Pebbles and Splinters

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Authors Note:

The following is a bit of a labor of love.  It follows the Sticks and Stones stories, so please be sure to read those first.

Secondly, I owe a huge thank you to the players behind Sendithu and Eckan.  Between (major) editing, working as sounding boards, and generally putting up with my nonsense to get this to paper, from the heart - Thank you.
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As the evening sun splashes against the battlements of the wall around Shard, a powerfully built Human and a stunning Elven beauty walk slowly down the road.  Speaking softly to each other, they arrive at the Rose.  Stepping forward the Paladin opens the door carefully, giving his companion a gentle smile.  Trailing her fingers affectionately along his arm, the raven-haired Elf whispers a kind word before stepping inside the building.

As the pair enter, the Paladin nods to another Human standing just inside.  Greeting him simply with a nod and a bass rumble of “Squire” the pair cross the oddly empty and quiet common room, heading towards the proprietor standing behind the bar.

Approaching the Publican, Samsaren gives the man a friendly nod before hefting an overfull gem pouch onto the counter.  The Publican pauses before objecting, “Milord, that is far too much.”

Samsaren smiles softly before gently wrapping the man’s hand around the pouch.  “Nonsense.  You closed the entire bar for my friends and I to have a quiet gathering.  Besides, I believe I heard mention of a child or grandchild, a wedding, and whatnot.”  Gently patting the man’s hand on the pouch he continues, “Now I believe it’s a catered wedding, with an open bar.”  Astounded, the man stammers another protest before being overwhelmed by a warm smile from Sendithu.

Violet eyes filled with amusement, Sendithu murmurs gently to the fellow, “He is stubborn and he has made up his mind.  Now would be the time to just say ‘thank you’.”  Giving the Publican a nod, Sendithu heads to the back room where the muffled sounds of merriment resound.  Samsaren watches her go, before giving the man’s hand a final pat, “Oh...I also arranged with my partner, Zaherli, she will be in town for a short while and will make sure you get the best value for those.  Take advantage.”  Stepping away, the Paladin heads towards his Squire who is standing guard at the Inn’s door.

Stepping forward, Eckan clasps Samsaren in a solid forearm grip, turning slightly, Samsaren nods to the far door, “Who’s already arrived?”

Eckan glances at the door briefly, “Your..erm, our brother arrived just a few ago, with our guildmate, Kattena.  Mistanna, Khaelyn and I arrived first by moongate from the Crossing. Sure beats walking, boss.” Samsaren chuckles, nodding, as Eckan continues, “Our dearest sister came through another gate a bit after us, but I haven’t heard from or seen Etherian.”


Samsaren snorts. “If he didn’t want you to, you wouldn’t have.  He’s likely here.  Though..you left your friend Khaelyn..with our sister and my fiance, alone?”  Samsaren grins as Eckan blanches, eyes widening rapidly, “..uh Sam mind if I..”  Samsaren chuckles, making a shooing motion towards the far room, watching his squire depart with haste.

As the door slowly opens behind him, a voice from outside, filled with humor precedes the latest arrival. “That was a tad cruel, old friend.”

Without turning Samsaren nods, laughing quietly. “Yes, but doesn’t really make it less funny.”  Stepping away from the door and turning Samsaren reaches out, his forearm clasped firmly by tawny furred hand.  “Hello old friend, glad you made it down from Therengia.”

Stepping through the entryway, ebon cassock dusty from travel, Liurilias nods to the Paladin.  “I read your letter, and came straight away.  I was somewhat impressed you put a hammer and tongs down long enough to write, but your penmanship has suffered from disuse I’m afraid.”


Shaking his head slowly Samsaren sighs. “I dictated, my Squire clearly needs more practice.”  Liurilias laughs softly, nodding, as the Paladin continues, “Joking aside, thank you for making it down.  While I’m hoping it’s an isolated issue, we’re both old enough to know things rarely stay that way.”  Nodding towards the far door, he clears his throat before continuing, “That however, is something for a bit later.  I’ve arranged food, drink, and something suited to your unique tastes as well.  Just erm, don’t tease Katt overmuch if you can manage.”  Liurilias nods, smiling, as Samsaren pats him on the back, “Most of the family is here, waiting on a straggler or two, then I’ll be along.”

The Prydaen nods, slowly heading towards the back room, as the Paladin turns back to the door, leaning against the frame.  As the roisaen pass quietly, the Publican and the few serving folk remaining slowly move about the room, wiping down furniture and setting things up for the night.  The Paladin, safely removed from the work, remains unmoving in his vigil.

