Vendui

[Khalxaen]

(Closed to Izvilvin.)

’This city’s too lively.’ Khalxaen mused to herself as she passed crowds of energetic people. It was already nearing dark, and she had the expression that everyone around her was going to be up all night. The demon didn’t know the name of the city, nor did she care to find out. All she cared for at the moment was to find a tavern with good food and an extra room.

She yawned as she went around a corner. It had been months since she left home, and she had met a lot of interesting people on the way. There had been times she wanted to go back, but she couldn’t remember the way. One of these days, she’d have to buy a map, but it probably wouldn’t matter since her village was nameless.

The demon finally spotted a noisy tavern. As soon as she was about to reach for the door, a few men stormed out, pushing her aside. Any other day, she would have yelled at them for their rudeness, but she wasn’t in the mood right now. They were talking about guarding some certain objects, and her ears perked up at the mention of treasure. She stared at the men walk away and continued her way inside the tavern.

The place was even noisier than it was from outside, just like any usual tavern. Khalxaen looked around and could see some people whispering in a corner. They were wearing the same uniforms as those who she saw on her way in. Suddenly, there was an excruciating pain in her head, and her surroundings became blurry. It only lasted for a few seconds until it gradually disappeared, and the demon sighed. Those attacks were becoming more frequent, and she still didn’t know what caused them.

Shrugging, she walked over to a waiter and asked for some bread. She took it and secluded herself to a small table. Frowning, she stared at her food, wondering why her appetite suddenly disappeared. Nevertheless, she finished it up in a few bites and was just about to ask for a drink when a body came crashing down on a table next to her. Several cheering and some insults followed.

’Oh great, another one of those stupid brawls.’ She rolled her eyes in exasperation and hoped it would be over in a hurry.

[Izvilvin]

The night was silent, save for the russling of leaves in the trees and the rapid patting of creatures' feet in the soil. The wind was soft tonight, blowing Izvilvin's hair past his cheeks and onto the dark skin of his face. His lavender eyes were focused ahead, deep into the forest, where the unmistakable sound of pursuit charged from oh so far away. He had triple the eyesight and triple the hearing of the men following him, but they were tenacious. He would run no longer.

It had been a mistake to return to Corone.

The rumbling grew louder and louder as Izvilvin sat in wait, crouched behind a series of small trees by the side of the road. No human would make out his form as they raced by on their horses, he knew, but he'd need to be incredibly quick.

Then it was quiet no longer, and a yelling human lead another down the road, pointing forward. Their horses were brown but looked darker in the dim light. Izvilvin could see the red heat rising off their bodies.

The second followed, and Izvilvin was in the air, leaping toward the human with a feral growl. With no chance to move or fend the Drow off, the hunter was tackled from the saddle and fell roughly to the ground, coughing out the stored breath in his lungs as Izvilvin drew his hand back, sai ready.

Quicker than the Drow could have expected, the human moved his head just out of range of the deadly weapon, grasping Izvilvin's hand and driving the light elf off. The man drew a wicked black blade and pointed it at the Drow. "The Scara Scourge has not forgotten you, traitor!"

Izvilvin didn't understand it, didn't care to. All he cared about was the telltale sound of quick footsteps behind him, almost deafening to his sensitive ears, though surely any human would have had to be paying attention to hear it. He whirled around just in time to draw Icicle, the powerful Damascus blade of misty ice, and parry the black blade of the second man, who had thought to come from behind and flank Izvilvin.

The enchanted blade left icy residue on the ebony sword, but the effect on the man was more profound. He was shocked, almost frightened, by the look of the sword. The blue weapon seemed to glow in the moonlight, and a frigid mist rose eternally from it.

He threw the sai at the man he had tackled, but it was deflected easily. In an instant Izvilvin was holding another, but the human had come to close for him to risk throwing it. They had him flanked now, but Izvilvin didn't panic.

