Everyone Writes! Nobody quits!

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Okay I think this will be interesting. Let's see what happens when I start off a story and everyone else who posts here continues the story from where I leave off. The chain continues and we might get something really good. Please keep it clean(i.e. no gratuitous sex references, or horrendoous violence[i.e. the genitals were torn from the body, and so on])

I've got one rule! Everyone writes! Nobody quits! If you do I may have to end this myself!

Let's have at it then:

The crickets had long been waning, and now the morning bird's calls began to flit through the woods. The sky in the East had lightened from the swiftly approaching dawn as the travelers broke camp and set off.

It had been a short rest, barely more than 3 hours, but the hardened group hardly seemed to notice or care. As the sun began to peak above the hills and through the trees glints of the bright morning light shone off the steel under the cloaks the shapeless wanderers wore. For they were indeed shapeless. The point and the leading and tailing scouts seemed no different apart from gradations in height. The one form that didn't seem to belong was nearly half the size of the others and walked swiftly on the shortened legs toward the middle of the group. This one's head would sweep around slowly as though in anticipation or caution. A gust of the pleasent breeze blew back the hood of this smaller creature and a flash of greenish skin and white hair was seen before the thing snatched the hood back into place.

If this group didn't mean trouble by the mere appearance of them they were certainly bound to find some.

 

In the boughs of a birch, to the side of the road, a figure perched on the joint between branch and trunk. Eyes unblinkingly fixed upon the road, bow held taut and ready across her forearm, the elven bandit swayed slightly to match the movement of the leaves in the wind. To the uninformed observer, nothing was out of place, the birch was just another tree by the road.
Her breath came shallow but measured, her centre of balance perfectly maintained. Like a young sapling's branch held back by a wanderer, the elf seemed ready to snap forward at a moment's notice.
A group of shapes moving gradually along the road entered her range of vision to the left, but her head did not move. She monitered them through the corner of her unremarkeable green-grey eye.
Suddenly, a decision was made, and the bow moved a fraction of an inch in her hand. The prey had been sighted, and was not about to escape.
Exasperation filled her at that moment, as, far to her right, she sighted a lone figure strolling down the road in the opposite direction - towards the group she had chosen. It would be difficult to deal with two sets of enemies, but she remained cautiously confident she could handle them.
From the figure on her right a sound reached her fragile ears - a terrible crooning that she could only guess was a human attempting to sing. Hopefully, this particular individual would show a smiliar talent in weaponcraft as he did in the vocal arts. She readied herself, as the two groups approached the tree she was hiding in, one from the right, the other from the left. A smile crept across her face.

 

From the ridge above Daelin replaced the spyglass into his pack, the group below looked dangerous. He smiled "Thats the way its supposed to be" he said to himself as he slunk back to his horse teathered to a tree some metres from the ridge. His chainmail shirt chinked as he mounted. He pulled the wisp of dark brown hair away from his cats eyes and drew his sword. It was a work of art in Daelins opinion. Its blade was like that of a sabre, but designed like a katana. But its hil was like a longsword. It had been made to be used on horseback or on foot. It was one of a kind and it had required Daelin to invent a new style of fighting. It had taken twenty of his 182 years of life, it had been hard, but he had come out the better for it. The tiefling then turned his horse and cantered away from the ridge...

 

A soft whisper spoke into the elf's sharp ears. "You watch the left, I'll watch the right. If you think you're going without me then you are fair mad." A similar elf appeared, blended into the leaves as one. The female sniper crouched precariously beside the bandit, bow in hand, aiming slightly for the right foe on the road.

 

"Baraka'jai."

The harshly hissed word came from the figure in the point position. The smaller figure trembled ever so slightly.

"Are you certain?" it asked, careful to keep its voice low.

"One on ridge.", came a low voice from the rear figure. "Another hidden in trees. Possibly more."

The little one shrugged it's cloak about tighter, being certain to conceal the movements of his mouth. It took all he had to keep his gaze forward and not to the peril filled sides or above.

"What of the traveller up ahead?"

This time, the lead scout answered. "The wind carries Dahro'jai stink."
The distaste in his voice was evident, but there was a smile playing in his eyes.

Almost, the short one sighed in relief. "Orcs hold no hostility toward men at least, right Kayal?"

