it is the way he is always trying to be helpful.… (I don't know. That man just needs watching. There is something he's not telling us, and whatever it is, I don't think we're going to like it.)

She rode through the brightening woods, thinking these thoughts and listening to the morning songs of the Dryads, her kindred. She wished she could be as carefree as the tree-sprites; they did not have to worry about the Quest, or real world problems. They were totally involved with their individual trees. One alighted on Fea's head, and spoke to her.

:Ware, cousin. No-see-cat ahead. Hungry.:

She looked at the tiny shimmering figure and smiled.

:Thank you, cousin. May your tree grow straight and tall and be a shelter for many during the storm of life.:

The little fairie smiled and bowed, flitting back to her tree. Etain watched with a smile. The little beings almost never showed themselves to anyone, even those of the Fairie race. But they had helped her many times, warning her of danger and showing her the way to a haven. Owain could never see them, and was skeptical of her at first, but then began to believe.

She concentrated on the dryad's message. "No-see-cat." (Oh Goddess! A Ghoulcat! I wonder if I can outrun it? No, she said it was hungry. Damn. I hate fighting these things. If I turn around and go back, perhaps it won't find my scent.) She turned Fea and set her pace to a brisk gallop in the direction of the camp.

Attaching her quiver of arrows to the special holster in her saddle, she unwrapped her bow and loosed five of her daggers. She wrapped the sword up and put it away. (Swords aren't much use against Ghoulcats; once it’s close enough to use, you're dead.)

Hearing something faintly, she stopped Fea so that she could listen. A faint hiss followed by a growl was audible from deep within brush. (Damn! It found me. I'm still a good way away from the camp. Well, here goes nothing!)

By this time the Ghoulcat had made itself visible. She looked into its deep red eyes, offering the ritual challenge. Her people were natural enemies of these intelligent cats, and there was a pre-battle ritual to follow. It was one of the duties of her people – to exterminate these cats, and she had dispatched many in her fifty-three years, though never alone.

The cat knew she was alone, and answered laughingly. :I accept your challenge, bright one. You are alone. Do you not wish to call to your puny friends for help?:

"No," she said aloud. "I am more than enough for the likes of you."

:Very well,: it answered. :Prepare to go to the Morrigu:

She vaulted off Fea's back, taking her quiver of arrows with her. She crouched, ready, as the cat circled her, toying with her. It sprang; she loosed an arrow, then dove and rolled away. The arrow had missed its mark, and the cat was looking very proud.

(Goddess, just let me get through this alive....) she fervently prayed, as the cat stopped playing, and the battle was joined.

Darvoso:
Sofaltis smiled, seeing the carriage lurch to a start, and he felt a magic tingle across his skin, raising hairs as it went. (Odd, that's never happened before... wonder why....)

"They're leaving. I can't see Raven or Solarin, but the non-combatants are going.... You'd better run after them."

Sofaltis gulped hesitantly at the elven woman, nodding once to her words, and then he began to run as only a Wilderness Runner could – silently, and as fast as a good horse. It wouldn't be for twelve hours, at the very least, before he would begin to founder from this self-induced pace, and he didn't think the group planned on moving that fast. Almost as soon as he started up, he looked up to see the dragon heading off after the party, and doubtful thoughts entered his mind as he saw gouts of flame falling here and there. It took a bit for rational thought to enter into his mind, pointing out that the gouts of liquid fire were falling behind the party, presumably to keep their backtrail cleared, although he wondered why the forest wasn't ablaze. (Another mystery about this dragon....)

He saw a horse shoot into the forest out of the corner of his eyes, and turned to see who it was. He noticed the ride, and wasn't quite sure why she was heading off into the forest.... (Traitor??) Perhaps an urgent need to use the privy?) Instead of just accepting it, he shot off after her, knowing that his kind were unequalled as scouts and trackers, and that he could easily find her and trail her, without her being aware of it. He flitted from tree to tree, watching her seem to look at empty air before heading forward. All of a sudden his instincts told him to freeze, and he froze, as a ghoulcat soon ghosted across his view. He was glad, suddenly, for the woman’s presence for it caused the cat to not notice him, but wary as to why it would be so... single-minded in its hunting.

When she started the ritual, he knew. (She's of the Fae... now that would explain some of her actions and why she and the ghoulcat are engaging in combat. Ritual or not, with one of those versus one of her, she's more than likely to get killed, or, at best, maimed. Here goes....)

Waiting for the right moment, he loosed two daggers. One shot high and wide as the cat slicked forward, but the other caught it squarely in the head as it avoided an arrow from the Fae. He quickly faded back into the underbrush of the small clearing, hoping the Fae would accept her good fortune and that the cat would be just distracted enough for her to get a good one....

Muranog:
:Xenon's carriage is clear. Now let's get out of here!: Sable mindsent to her troll rider, who was still lashing out at screylinh on all sides with his huge runed sword. The vast war sheep reared up on her hind legs as a few more of the nasty beasts hopped close, then kicked out with both front legs, her armoured sheepshoes sending the little vermin flying.

:Agreed,: Muranog replied mentally. :It's time we were gone. At least, with Erelan flaming the monsters that got ahead of us, we should have no trouble at all finding the others again,: the troll mage teased, knowing full well that his war sheep partner would be able to find them by smell alone, even without using her mental gifts. Sable did not deign to reply, but sprang forward and cantered into the forest, following the course of the carriage and the other groundbound folk and the airborne dragon. As the last screylinh hopped at the great sheep, Muranog swung at it with his runed whitesteel sword without even looking in its direction, cleaving it instantly in two. As the dead beast dropped to the ground, Sable was already accelerating into a gallop, hurrying to catch up with the others.

Muranog and Sable rode on at great speed, Sable rushing through the forest with surprising dexterity for a sheep of her huge bulk and weight, leaping fallen branches and logs with the agility of a deer, barely a twig snapping beneath her hooves. Leaves rustled as the armoured war sheep galloped on after the others, Erelan's flames from above guiding them after their comrades.

:They'll have to stop to rest eventually,: Muranog Mindspoke. :We can catch up then, if not before. Hmm, where did that princess and her pegasi get to? They weren't with the rest of us.:

:Mindmate, look ahead,: Sable Mindspoke as she galloped. :To the left. One of the riders is leaving the group and turning off into the deeper woods.:

:In this place? That's either foolishness or treachery, by the Flames of K'Sath! In a place like this, splitting up is not a wise idea. Who knows what creatures might wait off the beaten paths to attack a lone rider.:

:So we should ignore that one and catch up with the others?: Sable asked.

:Yes, catch up with the rest... no,: the troll changed his mind. :We should investigate. If it truly is treachery, the others must be warned, and if it is but foolishness, the rider may require our aid.:

Instantly reacting to her troll bondmate's change of mind, Sable turned left and charged off the main path, following the rider on the smaller horse. As she galloped, she wrinkled her nose at some strange scent.

:Creature ahead, mindmate. Something... unnatural.:

:Going by what Solarin and Raven said, most of this place is unnatural,: the troll retorted, but he prepared himself for the worst, just as Sable broke from the thick undergrowth and into a clearing, to see Etain on foot, next to her horse, bow in hand, confronting some large grey feline creature.

:Evil, mindmate,: Sable's mindvoice hissed. :That is no normal beast, but one created by sorcery!:

Even as the war sheep sent her warning, Muranog was already sliding from his saddle, his runed sword coming instantly to hand. Without even stopping as her troll rider dismounted, Sable skidded into a tight circle to come around behind the feline creature that threatened Etain, while the troll sprang forward, sword upraised.