Icicle flashed across his body as he shifted to face the opposite way, putting his back against a thick tree at the side of the road. The weapon slapped the black blade, and the battle broke out. Izvilvin pushed back the human to his right with rapid jabs of the sword, all the while fending off the other man with naught his his tiny sai, a weapon few men would think could be formidable about a sword. And yet it was, thanks to Izvilvin's dextrous hands, parrying the steel with ease.

They struck in unison, one high and one low. The Drow pushed off of his tree and dove between them both, leaving both men momentarily stuck within the bark. They hadn't been smart enough to pull back on their strikes. His sai flew from his hand, catching the man he'd tackled in the shoulder, eliciting a cry.

Up again, Izvilvin ran for the one who was not wounded, who held his sword up in terror. The Drow was like the midnight itself, the sword his enchanted slayer of foolish men who would dare hunt him. Icicle parried his weak stab and then was planted deep in his chest.

Edgar Figaro had always thought death would be warmer than this, but the blade chilled him until the moment he died.

The bloodstained weapon still emitted mist despite the hot liquid on it. The second man was running away. Izvilvin looked to the ground and saw his sai there, bloody, so he decided to let him go. "Let him tell his boss what it is like to hunt me," he said aloud, wiping Icicle on the shirt of the dead man below him.

He retrieved his two thrown sai and headed into the woods, before emerging with his black steed. They would not be disturbed again this night. Izvilvin only hoped he would get to a town before it grew much later.

[Khalxaen]

Annoyed at the fighting around her, Khalxaen was just about to get up and ask for a room. Tables and chairs were crashed upon as more people opted to join the brawl. All the shouting was overriding the desperate shouts from the owner, who was trying to ask them to stop before the damage worsened. Khalxaen concluded from the yells that all they were arguing over was a card game, and someone had been accused of cheating.

She stood around, staring at the owner, not getting a chance to ask for a room since he was too busy trying to halt everything. Just then, a mug was thrown towards her direction, and she instinctively ducked. The mug hit the wall behind her and crashed into pieces. Growling, she glared ahead of her and looked for the person who threw it, but she couldn’t guess who the culprit was. She felt a tug at her hip, and to her dismay, somebody had taken her sword from her belt. Khalxaen cursed herself for not acting fast enough and stared at the perpetrator. It was an old man who was swinging it around sluggishly, and then aiming its blade at his opponent.

“G-give it back!” Khalxaen yelled, rushing after the man. He had grabbed the nearest weapon he could, and Khalxaen could see that his chosen opponent had a knife on each hand. The man who had taken her sword was drunk and in no condition to fight, and even before Khalxaen could reach him, his opponent took him down in a few seconds. Her sword wasn’t even used at the least as it clattered to the ground.

More annoyed than ever, she reached out for it when yet another hand came to take it away. Someone else’s foot stepped down on her outreached hand, trapping it against the floor. Angrily, she stared up at two laughing faces, and before she could react to take it back, the two of them went running out the door with a few other men.

She could hear the owner of the place groaning at the mess, but all Khalxaen could focus on was the sudden cold feeling that met her chest. She didn’t know why, but it hurt, even more than physical injury. Her vision was going blurry again, and all she thought of was going after them, but she couldn’t move. Her hands were cold, and she felt like she was going to pass out.

Suddenly, a voice came to her head. She had never heard it before, but for some reason, it felt like meeting a long lost friend. ”What’s wrong, aren’t you even going to try to retrieve me?”

With that, she rushed out the door and after the men. To her surprise, they had stopped running and were all staring at her sword that was on the ground. The one who had taken it was holding his hand tightly, and saying something about excruciating heat.

“Give it back, idiots!” Khalxaen said loudly as she took it from the ground. The men didn’t even make a move to stop her. They simply stared at her in confusion, whispered some words, and then walked away.