The figure at point snorted humorously. "Almost, Dorin. Our most glorious songs are of great wars against Dharo'jai. They are more like to us than the cowardly elves. We respect their prowess, they respect ours. But it does not mean we live in peace. There are little fights now and then, but our nations do not go to war. Sometimes, we trade even. Their stench might someday make us fight again, but for now..."

Dorin almost chuckled. "What are we to do about the elves?"

"Dorin! You sound almost relaxed." whispered the rear guard. "You are starting to to put faith into orcish skills finally, eh?" All four shared a chuckle, even the lead scout who was further away.

Kayel started explaining elven tactics.

"Baraka'jai are cowards, one and all." he spat. "They hide in the trees and hope to put an eye out."

"Not the Ar-Baraka." interrupted the rear guard.

"Ai..." whispered Kayel. "You are right, Terak. The High Elves were a mighty foe. But these wild elves have not the stature of the Ar-Baraka nor the strength of the Dharo'jai."

The carefully cloaked orc mused for a while before continuing.

"These wild elves are hot headed when they believe intruders cross their territories. They may fire without warning. It is not unusual in these times. We will cover you. I'll give you the first kill, Terak, if any elvish pin pricks through our orc chainmail."

Terak, the rear guard, laughed softly. "Then I have little chance indeed."

"Now, they could fire at the singing Dharo'jai ahead, before they fire on us. If the man is a warrior, he may stand and fight with us. If he is some bard or merchant, he will likely run. After the first volley, we use our own hunting bows to take down the ones on the tree. The one on the ridge may run then to get reinforcement. We must then move fast."

"What if they do not attack immediately?" asked Dorin.

"Then you talk for us little one. Elf ears are sharp as orc noses. The wind and distance works against them for now, so they do not know if we are orcs byour voice. Our cloaks hide the rest. But if we speak, then we will have to fight. You must convince them to let us pass."

Dorin nodded slowly and kept his gaze locked forward towards the singing figure in the distance. But his ears kept playing tricks on him as he imagined the taut pull of a bow string.

 

Daerelle listened for moments. Then she whispered into the ears of the elf beside her, "The wind is against us for attacking yes, but not for hearing. Their words seem loud and clear even though they are far away." She giggled a bit and continued, "They think we're wild elves! Imagine that..."

[ October 12, 2002, 03:22: Message edited by: S Goddess ]

 

Jace cursed as he flubbed another line. "Why can I not ryhme dragon with drow? It makes my ballad a veritable tribute to myself, if I do say so myself." He heard the soft clinking of the steel from the cloaked travelers ahead on the trail and smile conspiratoriously to himself.

"Ah well, perhaps if I used the word for now instead of dragon? Yes I believe it would be... NOW!!" as he screamed the setup he dove into the brush as an arrow embedded itself in his shoulder.

"Damnable elves, never trust them to hit a target." he muttered under his breath as he crawled slowly off towards the camp.

Terak cried in pain as an arrow sailed under his arm to slip painfully between his ribs. The woods around him erupted with movement. As he watched the bandits throw themselves at his companions.

Kayal tore through a mighty wave of the brown-skinned creatures leaping from the trees with his heavy axe, before being bore to the ground by a heavily weighted net. He screamed in rage and struggled, only serving to drawn the net tighter about him. Dorin his odd little traveling mate had been caught in a similar net and their small party was swiftly being drawn into the woods toward where the singing human had disappeared to.

 

"WHere are they" the thought erupted into Daelins mind, he had travelled down the ridge and further down the track to ambush the cloaked figures. He swore and dismounted, I may as well find out, he thought. As he walked down the path, the sound of battle reached his ears, he walked out with his cloak drawn abot him and the hood covering his face. The sun stood behind him, making it difficult to focus on him. He emerged into the sight of the battle, nets were being thrown over some of the combatants, but it all seemed to stop in his prescence. None seemed scared, just confused. What was one foolish man doing watching a battle, an orc roared a battle cry and charged, suddenly the cloak dropped and throwing knife flew into the orcs throat, in the same motion he drew his blade, and jumped into the fray. He stood there parrying and dodging blows, he had no idea what side he was on, soon the action started to move away from him, and he slipped away from the battle. Wait until they're finished killing each other, then decide which side your on. In the corner of his eye he noticed a movement in the bushes, he crouched and flipped left behind the same bush, and lay down next to a figure...

