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[Dauth]

"Can I for once get into position and get a shot lined up before you start declaring royalty?" Thaos yelled at Tom while sighting his bow from a roof top some 50ft away. He turned to the Paladins, "Now I may not be able to slice you into little pieces as my friend here can, but I can promise you that if you don't stand down now, and some how manage to survive, you will live the rest of your life with only one eye".

This caused pause in the paladins, not much, but an extra second or so that helped the rest of the party get ready.

[Vithar-133]

Vithar drew Nyrsavai, the blade's soft glow drew a hiss from one of the Paladins.

"A cursed blade?! He must have demon magery! Kill him!"

Vithar assumed a center-guard stance, Nyrsavai making a solid golden line over Vithar's features. Two Paladins had swords, one had a staff. It was obvious that the one with the staff was a so-called "Mage of the Light".

:A Mage of the Light, eh...I'm betting he's as "pure" as his brethren!: thought Vithar, spinning to dodge the first blade that came down.

Apparently, the Paladins picked up some strategy since Vithar last met them. The two Vithar swords were pincering Vithar, while the mage kept using magic to try to kill Vithar.

Vithar ran one of the two sword-wielding Paladins through, and focused on the other, but as soon as he was almost completely focused, he had to dodge the blade of the one he thought he felled.

:So much for an easy battle...: thought Vithar; he settled into a more aggressive stance.

Vithar drew his sabre, the oddly matching pair of swords stopped the Paladins for a second, but the resumed their attack. Vithar shoved the Paladins into each other, sending the sprawling. Vithar sheathed the sabre, noting that the Paladins didn't seem to be getting any weaker. One of the Paladins and Vithar began fighting, Vithar was forced on the defensive. Vithar managed, barely, to get Nyrsavai past the Paladin's defense, scoring a maiming injury on his leg. Kicking the Paladin aside, Vithar focused on the other, then had to dodge a lightning blot; he'd forgotten about the Paladin-Mage.

:I'll deal with him later...: thought Vithar.

He refocused, then settled into an aggressive stance, threathing the other Paladin. Vithar swung; the Paladin parried, but failed to riposte. Vithar took the opportunity to strike. The Paladin, despite the heavy armour, jumped backwards, just out of range of Nyrsavai. Lunging the Paladin just missed Vithar, the Paladin swung again, this time it was Vithar's turn to jump backwards. Vithar and the Paladin continued to exchange attacks. One time, however, Vithar made a small mistake, and the PAaldin struck. He did not wound Vithar critically, but did leave a wound on Vithar left arm. Vithar struck, disbalancing the Paladin and knocking him backwards, Vithar swung, and struck home, slashing the Paladin's torso.

Then Vithar focused on the mage. The mage used simple spells at first, all of which Vithar easily block with a mental shield. Vithar drew the sabre. He blocked a few more attacks, but the mage was fresher than Vithar, not in the least fatigued. This Vithar knew. If he couldn't get close to the mage, then he could throw the sabre. A few more attacks, and Vithar gave up approaching the mage. The mage was preparing a more complex spell, one that Vithar might not be able to block. Vithar hurled the sabre, which spun end over end. The mage looked up, and time seemed to slow down. The sabre flashed as though it was a bolt of lightning, and struck the mage, piercing to the the hilt. Vithar walked over and pulled the sabre out, cleaning both waepons and then resheathing them.

For Vithar, the battle seemed all but over. As long as no one got much more than cuts and scrapes, he'd be able to heal them without to much wear on himself. He healed the cut on his arm, then noted that he had other wounds as well, which he focused on healing.
----------------------------------------
((If anyone wants to, the one Paladin that Vithar maimed is still alive and interrogatable.))

Edited by Vithar Megilaglar, 12 February 2009 - 10:02 PM.

[Rafv Nin IV]

Shava glared sardonically at Vithar, and made a comment about wanting to interrogate the Paladins before ending their lives. The half-Furyan gestured idly at a remaining Paladin who lay sprawled on the ground. Shava nudged her pony forward, and then dismounted. Walking up to him, the gnomess whispered in his ear, "You see these robes? What sort of gnomes wear the emerald robes, Paladin? That's right: the Captains of Arap Datrebil. Prudence is a virtue, but you had none. This is why you will soon reveal all of your secrets to me."