The huge grey cat, sensing the new danger, wrenched its attention from the warrior fairie to spring at Muranog, flexing its foreclaws as it hurtled through the air. The troll swiftly stepped back and swung at the cat, his sword moving so swiftly it was little more than a blur. The cat howled as blood spurted from its front right paw. Its front left paw raked Muranog's face, making a strange grinding noise. Fiery red blood spurted from the gashes, accompanied by a hiss of escaping steam, and the cat howled again as the hot blood burned its paw.

(Impressive,) Muranog thought to himself beneath the distraction of pain. (No normal animal of that size should be that strong. I must not underestimate this enemy.) Back-pedalling swiftly as the cat attacked again, the troll flung out his left hand and snapped a Word of power. Red flames streamed from his outstretched hand to engulf the cat, making it howl in even greater pain and rage for a few moments, before the spell expired and it sprang forward with heightened fury. Arrows thudded into its side as it sprang again. Through his link with Sable, Muranog saw Etain reloading her bow to fire again. In mid-leap, the cat turned aside, its claws narrowly missing the troll, and landed on the soft grass. It crouched, ready to spring at Etain.

:Prepare to go to the Morrigu, bright one,: the cat sneered in broadsend-mode Mindspeech, contempt clearly flavouring its mental voice as it hissed at all those present and tensed its powerful muscles to spring.

:Not today!: Muranog snapped, also in broadsend mode, thoroughly angered by this monstrous corruption of a natural feline, hot blood still running down his face as he pointed his left hand at the tensed, crouching cat-creature and spoke aloud. "In the name of Graal, I command the earth to hold thee fast!"

The cat tried to spring, but the troll's magic held it down, paralysing it. Muranog ignored the hateful glare from its red eyes and bowed to Etain, trying to ignore the pain from his still bleeding face.

"Friend Etain? Your kill, I believe."

Leaving the warrior fairie to give the cat-monster its deathblow, the troll intoned a quick spell of Earth magic to heal himself, glad that the injury was a minor one. Climbing back onto Sable's back, he saluted Etain with his still-drawn sword and waited for her to finish the spellbound creature off.

Kathryn:
As Muranog saluted Etain, waiting for her to finish off the first cat, the second crouched behind his back, preparing to leap. With a growl, it launched itself at his back, claws extended to rake, fangs ready to sink into his neck. A black blur intercepted its flight, wrapping itself around the Ghoulcat and carrying both to the ground with a muffled THUD.

:Dirty, bloody shelanth!: Isis mind-shrieked, growling deep in her throat as she clawed her adversary.

The Ghoulcat snarled at the insult – (a shelanth being a small desert rodent that ate only carrion) – and managed to break her grip, struggling away to face Isis. They crouched, circling each other warily, green eyes staring into red. Noticing the black panther's wings, the Ghoulcat's eyes widened in surprise.

:Your kind are dead, Cousin!: it spat. :Prepare to join your fellows in the dust.:

:Not all of us. You prepare to join your litter-mate over there in the darkness,: Isis reported, nodding to the Ghoulcat that Muranog had trapped. With a leap, she tore at the Ghoulcat, picking up a few deep scratches before clamping her teeth on its neck and twisting so that Etain could reach the one vulnerable spot on its underbelly. (I hope she throws that dagger soon....)

Dax & Adrienne:
Aya smiled at Ruvan as he came toddling out of the tent, several hours later. There was a little frown on his face and he cupped his hands together, looking at her. When she didn't respond right away, Ruvan frowned harder and cupped his hands together again. Aya was unsure what he was doing and reached out her mind to his, seeing a picture of an apple in his mind, and Ruvan making the motion and receiving pieces of apple from Dakorillon.

:You hungry baby?: she asked Ruvan, her words emphasized by a picture of fruit.

Ruvan smiled broadly and made the hand motion again. (Where did you learn that?) she thought. (Dak? How could he teach you, when you couldn't hear him?)

Aya went to the tent to pull an apple out of her bag – there would be one or two left if she remembered aright. When she approached the tent, she heard a soft moan, husky with sleep. Ducking in, Aliaya saw that Dakorillon had thrown the blanket off of him and his silver-white hair was plastered to his face with a sheen of sweat that coated all of his body not covered by his pants and the wrappings. He seemed to be having some kind of dream – a hand flailed out just then, causing him to groan again in pain, and roll to his side, exposing bandages with blood seeping through them

(Oh, Goddess of the Mind, what am I going to do?) She continued to retrieve an apple for Ruvan, giving him a few small pieces. She returned to Dak. Touching his face she found him hot. (He must have wound-fever.) She bit her lip in concern. (Well, he must have some medicines, because he had a healing potion for me.) Dak moaned again, rolling away from her, exposing more bloody bandages. (First, you need to calm him down.) She projected feelings of calm at him. This seemed to help a bit. He stopped thrashing about and his sweating returned to normal fever levels. (He had to dress his wounds with something.) Still projecting calm towards Dak, she searched his packs until she found a health kit. Looking though it, she was dismayed to find none of the bottles were labeled. (Well, they aren't written on, but they are color-coded. Which does me a lot of good.) Her gaze returned to Dak, who had resumed moaning. Ruvan had finished his apple pieces. He was not interested in more food, though. He had moved towards Dak. Ruvan reached out his arms, trying to wrap them around the elf. Aya felt the waves of love and caring from Ruvan. But as soon as his little body touched Dak, Dak shoved the baby brutally away.

Not expecting such a betrayal and harsh reaction for his actions, Ruvan cried mournfully. Aya picked up her son, soothing him, and thinking about how to determine which of the potions to give Dak. (He should know which one is which.) She set Ruvan down, reassuring his broken heart.

Aya stretched herself towards Dak. It had been a long time since she had gently entered another's mind, and she was very nervous, especially after his reaction the first time she mind-touched him. She found herself amidst Dak's jumbled thoughts. She oriented herself, noting that she had entered in an area of his mind that held most of his thoughts and memories of her. She looked around and saw Dak's "now self" – the person he saw himself as at the moment – embroiled in a bitter fight with age-old memories. (The cause of his present agitation,) she thought quietly to herself so she wouldn't disturb him. Her training with the Priestesses of the Mind showed her that any thing she thought or felt would be clear to the one whose mind she visited, despite any shields – of that person's or her own. She was trying to disturb Dak's mind and presence as little as possible.

She further inspected Dak's mind. Even jumbled thought patterns usually had the most recent events at the fore. Dak was no different. Within his thought of her was when he had given her the healing potion. Connected to that memory was a mental listing of all his potions and which color did what. (I love how the mind works!) she thought excitedly. She leaned a little closer to read the list, being careful to not disturb anything. (Blue for hangovers, green for stomach ache, red for Hunter's stew? How strange. Pink for good love....) She blushed at the thought that was connected to it. (What else?) There was a blue-green bottle, but it was empty; it matched the bottle in his memory of what he had used on her. There was another blue bottle with greenish swirls that seemed similar, and his mind labeled it "healing elixir". (Ah, that one.)

Aya slowly left Dak's mind. She paused a slight distance from Dak's fighting form. She wished she could intervene and help. (And then maybe hold him, and.... None of that. First, give him the medicine he needs. Then you can come back.)

She came back to herself. Ruvan was still hiccuping from his crying fit. "It's okay, baby. Mama's going to help Dak. He'll be alright." The last she said mostly to herself. She took the correct bottle and moved back to Dak. He was not currently rolling around and seemed much soothed after she had touched his mind. She slipped her arm beneath his head and shoulders, and propped him up so that the liquid would go down his throat. She balanced him against herself, and held his mouth open to pour the fluid into it. Having no idea how much to give him, she gave him about half the bottle. (If he doesn't get better, I'll give him the rest. But if he only needs half, I don't want to waste it. It smells of... brandy?... and garlic....) Once the desired amount was in his mouth, she held it shut and rubbed his throat with her other hand. She remembered helping her dad do this when her mother was so near death. Gently, she laid him back on the ground.

