Time Enough

[INDK]

(Closed)

There was something sour in the atmosphere, as if the air itself had become a bit too stale. The entire world seemed somehow thicker, as if the magic floating in Raiaera’s very air had begun to curdle with the self interested petty squabbles that defined Althanas’ ignoble strife. This was Eluriand, the city that Damon had once helped liberate. Now, the boy that had grown too old for his age just sat calmly outside of the wall to the center city, trying to ignore the thoughts of needless war that had soaked deeply into the air.

Nearby, a bard was singing.

“All things fade like the roses of May,
shriveling up in the winter’s sun.
All things change like children at play,
When their life’s work has begun.
Come December, will we remember the spring,
Things stay the same, but the people have changed,
Come December, what will the last sunrise bring,
When things stay the same, but the people have changed?”

The retired general tried to smile. The song was from the Slayer Songbook, and had been one of the songs that Damon had given to Istien University. He had come to the university only to seek a final peace.

It was a bitter irony that he would seek this peace as the rest of the continent was gearing up for war. Alerar had fought Raiaera a number of times, and in every case, neither nation had ceased to exist. Their actions brought only poison. Damon was merely an unfortunate bystander who had tried to help make Raiaera great in between the wars that tore it apart.

Now, as the city frothed at the brink of its own oblivion, Damon wondered if it had truly been worth liberating the city from the undead, only to snap out of his self-pity just enough to remember that there was still little that had been set in stone. Time itself on Althanas could always be unwritten... and since that was what the mission required, Damon was ready to go back and rewrite time.

The final chapters of his story were about to be unwritten. All the stories of the retired general were going to change, but Damon was willing to sacrifice his legacy if it meant that Eluriand might finally be saved from itself.

Now, as the young veteran waited on the brink of oblivion and ignominy, he waited with a quiet impatience for the courier to arrive. It was an anxiousness that betrayed the last remnants of the former general’s youth. A more mature warrior would have known that time stood still on the brink of the journey of a generation.

[Call me J]

Jame moved through the city like a god. It wasn’t that he was particularly powerful, it was that good fortune and soft living had combined to leave the boy oblivious to any and all danger that surrounded him. He knew little of the oncoming war, or of any oncoming war for that matter. In fact, Jame knew little of those wars that had past.

Thus, as the young half-dragon moved through the streets of Eluriand, he was oblivious as to what the sudden appearance of a dragon winged stranger would mean to the elves as he passed by. Fortunately, even the most suspicious had held their ground when they saw the medallion around his neck, but Jame had no idea it was but by the grace of this token that he had failed to arouse suspicion in Raiaera.

All Jame knew was that he was performing an errand for his mother. He didn’t know why, but she had seemed doggedly insistent that Jame come here after a recent letter she had received. Jame knew it was from some Raiaeran bigwig, someone that his mother had happened to know. She hadn’t given Jame that much information, just told him that he was to seek out the Turlin school and ask for the “old general.” Someone there would know what to do.

However, Jame couldn’t help but feel like his mother had failed to understand what an inconvenience this had been. The sun was too hot, the air was too dry and fetching water from roadside vendors that only spoke elven was quite inconvenient.

For a moment, Jame considered giving up. It had been difficult enough getting through the exterior war of Eluriand, let alone the schools of magic. His wings always seemed to serve as an albatross, as if that little bit of dragon flesh made him that much more feral than most of civilized society. While Jame had long been oblivious to this discrimination, he had noticed the consternation it had caused at the gates to the city.

Now as he approached a tree shortly outside of the city walls, he noticed a boy not that much older sitting out by a tree with all the air of a veteran warrior. Jame couldn’t help but feel an inexplicable attraction to the strange man. Perhaps it was that they both possessed traits a bit beyond the normal, Jame’s wings and this man’s monochrome eyes.
“Can you help me?” Jame asked. The half-dragon didn’t offer any particular reason why this stranger should help him, he just assumed that the inexplicable attraction was mutual. “I have to speak to the ‘old general,’ my mother has sent me...”

This seemed to perk the stranger’s interest. “Who’s your mother?” the stranger asked.

“Genevieve Whitizard,” Jame replied.

The stranger smiled. “Damon Kaosi,” he said. “Sit down.”

Not seeing any reason why he shouldn’t accept such an offer from a complete stranger, Jame nodded appreciatively and sat. “I don’t suppose that you could help me...” he began, only to find that he no longer had the attention of this Damon.