Shava stood over the Paladin, and brushed the hair out of her eyes. Staring straight into the knight's eyes, she battered his mental barrier aside with little effort--the Paladin, wounded and exhausted, posed little challenge, and even if he had been fully rested his resistance would have been to no avail. Methodically, she disected his thoughts and memories, seeking information that would help destroy the Paladinae.

((I don't really know what I'm supposed to find there, but I thought I should do it anyway ))

[mike_]

The door burst open; Morion readied himself beside it, black greatsword drawn. Suddenly, he heard a Man's voice read out clearly,

"This building is a house of infidels! A roost of daemon-spawn and forgery of the bearded menace, we Paladins of the Holy Order of the Fallen Rose will raze it to the ground! Give yourselves up now, descendants of rats!"

Morion gripped the blade tighter; Garik and his two attendants had run into the room with swords and axes drawn, as well as Bazric and his claymore ready. Rom crouched in the arch leading to the forge, fingers splayed and ready for action.

There was a moment's pause; then the wooden door burst off its' hinges, and six Men in a hybrid of plate, maille, and leather armour. Most of them bore simple swords and shields; but the lead Paladin wielded a hand-and-a-half sword uncomfortably skillfully. A dozen Men remained outside to make sure noone interfered.

The leader threw a table displaying silverware on it's side and charged the Dwarves with three of his fellows at his side. However, the remaining pair of Paladins noticed Morion and made to run up the stairs and seize him. Or worse.

He didn't give them the chance; reaching down with his free hand, Morion linked his fingers in behind the leading Man's breastplate and yanked him forward; Morion's forehead crashed into the unfortunate Man's helm-less one, rendering him senseless. He then shoved his victim down the stairs and into his partner, knocking both down in a tumble of war-gear and flailing limbs.

[some_weirdGuy]

Zhar had stood back, doing nothing. He found it amusing that the paladins would accuse everyone of evil or demon magic, except for the very man of which both applied
well, atleast you know you are evil, thats one thing you have over the paladins
...oh, do shut up

the group stood as Shava stood over the withering paladin,
"you do know that paladins are even now combating Romulus and the new mans location..."
he laughed in a disturbingly manic way, and then pointed down the crooked street to the back of an armory, just as they looked over a dwarf was hurled through a window, before quickly dusting himself off and running around to the door, brandishing his axe menacingly and letting out a battle cry.

Zhar wasn't about to help, but he followed the others as they ran to help in the fight.

[Fire Ze Missiles!]

As the group approached the doorway the dozen guardians turned to face them and one stepped forward.
"Halt! This is the business of the Palatinate, and any who interfe-" He never finished his decree as Tom severed his jugular without apparent effort. The others quickly overcame their surprise and rushed the group with the exception of another mage, who fell back and began to prepare a spell.
Thaos, sighting for a shot, looked up as a dark green blur flashed across his vision. Shifting his aim he searched once more for the potentially dangerous target only to see it plunge from a rooftop like an avenging angel.
Illyriel landed well, his crouched legs absorbing the shock, his sword hand still held high behind his back. Taking a single step forwards he wrapped his free arm round the Paladin Mage's torso and poised his blade on the man's neck.
"I'd give you a second chance, but you haven't really earned it," Illyriel decreed as the Mage's lifeblood split across the cobbled street.

[Vortigern]

Theria sensed rather than saw Illyriel enter the scene; the shadows of the night hid him in his dark green cloak, but she knew him well enough to know the signs of his arrival. The second she heard a clash of steel followed by Illyriel's low-pitched voice, she knew her hunch had been correct. It made her wonder how long Illyriel had been here. Carefully sighting along the arrow nocked to her bow (she had made a slight detour via her room at the inn, to pick up essentials for a fight against Paladins), Theria targeted one standing alone in the midst. Tom had engaged one in swordplay, and they danced back and forth, too fast for Theria to get a shot away, and Illyriel was fast dealing with another who had not quite got over the shock of seeing an elf materialise from the middle of nowhere and kill his friend. Vithar's golden sword was holding two at bay, and she had no idea where Thaos and Shava were, though she had no doubt Thaos was watching from the shadows, crossbow to hand.

As the inactive Paladin began to move forward, in Illyriel's direction as the Paladin he fought began to slowly gain ground, Theria let off her shot. It caught the Paladin in the stomach and he looked down, surprised.

