This is the write up for the battle in the City of All Names that Dan told us about, when the city was attacked by a force of 40 or more warlocks, sent by Tempest. I'd really like everyone to take part in this!
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"Fallout"

The explosion shattered the night.

Arius was awake instantly, his entire body tingling as he leapt out of his bed. The room was still dark, for there was no moon tonight and the candle had long since burned out, but the cursed elf used his better-than-average eyesight to move through the small room, reaching for his armor and pulling it on over his dark blue tunic. A feeling of panic washed over him as a second blast rocked the inn, this one coming from much closer than the first had. Screams filtered in from the streets outside, and Arius ran to the window as Daerist made his presence known to the seemingly young warrior.

“They’re here,” the enchanted rapier said within Arius’ mind, his mental voice tinged with what sounded like fear. “Be wary, Arius, for I sense many…”

The view from the window was a scene from a nightmare, and one that Arius had relived many times in his tortured dreams. Fires burned throughout the City of All Names, and contingents of armed men could be seen running through the streets. A third detonation of dark power, stronger by far than the two previous, rocked the city, cracking the glass of the window despite its distance. A woman screaming from the street below drew Arius’ attention, and he wasted no time in acting.

The window shattered outward in a rain of broken glass as the black-clad elf dived downward, his attention focused on the scene before him: a man—human, as far as Arius could tell—held a shrieking woman tightly by the arm, a cruel smile stretched across his bearded face. From the heavy, black steel armor that the man wore, and the aura of eldritch power that surrounded him, Arius knew instantly what manner of opponent he faced. The sound of shattering glass and the fragments that rained down upon him immediately drew the man’s attention, and he cried out in shock as he saw the silhouette of Arius descending from above. Shoving the woman aside roughly, the black-armored warlock thrust his arm forward, preparing to fire off a burst of arcane energy at the cursed elf.

Arius, though, had gravity on his side.

The man’s hastily generated eldritch blast shot by the amethyst-eyed warlock, who pulled Daerist back in preparation for a precision strike. For a moment, time seemed to freeze as the two opponents locked eyes, each one leveling a glare of pure hatred at the other that seemed able to strip flesh from bone. In that instant, Arius found his opening in the heavily armored human’s nearly flawless defense. Suddenly the elf was falling again, and with a smirk of satisfaction and a barely audible grunt he thrust downward at an angle with his rapier, the tip of the blade entering the man’s body at the point where his armor ended before the neck.

Arius crashed fully into his enemy, knocking him to the ground and driving Daerist deeply into his torso. Almost immediately after hitting the ground, Arius leapt to his feet, pulling the sword free with a wrenching twist and a flash of eldritch power. He spun, seeking out any more opponents who may be preparing to attack before returning his attention the man who lay before him, obviously dead. Arius stood in a patch of calm amidst the chaos around him, unsure of exactly what his next move should be. Daerist took the opportunity to make known his own plan.

“They’re here for you, Arius,” he said silently. “We should flee, before they realize that you’ve left the city. This chaos may buy us some time…”

Arius was taken aback by the rapier’s suggestion. “And what about everyone else, sword? Shall I just leave them here to fight my battle for me, while I run away like a coward?” His voice seethed with anger, and he toyed with the idea—not for the first time—of simply discarding the sword that the bottom of a well somewhere. “I will not leave them, and I will not let this city fall! It is as much my home as Galdria ever was, perhaps more so!”

“You don’t really mean that.”

Further conversation was cut off as the door to the Inn of Loose Gears burst open, causing Arius to instantly snap to attention, Daerist held out defensively before him in preparation for another possible enemy. He breathed a sigh of relief, though, as he saw his companions emptying out into the street, all armed and prepared for battle. Jaden spoke, his voice trembling with valiantly concealed fear.

“What’s going on, Arius?” he asked, moving to stand closer to the cursed elf, as if his presence alone would be enough to protect the halfling cleric from whatever dangers roamed the night. Arius didn’t respond, knowing that to explain the situation would require far too much precious time.

“Jeyld, Febrien, you—” The black-clad warlock stopped mid-sentence, realizing that his original plan had a single, fatal flaw. I’d feel more comfortable with Febrien and Jeyld at my back, but I can’t put them in that kind of danger… He bit his bottom lip slightly, a nervous habit that hadn’t manifested itself since he was a child. Whoever’s attacking the city is after me… If they find me, then the lives of anyone caught with me will be forfeit. No, it seems we’ll each have to go our separate ways this time, my friends…

“Arius?” Jeyld prompted, his nearly-glowing amber eyes searching his old friend’s features for any sign of what the elf may have been planning.

“Jeyld,” Arius continued, “take Brude and head toward the gates of the city; make sure that nothing else comes in, and see to it that the militia receives the support that they need.” The gnome-turned-dragon disciple began to protest, but immediately understood Arius’ motives. “We’ll meet again when this is over, my friend,” Arius said with a smile, placing a gloved hand on Jeyld’s shoulder. However it may end, he added silently. With a nod, Jeyld and Brude turned away from the others, making their way quickly through the besieged city.

“What of the rest of us, then?” Febrien asked, worry marring her beautiful features.

“Head to the merchant’s district, do what you can to force the invaders northwest, toward the warehouse district.” He paused, considering his next words. “I hate to say this, but I think now may be the time to call Alaya to us,” Arius said, clenching his fists as he said the words. “I don’t care for the thought of pulling her away from her family, but her bow may be enough to tip the balance in our favor.” Febrien nodded, reaching into her belt pouch to retrieve the magical hairpin within which Alaya had found piece. Arius reached forward, grabbing the elven woman’s wrist in a vice-like grip and pulling her close. “Listen well,” he said, his voice low enough so that only Febrien could hear. “If things get too dangerous, if it seems as if all hope is lost, send her back, do you understand?” Febrien nodded as Arius continued. “I’ll not be responsible for her death when she’s finally found peace.”

The woman’s face became a mask of determination as she removed the pin, clutching it tightly to her chest as she spoke. “I understand, Arius…”

“Good. Jaden, go with Febrien, make sure nothing happens to her.” The cleric looked frightened, but only for a moment. Arius knelt before him, patting him reassuringly on the shoulder. “As you once put your life in my hands, Jaden, so now do I put her life in yours. Don’t make me regret it.”

Without another word, Febrien and the halfling ran toward the city’s center. Just as they rounded a corner, a flash of light signaled the arrival of Alaya, and Arius prayed that his decision to call her forth wouldn’t come to haunt him. He turned toward Hayato and Gurl, the only two of his companions remaining. The half-orc clung to the monk’s arm, much to Hayato’s chagrin.

“You two, come with me. We’re going to the warehouse district, as fast as possible; it’s about time you fulfilled your half of our alliance, Hayato. Destroy any and all who stand in our way, but try not to fall behind.” He flashed Hayato his usual half smile as he went on. “If we’re separated, make for the warehouses, got it? Oh,” the elf said as a pair of shadowy wings shot out from his back, “try to keep up.” Without another word, Arius took to the air, speeding toward his destination as Hayato and Gurl ran along below him, both determined to destroy any enemy that may foolishly try to stop them.
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AMdG

Hayato grimaced as Arius mentioned their little alliance. He sighed, shaking his head. He had been doing some thinking lately, not just about the past events, but on his current out look on life. He had begun to notice that everyone else, even Gurl, was pulling their own weight, while he simply fumbled here and there, though managing to be lucky enough to take out a foe here and there. Still, his accomplishments were far outweighed by his screw ups. He was worried that when Gurl first joined them, she hold the party back. To his surprise, it was just the opposite. Then he realized something: perhaps it was HIM that was holding the group back. He shook his head, dispelling his thoughts for now and readying himself for a fight, hoping what few techniques and abilities his late father managed to teach him would help him. He then stopped, deciding to fix one of his mistakes...