(bunny approved)

[Karuka]

Karuka's Nihon staff gently tapped the ground alongside her as she walked through the capital of Raiaera. How funny, she thought, that she had been allowed to enter straight from the harsh deserts of Fallien, completely unquestioned. A month or so past, she had attempted to cross through the border from the side of Alerar, only to have been thwarted and forced to take a longer boat ride to Dheathain.

So much for takin' th' long, but land-most way, she thought bitterly, sighing and looking around the capitol of the Elves. It all looked calm and peaceful, with elegant buildings and towering trees interspersed gracefully, but beneath it was a gathering energy that the young rune-mage knew all too well. She'd felt tremors of it before, but never so great as when she'd stepped into the Elven nation. If she'd had to define it, she would have said, "Hagall Tir. A storm is comin'...and it brings with it war."

The events in Dheathain, and after that in Fallien, had shaken her faith. While she wanted nothing more to believe that somewhere, somewhere on Althanas there was still a place where the gods were living, where people had faith and a pure lifestyle. She was seeking, more than anything, a sign of proof that her gods still watched over humanity, and not just her. Why should they favor her? Wasn't she, whatever culture the deity originated from, dedicated to other, foreign gods? What was she to them?

Did they even exist?

She hoped to find her answers here, somehow, or soon, at the very least. Perhaps doubt was the worst plague to the faithful, and perhaps she had no business doubting, when she knew that by all rights she ought to be dead many times over. She ought have never survived her first month. She'd been very lucky, or very blessed.

Few faithful ha' seen th' things I've seen, though. An' those that called themselves faithful in Dheathain -- nae...not Dheathain. I can't believe it was what it was, but... Those "Christian" faithful were hypocrites, like much of their bretheren from when I walked Earth. Who wouldna doubt gods that condoned such a world?

Sighing, Karuka ran a tanned golden hand through deep red hair, rubbing over the fading red chakra on her forehead to clear her mind. She hadn't been asked to travel all this way so that she could reminisce on her confusing and tumultuous past. Events that confused her had shaped who she had become and who she had yet to become, and she'd firmly believed that her Dharma would lead her in the right direction.

She was still trying to believe.

Focus. 'Tis in sight.

Isten University rose in the center of the city, grand beyond any dreams the young Irish girl had had before she saw Radasanth for the first time. In her hand was the reason she was in Raiaera at all. She carried a small box that a stranger had asked her to give to "an old young man with black hair and eyes." She'd been told that he'd be at Isten University, and then given a little money for traveling purposes, just to get her there. It wasn't like she had anything better to do, anyway. She had no family, and her few friends were as nomadic as she, if the hardships of adventuring life hadn't killed them yet.

She was stopped once on her way by a guard. He was a typical elf with sandy brown hair and impossibly green eyes, both firm and formal as he demanded her purpose with a carefully articulated voice. She idly wondered if they were all like that, the Elves. The only real experience she'd had with a Raiaeran Elf before as an assassin who had come after her outside of Underwood without warning or reason. After that, it was only the ominous Svaltar, Kor.

"I'm deliverin' somethin'," she said simply. Something about the far-off tone of her voice brought the guard up short. She didn't seem to be making trouble, and he probably didn't have to worry about her, so he let her on her way.

She heard it before she saw it, voices and instruments trickling out from the walls in a melancholy and wistful tune. It spoke of things lost and remembered, and Karuka sighed, knowing that in the end, everything was lost. It was only the barest of hopes to believe anything different, and she was a fool to do so.

It was only as she approached closer to the inner city and Isten University that Karuka saw what she thought was her mark -- a man with black hair and eyes, his features young but his expression that of a man that had seen and done too much in too few years, backed with a grim determination and a steel resolve.

Beside him sat a young man with dragon wings, but that didn't surprise Karuka. She'd come to accept that Althanas was Althanas, and that there were things here beyond what she saw as "normal."

In a few steps, she approached them and held out the little box to the man. It fit easily into her slender hand, and was made of liviol and silver, with glyphs carved into the side and a vortex etched into a delicate whorl on top.

"Hallo. I was asked t' give this t' ya."

Right, so, Karu's accent is changing, forgive me while I work out the kinks.

