Maq was not at all happy. Although he had sustained a number of minor injuries, the worst of which was a big gash across his chest, due to the luckiness that the dragonpeople had other targets to plague and only a few came at him he wasn't seriously injured. At least he had his fire back. Trekking across mountains had never been Maq's sport, he preferred plain grass thank you very much, but he supposed it was a little better than trekking in sand. As he did for a long time. Two years. Or three. He didn't know anymore, might had a concussion. He remembered he'd banged his head against some rocks earlier on.

On this point the sand won over rocks. The rocks were hard and it was easy to sprain something or scrape something or knock oneself out. The sand on the other hand, was soft, and warm, but one had to be careful not to fall face down into it. At least he was lucky to be alive. After this, he was going somewhere that was safe and accumulate some luck for a while. 1 year, maybe, no, 9 months. 9 is longevity, and upside down it is six, which embodied smoothness in one's life. Yes, 9 months. That should make him lucky.

Itching to practice white/blue-fire when they stopped, Maq trudged on with the rest of them. He was so occupied in his thoughts of luck that he didn't notice the young man that fell in their midst until Adellis offered to heal him. Then he didn't give the man much notice. It's just one more man for company, and they could just all kill him if he showed signs of enemity. It's not like they all relied on poking the guy with sticks to kill. Stones though, that might actually kill someone. Forcing his thoughts away from the emotion he labeled morbid, he rested with the rest of them.

A long time after, though, he noticed someone missing. "Hey," he asked, "where did the shady man go? The one that helped to heal the falling man?"

He stifled a groan. Not more unlucky events!



[OOC sry bout this, but my mother imposed this new rule that i cant do anythign on the comp beside hw on weekdays...
and no, friday night is not weekday. so... yeah. =(
and in case you haven't noticed, Maq will soon resort to telling you about lucky and unlucky numbers and try to play dice with you and drive you insane. have a nice day =D]

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It wasn't everyday that a man comes tumbling down a mountainside, and at first Cirron didn't know what to make of the new arrival. The man was a warrior, young and human, by the looks of it. Granted, the druid didn't know many elves, but the few he did know exhibited a bit more grace. Neither did the warrior look to serve the Wyrmlord. He wasn't scaled and, thus far, he hadn't tried to kill them yet. He did deserve wariness, however, and Cirron approved Illaria's offer with a small nod.

Too much had happened in too little time. Dyr'a was right. They needed to find shelter first, then figure it all out - foremost, their route to Ammarindar. It occurred to him that not all his companions might feel obliged to honor Arant Gorm's death wish. But where else could they go? The Guild would hardly accept them, not when the Guild Lord himself had sent them to their deaths.

He mentally slapped himself. His head was spinning. Again. Though technically, it'd never ceased spinning. He could almost hear his former master's stern voice: Self-pity will avail you nothing! You're far better off than half your companions. Now make yourself useful! Make himself useful. Right. Once more he hung back from the rest of the group and scanned the darkening mountainsides. He closed his eyes, honing his senses. A dry shrub cracked. Small claws clicked against rock. A flutter of wings in the sky alerted him...

Vulture. The bird wheeled twice above him. It was hungry, looking for something. Where are you going? The giant bird didn't answer, but he knew it'd spotted something. He thought initially that it might have been the weasel in the shrub, but on second thought... Why are you so bold? The weasel happily scampered off into the night.

Cirron opened his eyes. "This way," he declared and, using his staff as a walking stick, started down the precarious slope. Just as the sun completely slipped behind the lowest of mountain spurs, the babble of running water reached his ears. He led the group around a bluff and came full upon two discoveries: a creek fresh and cold from the snows, and a small cave embedded under the bluff's overhang. Not far from the cave, he caught a gleam of crimson and looked to see vultures circling around two wolf carcasses - a female and her pup - piled on the creek's opposite bank. Lynxes have violent tempers, especially in months of famine. The druid peered warily inside the cave, in case the feline had decided to take residence in its conquered territory. Empty. Beckoning the others, he ducked inside. The interior was hard pressed to accomodate all of them comfortably, but at least it offered to shelter their campfire from prying eyes.