As the last rays of the setting sun fade into the darkness, a pair of Elves enter the pool of light cast through the opened door.  Stepping up first, and pushing the door open slightly with his staff, Mazrian is greeted with a firm handshake and a friendly nod.  As the second Elf approaches, the golden streaks in her hair catching the torchlight, the Paladin smiles again.  “Kaelie, I am glad you could join us.  Everyone is gathering in the back room, please make yourself comfortable.”

As the two Elves move past the old warrior, he puts a restraining hand in front of the mage.  Mazrian pauses, turning to Samsaren with a puzzled expression.  The Paladin murmurs quietly, voice pitched for the Mage’s ears alone. “Water, my friend, or tea.  I need you clear.”

The Mage frowns, pushing the Paladin’s hand away. “It’s fine.”

Samsaren’s arm becomes immobile against the mages efforts as he pins Mazrian’s gaze with his own.  “Wasn’t a choice.  I need you clear for this. What you do later is your business, NOW it’s mine.”  Mazrian squints at the Paladin a moment before nodding angrily. ‘Fine, your way tonight,’ he grunts, before stepping quickly to catch up to his wife.  Samsaren exhales slowly, before pushing the door closed.  Striding purposefully across the room he nods again to the Publican before entering the back room himself.

Entering the backroom and returning the warm greetings of his friends and family, Samsaren makes his way around the table to the remaining seat.  Carefully removing his jaalmin longcoat and folding it over the chair back he sits, leaning over to share a gentle kiss with his fiance. After a moment, the Paladin clears his throat and catches the group's attention.  “Brothers, sister, and dear friends, before we break bread: a toast.  To our old friends and loved ones, lost yet never forgotten.”  Slowly the group each raise a glass in turn, before the mood shifts to lighter topics.

As the meal winds down, Samsaren captures Mistanna’s attention with a gesture, pointing upwards.  With a nod, the magess reaches inside her cloak, removing a sigil from the pockets inside.  Tossing the sigil to the floor it breaks, releasing a piercing whistling sound.

The conversations stop, as attention turns towards the Magess, who simply grins, shrugs, and nods to the Paladin.  Samsaren then turns towards Mazrian, “Can you take steps to ward us from familiars my friend?”.  Mazrian nods, his eyes closing in a moment of concentration.

“I have directed my familiar to intercept any sent our way.  While it may not be able to stop them, I will at least have warning.”

The Paladin nods, “Excellent, now that we’ve privacy, let us have a moment of business.”  Taking a quick sip from a nearby glass of water, Samsaren continues. “I trust those of you who weren’t there for the battle in Crossing are aware of the details, so I won’t burden us with a tedious retelling.  Instead I’ll say this: that was organized, planned, and I’ve little doubt, unfinished.  I asked the Rangers to turn their attentive eye to the area, find anything?”

Maltris and Etherian exchange glances, before Maltris gestures to Etherian, who clears his throat.  “It is more what we didn’t find that troubles.  While the explosion was potent, we couldn’t find a trace of the mages slain in the battle prior.  Maltris and I agree, while some might be hard to locate, something would have turned up.  Additionally we often felt.. watched, during our efforts.”

At the word ‘watched’, Mistanna stirs briefly in her seat. Etherian nods to her, leaning back, and the magess speaks up, “In the days following I have sensed several attempts to divine the location of myself and Eckan, as well as sensing the lingering wisps of such spells on many of you.  Not enough to trace though.”  Several faces crease with frowns as the Elf speaks.

Leaning forward, Liurilias holds a furred finger up for attention, “While I haven’t seen rituals like your letter described Sam, the various groups up north are reporting something is agitating the local wildlife, well beyond their normal levels of angst.  It could be your problem is branching out.”

As the group nods, considering, Khaelyn leans towards Eckan saying something softly.  He nods towards the table before the pair look up to the piercing gaze of Sendithu, who merely raises an eyebrow at Khaelyn.  Taking a quick breath Khaelyn adds, “At the risk of asking what might be a silly question, has anyone contacted the local authorities?”

Kattena suddenly laughs softly, “With this group?  That’s not a silly question.  And one I would be curious to know as well.”  Samsaren and Mazrian exchange a quick look, Mazrian nodding quickly before responding, “Yes, it was mentioned.  However with nothing more than a chunk of rubble and charred forest it was suggested that battle-fever might have been clouding recollections.  We’ll need something a bit more solid before we’ll see much from that side of things.”