>>>So much for taking the long, but land-most way,<<<

>>>Few faithful have seen the things that I've seen, though. And those that called themselves faithful in Dheathain -- no, not Dhethain. I can't believe it was what it was, but... Those "Christian" faithful were hypocrites, like much of their bretheren from when I walked Earth. Who wouldn't doubt gods that condoned such a world?<<<

>>>Focus. It's in sight.<<<

"I'm delivering something."

"Hello, I was asked to give this to you."

[INDK]

The piercing voice with the odd accent startled Damon slightly. The retired general had been reminiscing about Genevieve, a very old friend who had for a day been more than just a friend. Damon then picked himself up and scanned the girl appreciatively, impressed with the choice of messenger. “Not the kind of person Preylor would ever trust...” he thought. “Brilliant...”

“He’s a genius,” Damon said out loud. He offered a few pieces of gold to the girl. “Take this for your troubles," he offered. He practically threw the money at the girl, because he was so impatient examine the contents of the box.

Damon quickly opened the box, pulled out a note and began to read through it quickly. He held the paper close to his face so that neither the girl nor Genevieve’s son could read it. The words were scribbled in a relatively elaborate script, the kind of hurried letter that could only be written by someone educated. The language was sophisticated, and there was no doubt that it had come from an Istien professor.

Melda Damon,

It is good to hear from you, and of your conspiracy of light. You have gained the support of many in the schools, and the enchantments you have should help you along your task. The box contains a small golden orb, that when released will first create the portal you need, then offer you instructions along the way. I have picked a messenger that seems likely not to follow, but there is little reason to fear her either way. Should you need a companion, our divination runes suggest she would make an adequate ally.

The note was not signed, but Damon knew who it was from. The golden orb was from Preylor, a high ranking bard within the Turlin school well versed in a variety of magics -including time travel. Preylor and Damon had enjoyed a long and close relationship with each other, dating back to when a young Damon had first come to the schools of magic. There had been a number of memories, spells and battles between the two of them, and Damon couldn’t help but give the note one last appreciative glance before putting it away.

With that, Damon looked at Genevieve’s son. “Your mom sent you to help me?” he asked. Without waiting for an answer, Damon opened the box and watched as a golden orb shot up into the sky and then fell to the ground, creating a black portal in the earth. “See that no one follows...”

Brief instructions were written within the portal in golden Elvish. “Move quick,” it insisted. “I will close soon.”

Damon didn’t flinch. He leapt into the portal without any hesitation.

[Call me J]

Jame had barely been able to process Damon’s words by the time that the veteran soldier leapt into the portal. The young half-dragon was not foolish, but at the same time, his mind often wandered. With it being too late to respond to Damon, Jame stood in between the messenger and Damon.

“I don’t suppose you’ll be following him,” Jame said, hoping that he sounded somewhat threatening. Because of the comfortable life that the half-dragon had lived, he had never needed to intimidate anyone. He didn’t know if what he was doing would intimidate the girl, or for that matter, whether or not she had even intended to follow Damon.

While he hoped he looked intimidating, in truth, Jame was not all that invested in the fight. He was irritated that he had come such a distance to do a favor for his mother just to serve as a bouncer for five minutes. He wondered if his mother had known Damon had this little use for him whether she would have sent him.

“And to think Ashley didn’t want me gone,” Jame thought irritably. It had been good for him in Salvar. The travel had been arduous, and now it seemed like a complete waste. “To think that mom practically begged me to come here... what the hell was in that letter...”

Jame let out a visible sigh but kept his position. His hands remained folded across his chest, and his wings began to lower ever so slightly so as to begin to encase the half-dragon defensively. Jame made no effort to grab a weapon, and his focus concentrated singly on the girl messenger.

A sudden sound behind him caused Jame to turn around quickly. It was nothing more than a rustle of a few leaves, but it had caught the half-dragon unawares. As if to make for his mistake, Jame turned his back to the messenger and began to scan the rest of the area for some semblance of an enemy. Finding none, he exhaled a sigh of relief.

“Well that could have gone badly,” he muttered aloud to no one in particular.

[Karuka]

She'd done her part in whatever this man's quest was, and now she didn't have anywhere to go. Every life she touched brushed by hers for the merest blink of an eye, and then moved on. There was no one waiting for her anywhere, and no direction that was really more interesting to her than the other.

In an action that had once been so common as to be reflexive, Karuka pulled her pendulum from around her neck, intending on letting its swing dictate her direction. She hadn't pulled it from her neck since before she'd come to Raiaera, taking her own way or the way that had been asked of her.