"Someone must collect firewood," he said. "Adellis and I can stay behind to heal any who need it. I can hunt too, if necessary. Then we need to talk." Mention of food and a campfire reminded him with a pang just how hungry he was, as their recent captors hadn't seen fit to feed them. He wiped perspiration from his brow and looked at his companions, none of whom appeared in best shape.

_________________

Carlina volunteered to collect firewood for lack of something to do. In fact she wanted to be alone inside the dense forest. She had an idea where she was going and where they were camped at so it was unlikely she would get lost. And even if she was, she could sniff out her party. Her eyes, unaffected by the night, could easily picked out the firewoods that humans would otherwise miss.

But for some reason, firewood was scarce. Maybe a storm came by, Carlina thought. But as the smell of burning meat and the laughs of unknown parties came to her, she realised they weren't alone in this forest. She unsheathed her knife (her crossbow quite useless now) and crept towards the direction of the noise. She privately hoped that the druid, Cirron, would detect them as well. She had absolutely no problem with dealing with whomever they were but she had been growing paranoid since she was ambushed. It wasn't the first time she was ambushed though.

Upon reaching the camp, she scanned it for any item that would identify them. Banners, crests, anything. Nothing. That meant one thing and it was both good and bad. These were bandits. Not as well trained as regular soldiers but it meant there was no chance of negotiation. She wondered if she should kill them now. She hesitated and moved in.

_________________

I was cured all right.

(yipes, careful about sending this plot in too many directions. This is starting to have more plotlines than PotC Personally I think Old Man is onto something...)

To Dyr'a, the firewood request had seemed to be directed specifically at her - she being one of very few who were in good physical condition. With a nod to Cirron and Adellis, she left on her quest for fuel, illuminating her path through the dark forest with handfire stolen from the hidden stars above. The silver light threw the surrounding branches into sharp relief, creating looming shadows that menaced the small shvat.

The ground was slightly damp - which was not good for those seeking to not leave tracks - but she did find dry wood at the base of the tree trunks. Whe had most of an armload of branches, when, awhile later, she passed a deep crevasse in the ground, worn in by some spring long gone. A curious noise, throaty and hollow, drifted up from the depths, accompanied by a noxious odor. Death. Death and decay.

Sending the handfire down, she directed the orb until it hovered next to the quiet, disheveled youth who had remained at the back of the party during their escape. Looking at his surroundings, she could fathom the cause for his discomfort.

Dyr'a dropped the load of wood and knelt at the side of the crevasse. "Are you all right?" she called, considering the possibilities for getting him out, which would be much harder if he were damaged. "Are you hurt at all?"

_________________


<center>Nothing but the Rain</center>

((I am sorry guys, but life is too hectic right now for me to stay involved in this RPG, so someone else may take my spot. I am totally sorry, I had no idea life would be this hectic once school started and one of my friends is in the hostiptal so I am really worried about him, so if ya'll could pray for him that would be great and ugh.... Sorry guys and thanks for understanding. *rant over*))

_________________


Just became a college freshman; be on sparingly

Dharron was quite startled -and relieved, of course- when the orb of flame appeared above his head. It seemed that, just perhaps, people were starting to remember him. However, more important was a speedy exit from this hole. He straightened, ignoring the sudden spell of dizziness and the reek of death, until he was standing with his good arm braced against the rock wall. Finally, he spoke.

"I am quite fine, save the still-bleeding gash upon my forehead, the accompanying concussion, and one sprained arm. The odds of me performing any magic are virtually nil. It is rather dark, so I thank you for the light."

That explanation should suffice, at least presently. The young druid suspected that the cave served as some beast's lair, as the calf whose skull he had discovered was unlikely to have fallen through the opening that he himself had entered. As he looked around, he realized that there were quite a few corpses in various stages of decay.

One skeleton in particular caught his eye. Obviously human, with some tattered cloth that looked like disintegrating robes. The glimmer of metal betrayed a talisman, which he hastily stowed in one of the pockets on the inside of his robes. There was little else to see, except...was that a staff? Dharron almost passed over it as a mere piece of wood, but the ruby embedded in one end spoke silently of its true purpose. As he picked it up, he realized that it was only a little longer than his arm; it had snapped at one point, as the splintered end showed.