Samsaren nods, “If that’s the case, then we find it.  I know many of us aren’t based there, but I would encourage you folks to come up with business needs in Zoluren.  Between the Rangers patrolling the wilds, our Mages bending their will, and the rest of us using the contacts we developed something will shake loose.  Everyone has crystal rings?”  The group nods to the Paladin, many members touching the rings as well.  “Excellent.  Kaelie, Mazrian, you both are locals.  Can we lean upon you both to arrange supplies if we have to go afield rapidly?”

The pair of Elves nod as the Paladin continues, “Whatever the cost, I’ll cover it.  And lay in supplies of extra arrows suited for our archers.  I understand they’ve caches of supplies, let's make sure we’ve plenty of whatever we’d need for a protracted fight.”

Etherian leans forward, “I’ll mix up some herbal remedies, to assist the Empaths as well.”  This is met with chuckles from those who know him well, those near him patting him on the back.

Samsaren chuckles, “Your efforts are always appreciated my friend.  A last thought before I ask our hosts to bring in dessert and libations of choice, I suspect when things get going we’ll be on the defensive at first.  Let’s take advantage of rings, as well as Mistanna’s amazing abilities, moons willing, and try to counter punch as quick as we can.  Anyone able to throw as many creatures as we faced last time can do incredible damage unchecked.  Enough of this somber talk for the moment my friends, Eckan, please ask the folks outside to bring the next course please.”

The next round of food and drink is met with a quiet cheer, as the group enjoys a rare chance to dine together.

* * * * *

Humming tunelessly to himself, the younger Paladin strolls slowly down the alleyway.  A slight smile can be seen beneath the hood of his cloak as he moves with the heavy weary stride of someone who’s enjoyed a pleasant evening of camaraderie and drink.  The tune comes to an abrupt end as his path forward is suddenly blocked by two armed men.  Another pair steps from the shadows behind him, as one of the lead men looks carefully at Eckan.  “Yep, it’s him, the Squire.”  As the men look at him hostilely, Eckan slowly removes the shield from his back, setting it firmly in hand.  From behind, one of the men draws a serrated edged blade pointing at his back, “We can’t reach his master, yet, but killing his Squire should get his attention.  Take him.”

As the two lead ambushers charge, Eckan rushes to meet them.  Meeting the first attackers lunge with a bone snapping shield bash, Eckan stomps an armored boot on the inside ankle of his foe, shattering it, sending the man crashing to the cobblestones screaming.  Shifting aside from the main force of the second attackers cutting slash he grabs the man’s face with his gauntleted hand.  Turning rapidly, he hurls his enemy into the second pairs feet, causing them both to stumble and slow.

Chanting a prayer under his breath, Eckan shifts his shield to face the tangled trio.  Golden waves of holy light ripple from his upraised shield, crashing across the would-be attackers with furious holy power.  The spell’s power smashes the trio insensate, and Eckan moves to the first fallen foe.  Still hollering, the screams of pain have turned to blistering curses and threats which cut off abruptly as Eckan lowers himself down near his fallen foe.  Lifting the man closer by his shirt, Eckan stares briefly into his eyes, before shaking his head ruefully, “You idiots were right, you’d NEVER reach my patron.  In fact, you did yourself a favor coming at me, because you at least saw me coming.  You go after Sam, and you’re not just facing the Paladin.  Fools...”  Eckan trails off as a fifth figure steps from the shadows.  Clad in dark robes with face obscured, the man chuckles.  Eckan rises to his feet, setting his shield before him. “Friend or foe?”

The figure cocks his hooded head briefly, before gesturing casually at the Paladin.  A massive ball of flame springs into existence with a crackling roar, hurtling into the paladin before exploding.  A ward flashes briefly before becoming swamped by the incoming spell, and the blast hurls the armored paladin into the face of a building.  Slumping down in a sizzling, smoking heap, the Paladin’s hand twitches briefly as his thumb rests against the base of a ringed finger.  Moments later his senses desert him, and the Paladin’s arm goes limp.

The robed figure nods in satisfaction before pausing at the sounds of the onrushing Guards.  Muttering briefly to himself, the figure slips back into the shadows as the City Guards rush into the aftermath of the brief skirmish.