Normally, the polished chunk of lodestone swung around lazily, but this time it acted as if there wasn't even a second to waste, pulling almost out of her hand toward the half-dragon that towered over her. No, not toward him, through him and into the portal.

Karuka shrugged, slipping the pendulum around her neck once more. Whatever was happening, she'd give Fate another chance.

"Lead me on t' dharma," she muttered, before whipping her staff around hard to trip Jame at the ankles. Unfortunately, this caused the young man to fall backwards, and Karuka stepped into the portal before it closed.

~*~*~*~

Karuka couldn't say whether it was her second or third experience with time travel, but it was definitely different than the last times she'd gone through portals. The first time, from Earth to Althanas, had simply been a tunnel between caves. She'd passed through and hadn't been able to get back. The second time, in Dheathain, had been a wave and a jolt.

This time was different. It was like she was rushing down a tunnel of light without moving her feet. All around came flickering images and sounds. The most prominent were the yells of agony as soldiers died, yells of challenge as battle was met, and the wretched weeping of mothers whose sons would never return to them. She didn't know what this was about, exactly, but supposedly she was supposed to be here.

When the light finally faded, Karuka looked around sharply to see just what it was that she'd gotten herself into this time.

[Call me J]

Jame barely realized what had happened before he had fallen into the portal. The half-dragon was so utterly surprised and confused he had barely taken stock of his surroundings. If he had, he might have recognized that he had come back to Peligrino Island, the place of his birth. This place was different from the Peligrino Jame knew, and it would have been a welcome sight. For as long as he’d known it, Peligrino Island smelled of death and decay and the dark black predator that had roamed the land mercilessly.

However, Jame’s embarrassment meant there would be no recognition or confusion over Peligrino Island, the young half-dragon was both disoriented and ashamed. He didn’t have particularly strong feelings towards this Damon Kaosi, but at the same time, Jame didn’t like to think that Damon would now consider him an incompetent fool.

“You tricked me,” Jame hissed at the messenger girl when he had finally recovered his bearings. “You tricked me...” He knew he really had little reason to be angry at the red head, she had moved quickly and purposefully while his back was turned. It had been his own foolishness, not hers, that had caused him to fail. Still, Jame couldn’t admit that to himself, or especially not out loud before the Damon Kaosi that his mother had spoken so highly of.

“At least Ashley’s not here to see this,” Jame thought bitterly. He would have hated for her to think he was not only lazy but incompetent. His girlfriend had been quite critical of a number of decisions he had made recently, and had bemoaned what seemed to be his never ending lack of drive. Jame had always defended himself by saying that he could be just as powerful and competent with the sword as a Salvic warrior if he put in the efforts, but now he was beginning to doubt in his own abilities. After all, if he couldn’t keep a slender girl from tripping him up into a portal, what good was he?

That was a question Jame didn’t want to answer.

It was only now that Jame realized that Damon wasn’t looking at him. In fact, it seemed that no one was paying them much attention. The group had landed in the woods in the center of Peligrino Island, an area sparsely inhabited by the natives. It was fortunate, for just as Jame was coming to grips with his surroundings, a golden ball in the air flashed bright light and began to write in the near sky with a golden flame. The words were in Elvish, a language Jame couldn’t understand, but nonetheless he was intimidated by their presence.

“Maybe this is telling Damon what he should do with us...” the half-dragon thought ruefully. He put a hand near the hilt of his sword, knowing that even though he was not much of a fighter, he might now need to defend himself. Without realizing what he was doing, Jame bit his lip and uttered a spell, and watched as suddenly a crossbow appeared eight inches from Damon, aimed directly at the veteran soldier’s head.

Jame saw this and smiled. Perhaps his luck hadn’t completely deserted him yet.

[INDK]

The sounds of two more people following Damon had not lost his attention, but the veteran soldier did not act immediately. He was of two minds of what to do, his logical side suggested that he kill both Jame and the messenger immediately, especially considering that the nature of his very mission was to unwrite time in the first place. If he killed them now, they would probably reappear in their timeline when everything was set straight. “That was, if they ever appeared again,” Damon thought solemnly. For a moment, the veteran reconsidered his actions. He had taken for granted that his actions would likely affect his legacy. Either someone else would end up saving Eluriand or it would never be saved. Regardless, Damon had accepted that, or even his life, as an acceptable cost for stopping war between Raiaera and Alerar.