Tired from the exertion of her mind, she sat back and closed her eyes. She never noticed that she fell asleep, nor when she hit the ground.

Caiata:
Delane woke with a start as the air-carriage began to slow. Looking around, she gathered her bearings and offered a wan smile to the others inside.

"Do you think perhaps we are stopping for an encampment?" she asked rhetorically, not really expecting any of them to answer her. They all seemed to regard her with a quiet distaste, if they regarded her at all. (Oh, stop that,) she chided herself silently. (Only one knows what We are, and he surely has not told them. We're imagining things again....)

When the carriage did not stop, Delane's smile faded. She turned and watched the sunrise over the trees for a while, and then decided to join the attractive red-haired man in the driver's seat. "Pardon me," she said to the other occupants, and again dissolved into a mist, flowing through the cracks in the door and out of the cabin.

She reformed again in the seat next to Xenon and smiled. "A lovely dawn, is it not?" Without stopping to let him reply, she continued. "I think that perhaps introductions are in order. My name is Delane." Flashing Xenon the most friendly smile she could muster, she held out her hand and awaited his reply.

Andi:
Leaving the warrior fairie to give the cat-monster its deathblow, the troll intoned a quick spell of Earth magic to heal himself, glad that the injury was a minor one. Climbing back onto Sable's back, he saluted Etain with his still-drawn sword and waited for her to finish the spellbound creature off.

Etain nodded gratefully in the direction of the Troll, then advanced, hissing towards the cat.

:Spawn of the Black Mage, do you surrender?: She asked the ritual question.

Before it could answer, a black blur leapt through the air, intercepting another Ghoulcat that had sprung at Muranog. Both were suddenly on the ground, but the black panther was obviously the winner.

:No,: the first cat hissed. :WE WILL SURVIVE!: Etain muttered the sacred words, then carelessly threw a dagger which landed, dealing the cat its death blow. She blocked out its screaming and hissing from her mind.

Turning to the second cat, she sent, :And you, evil one, who do not follow the ways of the ritual. What have you to say?:

:Those rules were meant for fools,: it replied. :I no longer follow fools...:

:Then you too shall die.: Etain grinned evilly, and dispatched this cat in a swift movement.

"Thank you, friend Muranog, friend Isis. You have proved yourselves worthy of the fairie's trust. May you ever walk unhindered in my lands," she bowed, solemnly.

Sorchafyr:
Sand took a deep breath. (Stop a minute and take stock,) she thought wildly. (We are in full flight away from some grotesque teethy things, but none are in the carriage and we are going FAST, so now is the time.) Firstly, she was sitting on someone. Comfortable enough for her but.... She looked around the carriage and realized there was no other place for her. She twisted around to look at her "cushion" and found a rather attractive man supporting her.

"Hello, and my apologies," she said in her softest, friendly-yet-not- seductive voice. "It would seem I am destined to share your seat. Should you find a more comfortable solution, please let me know."

Secondly, her shoulder was only sore, not raw and bloody. That was a wonder she was profoundly grateful for. She looked at the healer across from her and knew her first thanks were less than graceful.

"My extreme thanks, Lady healer. I hope we can speak when things settle down a bit. Should I be able to repay or even help you, please do not hesitate to let me know. I should be happy to be useful to someone."

Thirdly, she was hot and tired, the tension generated from being attacked was draining away, leaving her even more lethargic than she usually was after a performance. (This is turning into a long evening.) Sand leaned her head back against the man’s shoulder, but left her eyes open to both observe – (What I do best, lifeblood) – and not close herself off from any conversation.

Muranog:
Muranog sheathed his runesword after wiping it clean on the corpse of the Ghoulcat that Isis had intercepted. He bowed solemnly from the saddle to the winged black panther.

:My thanks, Isis. Your timely action saved me some considerable annoyance, and perhaps injury.: The troll rubbed his cheek where the wound caused by the first Ghoulcat had now fully healed. :Come, friends, let us hasten back to the others, now that these monsters have been disposed of. I like not to leave them with Xenon and Agalein for any longer than necessary – not to mention the monsters that we will be most likely to fight before long.: Muranog finished his Mindtell to the others in the clearing, turned Sable and began heading back to the main path to catch up with Xenon's carriage and the other riders.

Dax & Adrienne:
(My sword. I have to have my sword,) swirled around in Dakorillon's fevered mind.

(Don't ever lose your tools or weapons, Kory.) Roarke stood towering over him. (Do you think I can afford to keep buying you tools? It's going to take you weeks to earn enough for me to buy you tools.) A hand slammed across his face and he cowered away.

(Now, get out there and find it, don't come back until you do.) A pointing finger showed him the door. With a whimper, he crawled out and then began running.

(I'm good at running,) he thought, lost in the past as his feet trod the forest trail that was the path of least resistance. (I'll find it, Roarke.) He trotted on, the wind of his passing cool to his sweaty brow, his mind roaming from past to present with no seeming difference.

(I have to get my sword or Aya will hate me, she'll beat me and lock me in a prison with no sound. No, that's not right. Aya likes me, it’s her father that hates me because I'm an elf. But why would I have lost his sword? Maybe I sold it...? I had to make money to get out of the prison. No, Xenon wants me to get the sword for him, because its magical and....) His thoughts stopped for a moment as he found himself lying on the ground. (How did I get here?)

Dak picked himself up and continued on, running faster as the sound of hoofbeats became louder behind. (I loved her, I did, but we weren't right for each other, I told her so. Ah, Lady Emily, Lady Bridgett, Samatha, dear maid.... Aya? who's Aya? – Oh yes, beautiful dryad, voice of a siren, touch of a dove. Hair of deep midnight, eyes of the storm, skin as soft as sea foam... no, that's Melisand.... Aya? She lost my sword! She stole it from me, after she seduced me! I have to get it back. The guards are after me!)

Dak stumbled again, crashing sideways through bushes and thorns, tearing at clothing and bare skin alike, mud added to his patchwork of bandages and blood. When his abused body came to rest and his vision cleared from the red stars that kept circling like vultures, beckoning him into the darkness of death, he found himself staring up – not at guards, but at a black horse.

(Hello,) he thought at it, because his voice didn't seem to be working. He reached up and petted its nose. It whickered softly, snuffling his hair. His mind was clear for a moment and he saw a road stretching from the right, and as he turned his head, it continued to the left.

(Or vice versa, if I was going the other way. You know, Dak, this looks like a good place to rest, half-hidden in the bushes; the grass is soft and I think you may have unset that rib, so resting here is a good idea....) The last thought was snuffed like a candle in the lowering darkness of unconsciousness.

-*-

Aliaya started awake, unsure of what had disturbed her. She looked around. Both Ruvan and Dak were gone. She hurried out of the tent. She couldn't see either of them. She looked around and noticed the Black was gone as well, though its tack still lay in the same place. She followed down her link to Ruvan and found him along a path not far from the camp. He was distressed because a big black bird kept blocking him from following down the path. First she feared that it was going to attack Ruvan; then she thought about Dakorillon's injuries, and visions of crows circling a dying Dak filled her mind.

(Dak must have gone to get his sword,) she decided, recalling how upset he was that she left it. (He must still be ill. The potion could not have worked this quickly; besides, he would have wakened me if he was thinking right. How will I find him?) She quickly made her way to Ruvan and picked him up, earning an oddly intelligent look from a black raven. Returning to camp, she debated what to do. (He took the horse. I'll never be able to catch him, let alone carry all the stuff here. But he's sick and shouldn't be left to wander alone. He didn't saddle Black, so I doubt he's any better than earlier. Which means he's probably never coming back.) Sadness tainted her thoughts. (Well, why should Dak come back? Nobody has ever come back for you.)