Then, her mind went unclear. The lonely feeling she had before changed into one she couldn’t understand, but there was a nagging feeling on the back of her mind that she had angered Skoteinos. She stared at it in confusion, wondering how a sword could talk.

[Izvilvin]

Only an hour after his encounter with the Scourge, Izvilvin came to the very edge of the trees and could see a clearing. The wind blew softly and it helped him to breathe. His hand moved absently to the mane of his horse and stroked it gently.

Before him was a cabin, with flickering lights dancing against the windows. Even from this distance he could hear music from inside, a piano and a viola or some similar string instrument. Voices roared inside, voices of humans who were angry, sad, and excitable. In front of the cabin a few figures stood, but the Drow didn't let his eyes linger on them for more than a moment.

His horse trotted carefully down a shallow drop and onto the grass. He approached from the side of the building, away from where the humans in front were. When he got close enough, the Drow dismounted nimbly, replaced his belt, and tied his midnight steed to one of a series of metal rods used for such a purpose.

Izvilvin let a sigh escape him; he was tired. The breath caught in his mouth midway, however, as his royal eyes percieved a familiar form among those in front of the cabin. Beyond the humans was the rest of the village, but it did not concern him. Five men and a woman, a girl, Khalxaen.

He could hardly believe his eyes, nor the great smile that erupted on his face. He walked briskly forward in the night, his white hair flowing brightly in the light of the moon. "Khalxaen!" he said, unsure if he'd pronounced it the way it was supposed to be.

The men turned to look at him, each of them with a look of incredulity on his face. Izvilvin ignored them and approached his old friend. It had been long since they'd seen each other, but he recalled that he owed the girl a favor or two for saving him from death row in Scara Brae. Oddly enough, they'd been working for the Scourge at the time.

[Khalxaen]

Khalxaen gingerly placed her sword back in it’s sheath, her eyes downcast and frustrated. She was so confused at the moment, and she cursed her sword for putting her in such a predicament. Her fingers tingled where she touched her sword’s hilt, and she recalled that it wasn’t the first time her sword let it known that it had a personality.

”Next time you let go of me like that, I’m leaving your for sure.”

Khalxaen was just about to retort when a voice called out. It sounded like her name, but she wasn’t too sure. She turned around and saw a Drow coming towards her, and she looked behind her and at the other men, wondering whom he was calling. Khalxaen then only realized that she was the one being called.

“Hey.” She said in a tone she couldn’t explain. The demon looked him up and down, hands on her waist; she had enough fun and games for the day. “Who are you and what do you want?”

It took her a moment more to contemplate on the situation as she stared at him. He was taller than her and he recognized his face, she just couldn’t figure out who he was. Actually, she couldn’t think right about anything at the moment, even that Skoteinos was still waiting for an answer. Still, she forgot all about the sword when she finally realized whom the person in front of her was.

He was that Drow back in the island of Scara Brae; they had taken a job together, if she could recall correctly, and he had been captured. She had to seek help from some other people, and she was quite relieved when he had successfully escaped. She stood there, trying to remember his name.

“Izvilvin!” She said, finally figuring out what his name was. The demon grinned widely, and she felt better than she previously had. Standing on her toes, she peered at him. “Hey, you haven’t changed a bit… I think. What are you doing here?”

The demon blinked and then remembered that the last time they were together, there was a language barrier. All he could speak back then was his native language. Tilting her head in question, she said, “Oh, right, you can’t understand me. Well, uh… how about… hi?”

[Izvilvin]

"Hello," Izvilvin replied when Khalxaen finally recognized him. His accent was thick and foreign, but he said the word properly. Hearing his name roll off her tongue was refreshing, different.

"Vendui," he said, "is hello!"

His purple eyes went from her to the men, who one by one turned their eyes away from his. He could tell they were angry to see a Drow in their land, but he could, too, see that they were afraid. These were not the kind of men who would stand up to him if they thought he was a danger.

