Goddamnit, Ebivoulya. You chickenshit son of a bitch.

The wizard knew that the assault was actually quite brazen, but being consistently bested by the heavily muscled elf-thing was beyond annoying at this point. The monster moved with such quickness and agility that the group had no chance to stop him. His boldness also created confusion, earning him precious seconds. The lightning, which had incented men to holster their weapons, deafened ears and offered a great means of egress for the thief. With a couple steps, the athletic monster was bounding about, racing past the cat-men and remaining rangers alike.

“Kill him, you stupid motherf*ckers! Don’t let him go with the artifact!”

There was a frenzy of confusion, white noise and anger about him as the refugees mewed loudly. These fur-covered buffoons were nothing like their silverbacked counterparts; they were timid, tired, underfed and disorganized. The rangers, proud men who had fought bravely, were also fatigued, slowed, and dehydrated. Their usual discourse was thrown, and none took well to Storm’s offering of orders.

Slow shits. Want a job done right…

With a single bound, Storm leapt back upon the waiting saddle of Attila, hoisting himself higher and above the heads of the fray of creatures about him. The elf was racing, and would turn a blind corner out of the chamber in a heartbeat. Without another moment’s hesitation, the electromancer yelled a guttural shout, firing an incredibly powerful blast of twisting white-blue anger at the old partner in crime. The crackle-bang sound of lightning was immediately followed by the deafening roar of thunder, as stone and rock yielded like grains of sand in a violent explosion near the aperture of the chamber.

Maybe… didn’t hear him yell above the thunder. Maybe I got that whore this time. Maybe this time I get to –win-, and take that precious little box that seemed made for me.

Ahead of them all, the dust hung high, the air obfuscated as it slowly fell upon a large pile of rubble. Iron rich rock, Storm estimated he’d have no trouble clearing it, but with Attila beneath him, he would not be able to sneak through the now tightened gap in the channel. It had been a big gamble he’d taken. With such an attack, it was unlikely that Nyadir was anything but dead or long gone.

Frozen, he watched as rangers began to clear the rocks away before him. He desperately hoped for the next rock removed to unearth the charred remains of that wretch, who now may have stolen impossible power from him twice