* * * * *

A swirling vortex of shadows slowly gathers itself into a moongate under the commanding gaze of Mistanna.  As the gate stabilizes, Samsaren steps through, radiating a cold fury.  An instant behind him, Sendithu follows, violet eyes scanning the area without the barest hint of expression.  Emerging from his home, Mazrian quickly intercepts the Paladin. “Sam, he’s alive.  Synamon and Kaelie got to him, he’s healing and resting.  We took him inside our home, he’ll be safe there.”

Taking a deep breath, Samsaren closes his eyes briefly.  As he opens them, Sendithu rests a hand gently on his arm before leaning in and brushing her lips against his ear, murmuring “Easy, he is helping.”  Samsaren nods, calming visibly.

Reaching forward, he clasps Mazrian’s forearm. “Thank you.”  Glancing around at the slowly growing crowd, the Paladin scowls. “Can we step inside a mo?”  Mazrian nods, leading the Elf and Human inside, shutting the door firming against the curious eyes gathering outside.

Stepping inside, Mazrian glances at the pair before muttering something about “giving you two a second” and leaves them alone.  As the mage moves out of earshot the Elven beauty turns to the Human, slipping her arms around his waist and drawing him close. “Calmly, dear one. They are likely watching for a response.”

Grinding his teeth, Samsaren begins hotly “I care not abou..”  However, before he can get any farther into his protest Sendithu gently lays a finger against his lips. “Yes you do.  Do not make this a bigger victory for them.”

Samsaren closes his eyes a moment, before nodding and opening them again.  “I would be lost without you, thank you.”  Taking a deep steadying breath, the Paladin moves into the house, heading for the spare room housing a convalescing Squire, as well as the two Empaths guiding his recovery.

Approaching the threshold, he is intercepted by Synamon who gestures back towards the hallway.  Giving the Paladin a tight hug, the Elf then squints at the powerfully built human. “Do NOT go in there and wake him up and undo all our hard work, mister.  Physically he’s mostly fine. Exhausted, but well enough.  That aside, he took a big hit and will need more than a quick Empathic touch to recover.  That means REST.”  Synamon emphasizes her point with a sharp poke to the chest.  “Kaelie has offered to keep an eye on him, and I’ll stay till I’m sure he’s totally fine.  Just..find whoever did this, okay?”

With a spin that sends her skirt twirling, Synamon pivots on her heel and moves into the guest room, gently closing the door behind her.  “She is right, you know,” Sendithu says quietly, hugging the Paladin from behind.  “You will feel better once you get your hands on those responsible.”

“Granted, but if they’re going after my family in moments of being off guard, how am I supposed to bring them to ground?”  Samsaren turns slowly, and Sendithu gives him a rather evil grin.

She leans forward, resting her forearms on his powerful shoulders.  “So lower your guard silly, give them something to attack.”

“How would..oh.  Oooooh.”  Samsaren gazes into the mirthless eyes of his betrothed.  “Right..  mm”.  Clasping her hand gently, Samsaren steps down the hallway, poking his head into the kitchen area where Mazrian is standing quietly out of the way.  “Hey Maz, let’s go get a drink or three.”

Mazrian starts in astonishment, “Um, sure, are you sure it’s the right..”

Before he can finish, the Paladin crosses the room grabbing the Mage by the shoulder.  “Sure is, out, let’s go!”  Herding the Mage out, he turns before meeting Sendithu’s gaze, nodding slightly.  The two then stroll from the home, Mazrian with almost a small bounce to his step, the Paladin moving with a more measured stride.

* * * * *

“So I let the Fire Rain spell unravel, and as the sucker thought he had an opening, I torched everything around me with Lightning.  Caught the guy totally off guard, fused the chain in his armor and everything!”  Mazrian continues to tell his rather gruesome story, stumbling only slightly, leaning against the Paladin as the pair leave yet another bar.  The Mage looks up at Samsaren, “The good old days right?”  As Samsaren opens his mouth to respond a pulse of magic flickers through the alleyway, and Mazrian collapses into a deep sleep.

A dark robed figure steps from a shadowed nook some distance away, gazing with disgust upon the fallen mage, “Drunken fool was so inebriated it took no effort at all to knock him down.  You could use better friends, Paladin.”

Leaning down to pull Mazrian out of the street and closer to a building, the Paladin sighs.  Stepping fully into the light he adjusts the longcoat on his frame.  “That..’fool’ happens to be a friend of mine, and a powerful mage both.  I’d be hoping he chalks this up to an extra round or two, and doesn’t have someone raise you so he can obliterate you out of spite.”