However, the living cost to others now stared the general straight in the face.

Before Damon could make a decision, his thoughts were suddenly punctuated by the appearance of instructions in the sky. They were brief, but seemingly cognizant of the fact that there were two new strangers in the area. He didn’t know what kind of charms had been placed on the golden orb that Preylor had sent to guide him, but they seemed to be particularly advanced.

“You have nothing to fear from the two that now accompany you,” the orb had written. “Neither is your match as far as might is concerned, and neither has the inclination to attack. Fear, but no inclination. Take them with you, they may help. Fear any other strangers that appear from your time.”

Damon nodded, but was suddenly surprised to see a crossbow materialize between his face and the words. It hovered in the air without an owner, probably the spell of one of the two people who had followed him through the portal. Damon thought it most likely to be the messenger, he was inclined to trust Genevieve’s son.

“What is your intention towards Jame?” the crossbow asked sternly.

“Well now we know who sent it,” Damon thought. He looked behind him to see Jame starring at him sternly. It wasn’t a trick of invisibility.

Skeptically, Damon answered the crossbow. “Nothing in particular,” he replied. The crossbow, seemingly satisfied with the answer, faded back into nothingness.

“Well that was strange,” Damon said. He spoke in the direction of the golden text, but his words were clearly directed at Jame. “I haven’t been questioned by a floating weapon in quite some time...”

Getting no immediate response, Damon began to read the rest of the message written in the sky. “Move quickly, there will be a scouting party entering the forest, one that includes important people you should meet. Find a place to hide and don’t move until these people have passed. Everything else should be explained. You are now on Peligrino Island...” Damon paused in surprise, before continuing with a bit of trepidation. “Roughly seven years ago.”

There was one last line of script that Damon did not read out loud, so instead he turned to Jame and the messenger and offered a few terse instructions. “Hide with me somewhere,” he said. “Find a place even trackers wouldn’t find.”

The last sentence was one that Damon had chosen not to repeat out of shame. “You’ve been here before,” it had said. Damon had read over it bitterly. There were parts of his past he wanted little to share with complete strangers.

[Karuka]

Even though he had specifically stated that he didn't want to be followed, the man with the pale green skin seemed to take the fact that he had two unwanted companions in stride. It probably had something to do with the golden words flashing in the sky, made of flowing letters she'd never seen before.

In th' past, is it? I can nae e'en tell what that means, as far as Earth is concerned. I dinna know when it translates t'. An' why go back?

She took the thought with a shrug, listening to the rest of what he had to say with half an ear as she scanned the forest for a good niche to hide away. It was a fairly dense wood, but had sparse undergrowth, meaning that the one or two thickets she could see would probably be obvious places for trackers to check. On the other hand, there were a myriad of rock formations that would provide a good vantage point while providing fairly decent cover for the three of them.

It didn't take her long to pick out one she liked, and she slipped out of her boots as she did so, grabbing them and letting her bare feet grip the island's rich soil. She felt an almost instant connection to and with the land, something that had been missing with her feet encased in leather, something she hadn't realized by virtue of having purchased the boots in Radasanth. She didn't have time to reminisce, though, so she turned to Jame and Damon.

"I found an ay good spot," she said, her fairly thick accent lilting her soft-spoken words. "But ya ha' t' take off yer shoes. Feet dinna leave scuff marks, shoes do."

Once that had been accomplished, Karuka led the haphazardly formed group carefully over logs and through trees, and finally nestled them in a large crevice of grayish white stone. She hadn't realized up until now how much she'd missed the air caressing her bare feet, the soft crunch of leaves and grass, the rough grip of bark, or the grainy smoothness of stone where she could feel and know them. She resolved to go barefoot when she could, if she survived this trip through time. Granted, the tough leather boots prevented the abuse her feet had taken before, but she'd lost so much in gaining them.

Shoes are really only fer winter an' bad ground, anyway...

As they settled into their hiding place, Karuka noticed the increasingly grim look Kaosi cast upon the trail. Maybe he'd been here before, on this very day, and was getting them out of the path at a specific time for a reason. Maybe he just knew about the group that would be passing through, although it didn't much matter. The red-headed diviner had jumped headlong into the portal without asking questions like she normally would have.

After they'd been settled in a smothering silence for the better part of fifteen minutes, the hushed murmurs of a group started carrying over to the outcropping, and finally heads and bodies started passing by them, not even a hundred feet away. They were partially hidden from her sight by the branches the forest's abundant trees had placed between them, but it meant that she and the two men were hidden that much better.