"Go to hell," murmured Theria, drawing another arrow. She could not help but feel that she would not be the most useful person here with her bow, now that all the visible Paladins were engaging in single combat with her friends. Dropping her bow where she stood, cloaked by the shade of the buildings, she made a dash for the wide open doors, throwing herself through and rolling up to stand, knife drawn, inside the workshop. A moment of vibrant vernacular and ringing steel caught her attention, and she saw to her delight Bazric, kicking a Paladin in the knee, forcing him down before thrusting his claymore directly up into the man's sternum, crushing the bone and the armour. The Paladin gurgled bloodily and collapsed to the ground.

"Good evening, m'lady," announced Bazric, straightening up and wiping the blood from his jerkin. "I cannae say I was expectin' ta see you here," he added, before- "Duck." Theria, knowing well enough to always trust the advice of a friendly soldier, threw herself to the ground as a thrown knife whizzed over her head. She rolled to her back, found the source of the knife and launched her own weapon back at the Paladin. He tried to throw himself out of the way, but was not quite fast enough. The knife slashed across his left shoulder, spraying blood onto the wooden flooring beneath him. He drew his sword and strode forward, directly at Theria. Eyes widening in shock, Theria began to scramble back across the hay-strewn cobbled floor. She had not expected to miss. She never missed.

"Eh, boy!" shouted Bazric, walking into the open ground, nonchalance decorating his bearded features. "Why no' pick on summat as can fight back?" He swung his claymore, not particularly aiming for any part of the Paladin as far as Theria could tell, but that was not important. What mattered was that the Whitecloak hesitated and put his front foot back. Bazric played off this, lunging forward, sword arm extended, directly at the Paladin's belly. The human swung his blade down, pushing Bazric's aside, but that too was all part of the play. Bazric rolled his claymore up and around the Paladin's sword, spinning on his heel and smashing the claymore round three hundred and sixty degrees, slashing toward the guts of the man before him. The Paladin threw himself to the ground and rolled back, out of harm's way. He rose to his feet, stance ready and waiting, sword held low to best defeat the enemy before him. The Paladin was clearly a talented swordsman. Bazric took a couple of steps back, giving himself some space to operate. He raised his blade and the two warriors began to circle one another. Theria scurried back out of the way, wishing desperately that she had not left her bow outside. She had not felt this helpless since Winter Vayu's bizarre sanctum.

* * * * * * * * * *

Bazric Swiftrune, Dwarven Paladin, walked with measured stride around the room, one eye constantly on the Paladin, the other scoping out his surroundings for any advantage he could muster. What was to come would be fast, deadly and decisive, and it would probably not take too long. Bazric had had his fair share of single combat, and he knew that the key was to end it as fast as could be. But mebbe not this time, a little voice in his head piped up. He's bleeding. Bazric silently gave his assent to the little ghost of a voice, and carefully maintained his distance from the Paladin. He also realised then that the Paladin would also be aware of his injury and would try to end this before he became too weak. Almost the very instant the thought flashed across Bazric's mind the Paladin attacked, jabbing his sword high and low, seeking for an opening in Bazric's defences. Needless to say, he found none in the dwarf's highly trained and well practised arsenal of defensive tactics. Bazric did not even bother to riposte, merely stepping back again.

"Yeh cannae hold ou', y'know," said Bazric in a low, calm tone, a tone that showed him to have calculated accurately the possible outcomes of this battle.

"I know," agreed the Paladin, equally calm. "Lucky for me I won't have to. Your left side is the weaker of the two. I would guess you trained wearing a shield on your left arm and have since adapted, but I assure you, the transformation is not complete." Bazric's eyes narrowed. The Paladin was spot on.

"Aye, lad. Lucky for me yeh willnae get a chance." He lunged, swinging his mighty claymore to hit the Paladin on his injured left shoulder, as expected. The Paladin made to parry, but Bazric abruptly switched direction, the claymore heading instead directly for the uninjured shoulder. The Paladin laughed, batting away the claymore.

"That's a killing move, is it? What do you normally fight, cheese?" Bazric took a deep breath, staying calm. Anger was apt to prove fatal in these situations. "What you should have done is actually attack my left, as a double bluff. I would have caught it later, which would have allowed you to get an open shot at my right side, had you acted fast enough. However, you have now missed the opportunity."

"Yeh're toyin' wi' me, boy," declared Bazric, tone low and cold. "Ah dinnae take kindly to folks tryin' to mess wi' mah head."

"Then do something about it." Bazric raised an eyebrow.