The robed figure laughs harshly as several more armed men enter the alleyway from behind both speakers.  “I’d say to the booze is going to your head.  Your companion is down, you’re half drunk and armorless.  This will be too easy.”  He points at the Paladin. “Bleed him, make it slow.”

The trio behind the Paladin rush forward, drawing daggers and short swords.  Shaking his head slightly, the Paladin steps backwards into the rush, arm swinging in a powerful backhanded blow.  As his fist strikes the unfortunate target’s face, the plate armored gauntlet encasing the Paladin’s hand shimmers into view.  As the remaining pair’s thrusts land, the remainder of the Paladin’s armor flashes into view.  Twisting quickly, Samsaren seizes the surprised pair’s heads before smashing them together violently.  The pair, once released, collapse on the first attacker limply.

“Ya know, when my beloved gifted to me an armor hiding trinket, I was quite amused.”  As he speaks a robe sword slips from an errant shadow into his hands.  “I thought, finally, an excuse to be armed at a formal occasion.”  Launching himself forward with a powerful overhand blow, Samsaren blasts through the desperate parry, cleaving the first of the fore-rushing pair in half.  “Now I see however, it was simply another way that a certain someone was looking out for me.”  Sidestepping the desperate lunge of the remaining footman, Samsaren smashes him brutally into the nearby wall with his shield.  Pinning the figure against the wall he brings an armored boot down on the side of a knee, snapping it.

As he redirects his attention to the robed figure, the Paladin raises his shield against the onrushing fireball.  Digging his supporting foot in, he pushes against the blast, continuing to move forward.  “You can quit with the fireballs.  First, you’re not terribly good at them, and second, I know you’re a Moon Mage.  My ‘drunken fool’ of a friend figured it out rather easily.”

The robed figure curses briefly, before gesturing again at the Paladin.  Called by his will, a cobblestone wrenches itself free from the street before hurtling towards the Paladin.  Eyes widening, the Paladin hunkers down with his shield upraised, deflecting the stone.  “Huh, I think I struck a nerve,” Samsaren mutters.  Grounding his blade he slips a sterak axe from his baldric and with a grunt, hurls the axe at the mage.

The axe crashes into a coalescing wall of brilliant yellow light before falling to the street, several paces short of the mage.  Immediately after touching the ground the axe reappears in the Paladin’s hands with a flash.  Squinting at the figure the Paladin chants briefly, slashing the axe in the direction of the mage.  Golden light gathers along the blade of the axe, launching from the slashing cut towards the robed figure.

Snickering slightly, the mage raises a hand and a shimmering globe of blue flame enshrouds him, absorbing the incoming spell with only the barest flicker.  Hand upraised, the figure points at the Paladin.  The englobing flames pour from around the Mage, gathering into a bolt in front of his finger before launching towards the Paladin.

The flames crash into the Paladin’s shield before wrapping around and smashing into his armor.  As the flames touch metal, wards flare, glistening yellow and soft white, before being washed away by the extinguishing flames.   The two stare at each other briefly before the Paladin springs forward with a powerful battlecry, rushing towards the Mage.  As the warrior closes the mage snickers again, disappearing in a ripple of light and shadow before appearing some distance away.

“Pathetic, and predictable.  You’re overmatched,” his voice carries the sneer unseen on his face as the figure raises a hand skyward.  Bringing his hand down in a slashing motion a beam of ruby moonlight strikes downward from the sky.  Samsaren leaps aside. The ray of light leaves a molten trail in the cobblestones as it tracks the Paladin’s movement before touching briefly on his leg, partially melting the armor and bringing a curse of pain from the warrior before winking out.

As the injury causes the briefest of hesitations the figure gestures forcefully, sending a massive wave of telekinetic energy into the Paladin, blasting him cleanly off his feet.  The figure laughs cruelly, gathering his magical energies.  Rolling to his feet the Paladin sets himself squarely. “Don’t miss,” he says, staring at the mage.

Raising a hand skyward, the Mage begins laughing, before bringing his hand downward.  As the spell discharges and another brighter, more powerful beam bursts into existence the laugh cuts off abruptly.  The warding light shatters, and a brilliant ruby cage of geometric symbols appears flashing against a glaes blade, its light reflected in emotionless violet eyes.  The blade’s path, slightly altered by the spells, drives the wickedly clean-edged point through the spine, exiting out the figure’s stomach.  The Elven beauty at the other end of the weapon shows only the barest hint of disappointment at the blade’s landing before viciously twisting the hilt.