As a druid, Dharron had always thirsted for knowledge. Never before had this thirst come so close to being his end. Even as he examined another skull, which appeared to belong to a fox, the sound of rocks clattering reached his ears. Startled out of his reverie, he turned and crouched, straining his eyes in the darkness to glimpse the likely enemy. What he saw made his jaw drop; the splintered staff almost slipped from his hand. "Oh, gods..." He finished the sentence almost matter-of-factly. "A trennaug."

_________________
"Who are you?"
"I am the Sage-Child, bearer of wisdom past and hope for tomorrow.
Join me and see what was and must be.
Youth and age can conspire, if you just believe..."

I flew all the way from Texas to New England to spend two weeks with miss Nienor. 5 of those days were to survive on an uninhabited island. Booyah.

Threng felt his way through the darkness, picking up whatever pece of wood tripped, snagged, scratched, or poked him. "It would have been much better if this had been done in the light" He grimaced. Just as he was thinking of going back for a torch, he spotted a silver light through the trees. With all the stealth he could muster Threng slipped through the forest. The light was very clear, and within 10 strides he could see the light bearer was one of his companions. He stepped closer, noting also that the Druid was there, and he seemed injured. He seemed to have gone unnoticed, but before he could speak the Druid muttered. "Oh gods...A trennaug" Threng glanced up hurridly. Oh joy. It was a trennaug.

((What is a tennaug anyway? )

Suddenly a hand wrapped around Carlina's arm, keeping the vampiress just out of sight of the camp. "Unless you wish to start another senseless battle, you will refrain from attacking every living being we encounter," Methadox hissed under his breath, keeping a firm grip on her bicep. He had spotted the vampiress going off alone back at the cave and had determined that it would be best for someone to keep an eye on her, given her penchant for seeking out conflict. Naturally, 'someone' had meant him. "If you wish to make a spectacle of yourself and draw the attention of every agent of the Wyrmlord's, be my guest; but do so when it is only your life on the line. Come; we need that firewood at camp."

Carlina hissed at him venomously. She very nearly decided to bite him but thought better of it and wrestled her arm from his grip. Slowly she allowed herself to move away from the bandit camp, sulking off. They looked oddly familiar, Carlina mused as she quietly stormed away from them and Methadox.

_________________

I was cured all right.

(yes please define 'trennaug' before we go on, I have neither heard of one nor found a reference to it on the inet. NR, btw, he's in a canyon/ditch/hole thing, and Dyr'a is standing/kneeling at the edge looking down)

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<center>Nothing but the Rain</center>

Time seemed to stop, and Dharron remembered a conversation he had with his mentor, Oleris.
"A trennaug, Dharron?" The old man smiled, shaking his head. "Of course they don't exist. We both know that the description and habits don't match those of a natural creature. Wolves have extensive hunting territory, but they hardly drag the whole carcasses back to their den. Ears like a lizard's? Fangs as large as my thumb? Wrinkled, hairless skin? Large, luminescent eyes? Oversized, grasping hands? And please don't get me started on the mesmerizing gaze, reek of death, strength of two men, cunning of a mage..."
Here he stopped, eyes crinkling and mouth set in a prim line. "Now that I've given you my..ahem..professional opinion, is there anything else about trennaugs that you'd like to discuss?"

Dharron was forced back into the present by a low gurgling noise. The thing crouched before him was stalking forward...he was out of options. No magic, little strength. No real weapon, either. There was only one thing left to do. The young druid knelt, disregarding the scattered bones, and prayed.

A hissing sound. Dim light, growing in brightness. He opened his eyes. The broken staff's gem was glowing, spitting sparks. As Dharron saw the monstrous creature creep even closer and raised his weapon, the jewel burst into a bright flame. Trennaug paused, blinded by the light. Its gurgling rose, climbing in volume and pitch until it was a shrill shriek. Then it was in the air, and he was swinging the torch to meet it. Something raked his face, and then everything went dark.

_________________
"Who are you?"
"I am the Sage-Child, bearer of wisdom past and hope for tomorrow.
Join me and see what was and must be.
Youth and age can conspire, if you just believe..."

I flew all the way from Texas to New England to spend two weeks with miss Nienor. 5 of those days were to survive on an uninhabited island. Booyah.