"Why?" he asked. The Paladin frowned for a moment before his eyes crossed, following the loud, echoing clash that bounced around the room. The Paladin collapsed to the ground, unconscious, leaving Theria standing tall behind him, armed with a heavy cast iron poker. "She's gonnae do it for me," added Bazric, chuckling to himself.

"What can we do with him now?" asked Theria. "I don't think I could kill someone in cold blood."

"Dinnae look at me, lassie," replied Bazric, shrugging. "Ah'm forbidden to take a life unless I have to."

"Shall we tie him up, then?" she wondered. Bazric nodded and scanned the workshop for some rope.

"Ha'e a look aroun', see if yeh can find anything," ordered Bazric, enjoying his moment in the sun. Being a bit-part player was no fun. Theria moved away from the Paladin, heading towards the work-bench, while Bazric made towards the saddlebags left hanging on the wall. Something creaked heavily above them, and they both looked up. "Rom's up there," said Bazric, frozen to the spot. "Ah would tak' cover were I you." He threw himself against the solid stone wall, not bothering to look where Theria had fled to. The ceiling collapsed in, sending dust and rubble in all directions. Bazric risked a look up from his safe spot, and saw Rom standing atop the heap of building materials, holding the axe Garik and he had finished earlier that day. "So tha's who it wiz for," he muttered, then shrugged. It made sense.

"The Paladin was right under the middle of that," called Theria from across the room. "I don't think we're going to need that rope after all." Bazric grinned; he could not help himself. "How are you, Rom?" she asked. The Minotaur grunted, then spotted a flash of white from the back courtyard. He let out a mighty roar that shook the now slightly precarious foundations of the building and strode outside.

"Right behin' you, buddy," murmured Bazric, casting a glance across to Theria. She seemed fine. "To battle once again!" he shouted, raising his claymore to the sky.

((I felt like keeping Bazric interesting. Also, writing that was pretty fun. That was also way long... I just realised that. Sorry, I hope it's worth it.))

[Vithar-133]

Dodging a swing from a hammer, Vithar forced to parry a naginata thrust. For a while, Vithar managed to hold the Paladins off, but gained nor gave ground. Vithar slashed downward with Nyrsavai, angling for the hammer-wielder. The hammer-wielder swung. Blade and hammer-handle met in mid swing. Vithar's hand shot back as though burned when Nyrsavai spun around his hand and skittered across the ground.

"Oh ho ho! Looks like somebody lost his sword! So, what's it gonna be, eh? Death or surrender?"

"Neither," replied Vithar, lightly.

He threw a punch at the hammer-wielder, knocking him backwards. Grabbing the staff of the naginata, Vithar pulled the staff close to him bringing the Paladin very close. Vithar's helmeted forehead met the Paladin's unprotected one. The Paladin stumbled, leaving a second Paladin alive, but unable to fight. Vithar hefted the naginata. It was similar in design to Nyrsavai, only it was heavier and longer.

Before Vithar could think about getting Nyrsavai from where it'd fallen, he was dodging the hammer again.

:These guys just don't quit! Here we go...Again...:

Vithar sidestepped the hammer, thrusting the naginata. The hammer-wielder dodged, his weapon belying it's wielder's speed. Vithar dodged a wicked sideswing that would given him major breathing problems. Vithar slashed with the naginata, scoring a red line across the Paladin's leg.

"Lucky, warrior. But that won't save you. My hammer will make sure of that."

"You need to hit me first," retorted Vithar, just dodging out of the way of another swing.

Thrusting the naginata, Vithar scored a hit on the Paladin's arm, gaining a grunt of pain from the Paladin.

"Heh. So that's how it is then, eh? Well, I've got skill with a sword as well, haha!" laughed the Paladin.

:Why won't they just die the first time?: thought Vithar, his thoughts were broken by the gleaming point of a sword, barely dodged, :This isn't good. He's practically fresh, and I'm quite tired...Gotta finish this quickly.:

Vithar parried the sword, the naginata's length, while useful, limited his range of movement. Vithar slip of a blood covered stone, while he was regaining his balance, the Paladin lunged. Vithar's slip saved him, mostly, from injury. The Paladin pulled the sword out of Vithar's shoulder, laughing.

He did laugh for long though. Vithar thrust with the naginata, piercing the Paladin's gut. The Paladin's laugh turned into a grunt of pain and a gurgling cry. Pulling the naginata out, Vithar used the extra length as a staff.