 

In the heat of the battle, no one noticed the lead orc scout, Naran, distance himself. Orcs were no cowards, but they were not foolhardy either. For some reason, possibly magical in nature, a rather large group of the elves had crossed the distance in the blink of an eye. Only Naran had the opportunity to draw a longbow and now he was alone. Terak was hurt and Kayel captured. It was now up to him.

Quietly he snuck into a bush and layed out several arrows on the ground. He did this in a calm, measured way. Orcs are a battle hardened folk, raised in the ways of war as soon as they were old enough to hold a weapon straight. In the sweep of an eye, Naran had calculated the number of elves, their relative positions, and their vulnerabilities. Slowly, he picked up an arrow. Each shaft was as long as a human arm and the arrowheads were honed to a fine steel tip. The enormous bow of yew had such a strong pull, perhaps 100 pounds worth, that it would drive an arrow straight through iron plate. He nocked and sighted at the lead elves.

And promptly drove an arrow almost completely through an elf's head. Two more arrows hit the confused elves, two more lay dead. With the addition of a human warrior attacking haphazardly, the elves had their hands full. Kayel roared into action and disappeared into the fray. Terak, though injured, managed to hold up the net long enough to let Dorin escape.

The little one hesitated as it looked at Terak, but the injured orc warrior drew out a massive double edged blade and pointed it threateningly at Dorin. That was enough incentive for him to run. Terak ripped out the arrow stuck near his ribs and defiantly split it in half with one massive hand. With a single sweep of the massive blade, he cut an elf in half and nearly got through another. Injured or no, orcs were mighty warriors and proud.

"DARAK HAI! DARAK HAI!!! OR'UK!!!" came the ancient battle cry. And because he was of that battle lusting race, Terak sang as he slew, a war song of his clan. To die in battle was the greatest honor and he would not let his charge be captured by these miserable elves.

Silently, Naran saluted him and continued providing arrow fire. But he noticed movement from the corner of his eyes. Something was coming this way. The large orc braced himself.
The figure that came crashing into the brush was not as graceful as an elf but Naran took no chances. As soon as the figure, the human warrior who had fought hapahazardly, was next to him, Naran already had an arrow nocked, the bow pulled taut, and the tip mere inches away from the man's head.

His voice was low and hard. "You had best explain yourself, Dharo'jai, and quickly for I have much foes to slay yet."

 

"You either loosen that bowstring or go home as a eunuch, orc" A dagger settled itself on the orcs groin. The bow string loosened, "Very good, now if you'll excuse me," spinning quickly onto his bck Daelin lifted his legs in the air and pushed off the ground with his hands flying over the bush, sword sailing into his hand and cutting an elvish head off, before decapitating an orc, he had a sudden urge to kill them all. But the urge was quickly over come with logic and he backed from the fray, only killing those who came to close.

The orc in the bush hefted his greatbow and lined it up with Daelin, but noticed the bowstring sliced and frayed....

 

Naran shrugged once and hurled the bow as a spear. The human warrior never saw it coming, confident that he had neutralized the orc's weapons. The yew bow shattered as it hit Daelin square in the side of the head. The warrior was knocked back and to the ground. Two elves quickly ringed him, arrows nocked. But there was little need to as he was too busy trying to pull splinters from his bloodied head as well as hanging on to consciousness.

The orc smirked in slight satisfaction. Fight everyone, and everyone will fight you. The elves would have helped the human if he had not recklessly killed some of them. Now he was surrounded on all sides with his hands and feet being bound, his weapons being taken away. That one had showed some promise with the sword but very little battle sense and far too much arrogance.

Naran saw that the elven patrol had quickly taken over the skirmish. Kayel and Terak were dead. Without his bow, Naran would have to rely on his battle axe. Matched against elven short bows, he would be cut down in an instant. There were still eight elves left, all armed with bows. Eleven lay dead. The large orc snorted softly in regret. He himself had taken six with his bow. He doubted the elves were in any mood for mercy. The human they might not kill if they suspected he was just another madman trying to be a fighter. They had strange laws, these elves.

He had to buy time for Dorin to get farther. He watched the remaining elves as they ringed around his area, searching. There were only two options left. Fight or surrender. The former would allow Naran a glorious death albeit a short one. Surrender on the other hand might give Dorin that little extra time. The choice was clear enough.