Maq was just about to rest on the rock when an animal noised reached his ears. He was just about to sit down at the fire too. But, as always, trouble demanded attention, and Maq didn't like trouble, which required his attention. But he went anyway. It was one of his virtues, dashing off into battle in the face of death. Or maiming.

Maybe he should reconsider what tendancies he possessed that counted as a virtue. But nevertheless, Maq went toward the source of the noise just in time to see the mysterious man, Dharron, fall down with a splintered staff. The staff's ruby was still shining, though dimming more and more by the minute. Maq saw the creature swat at Dharron and held out his palm, stood in stance with left hand on hilt of sabre, and charged a fireball.

It was one of those blue ones, tinged with white from the hotness gathering in his palm, and he threw it at the creature. It hit it on the chin as the creature looked up and uttered an angry shriek, and toppled over. As much as Maq wished against it, his luck was bad today, as characterized by the imprisonment, falling through cliffs, and this trek through wilderness. He also wished that by stroke of luck he had managed to kill the stupid creature, which didn't happen, because luck had something against him today.

But while the creature was on the ground strugglign to rise with what Maq was sure were hate filled eyes, he ran toward Dharron and lifted his body up. Well, tried to. Luck was against him today. So he half carried-half dragged the druid back away from the creature and hoped that someone would have heard shrieks by now and had decided to see if anyone, like Maq and Dharron, was in mortal peril.

Straining against the bulk of meat that sagged against him, he dug his heal in step by step and dragged both of them backwards for about twenty feet, and there his strength failed him. Even the desert couldn't stand up to this! Arms shaking a little, he gripped his sabre hilts and drew both of them while stepping over his "companion who has fainted due to his worse luck than Maq's" and standing on guard. He could only hope for luck.

Which, by the look of today, wasn't very good.

_________________

The trennaug swiped Dharron, knocking him to the ground with a force that was unporportional to his mass. Threng, calling on his magic, moved away from the trennaug the slab of rock that the druid had fallen upon. He could hear feet crashing through the forest: some one had heard the beast's growls. The companion named Maq suddenly came into view, and after firing a well aimed fireball, attempted to drag the Druid away. Threng let them leave: the trennaug was writhing on the ground, and it was only a matter of time before it attacked again. As the beast rose to its feet Threng launched a barage of rocks toward the creature, which dodged them with a grace that stoke Threng's breath. This creature sure was ugly, but it could move The beast leaped, and Threng just managed to knock it off course with a slab of rock. The beast fell with such force that Threng felt sure he should hear the sickening crunch of bones breaking, but none came. The beast, barely phased by this beating, rose again to its feet. This was bad. This was very bad.

Just fyi, Old Man, I can't think of any lizard that has external ears--the only part of the ears that is really visible is the opening to the external auditory canal.

---------

Sitting tiredly against one of the boulders that seemed to be everywhere, Ayden closed his eyes, wondering what he was going to do next. He assessed his situation. He had enough provisions for another day or two. He was lost in a place he had never been to before. He didn't recognize the plants or most of the animals, so he didn't know which were edible. He was in the company of a group of mages, and everyone knew that mages were quite trying. However, they seemed to know where they were going, so it would probably be better to--his thought processes took a dramatic turn when he heard a roar of pain, and opened his eyes to see one of the mages dash off.

Considering that whatever was out there had a mage running to deal with it, it would probably be stupid to go and see what was happening. On the other hand, he wanted to know what made that roar, because it didn't sound friendly, and he had an odd preference to know what unfriendly things looked like. With a clatter of metal, he heaved himself to his feet, wincing as pain momentarily flared in every last bit of him, thanks to his earlier method of going downhill.

Suppressing the pain, and drawing his sword, he trotted off after the mage, listening to the sound of heavy things--they sounded like rocks--smashing into and through trees, and more angry-animal sounds. He came into the open, and saw the angry animal itself. In short, it was disgusting. And angry.

The mage who had dashed off was standing over the mage who had healed Ayden earlier, and currently looked to be unconscious. The creature, whatever it was, was dividing its time between them and one of the other mages, who was hurling rocks at it.

Technically, it was Mage-business, so Ayden shouldn't interfere. However, it didn't look like things were going too well with them, and if he was going to be travelling with them for the next day or so, he didn't want them to think he couldn't carry his weight. He ran forward, drawing his sword and standing by the mage who had two sabers drawn.