"Gurl!" The half-orc came to a halt, looking to him. "yes, Hayato-wookie?" Hayato looked up at her, taking a deep breath. "I want you to go to the warehouse district. Now." "What? But sweetie-pumpkin, Arius said-" "Gurl, let's get one thing straight! You're a large, hairy, slobbering half-orc!" Gurl was shocked to hear him say something, a look of sadness in her eyes. Hayato sighed once more, looking up at her with a faint smile. "Yet... you're MY large, hair, slobbering half-orc. And.." He then blushed turning his head to look away. "And I'd hate for something to happen to you and our kids, so I just want you to, you know, be safe and all..." Gurl smiled wide, giving Hayato one last hug. " OH GOD, MY BACK!" "Oh, Hayato-Wookie! I love you so much!" "Yeah, that's great, now go!" She drops him, running off as ordered. Hayato slowly stood up, dusting himself off. "Hachi, this is another fine mess you've gotten us into..." He then went running, heading towards a couple of Tempest's warlocks, harassing a villager. Hayato jumped, extending his foot and kicking one of them across the face. " It's time I taught you two a little phrase ol' granmama Sakasuki taught me: Be good..." He leapt forward, slamming his fist full force into the face of another one. "OR BE HURT!"

Febrien raced away from Arius, rounding the building toward the stable so fast that her boots nearly slipped from under her on the cobblestones. Jaden ran full out behind her, the little halfling’s legs churning furiously as he strained to keep pace. Giving a shrill whistle for Fenris, the paladin ran her fingers quickly over the gem set into Alaya’s hairpin as she arrived at a set of heavy double doors. With a burst of light, the human ranger appeared from the hairpin’s portal, Kyrie on her shoulder and Melanor by her side. Taking in her companion’s grim look, the woman readied her bow.

“You’re in need of my skills?”

“We are, indeed,” the elven woman replied. She relayed their situation as Fenris bounded around the corner toward them. Upon seeing each other, the brothers’ tails began to wag furiously. Febrien gave the silver wolf an affectionate pat before throwing open the wooden doors. The party strode quickly into the large aisle, the horses snorting and plunging at the sight of the two large wolves. Febrien crossed to the far wall and knelt before a large wooden trunk, lifting the lid to reveal a new set of finely crafted studded leather barding.

“I had hoped to give you a rest after you had completed your training,” she said, glancing at Fenris, who was sniffing the oiled leather and polished metal in interest, “but it seems you’ll have need of this sooner than I expected.” Pulling out the custom fitted armor, the elf deftly strapped it into place, along with a military saddle. She sent a questioning look to Alaya, who shook her head and deftly leapt onto Melanor's bare back, taking a fistful of fur in her hand. Febrien then turned her attention to the cleric, who was eyeing Fenris and turning steadily green.

“Do you think you can stay on long enough for us to reach the Merchant Quarter?” the dark haired woman asked, not unkindly.

“What will I hold on to?” Jaden asked, noticing the lack of a bridle or reins.

“Bury a hand in the fur around his neck, like Alaya, and the saddle will do the rest. It was built to aid the rider in staying mounted.”

More color draining from his face, the halfling nevertheless looked the warrior in the eye and nodded bravely. Giving a nod in return, the paladin lifted him gently into the saddle, securing his feet in the stirrups.

“Take care of him,” she bade the wolf, cuffing his ear gently.

Her companions finally taken care of, the one-time ranger opened her mind and sent a call to the heavens. With a brilliant flash of glittering light, Kiera sprung into existence in front of her partner, prancing in place at the promise of action. Febrien lifted a foot into the stirrup and vaulted into the saddle, grabbing the reins with her right hand as she drew Imbri with her left. The longsword sang as it slid free from the scabbard strapped across her back, lightning rippling up and down the blade’s length. Pulling the warhorse around on her haunches, the group sprang through the doors toward the sounds of battle.

Kiera galloped through alleys and side streets, the two wolves and their riders close behind. A shrouded warlock dropped down from above, eldritch energy glowing to life in his palm. Taking careful aim, Alaya sent the man reeling as an arrow sliced across the side of his neck, spraying a bloody mist across the alley wall. Before the fiend could recover enough to lodge a counter attack, the group was past him and fast approaching the Merchant Quarter. Febrien heard a scream from ahead and saw a flash of purple light where the alley opened out upon the market square. An explosion followed immediately after, and a merchant’s stand flew across her line of vision, slamming into the wall and splintering across the alley’s entrance. With no time or traction to stop on the slippery cobbles, Kiera bore down upon the flaming debris at a full run and vaulted the remains easily, the wolves following close behind. Jaden gave a shriek as Fenris landed, losing his grip and tumbling head over heels to the ground. The paladin shifted her weight back in the saddle, signaling the big warhorse to halt. Alaya slid off Melanor’s back, rather more gracefully than the unfortunate halfling, and the unlikely group prepared to make their stand.

Four warlocks greeted them, two airborne and two sauntering through the remains of the once bustling square. Alaya readied two arrows as Jaden recovered himself and drew his flaming sword. Febrien charged the smirking woman floating in the middle, while Alaya let fly on the two to the left. One arrow lodged in the shoulder guard of her opponent, sending tendrils of ice creeping across the dark metal, while the other flew wide and broke harmlessly against the wall. The pair grinned at each other, their smirks lasting only until they were knocked flat by the pair of dire wolves they had failed to notice. Jaden approached the remaining warlock with a determined glint in his eye, his sword at the ready.

“Oh, a halfling,” the man sneered, dropping from the air to settle before him. “Here, let me give you a sporting chance.” The cleric glared at the man, eliciting a roar of amusement as the warlock threw his head back and laughed. He didn’t live long enough to realize his mistake. Leaping into action, Jaden raced toward the man and launched into the air, bringing his burning sword forward to neatly slash the man’s neck open.

As the cleric’s opponent fell, Febrien brought Imbri forward, swinging at the floating female as Kiera lunged past. The enemy escaped by an inch, shearing off to the right and calling eldritch energy into her palm. Febrien sat hard in the saddle, pulling the dark horse around and bringing her sword to the ready. The eldritch blast flew from the woman’s hand and screamed past the paladin’s face, missing the skin but sending her hair flowing out behind her in a dark cloud. Bringing Imbri to bear once more, she considered her opponent. Just as she was about to advance, however, the smirking woman jerked in the air, a disc of red blossoming on her breast. As she fell to earth, she revealed Alaya standing directly behind her, just lowering her bow from the attack. Nodding her thanks, the elf looked to the wolves, who were standing shoulder to shoulder, their foes dispatched.