With the grace of a panther, he lifted himself out of the brush and held out his arms to the side, showing he was weaponless.

A soft voice to the left of him called out.

"Well now, what've we here? An orc trying to put someone's eyes out if I'm not mistaken..."

Daerelle held her bow taut, an arrow nocked and ready to pierce the orc's neck. Swiftly, more elven archers moved in from all around.

 

Naran spat out in oddly well-spoken elvish, "Going to kill me treacherous Elf-*****? Have it done for at least he has gone." The statement was puntuated with a rauchous guffaw from the twisted orc-lips.

Snarling in anger as she realized what he meant Daerelle slammed her palm under his chin to quiet him. The orc bit into his tounge as he slowly sank into blackness. "Bring the foul one," kicking the orc in the head and then pointing towards the surounded human warrior, "And the cloaked one."

With that she strode off in the direction of the evil bard's camp. Jace has a mind befitting an elf, a shame he must be cursed with a human countenance, Daerelle thought to herself.

"Wake."

The command was simple but Naran refused to obey at first. A splash of sickly sweet liquid was thrown at his face, the coppery taste of blood filled his mouth and nostrils, he awoke sputtering and coughing.

The sight before him raised an eyebrow, the elven assasin that had caught him was draping herself across the foppish human singer he had spotted. "Welcome to my small hamlet in the woods, Orc. I am Jace, master of these woods and the tactical leader of these rougish elves."

Naran glanced around and saw fully thirty green elves dressed in skins and leathers, with leaves and feathers woven into their hair. They were all lean and battle hardened, most had scars, a few of those more recent he noted with grim pleasure.

"You, orc, have brought a powerful mind into my woods, and I want the power of that mind handed to me now," Jace demanded something of Naran, what he did not rightly know yet. When it became aparent that the orc would not respond Jace specified, "I wish to know the name of your diminutive friend, who is oh so tricky, enough to slip away from my grasp along with that filthy tiefling. I told the elves to keep their eyes on him, but no 'he's only a human' is what they kept telling me..." Naran drifted back into slumber at this point in the long winded sleep before being awoken by another splash of blood.

"What was you friend's name, and who was he?" Jace asked this slowly as though Naran hardly understood the common.

"I know not his name," Naran attempted to lie. For his efforts a red hot knife was touched to the back of his right hand. He flinched around the eyes, but nothing more. The elves seemed impressed by this, the human simply enraged.

"Throw him back in his cage! Feed him only flowers and bumble bees to make him soft and easier to pump the information from!"

Back in a sturdy cage of wood, obviously magically enhanced, Naran hoped that the life of that odd Dorin was worth all this trouble. He couldn't have known that the cloaked warrior the elves had caught had indeed escaped and discovered Dorin for himself.

 

Daelin stalked through the woods, virtually defenceless except for the wooden stave he was using to steady himself. the orcs makeshift spear had given him a light concussion, which hadn't helped his escape from the camp. He cursed himself for his recklessness, 182 years of life 150 in battle, his achievements had obviously got to his head. That won't happen again he thought. Bloody orc, he thought to himself, I should have sliced his bollocks off when I had the chance. He knew he would not, for he respected the orcs battle skills, and the use of the bow as a spear. I shall have to remember that one. Up ahead he noticed movement, he ducked further into the trees and silently approached. A small hooded figure sat on a rock gasping for breath. Daelin noticed him from the battle. He moved in closer and th grabbed the figure. The goblins hood (sorry if its not a goblin, just edit the post if its not) flew off to show its green face. Daelin sat it down on the rock again. The creature was defencless and he wished it no harm, "Are you hungry?" he asked the goblin, pointing at his mouth. The goblin nodded vigourously. Daelin stood up and strolled to the nearby stream, keeping his eyes on the goblin. By the bank, he pulled out some nettles. Further on he found some chives and some wild onions. Daelin drew a slender dagger from his boot, the elves, in their arrogance, had not properly searched him. He sliced two pieces of bark from a tree and carried them back along with some dry wood. The goblin sat patiently while daelin prepared a fire, lighting it with a touch of his finger. Suddenly Daelin span launching his dagger. It stuck several metres away, into a rabbit that had strayed to close. The goblin clapped, and reached out for it but daelin took it first and laid it by the fire. The goblin backed away with a scowl from Daelin.