She started going through all the stuff in the tent. (Can only carry one blanket. Must have all the food. Dak's health potions. His only clothes. Oh, no, he's running around half-naked! He'll just make himself even more ill.) She strengthened her vow to find him with that thought. (What else? Can't take the tent or the saddle. Must take my only source of money - the jewels.) She went through Dak's packs and pulled out a few more things that she thought might be of value later. She was amazed at how spare they were – a grooming kit, a horse grooming kit, a single cook pot and eating kit, a water skin and a little rope. Aya arranged all this stuff into two evenly weighted bags. She pulled the sword belt around her and anchored the two bags to it, the way she'd been traveling all along. She got out the baby carry she'd made and put Ruvan into it, facing him away from her. Then she collapsed the tent and shoved it, the saddle, a battered wooden box shaped like a harp case that she had been unable to open, and the few other blankets and things she had to leave behind – into a dark hiding place. She made a mental note of the area, hoping she could return to it to retrieve the items she was leaving behind.

The raven was still hanging about. (Looking for food are you? I don't have any to spare.) The raven nodded as if it understood her. She ignored it and headed back in the direction she had come from. (Well, Dak went down the wrong path. I should find him, but he'll be happier to see me if I have his sword again.)

The bird followed her. :What do you want?: she thought at the bird, hoping her images of her annoyance would drive it away. That's how she had managed to never get attacked by animals; she made them think that there was something bigger and stronger and nothing worth fighting for in her area.

To her surprise, it answered. :Watching. Safe.: A distorted image of a black-haired woman came with the words, as well as the feeling that the raven was obeying orders from the woman.

:Ah, a familiar or bonded.: (I doubt it understands very complicated speech. It will stay or go as it pleases. I'll just let it be.)

She walked in silence, her concern for Dak growing as time passed. (It took me nearly a day to ride to this camp; do I really expect to be able to walk back to get his sword and find him in any sort of time?) An idea occurred to her. :Scout?: she asked the raven.

:Where?: came the reply. Aya sent the bird images of her travel.

:Shortest route,: she summed up. The raven flew up into the sky. Aya walked on, images of a beast feeding on Dak, or some cruel person coming upon him as he lay almost dead somewhere, filled her mind. (Stop worrying,) she commanded herself. But she couldn't help it. She cared deeply for Dakorillon SilverSong, even though she'd known him a few short days. It had taken her much longer to fall in love with Sorjo. Grief and guilt followed. She felt she was betraying her husband by falling in love with another man. (And acting on my feelings is even worse,) she scolded herself. Her mind kept returning to the sword's statement that Ruvan was king, and how the lines of succession worked. (I have no husband.) Grief welled up inside her. Sorjo had been so loving and wonderful, the six years they had been together. It hurt her to lose him. (Either I wallow in grief or I wallow in guilt.)

Just then, the raven returned with a much shorter path to the desired location clear in its mind. (What a crooked path we traveled!) she thought when she compared the raven's course with the one she had ridden. (I'll get there in a few hours now instead of the day and a half walking trip the other route would have taken,) she thought with relief.

She altered her path to follow the raven's. Her mind kept flowing with bad thoughts. In vain, she tried to follow her link to Sorjo. Her memory recalled a conversation with one of the Priestesses who had trained her: "If you establish one of your 'links' to someone who is not of your blood, it will not be very strong until you have lived a lifetime with that person. Then it will be, maybe, half as strong as your link with your father. It could be stronger if the person is sensitive to mind-touch or has Gifts themselves, but that is rare."

Shortly after she had left the palace, she had traveled the link to Sorjo. She had gotten vague notions of the palace and the Tyrant's occupancy. She had been too fearful for her life to return to the palace. Each day she tried to follow her link to find Sorjo, and each day she had met with either vague ideas or nothing. She hadn't ever been able to follow those ideas anywhere helpful. She assumed the nothingness was when Sorjo was asleep. Even in his presence she could only enter his mind as an outsider when he was not conscious. He always had to be awake for her to enter through their link. Even more unfortunate was that, as time went by, the vague blurs became less clear and harder to get. That was when she'd begun to lose hope that she would find him again. She tried less and less often to follow their link. One day a few months ago, she'd tried to follow it and encountered blackness, not nothingness. It was as if someone else had severed the link, leaving it to drop off into nowhere. She knew that she could have tried to re-establish it, but her energy had been spent in keeping herself and Ruvan alive.

This time she encountered the blackness again. She watched it for a bit, trying to glean information. Her mental inquiries yielded nothing useful. (All this can mean is something very wrong has happened to him – so wrong that he is no longer fit to rule. But he is still my husband.)

A voice interrupted her thoughts. :Your husband is dying, Touched-One. An evil has corrupted him. Soon, he will be irretrievable.:

:How do you know this?: she asked the sword, amazed at how much he had said. He never volunteered information unless it concerned something that offended him or concerned Ruvan.

:I am connected to more than Ruvan and yourself. I have information – what is deemed necessary. This you must accept: Sorjo is no longer. No matter what you see or feel, it is manipulations. You must learn more about life. This Dakorillon SilverSong is a good one. He can teach you. And you can heal him. There may be others that you can learn from as well. Eventually, you will bring Ruvan back to his land, but that is for later.:

Aya felt the King's Sword's presence slipping away. :Wait! Who are you?: she asked lamely, wanting something more from the sword, but uncertain as to what.

:My name is Vahlender. The rest is only knowledge for the king.:

The exchange led to many new thoughts. Her worries about Dak decreased slightly. Sooner than she expected, she came upon the original clearing. Dak's sword was, amazingly, still there. Blood still covered the ground. She was not surprised to find that Dak was not there.

(He went off the wrong way anyway. How do I find him?) She cleaned the sword and found a couple daggers on the ground, as well. Her eyes strayed to the raven.

:Still here?: she thought at him. :Help?:

:Scout?: he asked, sounding a little excited.

:Yes. Find.: She 'Sent him an image of Dak, complete with bloody bandages.

:Will find. First, you travel road.: She received another mental map of a path to a nearby road.

:Thank you.: She set off. The raven took flight. (Things are looking a bit better,) she thought, until the sky clouded up and a slight drizzle began to fall.

Raven Darkblade:
When the carriage and the riders following it began to slow, Raven kneed the lathered Banshee up beside the floating thing.

"We need to stop," she said. "We've outrun the screylinhs, we're tired and our mounts are exhausted, a handful of us seem to have wandered off, we have no plan for what lies ahead, and right now we aren't working together too well. We need to stop and rest, get anyone who was hurt healed up, and make some sort of decision about what to do now."

Solarin added, "I know this area, and there is a place nearby where we can stop to rest in relative safety, if," his voice became dry, "you are willing to trust my knowledge of the area and my rangerly skill."

:Raven,: Solarin asked suddenly, :where is Mor? I have not seen him since we left the Midnight Sun.:

:Out there, somewhere. Scouting. He'll turn up when he likes. You know how he is.:

:Yes, I know.:

The pair waited for a response. :If Xenon decides to be an idiot about this....:

:Peace, shayala. If he is truly on our side – or, at least, on a side other than Savar's – then we will be able to come to a compromise. He says he was trained by Savar – that would leave anyone wary to trust others. You recall how Kat was, and she left Savar's influence at a young age.:

:I know....: Raven sighed softly. :I just wish he hadn't been so gods-cursed stubborn! I'd much rather be stopping in the vale than in some dretching roadside clearing – and I want off this road as soon as possible.:

:As do I. We will make a compromise, somehow. And you will wrap that wrist of yours. Do not try to pretend you didn't twist it; I can feel it aching.:

Raven made a face. :Damn you.:

:Shayala, without me you would cripple yourself out of sheer stubbornness.:

:Don't I know it?:

Axe:
As the carriage slowly began to move down the road, a mist flowed from the carriage out onto the seat beside Xenon.