Falling forward, the mage lands on hands and knees, coughing up blood.  Picking himself up from his dive to evade the final spell the Paladin snorts, “Told ya...”  The figure disappears in a flash, a dim clap of thunder sounding from the displaced air filling the void recently occupied by his body.  Cursing again quietly the Paladin sheaths his axe, calling the discarded blade to his hand before cleaning it and storing it safely away as well.

Offering a second cloth to Sendithu, the Paladin captures her free hand, kissing it ever so gently.  “Timing being everything beloved, that was well struck.”

Blushing briefly over the kiss, Sendithu glances critically at the pool of blood, the only evidence of the mage’s presence. “Not as well as I would have liked. He was warded to his toenails, I missed.”

“Mm, some ‘miss’,” the Paladin murmurs quietly.  “Let us wake the mage and see if there’s enough lingering presence for his famil..”  Samsaren trails off as he turns to where Mazrian’s slumbering form was, and is no longer.  Swearing softly under his breath, he touches a gauntleted finger to the tucked away ring, before closing his eyes and taking a deep breath.  “Gods above, he removed his ring too.”

Rolling a lockpick across her knuckles, Sendithu runs an appraising eye over Samsaren, frowning slightly at his poorly concealed wince, and then glances casually towards the far entrance of the street. “We should check on your Squire with that mage at large.  Now would not be the time for lengthy...discussions with the guards, my heart.”

Sighing, the Paladin nods slowly. “Perhaps this ISN’T the best time.  I’ll have to clear things up once this is settled.  Let’s be off, I’ll ask my brother to try to find our wayward caster before he causes too much trouble.”  Moving stiffly from the battlefield, the warrior pretends not to hear the gentle laughter behind him.

* * * * *

“..So you see, I took the chance to get my familiar chasing him.  He’s hurt, tired, and we can finish this once and for all!”  Mazrian paces in front of the Prydaen Cleric, his eagerness to be off obvious even to those who cannot sense the magic swirling around him.

The Cleric purses his lips thoughtfully. “Chasing off half cocked could be a bad move, maybe we should wait for Sam to recover and all go together.”  Scowling, the Warrior Mage stops pacing and rounds on the Cleric.

“No way!  Now’s the time.  He’s expended most of his magical stamina, and he’s hurt.  Even healed it takes time to recover fully.  Besides, they’re MAGES, we’re FAR better suited to handle this than a Paladin and a...and Sendi.  You know it, I know it.  We can end this now, and deliver that bastard's head on a platter for that Eckan chap to use as an ashtray.  But we have to move NOW!”  Mazrian finishes the last, standing breathless before the Prydaen.  The fire in his eyes burns with the light of his younger days.

The Prydaen shakes his head slowly. “Fine, but if things start going sideways, we pull back.”

Mazrian nods, a little too quickly. “Of course, of course, now let’s GO.”  Liurilias winces briefly before nodding and motioning to Mazrian to lead the way.

* * * * *

Groaning slightly, the convalescing Squire slowly opens his eyes.  As his vision slowly un-doubles and comes into focus his gaze lands on the disheveled hair hiding the softly snoring features of the Elf, Synamon.  Squinting briefly at her rainbow sapphire bedazzled silveress tutu , Eckan mutters quietly “How hard did I get hit?  Sheesh.”  As he starts to rise, Kaelie steps purposefully through the doorway, moving to support him.

Wincing slightly, Eckan finishes sitting up, looking around slowly.  Turning towards Kaelie he lowers his voice slightly and asks, “Where’s my armor?”  Kaelie sighs.  Shaking her head gently she helps him slowly to his feet, nodding towards the doorway.  As the pair leave the room she shuts the door gently behind her.

Gesturing in the direction of the living room, she says quietly, “I know better than to argue, your armor is in there.  That said, I won’t help you don it as I don’t think it’s wise.”  Kaelie folds her arms across her chest, a faint look of disappointment crossing her features as Eckan steps into the living room reaching for his armor.

Rising from a chair in the corner, Khaelyn approaches the Paladin and starts aiding him in getting into his plate.  The two freeze at a quiet knock on the main door of the house echos through the home.  Kaelie frowns slightly, “The kids wouldn’t knock..”  Closing her eyes briefly a soft jingling sound emanates briefly from her.  Moments later, a second, though subtly different toned bell like sound comes from the closed room, followed by the door opening and Synamon stepping out.