Daelin took the two pieces of bark and held them above the fire heat ing them. Then he bent them into bowl shapes. He took one to the stream and filled it with water. He returned ad placed the onions, nettles and chives into the other bowl and then the rabbit. He poured the water over and allowed it to cook. When it was ready, he scraped half of it into the water bowl, and handed it to the goblin. The goblin devpoured it quickly, licking the bowl after wards. Daelin chuckled and handed the remainder of his food to the goblin. Again it licked the bowl. Ahead of him less than a mile ahead, Daelin saw a glimpse of white flesh. This sharpness of sight had blessed him again and he grabbed the goblin covering his mouth. Kicking over the fire Daelin Jumped for the low branches of a tree. Flinging the goblin onto his back he clambered up. Soon the elves would be passing under him. He could see them now. 4 he counted, one carried his sword and the sheath with the throwing knives, he would take them back in a moment, he thought. Gripping the quarter staff tightly, he descended on his foes, the goblin still clinging to his back....

[ October 14, 2002, 00:35: Message edited by: Midnight Falcon ]

 

(Don't fault yourself for thinking "goblin," I purposely kept calling him creature becuase I had not thought as to what he could possibly be yet. It was left open for interpretation. {my first thought was that he could be like a cross over from star wars, get it?})
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Daelin leapt into the center of the elves ready to sweep them all off their feet in one low roundhouse. Before he had dropped into his crouch, however, all the elves dropped where they stood. Lying in uncomfortable positions, the four proud wood elves snored as mightily as a dwarf after a night of reverie.

Daelin peered over his shoulder at the goblin on his back. The creatures gnarled hand was raised and pointed palm out, a slight glow surrounded the last digits of his first three fingers.

"You are not a mere goblin," Daelin said as the creature indicated he wished to be lowered to the ground.

"Nor you a mere human," Dorin replied in a voice seemingly made for the common tounge he now spoke.

"What are you?" wondered Daelin under his breath as he stooped to retreive his weapons from the sleeping elves.

Dorin turned suddenly and said, "For now I will tell you that I am a Psy. I possess far more knowledge in my head than your famous sage Elminster could ever hope to gain. I am not of this plane and had enlightened those orcs to serve as an escort back to my home. We will follow the elves tracks back to their camp to save my friend as I sense he still lives." With that statement the creature began to wander off the direction the elves had come from.

"Speak easy?" it was an irreverant comment Daelin had used to express puzzlement and wonder for nearly 130 years since he heard the odd expression. He finished searching the bodies and jogged to catch up to the enigmatic Psy.

 

The elf, Teth, drew back his bow. There it was again, a movemwnt in the trees, he watched for the next before he would loose. A knife flew from the woods and he fell to his knees, he put his hands round the hilt to pull the knife from his neck. But he fell back and a shadow passed over him, yanking the knife out.

"Quickly," Daelin whispered back to Dorrin. Dorrin scrambled through the trees. "Where is your friend?"

"I do not know," Dorrin answered, Daelin looked around,

"Hide over there," said Daelin pointing to the dark shadow of a wattle and daub house. Dorrin moved his fingers and he began to fade from sight. "Good, I'll find your friend and bring him back. Stay here until I return."

Daelin dropped back into the nights shadow. He felt its comfort, even if it offered none. Avoiding the elves infravision would be difficult. As he stalked through the camp, he could smell the cooking fires of the elf watchmen. Daelin drew back and retrieved the cloak from the first elf, drawing it close about him, he continued into the camp, walking up to the fire.

"there you are Teth, we thought you'd gotten yourself killed. Must of just been in the bushes, eh" Daelin thought he seemed a bit to rude for an elf, but he didn't ponder on it long. "Not answering?" said the elf. Daelins sword snaked out of its sheath beheading the first guard, and spun decapitating the other. He screamed, and Daelin slashed his throat. Nimbly, daelin leapt and climbed onto one of the houses. slipping behind the curve of the roof, out of sight. Elves were already running out of homes knives in hand. From the house Daelin lay on he heard a voice. It was definately human.

"Whats going on out there?" Daelin heard the soft pattering of feet come into the room.

"The guards have been killed, theres some one in the camp!"