Turning once more, the paladin led the group farther into the Merchant Quarter. There was still much to be done…

After having dispatched his foes, Hayato finally began heading to the warehouse district just as Arius had ordered. No sweat!, he thought to himself. He DID say to dispatch anyone I see along the way, right? And those two were on the way, so I'm not doing anything stupid! I'll show that jack ass elf I can follow orders- "Hayato." Hayato suddenly stopped, his eyes widening. He felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand up straight as he heard a voice he hadn't heard in what seemed like ages. Hayato slowly turned his head, a man in robes similar to his, only black, coming into view. "Keian..." Before him stood a man with short red hair and a pair of glasses framing his face. He also looked much more compitent than the monk did. Hayato clenched his fist, glaring at the man he called Keian. "You... you traitor!" Hayato leapt towards him, thrusting hsi foot out into a kick, which Keian dodged effortlessly. He then counterd with a palm strike to Hayato's chin, knocking him flat on his back. Hayato sat up, shaking his head, slowly standing up... only to meet Keian's fist face first. Hayato staggered, then brought his leg into Keian's ribs. Keian winced in pain, then grabbed Hayato's leg and swung him towards the dirt once more. Hayato turned in midair, springing off his hands and jumping onto his feet again. "Why!? Why did you join up with Tempest!?" Keian smirked. "Simple. He gave me what I wanted. Power. And plenty of it. All I have to do is play the good soldier and I'll stay on his good side." "Oh, so it's okay if other people get hurt in the process?" "Sometimes you have to break a few skulls to get what you want." Hayato snarled at him. "You bastard! You never cared about anyone but yourself!" "That's not true!" Keian clenched his fist. "Your father was like family to me!" "Then why did you send him to his death?" "I DIDN'T KILL HIM! I simply allowed Tempest to get his hands on the Blue Fox statue! It was YOU that led to his murder!"

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Five years ago... a month before Hayato left for his journey...

Satoshi Sakasuki walked down the street, flaming buildings and the cries of his fellow people echoing across the night sky. His son, Hayato, followed beside him, looking around at the carnage that followed. Hayato had never seen anything like this, and wished he hadn't. Satoshi stopped, putting his arm out in front of his son. "Stay here," was all he said. Hayato looked up in disbelief. "Father..." Satoshi continued moving, leaving his son behind. Hayato looked further ahead, seeing a strange figure standing with someone else. That someone else happened to be his closest friend and fellow student. "Keian...!" Hayato saw him, and in his hands was the fabled Blue Fox statue. Satoshi's father stopped in front of the strange man, the one called Tempest, folding his arms over his chest. "Foreigner! Return our sacred relic to us now, and I may spare your life." Tempest glanced up at him, then he let a soft chuckle eminate from his throat. "I'm sorry, but I don't think you're in any position to bark orders at me." Satoshi's brow narrowed. "Oh really? And why is that?", he asked. "Because you're already dead." "What-", was all Satoshi managed to say before Tempest appeared before him in the blink of an eye. He grabbed Satoshi by the throat, hoisting him up in the air. A sinister smirk crossed his features as he suddenly covered Satoshi's body in a blanket of black flame, singeing his body and turning his skin pitch black. He dropped the charred corpse to the ground, Satoshi's eyes lifeless. Hayato's eyes widened in terror as he saw the remains of his hickory-smoked father lying on the ground. Hayato clenched his teeth, tears streaming down his cheeks as he glared at Tempest. "You... YOU BASTARD!" Hayato began to rush towards him, only to find Keian's fist in his stomach. He staggered back slightly, nearly falling over until Keian grabbed the front of his vest. He pulled him close, whispering into his ear. "Don't bother fighting him. You're nowhere near as skilled as he is. You're not even a match for me. So I suggest you just lie down and forget about him. You will never reach his level of power, not in a million years." Keian then reared his head back, and connected his forehead to his, knocking Hayato unconcious. After that, Hayato blacked out, the last thing he heard was Tempest's sinister laugh filling the air...

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Hayato glared at Keian, tears streaming down his cheeks. Not just because of the horrible memories being brought up, but also because of the fact Keian was right. It was his fault. He had to live with it every day. But now was not the time to grieve. Hayato had to finish this here and now. Hayato reached into his pockets, putting on a pair of black gloves. Keian raised a brow. "Oh, what now? Don't tell me you're afraid to scuff your hands abit..." "Keep talking. I'll shut that mouth of yours for good soon enough." Hayato's hand started to glow red at first, the energy from the Vicious Gloves radiating. It then turned a faint purple as he activated his ki, the blue aura mixing with the red. "By mixing the two, not only should I be able to prevent the gloves from injuring me, but also my power will increase ten fold..." "The hell are you babbling about, Hayato?" Hayato simply smirked. "Keep watching. Because with this new technique I've developed, not only will I crush you... but I'll be able to destroy the gods themselves!" Hayato clenched his fist tighter, the aura growing bigger, engulfing his entire arm. Keian looked in fear at the scene before him. "This... this wasn't something your father taught us..." "No, Keian. This is something entirely new I've developed! Something that will show which of us is greater!"

Arius tore through the city like a force of nature.

Below him, cutting a swath through any and all who stood in her way, Gurl ran, keeping pace with the flying elf. Arius narrowed his eyes as he noticed Hayato’s absence, clenching his fists in anger. It seemed that the human couldn’t do anything he’d been told to, even at so important a time as this. Returning his attention to the sword-wielding half-orc below, Arius vowed to make sure that she would be able to return to her children, who were being watched over at that very moment by Jeyld’s mother, Seerus.

“Above you!”

“I know!” Arius shouted in response to Daerist’s warning. Two blasts of arcane power, one shot through with hellfire and the other with ice, descended down on him from above, fired from the roofs of two nearby buildings. He dropped several feet and rolled, feeling a chill along the right side of his body as the hellrime blast made contact, barely. A gasp of shock escaped his lips as he lost control for a moment, his evasive motion carrying him too far and causing him to collide with a nearby building.

Gurl swung her in a heavy horizontal arc, cleaving through the enemy before her with a puff of super-cooled air. Leaping over the lower half of the dead warlock, the half-orc looked skyward and cried out as Arius fell, striking the ground several yards ahead of her with a sickening crack. The elf rolled, springing to his feet with his rapier at the ready in his left hand, his right arm dangling uselessly at his side, obviously broken. Gurl ran toward him, the hair on the back of her neck standing up as she felt eldritch power at work.

From the two highest buildings along the street, twin flashes of light lit the night, the only signal of the oncoming arcane attacks. As before, a blast of fire and another of ice tore through the air, coursing straight toward Arius. Gritting her teeth in preparation for the pain that she knew was coming, Gurl slid to a stop before Arius, her ice-enchanted blade held before her as she faced off against the oncoming brimstone blast. A quick glance of her shoulder showed Gurl that the injured elf at her back was preparing a counter of his own against the second attack.

“You don’t have to do this,” Arius said through teeth clenched in pain. “You don’t have to prove anything to me…”

Gurl didn’t respond. Instead, with a growl of exertion, the half-orc swung her sword upward at an angle, from the lower left to upper right just as the flaming eldritch blast neared. There was a sudden, nearly unbearable chill in the air, followed soon after by a roaring explosion as a blanket of misty vapor enveloped the entire street. Gurl’s defense worked, however, and the brimstone blast was completely dispelled before any damage could be done.

Arius had a slightly harder time of it, but he was able to channel enough eldritch power into Daerist to cancel out the second attack just seconds before it was too late. He wiped a trickle of sweat from his forehead on the back of his hand, looking down with a grimace of pain at the useless limb that hung at his side. Forcing the pain aside, Arius turned his attention to the tops of the surrounding buildings.

“Stay here, got it?” he said to Gurl, closing his eyes as he willed his shadowy wings back into existence. “I’m going up to take care of them, if I’m not back in five minutes, forget the plan. If I die, it’s up to you to find the others and evacuate the city. Gurl, do you understand?”

“Nonsense, you’re not going alone!” Without warning, the heavily muscled woman moved toward the closest building, jumping nearly six feet straight up into the air and clinging to the side of the structure. Arius could only look on in awe as she suddenly began climbing straight up with a speed that shocked the cursed warlock.