(Now there is a sure sign of power, and I would know this one again wherever I might see her,) Xenon thought as she coalesced.

Delane reformed again in the seat next to Xenon and smiled. "A lovely dawn, is it not?" Without stopping to let him reply, she continued. "I think that perhaps introductions are in order. My name is Delane." Flashing Xenon the most friendly smile she could muster, she held out her hand and awaited his reply.

"And I am Xenon," he replied, an equally friendly smile followed by a grin directed her way. (I've won many a heart with just such a smile,) he thought. (But then surely an old one like this can see that for what it is no doubt. Still, there is seldom a sweeter tasted to be savoured than that taken where danger lies... and my soul is no simple one to be converted to her dark godlet. Yet... what darkling pleasure... for us both... to pass a moment in the danger of our mutual Arts, and to walk again to our separate paths, our curiosity assuaged.... well, we're sure to stop soon, or I miss the purpose of the hoof beats approaching on my right.)

"I am Xenon," he whispered this time to the beauty on his left, his voice low and gentle, full of promise of the forbidden. "And you, dear dark bright Delane are pleasure are you not? Shall we soon call a moment free of our pursuits, dark or light as they may be, and mesh ourselves in that fleeting but rich full pleasure for a while, and twist and twine in passion you and I?" Xenon's left hand had moved to those places on her form so made for the pleasure he spoke of, to awake there that passion....

Suddenly the riders who had been approaching from his right side rode up, their horses lathered and, though not at all too sure of this floating carriage and their spectral cousins pulling it, the horses were a picture of warsteed control. Xenon admired that and then looked at Raven, dusky dark Raven, as she spoke.

Xenon waited a moment, considering, his hand idly toying with the hem of Delane's shirt feeling the silky feel of it with the pads of his fingers while the backs of them felt the silkier splendour of her soft side. He watched the little movements of pose and posture of the two, and even small bits of expression on the face of the warrior woman Raven... she obviously wasn't quite as used to mental communion.

"I agree dear Raven," Xenon spoke. "Many here are tired and, though I believe the lady Healer inside the carriage has done much of the healing required within," he gestured at the carriage, "I am fairly sure most would be grateful for a stop, a rest and perhaps some refreshment. And may I comment that you and your companion Solarin here were extraordinary in your prowess in dealing with those filthy little gigglers?"

He went on. "But, as for your suggested place of repose, Solarin, I would like to know more of it before committing myself or these poor folk within to it. I have traveled this road for years, and though I doubt not your prowess in wood or fen, it doesn't take so much rangerly skill as all that to find a place suitable for encampment nearby a road. I would not be so sure of my welcome in an elf vale, and have no assurance that others within would receive any better in welcome. The elves of the Kaladh are near as haughty and, at best, condescending to what they consider poor mortals as those of great Karilanth. I, also, offered myself as guide to these folk in their trek to the Citadel of Savar, and can quite assure you that there are equally as many dangers within the green darkness of the Kaladh as there are traveling this road. I know of a circle of stones ahead, with several overhangs and just off the road. The position is defendable and contains several dry places.... I offer this as good refuge and I know it well. Still, I doubt not that you are wise and canny in the ways of travel, and I would be grateful to hear what you suggest as well, in the alternative... if we have not, as may be the case, considered the same place?"

Xenon, having noticed Solarin's former dry tone, and expecting fully to receive much the same if not worse at this point, carefully sent to Kang to be ready to armour his face and hands, and waited, with interest to hear his full Karilanthian's reply.

Adrienne:
Aliaya sat down against a tree. She hadn't stopped long at the clearing because of the blood still there. She'd forced herself to continue walking. Because of the second sword and the extra stuff of Dak's she was carrying, she felt as if her back was breaking. She was hungry and Ruvan kept tugging at her mind with hungry thoughts. The large raven had not yet returned from his search for Dak.

She pulled a bit of dried meat out of her bag. She wanted to save the last piece of fruit a little longer. A mental check of the immediate area confirmed there were no intelligent animals around. She stripped off the shirt she had made from the dress, and put Ruvan to her breast.

By now, she was too tired for her mind to wander. She chewed on her piece of meat and rest her eyes. Just as she was drifting off to sleep, a mind-voice jolted her back to awareness.

:Found!: The Raven swooped below the forest branches and landed in front of her.

"Oh, um...." For a moment, Aya couldn't figure out what she was supposed to do. She shifted uncomfortably under the bird's gaze, causing a tug on her hair.

She looked down to see a lock of her hair tightly grasped in Ruvan's fist. He had fallen asleep in her arms and was drooling all over her bare chest. It was quite uncomfortable now that she noticed it. She removed her hair from the baby's grip. Placing him on the ground, she replaced her shirt. Then she returned her focus to the bird.

"You found Dak?" she asked him.

:Yes. On road. You go.:

"Is he far?"

:Flight, no. Foot-walk, yes.:

"Oh." Disappointed, she pulled Dak's cloak tight around herself. "Then, I'd best get going."

This time, however, she had Ruvan waddle in front of her to relieve herself of the strain of carrying him. The raven flew along with them, every so often directing Aya to the best path to the road. Sometimes he flew off and didn't return for a long while, but he returned consistently. Aya didn't know if he was returning to the woman he was attached to, or if, as she hoped, he was checking on Dak. She continued on.

Darvoso:
Sofaltis watched from his vantage point as the troll took care of the battle quite nicely. (Pah, they'll probably never notice my dagger. Great, now I've only got two left. Two in the inn, one now... I really should collect it.)

Emerging quietly from cover, he retrieved his dagger, nodding once, curtly to Etain.

"Seems as if I wasn't needed. I do apologize for... interfering," he said softly. "I think the troll has left us a large path through the forest. Combat skill or not, they leave trails that even a babe could follow." He grinned to Etain then. "Come we should return with the group, else they might be worried."

Sofaltis snorted. (Worried, about me, yea right.) He just stood there, waiting for her reply....

Muranog:
Riding hard to rejoin the others and hoping Etain, Sofaltis and Isis would swiftly follow, Muranog sent his mage-senses out ahead to find the rest of the group, his scrying reaching them just in time to hear Xenon's speech. Anger took control as the troll heard Xenon's words, and he focused his will to project a visible image of himself to the group, flickering into existence a foot above the ground next to Solarin and his horse, glaring at Xenon for the implied insult to Solarin – in particular – and the elves in general.

"I for one would hear Solarin's plan," the troll rumbled, continuing to look suspiciously at Xenon. "The lore of my people is full of the prowess of the rangers of Karilanth, from the days when we traded and travelled and fought together. Also, Sable and I would be most interested in meeting any more elves of Karilanth, or realms allied with our ancient allies of Karilanth, if such are indeed to be found here in the Kaladh, both for ourselves and in our capacity as ambassadors of Trollhome. Sable and I are riding swiftly to catch up with the rest of you, after having a spot of trouble in the forest, and will be here shortly. Solarin?"

Muranog's magical image waited to hear the elven ranger's plan, while his true self and Sable continued to thunder along the forest path toward where Xenon, Solarin and the others waited.

Izzy:
Atalaya followed the carriage through the forest, occasionally turning in her saddle and looking behind her to make sure that the annoying giggling things weren't following too closely. Inwardly, she fumed, remembering the sense of blood-magic that had almost made her sick, and the curses in a language which was an affront to all she served. (If he wasn't supposedly an ally, if he hadn't help us get out of there, and if the situation was less urgent, I'd have killed him. Or at least hit him over the head until I got a damn good explanation out of him.)

As they came to a stop, she walked Cyclone up towards the conversation and dismounted, flicking copper-streaked brown hair out of her face and regarding the participants with cool brown eyes.