"double the guards at my door, set extra watchmen, I want the ba*tard caught," Daelin heard the pattering again. Convinced the man was alone, Daelin swiftly cut a hole in the thatch roof, and silently dropped in with it. hitting the ground with no more noise than the thatch. The human turned round, he was very edgy, and fear heightens the senses. But he turned round into Daelins blade. He took a deep breath to shout for his guards but the blade cut the skin, sending a small trickle of blood onto the white shirt.

"You have a prisoner. Tell me where he is and I may let you live. Don't then I'll cut out your tongue and your eyes. But don't worry, afterwards I'll fill the sockets with salt. Then I'll kill you." Jace looked deep into the Tieflings cat eyes, and knew he was not lying. But Jace was brave and sat defiantly, staring at Daelin. Daelin sighed and pulled out a knife, hauling out Jaces tongue he placed the knife on top, ready to saw. "Last chance," Jace nodded and Daelin lifted the knife.

"we have him in the centre of the camp, he is in a wooden cage, it is magically protected, and you need this key," He pulled the key out of his pocket and handed it to Daelin, daelin took it in his grasp, and Hauled Jace to him, flinging his head into the other mans. Jace fell silently into Daelins arms, and Daelin tied him up with a length of cord, and gagged him. Lyin the man into his bed, Daelin covered him with a blanket, and departed through the hole in the roof.

Daelin ran and jumped silently across the rooftops. Coming to the centre he knealt, watching the scene being played before him.

A single guard was lightly strumming a harp before the sword slid across his throat. Opening the cage, Daelin quickly shook Naran. Naran opened his eyes, and threw a sleep left hook at Daelin. Daelin ducked under the orcs punch and hefted him onto his shoulders. Carrying him back into the woods Daelin made a long circle back to Dorrin, who spotted them and invisibly ran up to them, he tugged at Daelins trousers and let go of his concentration on the invisisblity spell and running past them intot the woods. Daelin followed with the massive figure of Naran on his shoulder...

 

Daelin dropped his heavy load and fell beside it himself. He had to hand it to their little trailblazer, Dorin had avoided ambushes that even Daelin had not noticed until they had past safely beyond. The creature had undoubtedly used his extraordinary brain to discover theese, mused Daelin. No matter, he thought, as long as I didn't have to keep dropping the orc and picking him up again.

Dorin was dipping his hands into a clear spring and drinking slowly. "You, Daelin Tiefling, are a magnificent warrior. I would like to include you in my new honor guard."

Daelin's large eyes widened in amazement, "And what would this involve? Becoming your slave for a larger vocabulary and a chance to visit your insane little plane? No thank you. I have plans of my own."

"Too bad." Dorin tilted his head to look at the Tiefling, his beady eyes were glowing with an eerie green light under his hood.

At that moment Naran began to stir and roared in anger at what appeared to be his charge suppressing an attacker with his mind. Naran charged Daelin with his head down and slammed into the smaller man's ribs. Daelin quickly regained his footing as Dorin began explaining to the massive orc.

"Terribly sorry for my strongarm. He may have a bit of Ogre-blood in him, (we're looking into that) Now, How about some dinner?" Dorin cheerfully said. Before he had finished Naran had sprinted off into the woods. Not very long after that he returned with a small deer, it's neck cleanly twisted above the shoulders.

This encounter was getting odder every minute....

 

Above the duo, roughly several hundered feet in the air, a lone humanoid figure was watching them. It was clad in black robes and seemed to be observing the duo.

"Most interesting ... the past few days have been eventful indeed... I must look more into this"

The figure, muttered a couple of incomprehensiable words and allowed him self to drift towards the ground. He didn't appear to concerned with attacks from below. He knew that the protection from normal missiles spell would protect him well enough. All he awaited was decent.

Acouple of minutes later the figure touched ground and stretched. He stood within 100 feet of the duo. He looked over at them, waved, cast dimension door and then dissapear leaving but a wisp of smoke...

 

"What in the nine hells was that?" said Daelin, his improved eyesight picked up a slight smoking.

"What?"

"The smoking,"

"perhaps the Tiefling scum has
been drinking," said Naran, he was still a little sur with Daelin.

"My name is Daelin, and maybe I'll leave you here if you can't walk!" Naran drove him to his feet, anger powering his limbs. "Good, now move you ugly son of a b*tch," Daelin took off at speed hefting Dorrin on his back. Naran snarled and followed...