“I’m not often surprised,” Daerist spoke within Arius’ mind, “but that woman has thoroughly amazed me…”

Arius smiled slightly to himself as he shot upward, passing Gurl on her way up and clearing the top of the building as a burst of energy flew past him, missing by barely a hand-span. Refusing to give his enemy a chance to try again, Arius changed direction, flying forward and narrowing his eyes as he lashed out with his rapier. His opponent, another of Tempest’s black-clad, seemingly-human warlocks, showed no hint of surprise at Arius’ sudden counter attack. Instead, the tall, powerfully-built man moved back a pace, drawing from over his shoulder a long, black-bladed bastard sword.

“That was unexpected…”

Arius ignored the enchanted sword’s voice as he halted his melee attack, willing his wings to vanish in a flash of dark light, causing him to drop to the surface of the broad, flat roof as the warlock’s blade cut through the air he’d inhabited just seconds before. Fortunately for Arius, the man’s weapon was far too heavy for him to start a second attack, which left a perfect opening for the elf to take advantage of. From his kneeling position, Arius stabbed forward with Daerist, and he grinned wickedly as he felt the rapier’s point slide effortlessly between the interlocking plates of his enemy’s armor. The man cried out in pain and shock, leaping back and nearly wrenching the blade away from Arius’ pain-weakened grip.

Daerist’s frustration was evident as he spoke. “It wasn’t deep enough; you’ve done little more than irritate him!”

Arius nodded as he lunged forward again, his weapon poised before him as he attempted another strike. The warlock apparently hadn’t expected Arius to make a second move too soon, and his dark eyes widened in surprise as the rapier’s point shot forward again, this time moving upward toward the man’s unarmored neck. For someone so large, the black-armored villain displayed incredible speed and reflexes, and as he dodged aside, only Daerist’s edge connected, leaving a shallow cut along the side of his neck. Arius pulled back again, putting some distance between himself and his enemy as the man once again readied his bastard sword before him. Before he could attempt a strike, though, he staggered forward, a thin trickle of blood running down from the corner of his mouth, the point of Gurl’s sword sticking out of his chest. He fell forward, revealing the half-orc behind him.

“Thank you,” Arius uttered between gasps, ignoring the shaking in his knees.

Gurl shrugged, flicking her wrist to clean the blood from her blade. “When Hayato and I were joined in marriage, his ‘arrangement’ with you became mine as well. No harm will come to you, not until Tempest has fallen.” She turned her attention from the corpse before her to Arius, a strange light flickering behind her eyes. Arius felt a chill travel down his spine. “But I promise you this, elf: if Hayato somehow falls at your hands when the two of you finally settle things, I will not rest until he is avenged. Do you understand, Arius?”

He simply nodded.

At that moment, the second of the two attacking warlocks struck. From a building across the wide thoroughfare, a chain of eldritch power stretched lightning fast, taking Gurl by surprise as it wrapped tightly around her throat. She cried out in agony as the searing energy tightened around her neck, and she dropped her enchanted sword as she was jerked backward, toward the edge of the building she and Arius had been fighting upon. Recognizing the attack for what it truly was, Arius leapt back quickly as a second strand of arcane power shot outward from the tendril that had snared Gurl, seeking to capture the amethyst-eyed elf as well. With a backhanded slash, Arius dispersed the eldritch chain as it reached for him, then lunged forward as Gurl was pulled over the edge of the building.

“No!” he shouted, tossing Daerist aside as he jumped and slid toward the roof’s edge, ignoring the pain in his broken arm as he stretched his good one forward. He managed to grab hold of the half-orc’s wrist, barely, though he lacked the strength to halt her descent. Together the two defenders of the City of All Names tumbled over the side of the roof, plummeting quickly toward the cobblestone street below.

Arius reacted instantly.

Letting go of Gurl for a moment, the black-clad elf moved his hand to one of her broad shoulders, using it to springboard himself high into the sky as the half-orc—still dangling from the chain of eldritch energy that was tightening around her neck—swung across the street and toward the building from which the attack had originated. Now airborne, Arius once again willed his shadowy, bat-like wings to spring from his back. He flew forward at breakneck speed, his iridescent eyes locking on the warlock who stood upon the roof below him, holding in his hands the eldritch chain that had ensnared and was currently strangling Gurl. Calling upon every ounce of power her could muster, Arius thrust his hand forward and fired a monstrous blast of energy at his target, striking the warlock square in the chest, leaving a smoking, gaping hole as he fell backward.

With the chain broken, Gurl fell.

Arius angled himself downward, streaking through the darkened night sky toward the half-orc, praying to whatever gods may be listening that he’d reach her in time. Someone, it seemed, was listening, and the cursed elf caught Gurl around her waist with his good arm, though she was far too heavy for him to stop altogether. The two of them crashed into a pile of crates that had been stacked beside a nearby building with an explosion of wood and dust. Luckily Arius had been able to slow their fall enough to save them, though after the “landing” the elf was sure that dying would have felt much better.

Gurl groaned next to him. “Are we alive?” she asked, her voice sounding scratchy and dry as she panted, shifting slightly to look over at Arius.

“Do you… hurt as much as… I do?” the elven warrior asked between gasps for air. Gurl grunted an affirmation as she attempted, unsuccessfully, to sit up. “Then I’d… say we’re alive…” He winced as he forced himself to sit, ignoring the numerous stabbing pains that shot throughout his battered body. “Death couldn’t possibly hurt this much…”

Gurl chuckled.

“Come on,” he said, standing shakily to his feet and offering a gloved hand to the still-prone half-orc. “We still have much to do. We have to get to the warehouse district, and I highly doubt that our enemies are simply going to stand aside and let us continue just because we’re tired…” His vision blurred for a moment, and cursed as he realized he’d left Daerist on the rooftop across the street.

“Tired?” Gurl repeated, inclining her head toward Arius’ right thigh, a faint smile upon her lips.

Arius looked down, eyes widening in disbelief as he noticed the spike of wood that protruded from his leg, a steady flow of blood running down into a puddle on the ground at his feet. Again his vision blurred, and he staggered to the side to lean against a building for support as his head swam. Gurl approached and steadied him.

“Well,” he said softly, shaking his head. “Tired and injured, then…”

The sounds of a large number of people running down the street behind them caught their attention and, despite their weariness, the two warriors readied themselves for yet another encounter. Instead of the expected flood of angry warlocks, Gurl and Arius were relieved to see a contingent of city militia—a mixed company of gnomes and humans—making their way towards them.

“Sir,” the commander, a grizzled looking gnomish fighter, said with a salute as he stopped before a shocked and confused Arius. Seeing the elf’s reaction, the silver-haired gnome continued. “We ran into Jeyld and that half-elf on our way to the gates. He said that you’d be making your way toward the warehouse district, and we’ve been instructed to give you an escort, as well as any support you may need.”

Arius was shocked. He had mentioned nothing of his plan to Jeyld, yet somehow it seemed as if the gnome bard had been able to deduce Arius’ motives all along. He smiled faintly to himself, leaning heavily against Gurl as his legs threatened to give out beneath him.

“Sir?” the militia commander repeated.

Arius nodded once, indicating that he had understood the gnome’s explanation. Taking a moment to consider his next move, the Galdrian elf knew what had to be done first. Regardless of his injuries, regardless of the danger he was sure laid ahead, Arius understood that one thing, above all else, mattered right now.

He gestured absently toward the tall building across the street. “Up there, on the roof,” he said, still breathing heavily, “there’s a bone-handled, swept-hilt rapier. Send someone for it, as soon as possible, understand?”