"Can you hold it off?" he asked, deciding that the mage who had partially healed him earlier should probably be moved away from the conflict. Reaching down, and trying to ignore the pain it caused him, he pulled the unconscious mage over his shoulder, leaving his right hand free to use his sword, and started backing away.

The creature noticed, and didn't seem to like it. With another roar, it charged, dodging the rocks that the far mage threw at it, closing the distance quickly. The near mage backed away in tandem with Ayden, and both readied their swords. When that creature got close, it would recieve three feet of steel in it in several different places.

_________________

^ nice, peaceful, serene moment there what with us all tryign not to get killed and such i like that. and good luck with your college ^_^ heck, i've got a workload coming directly in september-march, so expect less activity and expect me to die

also? i read back in the first post, and :
bolstering companions not with healing but with strength of will/positive thought. <-- that cracked me up. Positive thought *laughs insanely*
and i jus tnoticed that my character has black leather books (boots) -_- typo... i really need to relearn my typing


Maq hated his luck today, but at least that if he died, he could be sure that 3 others would, in all likelihood, die with him. That was a comfort. Sort of. Nah, not really, Maq would prefer living to dying with other people any day.

But having this ugly creature taht you don't see everyday that is about twice as strong and fast as you charging at you wasn't the best thing to calm a man's nerves. But, beyond backing away some distance, Maq stood his ground. Well, his and the land upside-down young man's ground. Except he was the only one who could really effectively wield a weapon. Or two. What with the other carrying a man on his shoulder and all. And, reminding to berate himself if he lives, Maq charged. It wasn't the smartest thing he could have done, but he drew on reserves built up over the years that he saved for emergencies -this counts as an emergency situation- and encased his sabres in flames. Let the creature taste fireblade!

Except due to his exhausion and the fact that he was broke on luck, his first blade missed, and he barely recovered enough to block a swipe at his face with his second blade. As it is, he swore he felt his arm bend backwards a little from the force. The creature was charging at twice his speed, curse it, and he charged straight at it! But he ignored all that, and flowed into stance, and ignored pain as the creature swiped at him once more, this time catchign him on the chest and tearing his clothing open with four long gashes there. The he chopped, and slashed, and smashed, and became a whirlewind of fury with sabres.

But in the storm eye of the whirlwind? Maq was mentally slapping himself and starting to feel sorry for this body that belonged to a certain mage names Maq.

_________________

[You're quite right, Aerandir. Oleris happens to be referring to the auditory canal that you mentioned, not the structure used to channel sound into the auditory canal. Please forgive me for the confusion.]

Dharron was levitating. At least, it seemed like he was. The ground was below him, as if he were set in the sky. But wait--wasn't that his body being dragged by the mercenary? It was...and the young druid was mildly surprised by what the trennaug had managed to do in one swipe. A bloody mass where his chest had been, and three more distinct claw marks travelling up his neck and gouging through one eye. His robe was in tatters, which seemed somehow amusing at the moment. Dried leaves fluttered in the breeze, a few seeds rolled past the mages' feet, and the glint of the moonlight betrayed the talisman's location: on the ground, free once more.

Seeds...something about them tugged at his mind. They looked like the ironthorns' that he had collected from his hometown, Kellni. Quick growers, with thorns as long as one's hand, and, as the name implied, hard as iron. Dharron could remember spending hours under the hot sun, viciously hacking at the thick tubers and tough shoots. They liked the fertile farm soil, but it was the water which sparked the feud. Too little water, and they died. That was why Kellni had no real defenses. Miles of twisted vines, and the Rangers (Thornmen, as they were also called) deterred any and all intruders.

A shrill scream. He was drawn to the scene below, where the creature, obviously enraged at the attempt to withdraw the druid from harm, was charging. Something about the seeds was still bothering him, but he focused on his own body, praying that the mages starting to gather below could stop the thing before the link to his body was terminated.

_________________
"Who are you?"
"I am the Sage-Child, bearer of wisdom past and hope for tomorrow.
Join me and see what was and must be.
Youth and age can conspire, if you just believe..."

I flew all the way from Texas to New England to spend two weeks with miss Nienor. 5 of those days were to survive on an uninhabited island. Booyah.