He reached out and took her hand in his strong fingers, pulling her along toward the cabin. The Drow didn't know how to communicate his desire to eat and sleep, but certainly knew that pulling her along would show her he wanted her company.

They reached the cabin, which Izvilvin knew to be a bar and inn from the voices he'd been hearing, and he pushed the door open, releasing Khalxaen's hand at the same time. The inside was bright and lively, filled with music and song. The fighting had died down and had become laughter and joy, Izvilvin could not believe how quickly humans could change their moods.

He led Khalxaen to an empty table deep in the auburn parlor, and they sat across from each other, a tiny red candle-lamp between them. Izvilvin looked into her blazing eyes and recalled, suddenly, that he didn't think she was human after all.

It was good to see her, he felt, yet didn't quite know how to show it.

When the waitress came by, Izvilvin held the menu up to her and pointed to a picture of a steak. The waitress turned to Khalxaen as he put the menu back down.

[Khalxaen]

“Vendui, huh?” Khalxaen smiled. “Well, Vendui to you, too.”

Khalxaen allowed Izvilvin to tug her along, even though she wouldn’t have let just anybody do that. He was comforting, for some reason, and she gave him the privilege to cross the barriers she usually put up for strangers. Cheerfully, she sat down across him and took the menu to browse it.

Looking around the place, she saw that the mood had changed so much from when she had ran out. It wasn’t unnatural, however, as these sort of things happened often. The employees of the tavern straightened up most of the mess, but otherwise, everyone had just gone back to their normal routines.

The demon stared down at the menu curiously. Even though she had already eaten dinner, but her appetite was back to it’s usual pace. She felt like she could eat everything on the menu, but she settled for the same thing he chose. It looked delicious anyway; it was also the most fulfilling looking thing on the menu.

She sat there in silence, her long ears perking up at the slightest sounds. Khalxaen looked silly as she sat there with a huge smile plastered on her face, making it obvious that she was glad to see him again. She wanted to ask him about everything that happened to him since they last saw each other, but she wasn’t sure of how to go about it.

After a while, the waitress came back with two identical plates, placing each in front of them. “Great!” Khalxaen said cheerfully, her tummy growling just by the sight of the food in front of her. Though, before she dug in, she looked back at Izvilvin.

“Hey, how long are you staying here? Let’s hang out for awhile, okay?” She pointed around the place, and then at herself and at him, and then gave him two thumbs up. She didn’t even take time to think that it was logical that he’d be staying anyway, judging by the time of night. “Okay, alright, yeah?”

[Izvilvin]

Izvilvin thought he got the message. Khalxaen wanted to spend a bit of time together. He nodded happily and dove into his food, tearing his steak apart with fork and knife. He gnawed the tender meat and ate his vegetables almost whole, not the slightest bit concerned with the man he had just killed.

Moments passed and he was finished with his meal. The Drow leaned far back in his chair and rubbed both hands on his flat, strong stomach. He was looking at Khalxaen again, watching her eat with a kind of peaceful joy. The cabin was still lively and filled with noise. Izvilvin found he could focus his hearing to listen to a particular conversation, if he chose.

Whenever she finished, Izvilvin called the barmaid over and had her bring two glasses of ale to their table. Tall ones. The Drow dipped into his pouch and produced a single gold coin. The woman looked at it, said something about not having change for gold, then looked into Izvilvin's witless eyes, pocketed it and walked off.

He rose, adjusted his belt and plucked the glass of ale off the table. He looked to Khalxaen and nodded toward the door, leading the way out of the wooden portal.

The cool wind hit him suddenly, as the night once again greeted Izvilvin and his old friend. It must have been a year and a half since they'd last seen each other. The Drow still remembered that she had gone out of her way to save him, with the help of two Step agents. Izvilvin vaguely remembered giving her a letter, and wondered if she'd indeed gotten it translated like he hoped. The idea made him smile.