If the gnome thought anything was strange about Arius’ order, he said nothing. Instead, the commander turned to the human at his shoulder and indicated that the elf’s request was to be taken care of. The man nodded and set off at a run, entering the building and disappearing into the darkness within.

“We have to keep moving,” Arius said, pulling away from Gurl and clenching his teeth as his injured leg silently screamed in protest. “Leave five men here to wait for him to get back with my sword. The rest of us will keep moving toward the warehouse district, and they can catch up. Let’s go.”

Arius moved as quickly as possible down the street as screams and the sounds of battle filled the air around him, Gurl at his side and a dozen well-armed militiamen at his back. Ignoring the distant flicker of flames and the disturbingly familiar smell of burning flesh, the raven-haired elf found himself worrying instead about the tongue lashing he was sure to receive from Daerist when the enchanted blade was returned to him.

Yes, he thought with a sigh of dismay, maybe it would have been better had that warlock simply killed me earlier…

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AMdG

"Go to the gate? The gate? There are four gates? Which one am I supposed to run to?" Jeyld was running towards the closest gate. He had sent Brude off toward east gate and he ran towards the north. He could tell that everyone was running toward the center of the city. Which meant that the warlocks were entering from all of the gates. He just hoped he could manage to help at this one.

As he was running he noticed a dark clad gnome running towards him. Jeyld thought nothing of it as he ran right past, but he soon realized his mistake as an eldritch blast tore the air from behind him, nearly hitting his right arm. He quickly spun around and saw that the gnome was the one shooting at him.

"Pah! I may have missed but I'll get you with this one!" The gnome warlock charged up his energy and was just about to release it when he felt something thud into his chest. He looked down just as the bolts sonic boom tore his armor, and his flesh, wide open. His small body was blasted backwards and Jeyld merely shook his head as he put Soprano away once more.

"I'm gonna need you, Clef." The raven flew down from the sky where he was circling and alighted upon Jeyld's shoulder.

"The rest seem to be handling themselves but Hayato appears to be in some predicament, master. Brude has taken care of a few warlocks already, and Febrien, Jaden, and Alaya are well in control of their situation. I could not catch sight of Arius and Gurl, they are too far away." Clef had been keeping an eye on the rest of the party for Jeyld and the gnome had to admit he felt better with the knowledge as he ran away from most of the fighting. His assessment wasn't quite correct however as he turned a corner and watched a few guards were blasted from above. He looked up at three warlocks flying in formation, blasting down upon the city.

"Clef, take this, use it if things get really bad." He quickly cast a healing spell and transferred the energy to the raven. Clef knew that he would be better off observing the fight and took flight.

Jeyld pulled out Soprano once more and took aim at the lead Warlock. As he sighted up the elf he suddenly had the crossbow torn from his hands by an eldritch blast. He staggered to one knee and watched as a fourth warlock joined the three already in the air. The human woman laughed as she joined the formation and they flew at Jeyld in a line. He watched their movements for a second longer and smiled grimly as he unstrapped Baritone from his back. The warlocks stopped and he could hear them jeering and calling down taunts.

"Watcha gonna do, little gnome? Are you gonna throw that little sword at us? Think you can throw it that far?" The woman laughed and then her tone got more serious. "Think you can get us all with just one shot?"

Jeyld stared up and, to his foes amazement, he winked. "Yep." He suddenly whipped the sword around in a great arch, chanting a tune that was quickly becoming a favorite, as it imbued the blade with arcane energy. He let go just as he complete the chant and the massive blade flew with unerring accuracy toward the taunting woman in the back. This meant it had to get through the other three first. The first in line was cut in half but managed to turn the blade on its end. Which meant that the second warlock was also cut in half, but lengthwise. The third attempted to dodge and had his arm and leg cut off and the woman merely stared in shock as the blade buried itself into her chest. They all fell from the sky and there was a brief crimson rain. The dweomer upon the blade activated it's return and another shower commenced as it tore free from the warlocks corpse to return to Jeylds waiting hand.

"That went better then I could have hoped." He quickly ran forward once more, and finally reached the gate, where a lot more then just four warlocks were waiting for him.

The remainder of their escort lay decimated around them.

Arius sat stiffly upon the ground, bleeding from too many injuries to count and leaning low to keep his head behind the small cover being provided by the ruined wagon. Above him, Gurl stood trembling, a pair of black crossbow bolts protruding from her left shoulder. She hunkered down over Arius, as if shielding him as another volley of missiles thudded ominously into the overturned wagon. Several feet away, crouched low behind a large shipping crate that had apparently fallen from the bed of the wagon, the battle-hardened gnome who acted as the militia’s commanding officer flinched at the sound of the multiple impacts.

All had not gone according to plan.

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Nearly an hour earlier…

The beast lunged from the shadows.

Without even a second to react, Arius was tackled to the ground, his arm held protectively over his face the only thing stopping the snapping, slavering jaws that attempted—thankfully unsuccessfully—to tear his throat out. Gurl roared with fury and, with a strength that even Arius found nearly unbelievable, took hold of the creature by the scruff of its neck and ripped it savagely off from the elven warlock. Grunting from the effort, Gurl then brought the beast down over her knee, snapping its spin with a sickening crack that was joined by a sharp yelp of agony.

“What in the—” the young human militiaman’s question was cut short as another of the strange, shadowy canines leapt from the darkened side street, its fangs glistening in the torchlight as it took hold of the man’s neck, shaking him brutally from side to side. Blood splattered everywhere, and as if that had been some unspoken signal, nearly a dozen more of the creatures burst forth, their delighted cries filling the terrible night around them.

Gurl wasted no time as she moved to stand above the still-prone form of Arius, who was bleeding profusely from his already-broken right arm. Without thinking, it had been the injured limb that the elf had thrown in front of him when the monster had attacked, for somewhere in his mind he knew it would be foolish to end up with two useless arms. Gurl’s eyes flashed with rage, and for a moment it seemed as if none of the savage creatures would attempt to attack the furious half-orc.

“Come on!” she growled, her voice filled with a bloodlust that Arius had never expected to hear from her. With a chorus of barks and snapping jaws, three of the beasts charged her, unafraid it seemed of Gurl’s large sword and larger size. Two fell to that blade instantly, their death-cries accompanied by a sudden cooling of the air and a short burst of frost. The third creature, though, had circled around behind her as its companions had kept her attention forward, and it now leapt silently at her, its red eyes filled with bestial glee. Sensing its approach too late, Gurl spun around only to see the monster impaled upon Daerist. Its corpse slid slowly down the blade until it rested nearly on top of Arius, who still lay bleeding on the ground.

“My… My thanks,” Gurl stammered, reaching down to pull the creature off of her ally and aid him to his feet. Screams and curses from all around them reminded the two warriors that the battle was not yet won. With a nod, as if some silent communication had passed between them, Arius and Gurl separated, each determined to aid the small handful of city militia who had put their lives on the line to aid them in reaching their destination.

Staggering on legs both unsteady and injured, Arius charged the nearest beast, which had backed a member of the guard into a corner. The man looked terrified, and as he held his sword in a hand that seemed unable to stop shaking, it was obvious that he was young and inexperienced. The monster huddled down, preparing to leap…

Daerist sang through the air, the sharp tip of the blade making a long but shallow slash across the shadow-beast’s left side.

Damn it! Arius thought as he nearly lost his balanced and toppled over, having overextended himself with that strike. I’m getting sloppy…

“You could say that,” Daerist chimed in, the first he’d spoken to his wielder since being abandoned on that rooftop earlier. “Behind you—!”