"While your plan does sound feasible, sir," Atalaya noted in a calm voice, but one with no trace of warmth in it, "I would appreciate hearing both alternatives before objections to one are made." With a slight trace of disapproval on her face, she added, "The elves of the Kaladh may indeed resent the intrusion of humans into a place that has been their homeland for millennia, much as Karilanth has been to my people, and I would not infringe upon them, especially after the recent troubles. Still, if it would not cause them undue trouble, which it would, I would have no qualms about asking them for aid. They are trustworthy." She paused and looked directly at Xenon. "I am not so certain about finding that quality in one who wields blood magic and so obviously knows the demon tongue. Still," another pause and she considered things, tapping sword-callused fingers on the belt at her waist, "the location you have described has its advantages, including the fact that it will not infringe on the Kaladh's homeland or draw unfriendly beings there." She looked questioningly to Solarin. "So, may we hear your suggestion and then decide?"

Andi:
He grinned to Etain then. "Come we should return with the group, else they might be worried."

She smiled, offering him one of her perfectly balanced daggers. "Here, for the one lost. Such bravery should be acknowledged. Yes, we probably should get back to the group." Looking over to the sleek black panther she said, "Coming Milady Isis?"

Sensing strange troubles up ahead, Etain kicked Fea into a run, leaving Sofaltis and Isis to follow however they could. (They'll be fine,) she thought to herself. (Two dead Ghoulcats will discourage any others... I hope....) She followed the trail made by the troll all the way back to the camp, hoping against hope that the argument she felt had not elevated into violence. The woods were almost trembling with anger, and attuned to nature as she was, she felt the very trees caught up in the struggle.

Arriving back at the camp in time to hear both Xenon's and Muranog's speeches, Etain kept her thoughts to herself. (It is better to listen than to argue, and if the group splits, I will follow Solarin. Those of Karilanth have always treated my people with respect and honor. Humans, however, have not. Not that I do not trust humans, I am just more wary of those not somehow linked with the Fairies. And that is the way it should be.)

Etain told Fea to stay, then wandered over to the group, slowly opening and stretching her silvery wings. They caught the light of the sun through the trees and glistened, until she relaxed them, though she did not fold them up. That action should have said enough.

Axe:
Xenon wondered who had had the bad taste to summon the phantom troll. It looked decidedly like the one they were traveling with and, like its real form, it was beginning to get on his nerves just a bit. Still the looming and glaring were amusing, and he couldn't have trained one to a better performance himself, and it surely seemed to be from the heart....

Xenon decided to honour the troll's request and wait until he heard from Solarin and to let the troll's rumblings go though they annoyed him somewhat. Before Solarin could get a word in edge wise a very nice Karilanthian paladin on a very nice steed began a tirade.

As they came to a stop, she walked Cyclone up towards the conversation and dismounted, flicking copper-streaked brown hair out of her face and regarding the participants with cool brown eyes.

(Ah,) Xenon thought. (The finest in coppery haired Karilanthian pleasure slaves speaks....)

"While your plan does sound feasible, sir...," Atalaya noted in a calm voice, but one with no trace of warmth in it, "I would appreciate hearing both alternatives before objections to one are made." With a slight trace of disapproval on her face, she added, "The elves of the Kaladh may indeed resent the intrusion of humans into a place that has been their homeland for millennia, much as Karilanth has been to my people, and I would not infringe upon them, especially after the recent troubles. Still, if it would not cause them undue trouble, which it would, I would have no qualms about asking them for aid. They are trustworthy."

(As if this were any 'ancestral homeland' of theirs,) Xenon thought. (They've probably no more claim to the Kaladh than many another. Just another example of typical elven hubris.)

She paused and looked directly at Xenon. "I am not so certain about finding that quality in one who wields blood magic and so obviously knows the demon tongue. Still," another pause and she considered things, tapping sword-callused fingers on the belt at her waist, "the location you have described has its advantages, including the fact that it will not infringe on the Kaladh's homeland or draw unfriendly beings there." She looked questioningly to Solarin, "So, may we hear your suggestion and then decide?"

The paladin's disapproval and disdain was more than Xenon was willing to put up with at this point. He broke swiftly in on the end of her words like a continuation of a second wave in the wake of a first.

"Dear phantom troll," Xenon began. "While I do appreciate your erudite lecture on the lore of your people and your heartfelt lecture on the wonders of your relationship of old with those paragons of virtue, the Karilanthians, I would draw your attention to the fact that I also asked to hear Solarin's plan, and did so from the beginning of our converse. As for your desire to meet the elves of the Kaladh, perhaps your should divert your course and continue to where they may be and undertake your ambassadorial duties rather than continue with us to the Citadel and confront Medivh.... Those duties, of course understandably outweighing any other concern. I certainly would welcome you to take that choice and wish you pleasant journey should you go; thought I must say I will miss the lectures on ancient troll lore immensely." Xenon's voice was full of sorrow but with the willingness to go on as he spoke those last words. He went on in the flow of converse weaving that flow and ebb into a tapestry designed to gain and retain the attention of the group.

"As for you, dear sweet kind lady paladin of Karilanth, I would also remind you that I asked to hear Solarin's plan and did not offer my own as the only solution. I also appreciate your desire to give credence through your words and surely great prowess to the trustworthiness of these Kaladh brethren of yours. Surely they must be crying in joy and wishing to embrace you in your glory with arms spread wide to receive! I won't bother to dispute with you their claim concerning the Kaladh, and will simply assert that we do, perhaps differ on that point. As for your doubts to my trustworthiness, and your distaste for the languages I have chosen to learn and the magic I wield, frankly... I don't really give a screylinh's butt. I wield what I wield and I assist where I may, and I put no more trust in your words that in any other elf's simply because you choose to carry the title 'paladin'. In fact, that might be a clue to a thinking person that your prejudices would be well set, and they do seem readily apparent. And finally, I am well aware of the strengths and weaknesses of the place I have mentioned, and your continued dwelling on the poor 'homeland' of elves here in the Kaladh only serves to emphasize my point about prejudice.

"Dear Solarin," Xenon finished, "I apologize to you for these repeated interferences with your converse in relating your advice to this group. I take personal responsibility and make apology for my interruption at this point, and do hope our esteemed comrades do so for theirs...." With a nod of his head, a smile and another warning to Kang to be ready, Xenon relaxed back into the plush velvet of the driver’s seat and the beauty by his side, and awaited Solarin's reply.

Raven Darkblade:
"Dear phantom troll, while I do appreciate your erudite lecture on the lore of your people and your heartfelt lecture on the wonders of your relationship of old with those paragons of virtue the Karilanthians, I would draw your attention to the fact that I also asked to hear Solarin's plan, and did so from the beginning of our converse. As for your desire to meet the elves of the Kaladh, perhaps your should divert your course and continue to where they may be and undertake your ambassadorial duties rather than continue with us to the Citadel and confront Medivh.... Those duties, of course understandably outweighing any other concern. I certainly would welcome you to take that choice and wish you pleasant journey should you go; thought I must say I will miss the lectures on ancient troll lore immensely. As for you, dear sweet kind lady paladin of Karilanth, I would also remind you that I asked to hear Solarin's plan and did not offer my own as the only solution. I also appreciate your desire to give credence through your words and surely great prowess to the trustworthiness of these Kaladh brethren of yours. Surely they must be crying in joy and wishing to embrace you in your glory with arms spread wide to receive! I won't bother to dispute with you their claim concerning the Kaladh and will simply assert that we do, perhaps differ on that point. As for your doubts to my trustworthiness, and your distaste for the languages I have chosen to learn and the magic I wield, frankly... I don't really give a screylinh’s butt. I wield what I wield and I assist where I may, and I put no more trust in your words that in any other elf's simply because you choose to carry the title 'paladin'. In fact, that might be a clue to a thinking person that your prejudices would be well set, and they do seem readily apparent. And finally, I am well aware of the strengths and weaknesses of the place I have mentioned, and your continued dwelling on the poor 'homeland' of elves here in the Kaladh only serves to emphasize my point about prejudice. Dear Solarin, I apologize to you for these repeated interferences with your converse in relating your advice to this group. I take personal responsibility and make apology for my interruption at this point, and do hope our esteemed comrades do so for theirs...."