 

The man called Jace stood atop a hill, rubbing his wrists. His crystalline blue eyes sweeped the surrounding area but he could see little enough through the foliage. They had escaped. The orc was not really on his mind. It was that strange man with the peculiar eyes.

The man had snuck into camp, killed a guard, and snatched a prisoner from under his nose. But not before threatening, tying up, and gagging Jace in his own tent. His jaws clenched. The final insult had been the laying of a knife upon his tongue. His tongue, and to a bard this was the greatest insult of all. He could still taste the bitter steel in his mouth. Oh, the man had not actually cut Jace's tongue, but it was a close moment. And he was utterly powerless to do anything about it. He had been humiliated.

A cold rage sent a shiver up his spine. He would hunt the strange man down. He would tie him up just like he had been tied up. Then, it would be time to show him the meaning of pain. Jace would savor every minute, every scream. All the while, Jace would sing. A thousand and one tortures formed in his mind. And in the end, perhaps when he was satisfied, he would kill the man. But no, he thought, death was far too good for the likes of him. No one humiliated Jace. No one. Or at least no one lived to tell tales of it.

He had elves enough, skilled in woodlore. He himself knew the area like the back of his hand. There would be no escape for the orc or the strange man. Especially for that man. Softly, like the rustle of leaves in a spring wind, Jace sang. Liquid notes floated through the air, silencing all other noise. After a while, Jace's pitch changed. He seemed to give strenth to the song, nudging it in different directions, as if probing the land with his voice. Minutes passed before he let it die away.

For long moments, the bard stood still, his eyes closed and a serene expression of calm spreading through his hawkish face. The wind blew once, slightly ruffling his shoulder length black hair, then became as still as Jace. Finally, his left arm rose up and pointed roughly to the north. As silent as silk, eight elves appeared like magic from the neighboring brush. Daerelle glanced once at the bard, giving him a slight frown, then nodded and left.

Jace watched them go, these green elves, master hunters all. But between the sheer ferocity of the orc and the swordplay of the strange man, they might not prevail. Even ambush was not a sure thing. He had learned to respect the orc's sense of smell. The time had come for something more.

From a solid oak box locked with runic wards, out of the pitch black shrouds covering it, he had taken his finest weapon. The wood had curious red splashes against it's pearl whiteness. It was blood, shed long ago and finely ingrained to the curved wood. Whose blood, why, and for what purpose, Jace may never know. The strings...the strings did not feel natural. There was something blasphemous about the material and strangely familiar. Even Jace shuddered as he imagined the implications. To do so was to go go mad. Just staring it was an unhealthy thing for the human mind.

The harp's true name was lost in the annals of time. The bard now called it the Crimson Strings. And he had planned a special song for the half-breed sword fielder who had so impudently insulted him.

 

"Beautiful day for a hunt," Dorin called back to Naran from his perch atop the Tiefling's shoulders.

"Only if the hunters carry bows on the left," came the gruff reply. It was a simple code, but it served its purpose. Daelin had suspected an ambush after the bend in the hunting trail, Naran's keen sense of smell had confirmed that there were indeed elves about.

"Green?" mouthed Daelin to Naran as Dorin slid off his back and carefully thought of an effective psychic defense to use.

"Certainly, but there is a strange taste about the air of one of the group. A bit of stone blended into the wood, if you understand." replied Naran aloud, as if daring the elves to continue through with the ambush.

"Surely I don't," sighed Daelin with exasperation.

"And I don't either," Naran growled.

"One is not a wood elf. Or perhaps, yes that would explain it...." Dorin trailed off as an arrow whistled through the air and stopped short a half inch from Naran's face. Dorin had prepared kinetic shields around all three. He would absorb the energy of hits against himself and Daelin (as Daelin did not yet know how to utilize the power) sending the power back at his enemies in psionic blasts, and Naran would do the same with hits against him, using the power to add strength and energy to his own hits (he still had no weapon to speak of.)

Soon arrows were richocheting harmlessly off a buffer of air a half inch from the three forms. Daelin charged into the trees to come around in a flank while Naran used the energy of fully 30 arrows to tear a small tree out by the roots and use it as a battering ram, crushing an unaware wood elf's head with a satisfying crush.