Pushing Eckan gently back into a chair, Khaelyn steps past the Empaths, summoning a shield of scintillating light to her arm with a thought.  Raising the shield slightly she calls out, “Who goes there?”  At her words, a pulse of magical energy from outside surges before the door explodes inwards under the blast of telekinetic energy.

Shedding splinters with her upraised shield, Khaelyn launches out of the shattered remains of the door, a cry to her deity on her lips.  Ripping her haralun broadsword from its sheath Khaelyn crashes into the upraised blade of the first swordsman with a powerful overhand chop.  The heavy blade shatters the shortsword, biting deeply into collarbone and neck.  With a gurgling cry the swordsman collapses.

At the rapid demise of his partner, the second swordsman hesitates.  However, as he pauses a pair of Alfar step from the shadows, soundlessly moving forward before skewering him on black blades.  The robed mage, hand still upraised from his spell upon the door turns slightly pointing at the Cleric.  Mana surges from the robed figure, blasting into the mental defenses of the Cleric, briefly stunning her and driving her to her knees.

As Khaelyn falls, Eckan enters the fray with a furious bellow.  Launching himself over the disabled Cleric he catches the mage’s face in a open palmed grip.  With two powerful strides he carries the mage into a soot-stained cottage, smashing him into the wall with terrific force.  The breath blasts from the mage’s body with a choked huff, as a brief look of panic crosses his features.

With a shimmer the mage’s dormant spell activates, causing him to disappear in a blink to appear some distance away from the enraged Squire.  Shaking her head to clear it, Khaelyn goes quiet.  Magical force builds rapidly as the Elven Cleric unleashes a powerful cry.  Shockwaves of shimmering lavender energy spill from her, bathing the battlefield.

As the energy washes over the Alfar they slowly fade from view with a sigh.  The waves crash into and through the mage, causing wards and spells to flash, shimmer then fade beneath the magical onslaught.  Seizing the moment, Eckan scoops up a discarded blade and hurls it at the dazed and reeling mage.  Stumbling, the mage attempts to twist out of the way as the shortsword sinks to the hilt into his shoulder, sending him to the cobblestones.

Advancing grimly, Eckan bears down on the fallen caster before an Elven voice stops him short, “Wait.  We’ve an opportunity here.”

Eckan glances back to Khaelyn as she regains her feet, before nodding.  Reaching down he jerks the mage to his feet, before roughly binding his hands behind him. “You’re right, we do at that.”

* * * * *

A blinding flash bathes the cavern with a harsh light, forcing the robed occupants to avert their gaze as the bleeding Mage appears in a heap.  Reacting quickly, a scarred Rakash steps over, resting a hand against the mage, before dropping to a knee clutching his suddenly bleeding back.  As his wounds close the Mage waves off the other robed figures, returning them to their tasks.  Nodding to the Rakash, he steps over to a large table covered with a detailed map of Zoluren.

Resting his hands on the edge of the table, the figure sighs deeply, head hanging.  A rich voice, dripping with disdain comes from the shadows behind him. “Well, on a scale of one to pathetic, that was almost Therengian.”

Spinning quickly, the mage backs away from the figure stepping from the shadows. “I didn’t see the other one coming.”

A derisive snort comes from beneath the cowl of the dark-robed figure, “Ah huh, you think?  Typical bumbling.  I should have expected no better from a star gazing twit.  Have you ANY idea the effort required to design a ritual pattern that would accept your halfhearted attempts to channel mana into? I simply cannot abide..”  The figure cuts off abruptly, turning sharply towards the distant cavern entrance, crooked nose wrinkling in frustration.  As the other robed figures rush towards the entrance, the speaker snaps his fingers.  A kertig pasabas appears in a flash of light and he swiftly strikes, sinking the blade to the hilt in the Mage’s heart.  “THAT, is the last failure I shall tolerate.  Pathetic..”

With a sigh the figure runs his thumb across a heavy golden ring bearing a Therengian crest and fades from visibility, leaving the blade sunk into the fallen Mage’s chest.  From outside the echoing rumble of thunder peals tolls through the cavern like an oversized bell.

* * * * * *

Enshrouded in a ghostly billowing fog, the Prydaen cleric stands, one hand cradling a shadowy orb, the other outstretched guiding spells.  Several paces away, Mazrian stands shrouded in a dark cloak of energy, pupil-less eyes coldly raking the battlefield.  As a distant figure fades into visibility, launching a noose of black shadows towards the pair, Mazrian flicks his wrist, sending a powerful bolt of lightning in return.