Solarin looped the reins of Redlegs's hackamore over the steed's neck and listened patiently through Xenon's challenge, Muranog's support, Atalaya's interjection, and Xenon's reply to the both of them. Finally he said calmly, "While your viewpoint is understandable, your dramatics are in quite bad taste. Rather reminiscent of what I have heard of your uncle, really, though I can truthfully say I have had the extreme good fortune never to have met the man in person. Muranog and Atalaya both heard you ask for my plan, and if Muranog feels loyalty to my kind because of our people's history, and Atalaya takes offense at your use of blood-magic and the demonic tongue, well, those are their rights, as it is your right to," Solarin paused delicately, "not give a screylinh's butt."

Shrugging slightly, the elven ranger continued. "I have no intentions of relying on the shelter of the elves of the Kaladh – who, whether or not you choose to acknowledge the fact, came here from Karilanth well before human society had experienced any real advancement. When your uncle moved into the Kaladh and worked his will upon the land, they were forced back into safeholds, and I rather expect they would not be particularly amenable to aiding anyone – especially not the nephew and consort of the man who has corrupted much of the land they view as theirs. At any rate, they likely have their own concerns. If they offer help, it is well, but I will not ask aid of them.

"And," Solarin added, with a dryly amused half-bow towards Xenon, "as it may happen, the place which I had in mind is the very place which I believe you have described. It is not wholly safe, but few places in this forest are, and it is as protected and defensible a place as we will be able to find in this area. I do strongly suggest that when we continue, we do so off of this roadway – but that is something to be discussed when we have stopped. So..." Solarin gestured down the roadway with one hand, "...if you will? Shall I lead us on, or would you prefer not to put your guidance into the hands of an elf?"

Raven, throughout all of this, remained silent; conferring with Mor, which was probably just as well.

Angie:
Shadowblade trotted to a slow trot behind the carriage, side by side with Ynys. (It's been so long since I've been able to run through the forest. Civilisation is catching up on this elf....)

She came to a rest by the side of the carriage, panting only a little from the long run. (I'm out of shape!) she grinned to herself. She had arrived in time to see Raven and Solarin approach the carriage.

"We need to stop," Raven said. "We've outrun the screylinhs, we're tired and our mounts are exhausted, a handful of us seem to have wandered off. We have no plan for what lies ahead, and right now we aren't working together too well. We need to stop and rest, get anyone who was hurt healed up, and make some sort of decision about what to do now."

Xenon made some reply that she couldn't hear. She shrugged and peered into the carriage. :Hmmm... I never thought that it could fit so many....:

:Things are not always what they seem, elf. You might wish to change some perceptions you have about the group.:

:Oh? About whom?:

:There are many who deserve another chance.:

:I can't help it if you are being cryptic, but I will try.:

She felt assent from the unicorn by her side. The light pack looked very odd on the unicorn's back and 'Blade felt guilty about making her friend carry the pack. :Look, I think I'll carry my stuff now. I don't want you to be like a beast of burden.:

Without waiting for Ynys' response, she unslung the pack from the unicorn's back and fitted the rations back into the pack. (I only hope I don't drop it. Alright, inventory. Armour, bow, quiver, powdered herbs and poisons, Blade, knives, leathers on me. Spare clothes, rations and flute in pack. Pack on me. Done.)

Kathryn:
When the carriage stopped, Donas stopped as well, his sides heaving from the run.

(Poor baby,) Fallenangel sympathized, (first getting attacked, then made to run after an impossibly fast coach....) She dismounted and checked the stallion over, finding that the myriad scratches from the screylinhs weren't terribly serious. (Even so... I think that there's some of that lotion left....) After digging in the saddlebags, she unearthed a small vial of "healing potion" that she had bought from an old horse-trader in the last village, after Donas had pulled a tendon trying to jump a fence. (Silly old fool couldn't tell a racer from a showhorse,) she thought affectionately, (but his "potion" works fairly well.) After anointing the lathered stallion's wounds, she grasped his halter and walked him slowly in a circle to cool him down.

"Don't want you coming down with a cold." The stallion pricked his ears at the sound of her voice and snorted softly.

After a few moments, when the horse showed signs of recovering from his run, Fallenangel stopped him and leaned against his side with a sigh. During the run, she had received a burst of emotion from Isis, annoyance mostly, which fitted the panther's character. Relief that her bond-mate was all right, mixed with a bone-deep weariness, nearly overwhelmed Fallenangel. She said a brief prayer of thanks to her patron God, then sighed and pushed away from Donas's warm side. She glanced in the direction of Xenon's carriage, where the leaders of the impromptu group were holding conference. At least, that was what it looked like at first glance, before a wave of irritation and tenseness that Fallenangel could feel even through her shields emanated outward from them. She hesitated to interrupt, but she was feeling vaguely skitterish, almost as if a air of menace were overhanging the group.

Gathering all the outward courage and air of command that she could muster, she swung aboard her horse. As Fallenangel murmured a thanks to her teachers for their lessons in leadership, she nudged Donas in the direction of the meeting. (Not that I've ever needed those lessons,) she snorted with amusement, (and, I never did want them. I always tried telling the church leaders that I didn't want the job....)

"I do strongly suggest that when we continue we do so off of this roadway - but that is something to be discussed when we have stopped. So...," Solarin gestured down the roadway with one hand, "...if you will? Shall I lead us on, or would you prefer not to put your guidance into the hands of an elf?"

Fallenangel heard Solarin's comment and spoke up from behind him.

"I, for one, have no objection to putting my guidance into the hands of an elf. But whatever you three decide," she nodded to Solarin, Xenon, and Atalaya, "I suggest that we leave soon. I have a bad feeling about staying here, undefended, and I personally, do not care to linger." She turned and rode back toward the rear of the carriage where the elf, Shadowblade, and the Unicorn were standing. As she did so, Fallenangel drew her cloak closer around herself, hiding her wings (a symbol of her God's favour) from any but the most eagle-eyed. No one seemed to have noticed so far, with the possible exception of Xenon. (And I have a feeling that there is little that that one does not notice....)

Dax:
Zeke shifted in the carriage seat as it slowed to a stop. (Oh, I do like the lap warmer, and she so happily laying her head on my shoulder. This is life as it was meant to be! And that misty woman left... thank the Lord of Luck! I didn't like the feel of her.)

His ears perked as he caught the last of a woman's words.

"We need to stop and rest, get anyone who was hurt healed up, and make some sort of decision about what to do now."

(Hmm, brunette, definitely brunette).

This was followed by a suggestion from a man that they go to a vale. Then there was an answer by the male voice he recognized as being the Demoner, who had spoke to them earlier. (How in Hades did we end up with HIM?)

:I decided that someone with that kind of power could be a protection to us as well as a danger, and better to know where he is,: came the mental reply.

The people inside the carriage slowly became more and more interested in the speech taking place outside, and as the woman on his lap sat forward to listen, Zeke lifted her about the waist and slid sideways, knocking some of the bags off the seat and onto the floor. They had been taking up too much seat space, and he needed room just in case he decided he needed to make a dash out the side door and away from what felt like brewing anger and distrust.

Another voice broke in, sounding rather disembodied. (Trollhome?! Oh, little imptoes! It's a troll! I thought we ditched him at the inn.)

:No, apparently not, idiot. Sit still, before your nervousness gives us away,: Zora chastised him. Just then, someone peered into the carriage through a window, nearly startling him out of seat. (An elven woman? Oh, she's pretty.)