“I know, I know!” the battered and bleeding warlock responded, throwing all of his weight to one side as another of the creatures attempted to take him. He slipped in something that he hoped was mud—but probably wasn’t—and bashed his head unmercifully against the unyielding stone of the building, causing his vision to blur and his legs to buckle beneath him. His dodge was successful, though, and the second monster collided full force with its injured comrade. There was a moment of confusion between them, and then the creature who had been bloodied by Daerist snapped at the newcomer, who promptly retaliated, and soon the two were rolling about on the ground, doing a fairly decent job of killing one another.

The cornered militiaman—little more than a boy, really—ran to Arius’ side, cringing back a bit when he saw the copious amount of blood and gore that decorated the elf’s visage.

“Sir, thank you!” he said, his voice still shaky with fear. “You saved my—”

The young fighter never finished this sentence, as at that very moment a pair of the shadowy canines attacked, each grabbing one of his legs and dragging him away. His screams echoed above those of the others, until with a wet tearing sound, his cries ceased immediately. The two beasts who had killed the young guard came slowly back into the flickering circle of torchlight, blood dripping from their fangs, tongues lolling from their mouths like they were some grotesque parody of dogs. The zeroed in on Arius, seeing another easy kill.

Shaking his head, Arius dropped Daerist to the ground, leaning heavily against the wall as his gathered energy in his left hand for an eldritch blast. If the beasts had any inkling of what awaited them, they showed no sign, for when they judged themselves near enough, they both leapt into the air toward their prey. What they got instead was a punishing wave of fire and eldritch energy that quickly reduced them to little more than charred skeletons. Their bones shattered when they hit the cobblestone street, a cloud of soot and dust rising up from where they’d fallen.

The sudden flash of light from Arius’ direction caught Gurl’s attention, and she made a low, sweeping strike with her blade, shearing the legs off from two of the creatures nearest her as she turned to search desperately in the near-darkness for Arius. She heaved a sigh of relief when she saw him propped up against the wall, looking terribly exhausted and hurt, but also very much alive. The remaining three beasts, realizing the danger of their situation, vanished into the darkness, leaving the few survivors with a brief moment’s respite.

Shaking his head to clear his vision, Arius picked up Daerist and moved away from the wall, walking into the center of the street, stepping over the corpses of both enemies and friends as he did so. He took a quick inventory of things, and realized that of the entire patrol that had been accompanying them, only three militiamen remained: the stalwart old gnome captain and two others, both looking the worse for wear. Gurl approached him, allowing the injured elf to lean against her for support as he once again shook his head in dismay.

“We’re losing,” he said flatly, despair coloring his pain-laced voice.

“Doesn’t matter,” the small captain responded, blood running down his face from a nasty head wound. “Just another few blocks, and we’ll be in the warehouse district.” He looked doubtfully at Arius. “And, if you don’t mind my asking, what exactly do you think you’re gonna be able to do once we get there?”

“I do mind. Let’s go.”

“You heard the man,” the gnome said to his two remaining soldiers. “Let’s move out.”

The small group made their way once again down the dark street, slowly at first but then faster as more and more adrenaline rushed through their systems, allowing them to ignore the pain of their numerous injuries. Though they could hear the sounds of battle filtering through the city all around them, Arius and the others seemed lucky enough not to run into any more warlocks—or, for that matter, any more of Tempest’s creatures—in their mad journey to the city’s distant warehouse district.

Once they arrived, though, the weary warriors found themselves faced with the most stalwart resistance yet, and as a barrage of crossbow fire tore through the night around them, the remaining two members of the militia fell at their feet. Moving as quickly as possible, Arius, Gurl, and the militia captain leapt for cover, though Gurl grunted in pain as two of the bolts found their mark.

“Well!” the gnome shouted over the sounds of combat, “what do we do now?!”

Arius simply shook his head yet again as Gurl stood above him like a living shield. “I don’t know… I just don’t know…”

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AMdG

Febrien lowered her bloodstained sword and stared grimly at the carnage that assaulted her on all sides.

The Merchant District was in shambles. Everywhere she looked, flames leaped around the hulking masses of vendor stalls, and the smell of burned flesh assailed her nostrils, pulling her features into a wrinkled mask of disgust. If she looked at any one spot too closely, the grisly source of the stench became apparent. Scattered townspeople ran past every so often in various stages of injury, racing for the center square as the invading warlocks spewed forth from every gate. A vendor’s cart lay upturned to her left, ruined fruit littering the cobblestones around it. Broken melons squelched under Kiera’s hooves as the mare paced forward, picking her way carefully in the uncertain footing. Fine cloth and expensive scarves hung thick from a cord stretching across the passage in front of them, their brilliant colors melting away as the raging flames consumed all, curling the fabric into so much expensive ash. Kiera leaped back with a squeal as the cord suddenly snapped, plunging the silks to the ground. Febrien threw her arm in front of her face as a curtain of sparks exploded outward and the warmare lurched beneath her. She hastily kneed the mare around to face her companions.

Alaya sat easily atop Melanor with her bow slung lightly over her shoulder, only the tightness of her lips and the whiteness of her clenched fists betraying her strain. The wolves stood side by side, leaning against each other for support as their flanks heaved and their tongues lolled. The once-ranger couldn’t help the wave of pride that washed over her at the striking pair the pups had grown into. Jaden rested against Fenris’ great foreleg, his sword laying across his lap and sweat running down his brow. Febrien could feel sweat streaming down her own back in rivulets as Kiera pranced and snorted beneath her.

“There won’t be any driving them this way, I’m afraid,” she sighed, glancing back at the obstructed thoroughfare. “Our best chance will be to make for the west gate and try to drive the wave toward the warehouse district from there.”

“Just the three of us and the beasts?” Jaden gulped, staring at her uncertainly, his eyes stretched unnaturally wide.

“You underestimate them,” Febrien said, a wan smile crossing her features. “But you’re right – we should seek out a guard patrol if there are any to be found. The garrison isn’t far from here.”

She turned in her saddle as an explosion rocked the marketplace.

“No rest for the weary,” Jaden sighed.

The exhausted group readied themselves for battle once more, and a great wave of eldritch power rose before them as they raced for the source of the commotion. Shouts and screams rode on the hot wind, carried by the rising cloud of energy laced with hellish fire. Jaden sprinted after the two women and their beasts as fast as his legs could manage, but an ever-increasing gap soon formed between them. Febrien noticed his absence after a moment and called a halt to Alaya and the wolves. Nudging the mare around, she spoke to Fenris in elven and jogged quickly back to the panting halfling. The little man rested his hands on his knees and sucked in air as the elf swung out of her saddle. Reaching into the near-side saddlebag, she quickly withdrew a coil of rope and called her wolf to her. Febrien knotted one end of the cord to the rigging in front of his saddle, then pulled most of it through and knotted it to the rigging on the other side. She drew her sword and sliced off the excess, leaving the rest to form a sturdy handle across Fenris’ shoulders.

“This should hold you, my friend,” she said, giving Jaden a leg up. He wordlessly nodded his thanks, grabbing the rope with both fists as the elf mounted once more.

Keeping an eye on her fellow paladin, Febrien gave her wolf another command in elven, and the group set out again, Alaya in the lead. This time, the once-ranger stayed close by Fenris’ side as they careened through the city’s winding alleys, ready to grab Jaden’s shoulder should he lose his balance again. They reached the source of the explosion without incident, however, and quickly dove for cover as eldritch energy rent the air above their heads. Behind the safety of a partially destroyed building, the two women slid off their mounts, and Fenris dropped to his belly to allow his rider to step easily to the ground.