The noose collides with the fog surrounding Liurilias, causing the spectral fog to churn rapidly as silvery arcs blaze from the orb held in his hand.  The incoming spell dissipates in the fog as the cleric directs more attention briefly to the orb the arcs slowly growing brighter.  The outgoing lightning fares little better, as it smashes into a globe of blue flames that consume the spell entirely.

Muttering under his breath, Liurilias brings his heel firmly to the ground.  White magma bursts forth, flowing swiftly in the direction of the distant mage.  Before the lava can cover much ground however, several more figures flash from invisibility sending nets of ultramarine lines into the spell, snuffing it.

Glancing briefly at the Elf, Liurilias grits his teeth. “There’s too many, and too organized, we’re not making any progress.”  Glancing at the remnants of sunset the Cleric grimaces. “That is not what we needed now.”  Guiding the cloak of aether surrounding his body to twist and reflect an incoming spell, Mazrian nods quickly while swearing softly under his breath.

Focusing a moment, the mage gestures to one of the fading enemies in the distance as a powerful bolt of lightning leaps from his outstretched hand.  The blast crashes into a barrier of yellow light before it shatters against the onslaught.  The remaining electrical charge, however, is only enough to cause minor burns to the mage as he teleports himself backwards out of range.

Mazrian gives a tired sigh. “I can try to raise a barrier of ice for us to fall back, maybe.”
The Cleric shakes his head while rapidly dispelling another incoming spell volley.  “They’ll dispel it as fast as you can raise it, I’d say we’re in for the duration.”  Spending a precious moment to recharge the orb floating behind him, Liurilias mutters to himself a moment.  “Lets try something different, next one to cast, crush his wards and I’ll try to punch through, maybe we can get somewhere with that.”

The mage nods, chanting quietly to himself.  As one of the distant figures fades into visibility, bringing to life a cold azure sphere of starlight that immediately begins drifting towards the pair.  Before the cabal mage’s invisibility can reform Mazrian flicks a finger at the figure.  Rapidly, hexagonal rings of opaque light dance around the foe’s head before a shimmering collapsing light falls from around him.

As the defensive barriers fade against the onslaught Liurilias makes a lashing gesture towards the shocked cabalest.  A massive form of ebon ether forms between the Cleric and the cabalist, taking the shape of a unicorn as it gathers speed.  The unicorn lowers it head and smashes with bone shaking force into the cabalist, skewering the mage through the heart.  With a negligent toss of its head it tosses the corpse aside before dissipating into charcoal smoke.

A triumphant hiss from the Cleric is cut short however, as a half dozen additional cabalists fade into view, summoning additional spheres of chilled, focused starlight.  As the spheres head in the direction of the pair the Cleric can be heard muttering a quiet “Well, crap.”

* * * * *

As Samsaren jogs the final block towards the house, he comes to a quick halt finding Eckan seated on the stacked remnants of a study door.  Glancing around quickly, taking in the aftermath of a brief battle he turns back to his Squire with a raised eyebrow. “Alright, I’ll bite, details?”

Sighing the Squire rises to his feet, “Moon mage, a couple footman.  Tried to hit the house.  Its handled, and we took him alive.”  Samsaren nods, and his calm “well done” almost hides the quieter ‘a mistake’ from the woman behind him.  His eyes flick quickly towards the house, “Mazrian return?”

The Squire shakes his head slowly, “No, haven’t seen him.”  Turning he raises his voice slightly, “Kaelie?  Can you sense Mazrian? Sam’s back and asking.”  A frowning Elven figure steps to the open doorframe, shaking her head.

“I thought he was with you..”  she says hesitantly, before closing her eyes concentrating.  “And I can’t sense him, either”.

Swearing quickly, Samsaren takes a calming breath as Sendithu lays a hand on his arm, before tracing her fingers down to tap the ring beneath his gauntlet.  Smiling at the recognition in his eyes she kisses him gently on the cheek before stepping up quietly to the recently arrived Khaelyn.

Samsaren touches the ring for a moment before turning to Kaelie. “Bring me something of Mazrian’s.  Clothing preferred, recently worn and won’t be missed.”  The Empath gives him a somewhat puzzled look but moves back into the house as the Paladin turns his gaze westward.  “Hurry Brother,” he says quietly. “I need your help.”