"Nice," he said to her, breathing in the thin, misty air of late night. The moon was high and bright in the sky, and before them, down a grassy slope that must have been fifty feet long, lay the rest of the village. Izvilvin pointed toward it and smiled, wondering if Khalxaen would fancy a walk as much as he would.

Wondering how deep a conversation he could have with the girl, who didn't speak Drow, Izvilvin took a shallow sip of his ale and swallowed it hard.

[Khalxaen]

“Yeah, nice. Hey, you’ve learned a lot of words, I see.” Khalxaen replied as she stared at the moon. She had always found that particular sight very pretty, since it contrasted to the darkness of the night. The demon looked at where he was pointing and just concluded from his gestures that he wanted to go around for a while. She nodded while tasting some of the ale he had given her. It was her first time getting one of those, and she wasn’t sure yet if she liked it.

The demon wondered what the name of the place they were in, like she had done so before. Her thoughts vanished almost as quickly as she attained them, though, as she still really didn’t care. It felt pleasant to walk in the silence, and she tightened her scarf around her more. Nighttime had always been cold for her when she wasn’t in an angry mood.

Her pointy ears perked up as some small noise caught their attention. By a fairly close distance, some children were looking out their windows at her and Izvilvin. They had expressions of curiosity, and Khalxaen was just about to grin at them when a pair of motherly hands nervously pried them away from her sight.

Khalxaen shrugged it off until she saw the same set of expressions, this time mixed with frustration. The demon blinked at Izvilvin and realized that she hadn’t really noticed it before, but there weren’t much of his kind in these lands. He was the only Drow she had spoken to in her life, actually. She hadn’t really thought about it before, but maybe he wasn’t that welcome here, and she thought that might be so tough. Khalxaen knew how he felt, because most of the time, humans also feared her for not having the same set of ears they did. Maybe it didn’t even matter to him, but she had always been frustrated at indifference.

The demon shrugged her thoughts off and linked an arm around his. She didn’t know why, she just felt like it. Her eyebrows furrowed, annoyed at how people could be so judgmental. “Tsch, I hate idiots.”

[Izvilvin]

Izvilvin had seen the children, even the adults in the distant village, as they stared at him. But it had been more than three years since he left Alerar, and the Drow had learned to tune out the more painful glances that people shot his way. He smiled genuinely when Khalxaen took his arm, though he didn't understand fully what she said.

Together the pair walked down the grassy decline and into the village. Log houses sat sparsely about the land, no light creeping from any window. Among the cottages, the ground was grassy and clean, healthy. The center of the village had a well, and when they passed it, Izvilvin could hear the running waters below.

In the end, the walk was uneventful but relaxing, just what the warrior needed after his long travel through Concordia.

By the time they made it back to the Inn, Izvilvin's mug had been long empty. Rather than ushering Khalxaen inside, he brought her to the side of the cabin where his horse stood, still rather awake and energetic. The black hair of the creature made it nearly invisible in the night, but the glare of its eyes was easy enough to make out.

"He likes people," he said. It was probably the longest string of words in Common that he'd ever made, and his nervousness showed. He reached out and pet the horse's mane for a moment before walking slowly back to the entrance of the Inn, giving Khalxaen time to pet the animal and catch up.

It was more quiet inside the downstairs tavern, but only a few people had left. The pianist and violin player had left, so dancing had turned to conversation. The night was winding down.

"Sleep," he said to his friend. He was ready to head off for the night, himself.

[Khalxaen]

Khalxaen stared at the creature before her. She hadn’t realized that her friend had another companion, since it was hidden in the shadows of the night. It looked at ease with its surroundings, but Khalxaen had never been particularly fond of animals. Though there were some, like this one, that made her feel comfortable for reasons she couldn’t state. It reminded her of Izvilvin, who was so different from her, but she still liked being around him.

She had been staring at the animal, and after a while, she realized that her friend had already walked ahead of her. The girl quickened her pace a bit to catch up with him, and they entered the tavern. The place had mellowed down, and it was obvious that people were turning in for the night.