He checked his shoulder.

:Unh...Not good...: thought Vithar, :This will need alot of energy to hea--Ah! The healing water! That should prove useful.:

Vithar leaned against a wall, and muttered some healing words. Hos wound healed, but he almost fainted.

:Been doing alot of fainting...I have to be more careful about how I use my powers...Although, this time I was worn out by the fight as well...:

He took a sip from a water skin from his pack. The water had little taste, but spells on the water gave Vithar some extra energy, allowing him to seek out Nyrsavai before it got stolen. Resheathing Nyrsavai, Vithar studied the naginata. He recognized it. It was part of the set of weapons that Nyrsavai belonged to. Unlike Nyrsavai, it wasn't fully complete, having been stolen by Paladins. The other weapon was a bow, which Vithar had. The naginata began to glow similarly to Nyrsavai.

:So, the set is complete after so many years...The chances were slim. Now that I have the naginata, I can give this sabre to someone else in the party...:

Vithar stood, keeping his senses tuned for Paladins.
--------------------------
((Sorry if it seems a little long. In case anyone doesn't know, a naginata is a Japanese style spear. Oh, and there's another Paladin able to be questioned.))

[Taralom]

Before him lay the town where he was born. Or, what was left of it. It was razed to the ground, with buildings still burning, and others that went to ashes. In the narrow streets lay a dozen bodies, perpetrated with arrows and javelins. A wooden cross had been set up by the raiders, in the middle of the town centre, with a body nailed to it. Varin could hear the man, or woman, still screaming in his mind.
Nothing could have prepared him for this sight. It felt as if this was no longer his hometown. Reluctantly, he urged his mount forward, in a steady gallop in the direction of the buildings. He went through the tall grass surrounding the town. It was familiar, as he had always done when he came to his parents, but this time it strengthened the reluctant feelings.
It took him no more than five minutes to reach the outer buildings. All around him was destruction, with people dead, and people alive. The latter were running around to put the fires out, or searching for wounded. A few were busy getting the dead in a grave, no more than half a mile away from the borders of the town.
A man, the town crier, came to him. ‘Ahoy! What do you thing you’re doing here?’ Varin turned his head towards the man, and stared in his eyes. It took the man no longer than a moment to recognize the lad. ‘Oh, young Varin! I’m sorry.’
‘Where are my parents?’
The man looked down, and slowly shook his head. ‘I’m sorry, young master, but your father is killed.’
‘And my mother?’
‘The same, I believe. I’m not totally sure, but you can look around to see if someone knows.’
‘Where is the body of my father?’
The man pointed to the middle of the town, and said nothing more. Varin’s stomach turned around, making him feel dizzy. He urged his mount forward once more, and slowly moved through the town, on top of his horse.
Strange, he thought, yesterday I was fighting a mercenary, and now I’m here, searching for my father. As he entered the centre of the town, his eyes were drawn towards the cross in the middle. The body, still hanging, wore the uniform of the militia town guards, of which his father was the officer. He dismounted, and walked forward. With every step, his legs became heavier, wishing to draw him to the ground. The sight of the man hanging there, made him crazy. This cannot be! This cannot be!
And then he recognized the man. It was his father.
His whole world shattered instantly. He fell to the ground, incapable of understanding. ‘No!’ How could this be? He saw his father, smiling, before his eyes once more. The man had always helped him, when Varin could not perform a magic attack, which he had to do. The man had no magical talent, whatsoever, but he tried. He taught the young lad how to wield a sword, and how to shoot with a bow, even when a bow was the only weapon that Varin probably would never master. And now, that strong, tall man was dead.
A woman came to him. She was the wife of the baker in town. Varin felt her hand on his back, trying to calm him. She whispered words to him, but he did not listen, for he did not want to.
He made up his mind. He raised his hand, and turned the palm of it towards his father. A purple ripple went through his flesh, and an instant later, a beautiful, orange flame emerged from his hand. The cross, on which his father hang, caught fire. As the body of his father burned, Varin cried. There was nothing else he wanted to do.

The town crier came to him. Varin was sitting against the remains of the general store, nothing more than a stone wall now. ‘You did the good thing, lad.’
‘How do you mean?’
The town crier sighed. ‘We did not dare touch your father, since we were threatened with a certain death if we did so.’
‘By whom?’
‘The raiders. They will come back, and you’ll have the chance to get your revenge. And I’ll be here to help.’
‘My mother?’
‘I’ve asked around. She was killed as well. I know some lads who might want to help. That would make a total of seven man, you included.’
Varin stared to the remains of the cross, with a grim expression. ‘Then we will fight.’ He grabbed a chunk of ashes, and pulverized it in his hands.