The scene before them was chaos. A force of warlocks stood outside the now-fortified western gate, assaulting it with eldritch energy to clear a path for their foot troops to enter. Those half-dozen who could fly made sortie runs over the heads of the besieged guards and townspeople in the square, raining down hellfire blasts upon their scant shelters. Archers ducked out of cover to pepper them with arrows, but the warlocks clearly held the advantage. Arrows were no match for the warlock’s fire, which slowly ate away at what little cover the guards commanded. And scattered throughout everything were the bodies. They lay in the streets and among the wreckage, charred and nearly unrecognizable. Febrien and Alaya shared a look, then drew their bows in unison.

The trio had yet to be discovered, giving them the advantage of surprise. The two women nocked their arrows and drew down on the band of warlocks as they wheeled around for another volley. They had split up into two groups in order to come at their enemy from different directions, but as they neared their target, the rangers let fly. The first warlock fell with two of Alaya’s arrows piercing his torso and a fine coating of ice lacing his ebony breastplate. The second screamed and jerked in the air as Febrien’s arrow pierced his shoulder, lightning arcing between him and his fellows. He fell motionless to earth, one of his companions close behind. The remaining three sped toward cover, casting about for the source of the unexpected attack. As Alaya watched the skies for the next sortie, Febrien turned toward Jaden.

“I have an idea,” she said, glancing toward the pinned guards. “Can you clear what townspeople you can reach and get them to a safe place near the southern gate?”

“Yes, I think I can do that,” the paladin replied, surveying the scene before them.

“Good. Then get them as far away from here as possible, and don’t lead them between us and the warehouse district,” she instructed, laying a hand on his shoulder.

“Don’t worry – I’ll keep them safe,” he assured her, and then slunk toward the scattered knots of panicked civilians. The guards saw him coming and covered him as the warlocks rallied and made another run. Alaya dropped another with a brilliant shot to the forehead as Jaden reached the first group of people. Febrien noticed him whispering reassuringly to them and gesturing to the south as she nocked another arrow. The remaining warlocks, however, seemed loath to attack in the open, and the two women scanned the buildings that were still standing, mindful of an ambush. To their right, another explosion rocked the gates, rattling them on their hinges. The great lock held, but small flames licked at the wood where the fire resistant chemicals had been blasted away, and Febrien doubted it would survive many more such onslaughts.

“What are your thoughts?” Alaya asked, her eyes still skyward.

“The gate is already lost,” Febrien pointed out needlessly. “Instead of trying to hold them here, I think we can lead their forces straight to the warehouse district. With all the destruction, the main road will offer the path of least resistance, and with the villagers out of the way, they’ll only have the guards to follow.”

Alaya nodded thoughtfully. “We’ll have to take care of this flying pair first,” she pointed out, still alert for an attack.

“Absolutely,” the paladin agreed, scanning their surroundings nervously. “But I doubt they’ll present such an easy target this time.”

“And we don’t have time to wait for them to come up with a plan of their own,” the human woman replied, glancing around in disgust. “We may just have to make a run for it.”

Febrien nodded. “Let’s go, then. I’ll go first – you’re a faster shot than I am, so if they attack when I break cover, you can take them out. Once I get to the guard captain, I can cover you.”

Alaya nodded in assent and scanned the square quickly before giving the elf a nod. Febrien commanded Fenris and Kiera to hold, then dashed for the guard captain, keeping as low to the ground as possible. No eldritch fire assaulted her, and she looked up nervously and sighted in her longbow as Alaya broke from cover. As the ranger reached the makeshift shelter, Febrien turned to the swarthy gnome and relayed her plan.

“Why would ye want ter lead ‘em there?" he asked incredulously. “T’aint nothin’ there but a fat lot o’ chemicals an’ stored goods.”

“Not to worry,” she reassured him. “Our partner is headed there now, and he has a plan to take care of this lot when we get there.” The captain shook his head dubiously, but called his troupes to order.

Arius, you’d better know what you’re doing, she prayed as the guards gathered up the remaining civilians and herded them toward the southern gate.

As Alaya and the unit of archers continued to watch for an aerial assault, Febrien and the remaining guards quickly worked to clear the rubble from the main thoroughfare. They piled bodies and broken planks outside the entrances of the alleys to prevent the warlocks from splitting off and flanking them, or worse, circling around in front of them. As they finished, a fiery cloud burst around the gate, resounding like thunder. The wood finally started to burn in earnest, and the hinges on one side began to list dangerously, creaking at the weight and the unnatural angle.

“We done aught that we can ‘ere,” the captain shouted, summoning his men. The guards gathered and turned toward the warehouse district, carrying those who were wounded, or bracing them with their shoulders. Febrien and Alaya whistled, and Kiera trotted into the square from her hiding place, the dire wolf littermates bounding behind her. The guards whirled in alarm at the imposing pair, but settled once more as the brothers ran to their respective keepers and nuzzled them affectionately. Giving Fenris a quick pat, the elf turned to her warhorse, gathered the reins, and swung into the saddle as Alaya leaped nimbly astride her own mount. Then they turned toward the warehouse district as well, as the guards looked expectantly toward their leader for their final orders.

Clearing his throat, the gnome’s gruff voice rang across the square. “You men with swords, keep ter cover s’much as ye can. Absolutely no turnin’ an’ engagin’ the enemy ‘less they’re right on our tails, ye hear? Ye just make for the ware’ouses s’fast as ya can go. You archers, hold em back s’best ye can. Make a good showin,’ make em think we’re retreatin’ all nice an’ orderly, like. Once we get ter the district, we find cover right quick an’ leave it ta these two, understan’?”

There were tired nods all around.

“All right, let’s move out!” he roared, signaling them forward.

In the next moment he was dead, his armor a charred ruin, as the blast of eldritch energy dissipated. Alaya yelled a warning, already loosing arrows in the direction of the attacker. The warlock responsible swooped down to the ranger’s right, raining hellfire blasts, burning hot, as she countered with arrows of ice. The second warlock dropped from above Febrien, readying a sickening red ball of energy. The elf swung upward, but her enemy grinned and hovered just above her reach. Without a thought, she deepened her seat and cued Kiera with her knees. The warmare instantly gathered herself and reared up on her hind legs, leaping up and forward as the elf drew her blade around in a blinding arc. The stunned warlock died before he hit the ground, and Kiera deftly leaped over his broken remains and dropped her forelegs back to earth. Patting the dark horse’s neck, Febrien turned to her next challenge.

Alaya squinted in concentration as the remaining warlock dipped and dived, speeding toward the ruined gate. As he drew near, a ball of black power swirling angrily with red blossomed in his palm. He aimed at the now-unguarded lock holding the gate closed and drew back his arm to let fly. Alaya was faster. As his arm snaked back, her arrow sang through the air, punching straight through his armor and shoulder blade and burying itself in his heart. The group wasted no time watching him fall as a final explosion blew the gate from its hinges and across the square. They turned and raced for the warehouse district, arrows flying behind them, with fire eating at their heels the entire way.

"Oh no! Oh god! Oh no! Gods help me!" Jeyld ran full out, the two shadow dogs close behind him. He didn't even have time to pull out Soprano and fire. He could hear the dozen or so warlocks as they laughed at him. This was not a good day. The bard's amber eyes searched everywhere for suitable cover and finally alighted upon a narrow alley nearby. He quickly angled his run toward it and sprinted inside. The two beasts on his heels collided together as they both sought to enter at the same time, giving the gnome just enough time to turn around and fire two quick shots. The resulting blasts tore the beasts apart and Jeyld sighed in relief. Until he saw the human woman standing at the mouth of the alley. He turned around once more and his heart fell as he saw this was a dead end. He smiled grimly at the irony of the term.