Yawning, she realized that she was pretty tired herself. She heard what Izvilvin had said, and was just about to go off to her room when she remembered she hadn’t gotten one yet. Khalxaen laughed sheepishly and ran off to the owner to ask for one. At the same time, she dropped her mug on a nearby table.

It had been a while since she last slept on a bed, and so she was quite pleased when the owner told her where she could find an extra one. She ran back to Izvilvin and slapped him hard on the back. “Hey, see you in the morning! You’re going to be around in the morning, right?”

Assuming that they were heading the same way anyway, she walked ahead, looking around for the room that was for her. Finally seeing the right one, she reached out to open it. Before retreating inside, she looked back at Izvilvin and grinned. “Hey, good night!”

[Izvilvin]

The sleepy Drow couldn’t have held back his grin if he tried. Khalxaen’s charm was infectious. He nodded and headed off to his own room, a modest chamber with no more than a bed and a window, plus the necessary hangars and bathroom. He hung his weapons nearby and put a simple bell alarm on the door, stripped, and soon fell asleep.

****

The night was disappearing by the time the Scourge made it back to his home base, a hidden fortress deep in Concordia that was nearly impossible to find without plenty of sharp turns. Ivy clung to the sun-bleached walls of the round, short building, catching the rays of the falling moon. There was a stream through the clearing, but it was shallow and thin enough that his horse merely walked through it. The man was panting.

He entered the fortress and made his way through the halls, his horse left outside to leave or stay as it pleased, it didn’t matter. A forest green cape flapped behind him as he rushed, ignoring the calls of anyone as he made his way to the central chamber where his commander likely slept. Sleeping or not, he needed to know.

The man burst through the door and found himself in a round chamber as dark as the night had been. His commander had indeed been asleep, but was upright in his bed before the door was even fully open.

“What’s going on here?!” he demanded as the Scourge member rushed forward.

“I know where the Drow is staying tonight, but we need to hurry!”

The commander pulled himself from the bed, not caring that he was wearing nothing more than a pair of underpants. “Assemble at least twelve men and meet me in front. Pack bows and arrows, and make sure we’ve got a good wizard.”

Twirling, the soldier who had been so close to death at the hands of the black warrior left the room to do as he’d been told.

“I know how to deal with this elf and claim his bounty,” the commander mused greedily. It all depended on how accurate his information was.

****

Izvilvin slept without dreams and awoke to a bright morning. He wasted no time lying awake before he strapped on his belt and left the room, his muscles weary but wired all the same. As far as he could tell, Khalxaen was not yet up, so he made his way downstairs to the tavern.

Only a few people were around, but they all cast an eye on him for longer than was appropriate. The Drow gave a universal smile to the room and brought his key to the innkeeper, who took it from him quickly and turned away even quicker.

A cool breeze was blowing through the front door, tossing Izvilvin’s hair behind his head. He got a chill he couldn’t suppress, and looked uneasily outside to the lit grass. Something was wrong, but he couldn’t quite pinpoint it.

[Khalxaen]

Khalxaen slept well that night, which was pleasant, after experiencing nights on rocky grounds with unpleasant dreams. She might have dreamt of something very enjoyable, but she forgot all about it the moment she had awoken, which was usually the case. The demon yawned and rubbed her eyes, her brown hair splaying over shoulders. Staring out the window, she realized that the day had started out beautifully, as if nothing could go wrong today. Only a tiny, nagging feeling told her that something was wrong, but she brushed it off almost immediately, not really caring.

’I wonder how he’s doing?’ The demon mused to herself as she swung her legs off the bed, steadying her rested feet on them. Of course, she meant the Drow she had spent time with the night before. Before she left the room, she took care of tying her hair into its usual messy style and gathering up her stuff.