====

Some of you could be the lads the town crier is talking about, or they'll be a group of bandits or something.

[Fire Ze Missiles!]

* * *

Illyriel's swords wove a glittering arc before him as he parried the Paladin's blows, bedazzling the unfortunate warrior. Ceding ground Illyriel allowed him to feel an upper hand and thrust in confidence, only to have the elf dodge neatly to the side and plunge both his blades up through his stomach.
Ripping them loose with a lethal gush of blood, Illyriel brought his weapons over his head into a defensive stance, only to find there was no-one left to defend against. Slowly, he lowered and cleaned his blades, re-sheathing them on his back.
His mind engaged with doing so without impaling himself, Illyriel was unprepared for Theria throwing her arms about him. Smiling, he returned the gesture but shortly pulled himself free.
"Theria, I bear grim tidings." Puzzlement coloured her features as she looked up at him.
"What?"
"In my absence I travelled to the isle of the Vyre, and a less hospitable forest I cannot imagine. I had heard tell that those creatures we fought so long ago somehow hailed from there and I wanted to investigate...it's really not good news."
"Illyriel, tell me."
He paused, not wanting to ruin their reunion, but he knew he had no choice. "I came across a temple, unimaginably ancient, unimaginably huge. Apparently the Vyre used to be master masons - there were bucket-loads of floors inside that thing...anyway, right down on the lowest level of all, I found an old inscription, and I'm talking seriously old here. I had to copy it out and bring it back to the mainland to have it translated. It speaks of an artefact called the Vyriddin - it's supposed to shine with a blazing golden light so I'm pretty sure it wasn't there - it has the power to transform the properties of living beings. Size, shape, mind, all are as nothing to the Vyriddin. When correctly wielded it could be used to create untold numbers of these melds which we came across."
Theria paused. "What else?" She could tell from Illyriel's expression that that was not the bad news.
"The Vyriddin's power is...transferable, like a disease. If the blood of a creature created by the Vyriddin mixes with one's your own blood then slowly, surely, inevitably, you become one of them."

[{IRS}Athos]

A quarter of a mile from the village, Rindar k'Valya straightened from where he knelt. A large group of Paladins had passed by recently, and he wanted to know why. He began running steadily towards the town, his keen ears quickly picking up the sound of battle. Increasing his pace, he reached backward and grabbed his bow, ready to string it at a moment's notice. A Paladin appeared out of the shadows at the town's edge.

"Who goes there?" he asked, voice shaking slightly as he fought to hold his spear steady.

"It depends on whose side you are on," replied Rindar. "What's going on here?"

"A group of fighters is slaughtering our forces," replied the Paladin. "They number two elves, a Deathknelf--" He paused, seeing Rindar's eyes flash. "Who are you?"

Rindar strung his bow. "A friend," he replied, eyes burning with vengeance.

**********

((I'm going to attack you now... don't kill me, just knock me out or something. ))

[Vithar-133]

Vithar noted a new presence.

:Another Elf...His presence shines with open hostility and vengeance. He doesn't feel like hiding it either. I must be watchful.:

Vithar took in little of what Illyriel said, feeling bothered by this new presence. He resheathed his weapons and picked up the naginata.

"I sensed a new presence here. It's not friendly. We should be on th--" Vithar began, spinning around.

The arrow whistled through the night, bringing silent death. To Vithar it screamed death. It bounced off an invisible shield surrounding the group.

"This new presence wants to kill one of us. I suggest incapacitation and capture," another arrow came, skittering off Vithar's mental shield , "Before it manages to catch me off guard."
-----------------------------------------
((Quick intro to Vithar (for IRS's sake): He's got mental powers, mainly healing and defense, as well as some telekinesis. He also has an ability which lets him "sense" a presence, especially one with a powerful emotion. He's also half-Furya half-elven as well.))

Edited by Vithar Megilaglar, 16 February 2009 - 04:09 AM.

[{IRS}Athos]

A magic user? Rindar cursed mentally as he prepared another arrow. Below him, he could see a Furya running to join the other two. He shot twice more, hoping that he could take the Furya down with a lucky shot. One of his arrows came within an inch before reflecting off an invisible barrier.