"Well well, little gnome... thing." The woman hesitated as Jeyld turned and his eyes glowed in the darkness. "You are an interesting specimen. Isn't he, boys?" The many laughs made Jeylds heart fall even more. But it also made his arm raise. A click sounded as a bolt slid into place and a snap echoed through the alley as the string snapped when Jeyld pulled the trigger. The bards face fell and he dropped the weapon. His scales went a pale blue as he realized just how much trouble he was in. The laughs redoubled as the woman advanced into the narrow alley. The other warlocks followed behind her and Jeyld wished he could still use the spell that allowed him to throw his sword. Unfortunately the healing spell he gave to Clef was his last high level spell. He started to draw Baritone anyway but an eldritch blast slammed into the blade and sent it careening down the alley.

"Tsk tsk, little gnome thing. I think it will be more fun if I didn't get hurt." Her face lifted into a horrible grin and Jeyld wished she was at least pretty. Unfortunately he was going to die at the hands of a rather homely human. If only I could look upon Alaya's or Febrien's face one last time. Perhaps even that halfling barmaid. She was quite a bit of fun as I recall. Oh dear gods, I'm gonna die. "I think I'll start with your hands. I can see you're a musician. Perhaps I'll let you live long enough to attempt to play a tune with burned stubs." She laughed a vicious laugh and Jeyld closed his eyes, feeling doomed to have his final vision be that of a hand, wreathed in black energy, raised toward him.

Moments passed and nothing happened. He slowly opened one eye to see the woman standing in the exact same position she was in before. She wasn't moving! Jeyld attempted to stand up but found that he could not move either! Suddenly a voice slid into his head.

"Hello, my son. This situation seems most dire and you are in need of your heritage." Jeyld gave an exasperated sigh. He did NOT wish to deal with his father right now.

Go away, Belradontius. I don't have time for this.

"I think you'll find you have plenty of time for this. It may save your life, and perhaps give you some insight into what you are truly becoming. I want you to focus on the present danger, do not despair, focus on your instincts. You may find a sensation building in your chest, a drawing of your bloods energy. It will concentrate in your chest, near your lungs and it is up to you to release it." The gravelly voice faded away but the message rang clear in Jeylds head. He COULD feel the energy. His blood coursed with adrenaline but he could feel his chest tightening.

He watched as the warlock started to slowly move again, bringing her arm to bear. He felt the energy build until it was too painful to contain and just as the she release the blast he let out a scream of pure malice and put all of his rage and denial into releasing that pent up energy. A lightning bolt, burning with the light of ten suns, seared through the pitiful eldritch energy and continued on through the woman, striking each and every warlock that had crowded into the alley. Every last one burst into an explosion of energy and were left as piles of ash and bone as the blast consumed them.

The remaining warlocks watched the alley mouth warily. After a few moments of silence a trembling figure peeked inside and fell back as two electric blue, glowing eyes flew at him. The creature leaped on top of him and tore him apart with gleaming claws and fangs. A few eldritch blasts ripped through the air around the figure but neither touched him. A crossbow bolt skipped across the thick scales on it's arm. Suddenly it leaped upon another warlock and ripped his chest apart. The blue scaled creature let forth a triumphant scream and seemed to still. It looked over at the two remaining warlocks and suddenly grinned. "Hi. I'm Jeyld. And you are in my city. I think it's time you left." With those words, the gnome dragon disciple drew a fine looking rapier from his belt and advanced upon the closest foe. Still stunned at the ferocity of the gnomes attack, the warlock just watched and trembled as the small figure slowly drew closer. It wasn't until the blade of the rapier slid into his chest that he had any thought of defending himself. The last warlock was shaken out of his trance by the calm kill and drew a bead with his crossbow. He fired another bolt but this one was also denied by the thick scales. Jeyld calmly bent down and picked up the dead warlocks longsword, wielding it with two hands he ran toward his foe and cut the crossbow from his hands. The elf drew a flail and blocked the gnomes next two attacks, amazed at the strength of the small creature as his arms numbed from the blows. He swung the weapon across at head height for the gnome and Jeyld was struck a solid blow, nearly knocking him senseless. Courage bolstered at seeing his foe COULD be hurt, the warlock stepped forward for another swing. Unfortunately for him, Jeyld saw an opening and slid the longsword up and into the warlocks chest. The human looked down at the blade and saw that it had passed THROUGH his chainmail. And then he died.

Jeyld cleaned off his rapier and retrieved his other weapons. He repaired Soprano's string with a mending spell and then he took a moment to look around him. He flexed his new claws and ran his tongue along his sharp fangs. He looked over at the smoldering piles of ash that his breath had created. Quietly, he thought for a moment. A grin slid across his features. Perhaps this won't be so bad. I can do a lot of good with these weapons. He gave a silent call to Clef and was surprised to learn that the familiar had found Arius and Gurl. The bird had even healed the elf of a grievous injury using the spell Jeyld had given him. Giving him a sense of approval, Jeyld looked at the gate. The doors were blasted in but no more enemies had come in for some time. These warlocks must have been posted as guards to prevent anyone from escaping. Feeling that his mission here was accomplished he decided to join Arius and Gurl and see if he could help them. He quickly made his way back toward the Inn of Loose Gears and saddled up Treble. Every time he passed a citizen he told them to head toward the north gate and safety. He was saddened at the fact that he met so few. But as Treble bounded over rubble and detritus, the gnome bard sang out a song of triumph and redemption. As the frightened people heard him as he passed, their spirits lifted and they stood a bit straighter, ran a little faster, and felt a little stronger.

Jeyld left his riding dog after Clef told him he was close enough to be a target. He could see Arius and Gurl holed up behind an overturned wagon. There were a few militia men with them and Clef was perched on Arius' leg, letting them know that Jeyld was close-by. The gnome gritted his teeth as he watched the warlocks in the building across from them. There was a makeshift barricade blocking the street and preventing access to the warehouse district. Jeyld wondered what they'd want in there so badly but decided it was a mystery to solve afterward. He saw his chance as one of the black clad men raised his crossbow to fire a quick shot at the wagon. Jeyld brought out Soprano and took careful aim. The bolt slammed into the warlocks shoulder and the sonic blast took off his arm. As the enemy was distracted he quickly ran behind the wagon with his friends.

"Surprised to see me?" The gnome bard asked with a grin. He nearly laughed at the incredulous looks the elf and half-orc gave him. He realized that they were probably staring at his newest features and his electric blue eyes danced with energy. "I've had a little talk with my father." Arius looked him over once more and just gave that little half smile.

"At least you're alive. And I give you my thanks for sending the bird." The elven warlock said.

"He wasn't supposed to come here and that healing spell was meant for me." Jeyld grinned over at the shocked look Arius gave him and winked as he peeked over the wagon. He ducked back down as a few eldritch blasts and crossbow bolts thudded into the wood.

"I don't suppose you rushed in here with a fool proof plan to save us?" The militia captain asked him.

Jeyld laughed out loud. "Not at all, my good man! I am as clueless and lost as you are! I simply felt a little lonely and decided I'd rather die with some company." Jeyld laughed again. The adrenaline and battle were having a strange effect on him. He was giddy and mirthful and he couldn't help but make light of the situation, but he was almost certain that there was no escape. He raised up Soprano and threw a wink at Gurl. "Well now, young ladies, shall we go out in a blaze of glory or will we hide behind this wagon for the few minutes left of our lives?" Not waiting for an answer the bard stood up and started singing another song as he shot a crossbow bolt into the nearest warlocks face.