Most of the travelers were Elves, identifiable by their pointed ears and piercing glances. A few were human. Towards the middle, though, there seemed to be a man made completely of ice. That was something Karuka had never seen, and supposed it was a smaller sort of frost giant that the Viking legends told about.

Drawing her eyebrows together, she craned her neck to get a better look at it.

>>>In the past, is it? I can't even tell what that means, as far as Earth is concerned. I don't know what it translates to. And why go back?<<<

"I found a good spot, but you'll have to take off your shoes. Feet don't leave scuff marks, shoes do."

>>>Shoes are really only for winter and bad ground, anyway.<<<

[INDK]

As Damon waited in the hiding place, he thought of the symbolism in once again stepping foot on Peligrino Island. Peligrino Island had housed the refugees from Surat, a northern island in Salvar that had become overrun by vampires. Surat had been Damon’s home as well. With time Peligrino Island had become a home, right until a single-minded search for revenge had turned the people of Peligrino to destroy everything they had built just to get back at the vampires of Surat. Damon had tried to stop them, but it had been to no avail. Within a year from this date, Damon was to have been banished from the island and the town all but destroyed.

“Jame probably knows that too well,” Damon realized. “I wonder what he knows about the enchantments that are at work here.” If he’d had time enough, he would have stopped those enchantments as well. However, he had to focus on stopping a war. As much as it hurt to think about, the fates of the people of Peligrino were going to have to be determined without his involvement.

In fact, the veteran soldier had begun to wonder about why he had been brought to Peligrino in the first place. However, his speculation was soon interrupted by the arrival of a few members of the White Thorn and an ice elemental. Damon cringed. He hated the White Thorn. It was their quest for vengeance that had had destroyed the island. The White Thorn had used their power and legitimacy as veterans of the vampire wars to wage a campaign that destroyed the very people they claimed to protect.

The White Thorn seemed to be conspiring with the ice elmental, their voices hushed, and had it not been for what Damon already had known of their plan, it would have been difficult for him to follow along.

“So,” an elder half-elf began. “I like this idea. It’s time we made those cursed bloodbreaths pay...”

“Patience,” replied the ice elemental. “All of Knife’s Edge was not built in a day...”

“But all of Surat was destroyed that fast,” interrupted a particularly wizened human. This man’s voice was particularly rude and hostile, and even from a distance, Damon could tell that the fire in his eyes had been dulled by far too many deaths. The harshness came not from righteous indignation, but from a genuine sense of sadism.

“As it well may be,” the ice elemental replied, speaking with a surprising evenness and calm. “However, the monster can not arrive in Surat ‘til tomorrow. One must come to Peligrino Island as well...”

“Wait...” the half-elf interrupted. “There is a monster coming HERE? I didn’t hear anything of that.”

“We thought you too cowardly to accept that...” the old human shot back. “We can not kill without sacrifice. It will kill one of ours for one of theirs. The numbers are in our favor. If we fight our monster, even less of our people will die...”

“Even so,” the half-elf replied. “What about the cost? Will EVERYONE accept?”

“Everyone need not bother,” the ice elemental interrupted. “This need not go beyond those of us here.”

The rest of the White Thorn members that had been mostly silent during the discussion now nodded in agreement.

“Well then, it's settled,” the old human concluded. “It is a secret between the government of Salvar and the White Thorn.”

“But I’ll find you out...” Damon thought confrontationally. Had the impatience of his youth not been curbed by experience, Damon would have leapt up from his crouched hiding place and attacked all three of them. Now, he merely looked at the instructions that were written discreetly on a leaf near him.

“Send someone to follow the old man, the half-elf and the ice elemental,” the orb instructed. “Each has information that you need.”

Damon thought it odd that the orb couldn’t merely just offer that information, but he intended to follow its direction anyways. “Girl... messenger, whatever your name was, go after the half-elf. Jame, take the old man. I’ll go for the ice elemental...” Then, Damon used his powers to envelop both himself and his happenstance allies in a sheath of invisibility. “You’ll have this with you for a while,” he said. “If they have magic though, they might sense the disturbance, so be discreet. When you fall out of my range, you will return to normal... Be careful.”

With that, Damon darted away to follow the ice elemental, moving adroitly and with confidence.