He came back to the conversation outside just in time to hear another voice. (Female, I'm sure.)

"I, for one, have no objection to putting my guidance into the hands of an elf. But whatever you three decide," Fallenangel nodded to Solarin, Xenon, and Atalaya, "I suggest that we leave soon. I have a bad feeling about staying here, undefended, and I personally do not care to linger."

(Oh good, she likes elf hands. I wonder what she means about a bad feeling?) Zeke took a moment to imagine what she looked like; it was a game he had developed long ago to while away the boredom of long years, stuck in their soul gem, or long months with Zora in charge, who often refused to let him know what was going on. (I'll bet she has red hair – she sounds like red – and green eyes, and....) His mind drifted while he waited for the next person to make a suggestion. (Frankly, I just want a warm inn, a drink and a willing woman....)

Axe:
Solarin's reply, when it came, arrived with all the panache and grace of a practiced diplomat... as well as with typical elven arrogance.

"While your viewpoint is understandable, your dramatics are in quite bad taste. Rather reminiscent of what I have heard of your uncle, really – though I can truthfully say I have had the extreme good fortune never to have met the man in person. Muranog and Atalaya both heard you ask for my plan, and if Muranog feels loyalty to my kind because of our people's history, and Atalaya takes offense at your use of blood-magic and the demonic tongue, well, those are their rights, as it is your right to," Solarin paused delicately, "not give a screylinh's butt."

Following on the heel of Solarin's words came the tired voice of the beautiful winged woman.

Xenon used the time given him by her few words to perfect his reply to Solarin as much as possible. When it did not seem that the paladin would stop fuming, or the stop glaring to attack him, Xenon spoke up again.

"Oh well spoken dear Solarin!" he effused quietly. "I am sorry that your rather dubious opinion of my taste reminds you of one we so mutually dislike... but I have heard that the vaunted elven powers of perception do tend to fail e'en them concerning certain matters... likely this is one. It doesn't seem to me that my words or meaning penetrated deep enough through the ears of this fine troll and paladin to reach their minds and spark cognition and understanding... but perhaps you are correct. Should that be the unlikely event... then my apologies on that point to you both." Xenon gave a small bow from the seat, perfectly imitating the one given by Solarin, but modified to evince the third level of amusement... one most oft used with a children or slack-minded individuals. He mildly disliked giving away his mastery of elven court etiquette and elven bows, but he had seen this one given to humans enough from elves who thought they would not be known for it, and it was too tempting to return it to such a one. He knew the insult would be understood, though he didn't know if Solarin would see it as a just return to elven arrogance. Then he gathered himself internally for his next salle.

"And, of course, elves are, as always the party put upon in the Kaladh as everywhere else are they not?" Xenon asked, eyebrows arched. "Why, the poor dull creatures could barely be called sentient when the elves moved in aeons ago and took over. Of course that makes it alright to do as the far far more advanced elven race wills doesn't it? I am sure that those first poor beleaguered refugees from fabled Karilanth were just trying to help the humans weren't they? I've heard near as much from the lips of an elven criminal from the Kaladh. I am sure that my uncle sees what he has done as a just reentry of humans into the area, though, I think we would both agree that his motivations are much more personal and filled with self interest than that. I think there are two sides, despite my sarcasm, and I really don't care to further explore either at this time unless you simply insist we continue, good Solarin.

"I agree that the elves of the Kaladh would have little reason to love me, and vice versa, despite my mother's Karilanthian birth. Still, I harbour them no real enmity... I simply do not wish to disturb them, trust them or to be required to kill or injure too many of them in self defence. Surely your plan of avoiding them seems well taken.

"As for stopping in the place we all seem to know and approve of," Xenon swept a hand with a practiced twist to take in the entire group, "I think we should, and I will stop the carriage as soon as we arrive... which should be in moments at most. I agree we can discuss further travel later at the convenience of the group, after they – and we – should you ever need sleep master Solarin – get some rest and refreshment. Due to dear Aggy's penchant for preparing, um, less than healthy fare, I will share what I have with those who wish, and perhaps others have stores with which they can and would share as well.

"And as for putting myself in the hands of an elf... why I haven't done that since my dear Karilanthian mother left my father to flee or go a-whoring, or whatever she decided she must do – back to Karilanth when I was but a babe." Xenon smiled and continued, but with less hardness to his voice than his last words had carried. "I suppose that I could as easily suffer the same now as then, master Solarin... and perhaps you will do better! So, by all means! Lead on!"

Xenon continued to lounge in the seat, stroking Delane as she let him, and guided the carriage – either to follow Solarin's lead or continue on the road until his reply... whichever happened to occur first.

Ámp:
Pushing a small tree branch out of his way, a renegade Church Knight of Laoghaire crept up on what sounded like a large group of people in a clearing nearly fifty yards from his current position. He wondered briefly what would cause so many people to be out in the middle of these woods – (a picnic? Surely not, it doesn't SOUND like a picnic....) – but then, he didn't know why he was here – didn't even know how he had gotten here – so it didn't bother him that much. He paused to shift his nine-foot long samurai sword, known as Masamune, a little higher on his back, and continued on. (If nothing else, they might be able to tell me where I am... I hope....)

As he moved closer, he noticed that several of the occupants of the clearing felt like magic users, and there were several beings he had no notion whatsoever what they felt like.... Some seemed to be having an argument over what to do now. It was getting quite heated. (This might not have been a good idea, but, well, it's too late to back out now... might as well go for it and see what happens.) With this thought, he walked into the clearing.

And received the shock of his life.

(Uh oh.) His eyes seemed inexplicably drawn to the red-haired woman he had heard called Fallenangel, which was terribly ironic; although he had never seen her before, he recognized her all too well. Before him stood an Angel of Laoghaire, the God he had deserted over twelve years ago... the very being who had helped shape his story through the sword he now carried.... He remembered the stories he'd been told while he was training to become a Paladin – of how a sect of fanatics had found the sword of a legendary blademaster and tried to call his spirit back from the planet into the sword, but had instead summoned a demon... how it had infested the blade, giving great power to whoever used it, but eventually driving them mad... how it had come into the keeping of the Church, who had asked Laoghaire to give them the means to counter the evil in it... and how this woman, this Fallenangel, had come to them, and had spent nearly a week struggling with the demon, finally defeating it and binding its influence with seven of her maroon feathers, sealed inside the hilt... she would have to recognize the sword, and know him for the thief and deserter he was.

(Oh, hell....) There was nothing he could do now. Of course she knew. But how would she act on this knowledge? He could only hope for the best. Trying to look as calm as possible, he addressed the group.

"Good day, fellow travelers. I am known as Jonas Avarè. May I inquire as to your identities? And where is this? I'm afraid I'm new in this area...." (Yeah, I just was here, how the hell did I get here?!?) As the party stared at him, he thought, (Yep, I don't think this was a good idea at all....)

Andi:
After everything had quieted down, Etain ventured to speak, but softly. "Well, I need to stop. My energy's low, my reserves are shot, my head is pounding, and I can't even imagine how the rest of you feel. At this point I don't really care who leads us to a place to stop, just so long as it's close by." She tiredly took out some Journeybread from her pack, munching away at the hard biscuit.

(Truly, at this point all I want is a place to lie down. If I have to sleep on Fea one more night, there is going to be a very irate and grumpy fairie around here. Maybe I can talk one of the dryads into letting me use their tree....)

"Good day, fellow travelers. I am known as Jonas Avaré. May I inquire as to your identities? And where is this? I'm afraid I'm new in this area...."

As she heard this voice, Etain whirled around and noticed a stranger in their midst. She shrunk back into the shadows. (Who is this person? Why does he come upon a group such as this in the middle of the woods? Hmmm... before I speak, I believe I shall watch.)

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