This is getting me nowhere, he thought. Noticing that the three warriors were approaching, Rindar dropped back and sprinted in a different direction. He had a Deathknelf to find.

[Vithar-133]

"He's moved. Fast. Must be an elf. I'll keep who ever wishes to get this one safe as possible form arrows," said Vithar. Following this new presence was hard, given the target's speed.

[some_weirdGuy]

Zhar rolled his eyes
"drama, drama..." he said in a heavily sarcastic voice "you suggest incapacitation and capture do you? why not kill him like the paladins? its not like he is special or anything. Whatever, not like i care either way, capture away.... he's coming in from that way now" said Zhar, absently waving a hand in the general direction the elf was to show up in... magic did have its perks when it came to tracking most targets.

((most, but like Vayu proved, not all))

Edited by some_wierdGuy, 16 February 2009 - 07:54 AM.

[Vortigern]

Theria, following Zhar's whispers in her ear, though they came from where he stood, maybe fifty feet away, soon caught up with the new arrival. He was hiding behind a low wall, bow in hand and a nearly-full quiver slung over his shoulder, granting him thirty or so shots should he need them. Her own bow retrieved and nocked, Theria stepped out in front of the elf, for that was what he was.

"Stand up!" she ordered. Hands raised in defeat, the elf got to his feet. "Out into the courtyard. I want to know what's going on, and you're going to tell me."

[{IRS}Athos]

Hmmm... another elf, and no sign of the Deathknelf anywhere. Perhaps the Paladin misinformed me? thought Rindar, walking slowly out into the courtyard. He inclined his head politely. "I came here on a quest of revenge, but it appears that I have been misinformed," he said conversationally. He glanced over behind him as the half-Furya ran up, brandishing a naginata. Rindar stifled a grin. "Couldn't you keep up?" he asked sardonically.

The elf holding him at arrow-point side. "Hurry up," she snapped. "If Zhar had his way, you'd be dead, so be grateful."

Rindar obeyed with alacrity. "Yes, lady," he said. This could get nasty very quickly...

********

((I guess it's because I'm a player character that makes me special, SWG... ))

[Vortigern]

((As Copa's not about for the duration of this week, I'm going to use Tom a little bit in the near future. I'm sure he won't mind.))

The elf came forward slowly, arms raised and hands empty, having doubtless left his bow where Theria had found him. As he came forward into the courtyard the others of the group began to appear. Shava, Thaos, Illyriel and Zhar already stood before Theria, Vithar and the new elf, and as they reached open ground Rom, Bazric and Tom emerged from the wreckage of the workshop. Morion too stepped out of the shadows to watch the proceedings, long coat swishing around his legs as he moved.

"So there is a Deathknelf," muttered the elf.

"Yes there is. Do we have a problem with that?" enquired Tom. Before a reply could come, Theria pushed the nameless elf into the middle of the courtyard, where all eyes were upon him, along with two longbows, a crossbow and several swordpoints.

"Now tell us everything," she ordered. "Who you are, why you're here, why you shot at us, everything. And be careful not to leave anything out."

[{IRS}Athos]

Rindar glanced around, calculating how long it would take him to reach for his knife and hurl it at the Deathknelf. Too long, he decided, looking at the ring of hostile weapons around him. My revenge can wait; it does no good if I'm dead.

"There isn't much to tell," he said finally. "My name is Rindar k'Valya. A long time ago, my family was killed by Deathknelf mercenaries, along with all of my friends: I was the only one to survive their attack. I couldn't care less if the Paladins are right or wrong. It's nothing personal," Rindar added bitterly, "except to that Deathknelf." Rindar felt a petty triumph as his foe's eyes narrowed, but he knew that it was hollow. "I know nothing about the Paladins; I only got here ten minutes ago." It's not like they're going to believe me, though, he thought, preparing to draw his wrist knives.

[Vithar-133]

Vithar drew Nyrsavai, his katana, eyeing up Rindar k'Valya.

"I suggest confiscating his bow and arrows until we know he won't try to kill Tom," suggested Vithar, "Even if he can get a knife out, it's little use against anything we have."

Vithar lifted Nyrsavai up, ready to attack if necessary.

"Hmm...Out of curiosity, where did you come from Master k'Valya? I can understand you not knowing of the Paladins if you come from a small town, but if you come from a larger city..."