As soon as she got hold of her sword, a gut-wrenching feeling quickly came and disappeared. It was as if it was warning her about something unavoidable, but again, she ignored it What was supposed to happen, will happen, and they’re no use wasting time on being worried. That was her mentality, or just a state of being apathetic. Besides, it was always more fun to be surprised.

She cheerfully went out the door and down the flight of stairs. The innkeeper was passing by when she got down, and she tossed him the keys, which he stumbled to catch.

“Hey, where’s the Drow?” Khalxaen asked him curiously. The innkeeper gave a sort of nervous shrug and pointed towards him. She grinned sheepishly, wondering why she hadn’t noticed.

Going up to him, she waved at him cheerfully and said, “Good morning!”

[Izvilvin]

Izvilvin was by the front door when Khalxaen called to him. He tore his eyes away from the scene before him and looked at her, his eyes adjusting to the change in brightness so quickly he didn't notice. Her happy grin wiped away his concerns. He smiled in response to her bubbly greeting, and feeling a little more courageous than the night before, responded. "Good morning. Sleep well?" The words were short, each vowel not as drawn out as they should have been, but he spoke clearly enough. His Drow accent made each word heavy and sharp about the edges.

He reached out and took her hand, pulling her out the front door without allowing her a moment to protest. The wilderness greeted them, a boisterous call from the forest echoing loudly. Something about the sound was off, but Izvilvin wasn’t sure what. The fauna of these human regions still baffled him.

“Where do you go next?” he asked, a little clearer this time. They were outside and he could speak louder without being overheard. Izvilvin untied his horse and began to lead it down the slope which led to town.

He looked at her profile for a moment, his eyes jumping up to her hair and back down to her eyes again. Something about seeing her set him at ease, made him comfortable. Their experience together in Scara Brae created a bond between them that he cared for, it was good to see she was safe.

Before long they were in the middle of town again. It looked different during the day. The buildings were short, all of them single-levels save for one east of the well in the center of the area. They were cabins and nothing more; this was a town for small folk and travelers passing through, not a place where non-natives dwelled for long. Already, Izvilvin was itching to leave and move forward with his journey to Radasanth.

Suddenly, he became aware of how strange the morning seemed. The town was not large, but certainly he should have seen one or two citizens walking about. It was altogether too quiet. Then he remembered the men from last night, notably the one who’d fled.

He heard the fire before he saw it. On instinct he thrust out a hand and pushed Khalxaen off to the side, knocking her away. An instant later the fireball hit him square in the back, the flames washing over his shoulders, scorching his hair and driving him face-first into the ground.

A roar of approval erupted around the two friends, and several armed men, glad in green cloaks and bandannas, revealed themselves from behind the cabins. Izvilvin felt a fool, but at least he still felt.

“Excellent aim,” the commander remarked to his wizard. The human clutched a crossbow in one hand, rested comfortable by his hip. There were twelve humans, longbows, crossbows each they held, most of them standing by the side of a cabin. Their weapons were fixated on the downed Izvilvin, who did his best to stay motionless.

“Now, don’t you look familiar?” the leader wondered aloud, his eyes on Khalxaen as he stroked a thick, short beard. He examined her slowly, his eyes crossing her face and body as if she were a morsel or a piece of livestock. “And yet I can’t… Quite recall how or why I should recall your face. No matter.”

Izvilvin made his move then, jumping to his feet before even a single Scourge could pull the trigger or release their arrow. The fireball had stung him, yes, and burned his shirt from his body, but it had done no real damage to his flesh. He was by the commander in an instant, a sai diving for the man’s throat, but suddenly, pain racked his body.

A series of crossbow bolts and arrows had pierced into his back, seven of them, and the combined pain locked his breath. Izvilvin caught and grit his teeth, trying to stay on his feet, but found it impossible. He was on his knees suddenly, trying in vain to reach behind and pull the bolts from his back.

((I’m kind of winging it here :p So you do whatever comes to mind.))